Log: A Sticky Situation
Who: Madilla, Milani
When: Late afternoon, 7/25/19
Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
What: Milani has a very sensitive request to make of Madilla. And an offer of tea-time.
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
Summer afternoons are not a particularly peak time for the Nighthearth, which is, perhaps, exactly the reason why Madilla is here, instead of somewhere else: for the moment, she's pretty much on her own. The young apprentice has, as a result, spread her books out all over the table, and is deeply entrenched in reading through them, her lips silently mouthing each word in turn. The mug sitting next to her is empty; she's probably been here for some time.
The headwoman comes up the corridor, one hand fanning her face and slips into the nighthearth, likely in search of similar quietude and leans against the wall for a moment looking a little tired, then Milani pushes onward, pauses again as she catches sight of Madilla's things. "Hey there, Madilla," she musters a cheery enough greeting. "Exams soon?"
Though Madilla's hands are still while she works, aside from the occasional shuffle of papers, her left hand instantly begins fiddling with the cuff of her shirt as her head rises on receipt of Milani's greeting. "Exams - oh, no. Those were at the end of the last month. But there were some things I wasn't as familiar with as I should be, so..." Her smile is openly rueful, as though she's aware of exactly how much of a nerd this must make her seem; she carries in, perhaps a little more hastily. "But - how are you, Milani? You look... tired."
"Ohh, and that makes sense. That way you'll do even better on those things next time, right?" Milani says with understanding and perhaps a lack of concern over possible nerdiness. The headwoman moves over to where the klah pot, water pitchers and baskets of snacks are kept and pours out not klah but water. "I've ... had better months," she replies, trying to keep the smile alive on her face. "Things are mostly starting to look up though." The glass she just poured is lifted to her lips and she takes a good long drink, then moves over to sit across from Madilla, glass carefully set out of the way of the papers and books.
"That's the idea," agrees Madilla, casting a glance back down at her scattered books. "I hope. I feel like I need to prove that my promotion was justified, and my results weren't as good as they could have been, and..." Again, she trails off, and, again, the rueful smile. "I'm sorry," is her sincere response to the admission of better months, made with a hasty nod of her head. "But I'm glad they're looking up." On the Headwoman's return, she draws some of her things closer to her, clearing some more space.
Milani's hand curls up beneath her chin, propping her head up as she looks across all that stuff. "You work really hard," the headwoman states. It's not a question at all, and she's just looking across at the healer with a little smile on her face. "I've been pushing a lot lately myself. To -- keep my mind off things." Deep breath and the glass lifts again, descends. Millie traces a finger through the ring it leaves behind.
Madilla pauses, biting at her lip in patently awkward embarrassment at the Headwoman's remark, but after a moment, she nods: yes, she does. Responding to the rest is easier, and her own little smile returns, though not without visible concern. "It can be easier," she says, slowly, "to bury yourself into work, than think about things. Work is safer, right? No messy emotional things."
"Yes," Milani answers simply, eyes on Madilla's face, taking in the healer's features. There seems to be something on the tip of the headwoman's tongue but she just smiles a little, has some more water and pushes her finger through the ring more, turning it into a star.
There's more hesitation from the healer, and though she doesn't outright stare, her attention is fairly obviously focused upon the Headwoman. Then, finally, Madilla takes a breath, and pushes out her question: "But you're all right? You're -- all right?" Both hands have gone still again, resting atop her pile of papers, the fingers of one hand covering the fingers of the other.
Milani's lips press together for a moment or two and she looks around the nighthearth. It's summer. There's no one else here. "I -- am, mostly yes. And maybe I shouldn't bring this up here. Maybe I should just stop into the infirmary, when someone's on duty," she starts, then stops again. Another line drawn out from the circle of wet.
"It was pretty quiet in there, earlier, when I finished my shift," begins Madilla, the concern in her expression amplified, now. The tips of her fingers curl around the ones beneath, and press hard. She takes another breath. "But if you wanted something, I'm - here." Available.
Up come Milani's eyes again to find Madilla's. "I took a long jump Between after Iovniath's flight. I ... don't think it worked. And ... I really, really need it to have worked." Her lips fold together, press tightly then release. "On top of everything else. I just --" she breaks off, looks down and smears the star into an unshapely smudge.
Madilla swallows, and it's a heavy enough swallow to be audible. "Oh," she says, after a moment of pause and a caught breath. "It's not a good time," she surmises, keeping her tone even and professional, though there's something in the straightening of her shoulders and that initial reaction that suggest she's having to work quite hard at it. "There are herbal methods, of course. But... they can be dangerous. They're poisons, effectively." She watches Milani, her expression unreadable.
