Log: Milani's Checkup
Who: Madilla, Milani
When: It is a spring afternoon, 12:58 of day 28, month 5, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
What: Milani's a little late for her checkup. It's okay because Madilla forgot. They get through it anyway, in spite of the serious disconnect between holdbred and weyrbred comfort zones.
Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients.
About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
It's the tail end of the lunch hour when Milani bustles into the infirmary, clipboard under arm and peeking about for a specific face. She pauses to talk to one of the journeymen who nods farther back into the space and the headwoman heads that way. "Madilla?" she calls out as she heads in that direction, looking forward curiously.
Madilla's voice sounds surprised, but pleasantly so, when it rings out in response. "In here," she calls. "With the herbs." She's in the workroom, standing at the long counter in there with a half-beaker of something yellowy-brown in colour, which she's busy pouring into smaller bottles, each with a carefully-printed label on them. Her back is turned to the door, but only because necessity seems to demand it: she's intent upon her pouring, filling each to exactly the same point.
"Hello there," Milani's voice sing-songs cheerily and she leans in the doorframe, eyeing that beaker a little suspiciously. "I'm sorry I'm a little late," she apologizes. "But maybe not so bad looking at whatever that is," she notes of the beaker-and-bottles. She's dressed neatly in 'working' clothes today, with a scarf around her head, its gaily colored print hanging down over the back of her hair and masking its shortness somewhat.
Madilla turns, cheeks struck pink, and she admits, "I completely forgot, I was so entranced. So we'll-- uh, call you not late, and me not forgetful?" She stoppers the bottle in her hand, adding it to the completed pile. "Let me just finish off this last one, and we'll jump right into it, promise." Another bottle, stoppered. Then: "Cold remedy," by way of explanation. "Something about the change of the seasons always brings them on."
Milani giggles a little and ducks her head, looks up at Madilla with a twinkle in her eyes. "Done deal. I've been so busy and running around I totally understand," the headwoman says more seriously. "Sure, not a problem." And the bottles are eyed again. "I hope it works, because that does not look like it's fun to take at all."
"Well..." begins Madilla, answering the last comment first, as the last of the little bottles is added to the finished pile, and she turns to face the Headwoman properly. "Let's just say I won't be offering to let you taste test." Rueful, but amused. "But it /does/ work. You must be busy. Spring - it always was, at home. And the weyrlings, needing things, too. I'm done - I'll clean the rest of this up later. Do you want to just take a seat in here?" She indicates the chairs, and desk, at the other end. "Quieter than out there. And no one else'll need it, this afternoon."
Milani sticks her tongue out at that remark, nodding. "Thank you for that. And well, if it works, good and if I get a cold, I'll come begging for it," she says laughingly. "Mmm. Spring cleaning, setting up weyrlings, changing up linens, you know how it goes," Millie says airily, as if in the end, the busy isn't all that big of a deal, just a fact of life. "Oh! Sure, and yes, a little peace and quiet for a bit wouldn't hurt." So saying the headwoman walks on in and folds up into that chair, clipboard set on the desk's edge.
There's a little pride in Madilla's voice as she says, "Everyone always does." Come begging? Presumably. "Like managing a household, only much bigger," agrees the younger girl, with something of a knowing smile, but also a measure of... awe? - and a nod. "/Much/ bigger." She nods quickly, as the headwoman sits, lifting her hand to indicate 'just a minute'. When she's back, she has her own clipboard, functionally identical to Milani's, and moves to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "This shouldn't take too much of your time. Especially since - well, we have all your childhood records, right?"
"Oh they do, do they?" Milani laughs for that and then nods. "Mmhm, pretty much. In some ways, headwoman might even be the most holder-like job at a Weyr," she muses thoughtfully. "Only yeah, BIG," and she makes big eyes, gestures with her hands. "Oh yes, should anyway, my mother was always very careful about that, making sure the healers had everything and even if it's a drag to do, I don't miss my appointments."
"I think so," says Madilla, of Headwomaning and holds. "At least - a lot of it sounds familiar. We were pressed into service from an early age." Her gaze is thoughtful, for the memory, but she shakes it away, looking down at her clipboard, instead, and picking up her pen. "Which is good of you." She takes a deep breath, half-smiles, and then nods. "I suppose... first thing I should ask, you're healthy now? Nothing to complain about?"
"Oh?" Milani regards Madilla curiously about that. "I'm completley weyrbred, so that's actually something I don't completely understand, how it all works in a hold. I just have that impression, you know?" Millie smiles though and sits back, one foot bouncing lightly on the floor. "Healthy. Yes. The bugs are all gone, thank /Faranth/." And she gives her hair a mournful pat. "Other than that, healthy as a runner. I haven't been sick in ... oh, ages, really. Not even a sniffle."
