Vignette: Three Days
When: 8/1/19
What: The results of Milani's talk with Madilla aren't pretty.
This should bring to a close, the cycle of angst that Milani has been going through for the last little while.
Three days in the infirmary.
Three days while the bitter concoction did its work.
It was worse than the other times she'd taken a hop Between. A lot worse.
She hadn't expected it to hurt so much on so many levels, but it did. It hurt.
They took very good care of her, especially Madilla, though Milani could tell the apprentice was struggling with something about all of this. Maybe they could talk about it when it was all over. For now though, Milani just let her and the other healers do their jobs as the whole ordeal played itself slowly out.
Three days after she'd walked in there, sat down and drunk down the whole bitter cup, they sent her home with instructions and warnings and something else to drink every morning to keep things 'balanced' for the next seven.
She had all the warning signs memorized and while they'd been good to her, she was very very done with lying around on a cot in the infirmary trying to read and not really seeing the words while her body slowly divested itself of the results of Iovniath's flight.
A'son's? K'del's? Did it matter? Kas didn't want children and the last thing the new Weyrleader needed was to have the headwoman walking around big with his spawn when he was trying to get a whole Weyr of skeptical riders to respect him. A'son, she was sure would rage again and he didn't need another reminder of what had happened that day. She was under no illusions that somehow, a baby could make it all better.
It couldn't.
It just added more fuel to a situation that was already volatile at best. She pushed open the door of her rooms and looked around at the familiar furnishings, walked through to the bedroom and stared at that bed. That bed, where hope had blossomed for a few blissful hours, died and been corrupted in the space of another few. That bed, where a child had been conceived and who was already gone, consigned to an early herb-driven death by an unwilling mother.
She hadn't slept in that bed for several weeks now, spending the night at L'vae's with or without him. He'd told her she was welcome any night and she'd availed herself of that welcome night after night so she didn't have to face this bed again.
Milani knew she'd probably still float up there off and on. Lou liked the company and she liked staying with him. It was comfortable, companionate, cozy.
This was her room though and her bed and it was time to face up to things and stop moping around. Madilla had sworn silence and Milani wasn't about to go spilling this particular secret to anyone. Leova. Maybe. Someday.
She'd made her bed.
Now she had to lie in it.
So she did, without tears, but not without the lingering pangs of regret and remorse.
"I'm sorry," she murmured softly, to the low-lit room and closed her eyes.
What: The results of Milani's talk with Madilla aren't pretty.
This should bring to a close, the cycle of angst that Milani has been going through for the last little while.
Three days in the infirmary.
Three days while the bitter concoction did its work.
It was worse than the other times she'd taken a hop Between. A lot worse.
She hadn't expected it to hurt so much on so many levels, but it did. It hurt.
They took very good care of her, especially Madilla, though Milani could tell the apprentice was struggling with something about all of this. Maybe they could talk about it when it was all over. For now though, Milani just let her and the other healers do their jobs as the whole ordeal played itself slowly out.
Three days after she'd walked in there, sat down and drunk down the whole bitter cup, they sent her home with instructions and warnings and something else to drink every morning to keep things 'balanced' for the next seven.
She had all the warning signs memorized and while they'd been good to her, she was very very done with lying around on a cot in the infirmary trying to read and not really seeing the words while her body slowly divested itself of the results of Iovniath's flight.
A'son's? K'del's? Did it matter? Kas didn't want children and the last thing the new Weyrleader needed was to have the headwoman walking around big with his spawn when he was trying to get a whole Weyr of skeptical riders to respect him. A'son, she was sure would rage again and he didn't need another reminder of what had happened that day. She was under no illusions that somehow, a baby could make it all better.
It couldn't.
It just added more fuel to a situation that was already volatile at best. She pushed open the door of her rooms and looked around at the familiar furnishings, walked through to the bedroom and stared at that bed. That bed, where hope had blossomed for a few blissful hours, died and been corrupted in the space of another few. That bed, where a child had been conceived and who was already gone, consigned to an early herb-driven death by an unwilling mother.
She hadn't slept in that bed for several weeks now, spending the night at L'vae's with or without him. He'd told her she was welcome any night and she'd availed herself of that welcome night after night so she didn't have to face this bed again.
Milani knew she'd probably still float up there off and on. Lou liked the company and she liked staying with him. It was comfortable, companionate, cozy.
This was her room though and her bed and it was time to face up to things and stop moping around. Madilla had sworn silence and Milani wasn't about to go spilling this particular secret to anyone. Leova. Maybe. Someday.
She'd made her bed.
Now she had to lie in it.
So she did, without tears, but not without the lingering pangs of regret and remorse.
"I'm sorry," she murmured softly, to the low-lit room and closed her eyes.