"I don't know who," Milani says in a small voice. "Otherwise ... it'd be fine," she says, tone edged with something that sounds just a little on the verge. "Would've been fine ... but I can't. I just ... I can't. I can't do that to him." Her head is shaking back and forth a lot. Another nod and she looks down again. "I know. My mother walked me through it all when I was thirteen and again every turn in more and more detail. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important," she continues, low-voiced. "It hasn't been that long. Just since the flight. Absolutely sure about that."
Madilla can't keep up the professional veneer, not in the face of Milani's voice; her expression shifts, emotion writ so clear upon it: empathy, but also hurt. "Oh, Milani," she breathes, her own voice catching. She breathes. Once, twice, and then, before a third breath, "No, of course you can't. Of course. It's--" She hesitates, counting on her fingers, presumably tallying up how long. "Still, the earlier the better. The safer." After one more swallow, she concludes, "Did you want to do it now? Or - you'll need to be prepared for not being well for a few days. Do you have things you need to organise?"
Milani lifts a hand to pass across her eyes, re-props her chin in her hand, her own face a mask of irony and sadness. "I could have managed, but for that," she says tiredly and nods a few times. "Tomorrow, if -- if that's all right? I just need to have Giorda ready," the headwoman says with a quiet sigh. "Otherwise everything is as organized as it can be, given" her other hand moves around in a little air circle. Everything that's happened.
"I know," says Madilla, her voice quiet, and no doubt intended to be soothing, though perhaps the effect is spoiled by her repeated, awkward swallows. "Tomorrow," she agrees, more firmly. "We'll have it all ready for you. It - I hope it won't be too bad. But we'll look after you, I promise." There's a twist of her lips for the rest, and she sighs. "Given everything. Yes. I know. You must be... It must have been a difficult few months."
Milani nods a few more times and rubs at her cheek, under one eyes. "Thank you Madilla, for understanding," the headwoman says softly. "And ... I normally wouldn't care but ... can I -- can I count on you to keep this quiet?" she asks next, voice heavy. "And I know you will. I know."
Madilla watches Milani, sadly, but only nods her head. "Of course. It's - my job. What I'm here for." There's a sharp shake of her head for the request, her lips pulling in tight. "Of course. I would /never/ tell anyone about a patient. /Never/. Your secret - it's safe. I promise."
There's a flicker of something that might almost be like shame on Milani's face. "Thank you, Madilla. I really appreciate it. It would only make a really sticky situation that much worse. So it's just better all around if ..." she moves her hand again then thunks her head down to the table's surface.
Madilla says nothing, and nor does her expression change, until Milani has finished, and her head drops like that. Then, she stands, drawing herself towards the Headwoman, so she can rest her hand upon one of her shoulders, and lightly squeeze. "Oh /Milani/," she breathes, her voice catching slightly. "Of course."
Milani reaches up to cover Madilla's hand with her own, squeezes just a little. She stays face down for a moment or two then resurfaces. No crying, just a moment of 'ack too much'. "I know you wouldn't anyway, but trust me ... never sleep with two bronzeriders in one twenty-four hour period," the headwoman tries to make it a joke, but it falls mostly flat. She takes a deep breath and gives the healer's hand another pat. "I'll be by first thing. I should go take care of a thing or two before then though."
Madilla's expression flickers distinctly at mention of the two bronzeriders, and her eyes go slightly wider, but it doesn't seem to change her determination to do right by the Headwoman. "I--" she begins, and trails off, awkwardly. "Right." Haha. Funny. But not really. She squeezes Milani's shoulder once more, then draws her hand away, taking a step back. "Of course. Have a--" Her expression is bland. "A good night."
There's no hurrying away though, Milani looks up at the healer, nods once. "You know, you should stop by sometime. For tea ... to just talk. Take a break from all this," the headwoman invites and reaches over to knock her knuckles at the nearest paper. She takes up her glass then, drains it down and rises to go put the empty vessel in the bin. "Maybe after ..." she suggests with a little smile and moves to slip out, a hand reaching out to brush the apprentice healer's forearm gently on the way by.
"I'd like that," says Madilla, earnestly, managing an openly warm smile for the Headwoman despite everything else. "After this. Yes." The touch on her arm draws a slight twist in her expression, and one, final nod. She stays where she is, watching after Milani, until she's disappeared completely from view.
