Logs:Snapshots
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| RL Date: 14 January, 2010 |
| Who: Delifa, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: A couple snapshots of things going on for Madilla at the moment. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Months 9 and 10, Turn 21 |
| Mentions: Gabrion/Mentions, W'chek/Mentions |
| Delifa shifted her gaze between Gabrion and Madilla, and then back again. An odd pair, she mused, considering them back. But then... Madilla had always surprised her with her choice of friends. Daegan. W'chek. And now Gabrion, who was, at least, neither nasty or-- or what? Whatever it was. A nice enough boy. She could feel their combined gazes on her, expectantly, their tale of woe delivered. Madilla was pleading at her with her eyes. She kept the lecture short: taking responsibility, following rules, you're walking a fine line here, young man. But the end result was both simple, and, she hoped, reasonable. "I won't report back on this, Apprentice, but that doesn't mean I will lie for you, either. If word gets back and the Masters elect to terminate your apprenticeship - which would be a reasonable move on their part - I won't stick my neck out for you." Madilla's eyes were shining with relief; it was touching, in a way, and at the same time... You've never learned to take that step back from things, have you, Apprentice-mine? Not entirely. She turned her attention back to Gabrion. "Do the right thing by her, Apprentice. She may be a stupid girl, this girlfriend of yours, but that doesn't remove your part in this. You are that unborn child's father." As she watched them go, Delifa leaned back in her chair, exhaling lengthily. She had an inkling that one of them was not destined for apprenticeship for much longer; the other-- she hoped he was smart enough to learn from all of this. Madilla spent most of her first day as a Journeyman in a state of awe. She spent the better part of an hour just staring, in awe, at her new room, at the bed - not a cot! - at the table and chairs, the shelves, the press... it seemed enormously empty, something she was going to have to rectify, but mostly, it was just incredible: hers. Her own. She'd never had a space of her own before. Not that she spent the rest of the day idle, of course, in between checking in on Milani and Milandra, unpacking her things, and, finally, sitting down to write The Letter. She hadn't written to her family in turns. They'd never answered any of them, not in all the time she'd written so regularly, and these days she barely even visited: it never went well. But walking the tables? That was important. They'd care to know about that. Of course, there'd be no encouragement to return home with her knowledge, as had been the original plan, not after everything, but still... they ought to know. The writing of it was strange. How do you share this kind of news with people who seem increasingly like strangers? What kind of tone do you use? How do you express yourself, when they can barely read to begin with? It ended up stilted, formal. She had to blink back tears as she folded the page over and put it into an envelope. It felt like an ending. Like she was drawing a line through the past and starting again. And that was good-- but it was bad, too. She remembered the shy, scared little girl who'd arrived at the Hall, the over-awed teen who'd been posted to High Reaches. She thought about the future, and found herself caught between exhilaration and pure terror: they wouldn't check her charts, now. She might even end up checking the charts of other healers. She... She forced herself to stay calm. She'd earned this. This was a beginning; they trusted her, and she was going to prove she deserved their trust. There was another thought in her head, too, a lingering regret she found even more difficult to ignore. Had things been different - though she knew, now, they probably could never have been - she would have been planning a wedding, now. Instead of making her home here, alone, in this room, she would have been thinking about red dresses, and shared homes, and-- she swallowed, thickly, and reminded herself of her plans. Not all was lost. In the evening, Delifa and several other Journeyman hauled her out of her room and to dinner. At the Living Caverns, they began the chant: "Walk, Madilla, walk. Walk, Madilla, walk," and sent her around the room. A few people stared, a few applauded-- a couple even came up to shake her hand, to hug her, to exclaim in delight. Cheeks burning, she was both excited and relieved when Delifa drew her over to a table and into a chair. "Will you do something for me, Madilla?" They were sitting in Delifa's sitting room, two Journeymen sharing tea as one corrected written papers and the other worked on her latest quilt - one for her, finally, to cover her new bed. "Anyway," promised Madilla without thinking, the word escaping her mouth in an instant. "What is it?" "You shouldn't agree so easily. You may not like it." Madilla shook her head; "I trust you. I can't imagine you'd make me promise something that wasn't reasonable. What is it you want, Delifa?" It was still a strange thing, using her mentor's name so freely: Journeyman, it had always been, no matter how close they were. Delifa afixed a fond, but rueful smile on the younger woman, closing her eyes. "You're a Journeyman now. You're free of the restrictions that plague Apprentices-- like those that have your apprentice friend so concerned. I imagine that's your next goal, am I right?" A baby. Babies. A family. Yes-- of course that was her next goal. Madilla felt her cheeks go pink, felt Delifa's gaze on her. "Wait a while," said the elder Journeyman, softly, apologetically. "That's what I'm asking you. Half a turn, at least. Take some time to... just be, Madilla. A Journeyman; an adult, in the eyes of the craft." Madilla's silence was stunned, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Delifa gave her a sad little smile. "You were prepared to wait another turn," she murmured, quietly. "All I'm doing is asking for a few more months. Make your plans, choose who and how and what; I don't mind. But take some time to be young and free, too. I know you won't change your mind about what you want, but... You need time for you, too." "But it would be for me. It's--" "Different. Not the same. I can't force you to agree, Madilla, and I wouldn't try: this is your choice. I'm just asking." Madilla swallowed. She took a deep breath. And, finally, slowly, she nodded. "I'll see," she said, carefully. "I won't promise-- you're right, I shouldn't just promise things. But I will-- give it some thought. And see what happens. I will." "Thank you," said Delifa, reaching out to take one of Madilla's hands. "That's all I can ask." |
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