Madilla's head bobs a few times. "It's the right impression. At least, in my experience. It's just - well, the women do all of the chores, all together. The Headwomaning, and the cleaning, and the cooking and-- all of it. So you learn a bit of everything." Her expression changes, between one statement and the next; she's quite relaxed, for the talk about holds and headwomen, but stiffer, more forcibly professional, for the rest. "I'm sorry about your hair," is an exception, but only barely. "Though I think the new look-- suits you. A bit. It doesn't look bad." She manages to nod for the rest, scribbling something down on her clipboard. "Not prone to them, then. Do you make sure to eat, regularly? Sleep enough? No headaches?"
"In some ways, that actually sounds kind of nice. Companionable. But I wouldn't want that to be you know, the only thing that was expected of me," Milani says slowly, thoughtfully still and then there's that apology and she just grins wryly. "I couldn't do the comb-throughs right. It was just too much. So it had to go. And um -- thanks." There's more laughter at the next set of questions. "I eat like a runner too. I've got a lot of energy, so I snack a lot. Sleep's been a little on the short side lately, mostly because of having to stay on top of everything, but I try to catch up on my restdays. Headaches? Nope."
Lips parting wryly, Madilla says, "I didn't mind it. We were-- there was always chatter, and it was friendly. I don't think any of us really ever thought about what more we /could/ do. Until I was sent away." Her expression is understanding, for the comb-throughs, and she nods slowly, the hand with the pen in it lifting to touch her own hair. "I was lucky," she murmurs, softly. The answers to her questions get noted down, too, in very slow, deliberate notations. "Sleep's important. Get as much as you can. Um. Hm. Ever had any major injuries - broken bones, bad wounds?"
"I guess it's kind of that way. I mean, it wouldn't have occurred to me not to think the way I think either if that's all I'd ever known." She pauses, frowning faintly and her lips move as she retraces that sentence, then shrugs. "Yeah, there was just so much to clean and well, maybe I keep the wrong company," she notes with a sudden wicked grin. "Anyway, I did bust up my ankle a couple of turns ago, but that healed up nicely, no problems there."
"Exactly," agrees Madilla, with feeling. "It's a bit of an adjustment, to discover that people think differently. That /you/ have to think differently." She doesn't elaborate further; Milani's comment on the wrong company draws a flush, though she nods, hurriedly looking back down at her clipboard. Safe. "No aches in the joint, or anything? That's good. It can be... dangerous. And as a child - you were healthy?"
"Can't be easy," Milani says, regarding Madilla a little more closely and her teeth catch a little at her lip as Madilla flushes. "No, no aches at all and well, if my file is pretty thin, it's because I've really never had any problems. The usual fevers at the usual times, the occasional cold, but nothing serious. Just lots of energy and a bottomless appetite, especially for sweets, but I never seem to gain any weight. Or well, I didn't /used/ to. I'm being a little more careful now, when I noticed some of my skirts were getting a little tight. I do a lot more sitting and writing as a headwoman, even as an assistant than I did when I was younger."
"Not really," admits Madilla, managing to look up, and smile ruefully. "But one manages. You get used to it." But: business. She nods, making more notes as the headwoman speaks, tilting her head up every so often to look at her, before making a few more. "It's a typical adjustment," she offers, of the last. "Because you do spend less time doing, as you get older. But better to get in that habit now, than later: it's harder to lose the weight, when you get older. What about--" She's controlling her expression, forcing it to remain calm, blush-free. "Your monthlies. Regular? No problems?"
"With time," Milani says lightly and shifts position in the chair, setting her elbow down on the arm of one and pillowing her head in her hand. "Right. I have a friend who was very worried about my constant intake of cookies and tried to get me to switch to celery. I just cut down on the cookies instead," she says with a little laugh and crosses one leg over the other, foot bouncing a little. "Yes, mostly. I've had to take two long jumps between in the last turn, but no problems there either, since it was early enough," Milani says steadily. "I try to avoid having to go that route, but sometimes it just happens. I use what my mother gave me. Either way, it hasn't seemed to mess with anything overall."
Madilla's lips part into a genuine smile, for the celery. "I can't blame you there," she admits. "Celery isn't much of a replacement." Her desperate attempts to keep her expression professional, her cheeks pale, are thwarted further by the rest of Milani's words. Despite herself, her cheeks go pink, and, again, she has to lower her head towards her work, to try and hide the worst of it. And the sadness. "It is better to avoid it," she says, finally, after swallowing. "But - if you've had no problems, then that's good. If you did, any at all, you should come straight here." Hastily, then, she moves on: "Any reactions to anything? Dust, trees or flowers, foods? Medicines?"
"Celery isn't much of a replacement for anything," is Milani's very definite statement on that poor beleaguered vegetable. She catches that look and purses her lips faintly, sits back in her chair more. "I've been more careful since. And I promise, I will. I don't fancy having any of that kind of problem," the headwoman says all too sincerely. For the last bit: "Nope, none of those. I mean, I sneeze when it's dusty, but that's normal, right?"