When: Late afternoon, 7/25/19
Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
What: Milani has a very sensitive request to make of Madilla. And an offer of tea-time.
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
Summer afternoons are not a particularly peak time for the Nighthearth, which is, perhaps, exactly the reason why Madilla is here, instead of somewhere else: for the moment, she's pretty much on her own. The young apprentice has, as a result, spread her books out all over the table, and is deeply entrenched in reading through them, her lips silently mouthing each word in turn. The mug sitting next to her is empty; she's probably been here for some time.
The headwoman comes up the corridor, one hand fanning her face and slips into the nighthearth, likely in search of similar quietude and leans against the wall for a moment looking a little tired, then Milani pushes onward, pauses again as she catches sight of Madilla's things. "Hey there, Madilla," she musters a cheery enough greeting. "Exams soon?"
Though Madilla's hands are still while she works, aside from the occasional shuffle of papers, her left hand instantly begins fiddling with the cuff of her shirt as her head rises on receipt of Milani's greeting. "Exams - oh, no. Those were at the end of the last month. But there were some things I wasn't as familiar with as I should be, so..." Her smile is openly rueful, as though she's aware of exactly how much of a nerd this must make her seem; she carries in, perhaps a little more hastily. "But - how are you, Milani? You look... tired."
"Ohh, and that makes sense. That way you'll do even better on those things next time, right?" Milani says with understanding and perhaps a lack of concern over possible nerdiness. The headwoman moves over to where the klah pot, water pitchers and baskets of snacks are kept and pours out not klah but water. "I've ... had better months," she replies, trying to keep the smile alive on her face. "Things are mostly starting to look up though." The glass she just poured is lifted to her lips and she takes a good long drink, then moves over to sit across from Madilla, glass carefully set out of the way of the papers and books.
"That's the idea," agrees Madilla, casting a glance back down at her scattered books. "I hope. I feel like I need to prove that my promotion was justified, and my results weren't as good as they could have been, and..." Again, she trails off, and, again, the rueful smile. "I'm sorry," is her sincere response to the admission of better months, made with a hasty nod of her head. "But I'm glad they're looking up." On the Headwoman's return, she draws some of her things closer to her, clearing some more space.
Milani's hand curls up beneath her chin, propping her head up as she looks across all that stuff. "You work really hard," the headwoman states. It's not a question at all, and she's just looking across at the healer with a little smile on her face. "I've been pushing a lot lately myself. To -- keep my mind off things." Deep breath and the glass lifts again, descends. Millie traces a finger through the ring it leaves behind.
Madilla pauses, biting at her lip in patently awkward embarrassment at the Headwoman's remark, but after a moment, she nods: yes, she does. Responding to the rest is easier, and her own little smile returns, though not without visible concern. "It can be easier," she says, slowly, "to bury yourself into work, than think about things. Work is safer, right? No messy emotional things."
"Yes," Milani answers simply, eyes on Madilla's face, taking in the healer's features. There seems to be something on the tip of the headwoman's tongue but she just smiles a little, has some more water and pushes her finger through the ring more, turning it into a star.
There's more hesitation from the healer, and though she doesn't outright stare, her attention is fairly obviously focused upon the Headwoman. Then, finally, Madilla takes a breath, and pushes out her question: "But you're all right? You're -- all right?" Both hands have gone still again, resting atop her pile of papers, the fingers of one hand covering the fingers of the other.
Milani's lips press together for a moment or two and she looks around the nighthearth. It's summer. There's no one else here. "I -- am, mostly yes. And maybe I shouldn't bring this up here. Maybe I should just stop into the infirmary, when someone's on duty," she starts, then stops again. Another line drawn out from the circle of wet.
"It was pretty quiet in there, earlier, when I finished my shift," begins Madilla, the concern in her expression amplified, now. The tips of her fingers curl around the ones beneath, and press hard. She takes another breath. "But if you wanted something, I'm - here." Available.
Up come Milani's eyes again to find Madilla's. "I took a long jump Between after Iovniath's flight. I ... don't think it worked. And ... I really, really need it to have worked." Her lips fold together, press tightly then release. "On top of everything else. I just --" she breaks off, looks down and smears the star into an unshapely smudge.
Madilla swallows, and it's a heavy enough swallow to be audible. "Oh," she says, after a moment of pause and a caught breath. "It's not a good time," she surmises, keeping her tone even and professional, though there's something in the straightening of her shoulders and that initial reaction that suggest she's having to work quite hard at it. "There are herbal methods, of course. But... they can be dangerous. They're poisons, effectively." She watches Milani, her expression unreadable.
"I don't know who," Milani says in a small voice. "Otherwise ... it'd be fine," she says, tone edged with something that sounds just a little on the verge. "Would've been fine ... but I can't. I just ... I can't. I can't do that to him." Her head is shaking back and forth a lot. Another nod and she looks down again. "I know. My mother walked me through it all when I was thirteen and again every turn in more and more detail. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important," she continues, low-voiced. "It hasn't been that long. Just since the flight. Absolutely sure about that."
Madilla can't keep up the professional veneer, not in the face of Milani's voice; her expression shifts, emotion writ so clear upon it: empathy, but also hurt. "Oh, Milani," she breathes, her own voice catching. She breathes. Once, twice, and then, before a third breath, "No, of course you can't. Of course. It's--" She hesitates, counting on her fingers, presumably tallying up how long. "Still, the earlier the better. The safer." After one more swallow, she concludes, "Did you want to do it now? Or - you'll need to be prepared for not being well for a few days. Do you have things you need to organise?"
Milani lifts a hand to pass across her eyes, re-props her chin in her hand, her own face a mask of irony and sadness. "I could have managed, but for that," she says tiredly and nods a few times. "Tomorrow, if -- if that's all right? I just need to have Giorda ready," the headwoman says with a quiet sigh. "Otherwise everything is as organized as it can be, given" her other hand moves around in a little air circle. Everything that's happened.
"I know," says Madilla, her voice quiet, and no doubt intended to be soothing, though perhaps the effect is spoiled by her repeated, awkward swallows. "Tomorrow," she agrees, more firmly. "We'll have it all ready for you. It - I hope it won't be too bad. But we'll look after you, I promise." There's a twist of her lips for the rest, and she sighs. "Given everything. Yes. I know. You must be... It must have been a difficult few months."
Milani nods a few more times and rubs at her cheek, under one eyes. "Thank you Madilla, for understanding," the headwoman says softly. "And ... I normally wouldn't care but ... can I -- can I count on you to keep this quiet?" she asks next, voice heavy. "And I know you will. I know."
Madilla watches Milani, sadly, but only nods her head. "Of course. It's - my job. What I'm here for." There's a sharp shake of her head for the request, her lips pulling in tight. "Of course. I would /never/ tell anyone about a patient. /Never/. Your secret - it's safe. I promise."
There's a flicker of something that might almost be like shame on Milani's face. "Thank you, Madilla. I really appreciate it. It would only make a really sticky situation that much worse. So it's just better all around if ..." she moves her hand again then thunks her head down to the table's surface.
Madilla says nothing, and nor does her expression change, until Milani has finished, and her head drops like that. Then, she stands, drawing herself towards the Headwoman, so she can rest her hand upon one of her shoulders, and lightly squeeze. "Oh /Milani/," she breathes, her voice catching slightly. "Of course."
Milani reaches up to cover Madilla's hand with her own, squeezes just a little. She stays face down for a moment or two then resurfaces. No crying, just a moment of 'ack too much'. "I know you wouldn't anyway, but trust me ... never sleep with two bronzeriders in one twenty-four hour period," the headwoman tries to make it a joke, but it falls mostly flat. She takes a deep breath and gives the healer's hand another pat. "I'll be by first thing. I should go take care of a thing or two before then though."
Madilla's expression flickers distinctly at mention of the two bronzeriders, and her eyes go slightly wider, but it doesn't seem to change her determination to do right by the Headwoman. "I--" she begins, and trails off, awkwardly. "Right." Haha. Funny. But not really. She squeezes Milani's shoulder once more, then draws her hand away, taking a step back. "Of course. Have a--" Her expression is bland. "A good night."
There's no hurrying away though, Milani looks up at the healer, nods once. "You know, you should stop by sometime. For tea ... to just talk. Take a break from all this," the headwoman invites and reaches over to knock her knuckles at the nearest paper. She takes up her glass then, drains it down and rises to go put the empty vessel in the bin. "Maybe after ..." she suggests with a little smile and moves to slip out, a hand reaching out to brush the apprentice healer's forearm gently on the way by.
"I'd like that," says Madilla, earnestly, managing an openly warm smile for the Headwoman despite everything else. "After this. Yes." The touch on her arm draws a slight twist in her expression, and one, final nod. She stays where she is, watching after Milani, until she's disappeared completely from view.