Madilla breathes. Then, manages a smile. "Poor celery, unloved and unwanted." She sucks on her lip, while nodding, to the rest of Milani's words, as her flush fades again, and she - seems to, at least - begins to recover all of her slipping composure. "I'm glad to hear it," she says, with feeling, looking up properly again. "Yes, that's normal. Do you check... for lumps?" This, she does manage to say without blushing. Clinical, even.
"Unless it's in soup or stew," Milani points out about the celery an then wrinkles her brows faintly at Madilla about that last question. "Lumps? What kind of lumps?"
"That's different," agrees Madilla, of the celery. To clarify that last question, she says, very blandly, "In your breasts."
Blue-green eyes promptly drop to her own chest and then Milani looks back up and across at Madilla, looking perplexed. "Whatever for?" Apparently, no, she hasn't gotten that lecture yet.
Poor Madilla. She swallows, takes a long breath, and then, without meeting Milani's gaze - in fact, deliberately avoiding it, she explains: "Sometimes, women get lumps. Growths. You can get them a lot of places, but... it's better, if you can catch them early." Her words are sort of jumbled, very awkward. "You just... feel about. See if anything feels different. Lumpy. And if there is, you come to a healer, and we check for you, too."
It takes a moment or two for Millie to digest that. "Oh. Well. That sounds really annoying and painful. Feel around, hm? Okay. That shouldn't be hard to do." And then she's tilting her head a little, sliding her chin more deeply into her palm. "Do we get to pick the cute journeymen for that?"
Madilla's mask of seriousness falls, suddenly, at the cute journeymen remark. She giggles, the flush on her cheeks deepening; she promptly looks most embarrassed with herself. "If you like," she grins, after taking another deep breath. "They're very professional about it, but... Could be fun anyway." Another swallow. "Is there anything else I should know? Otherwise - that's about it."
"It would make it a whole lot more fun," Milani says, grinning in return and a girlish giggle escapes at the end. After all, she's not that much older than Madilla. "Even with the whole professional thing," she notes further, "after all, everyone gets off-duty sometimes." And there she's got a perky grin for Madilla. It fades briefly as she casts her eyes up to the ceiling, looking thoughtful. "Nope, can't think of anything. Do you need to measure me or check anything out? I don't think I've grown any. Shells, hope not, because this is /plenty/ tall enough for me."
The giggle seems to make Madilla more comfortable again; she's grinning, now, if a little ruefully. "That's true. And most of them would be more than happy to... take a less professional interest. I'm sure." More professional again, although that smile hasn't completely faded, she shakes her head. "You shouldn't have grown. By now. No - all's fine. But if anything does come up, any concerns... Just come and talk to us."
"Oh, totally true of most men," Milani says baldly but there's a sweet smile for Madilla along with it. With that last, she leans forward to get her clipboard from the desk's edge. "Thank Faranth for that. Any taller and the only men who'd still be taller than I am are my brother, N'thei and K'del." Big eyes made as if this has some sort of significance. "And thanks Madilla, I will. And we should get drinks sometime, or go for a walk around the lake, chat a bit. For now though, duty, duty, duty." Says she, with a wave of her clipboard.
Madilla looks more amused than anything by this statement, and actually laughs again. "It wouldn't do, to be taller than all of /them/. They're /tall/. At least, the latter two. I don't know your brother." She nods several times quickly, at least once for the thanks, and definitely for the drinks or walk. "I'd like that. Mm - I should clean up, too. I'll talk to you later, Milani. Have a good afternoon."
"He's a titch taller than the Weyrleader is Remi. He comes by to visit sometimes. Red hair. Freckles. Blue eyes. Glasses. He's a dork, but very sweet." And she's slipping out of her chair, is Milani as she beams across at Madilla. "See you around, Madilla!" The headwoman bounces on out, humming slightly off-key.
Madilla nods, smiling for the description, and waves, before she, too, gets up from her chair, wandering back to her beaker and jars - back to work.
When: It is a spring afternoon, 12:58 of day 28, month 5, turn 18 of Interval 10.
Where: Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
What: Milani's a little late for her checkup. It's okay because Madilla forgot. They get through it anyway, in spite of the serious disconnect between holdbred and weyrbred comfort zones.
Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr
Two sets of double doors, one from the the inner caverns and a recently built set from the dragon infirmary, lead into the unnaturally hushed human infirmary. Despite fastidious cleaning, the scent of redwort and numbweed has long since soaked into every smooth-carved surface, along with other, subtler medicinal smells. Pristinely made cots are lined up against the walls; most of them are left open to view, but some in the back are surrounded by curtains for delicate procedures or critical patients.
About halfway between the two entrances is the counter for the healers on duty; it guards the entrance to the storage rooms just beyond, their shelves and cabinets lined with meticulously labeled bottles, boxes, jars, and even vats of supplies. The Weyrhealer's office is also here, along with another side room for mixing up medicines and the like.
It's the tail end of the lunch hour when Milani bustles into the infirmary, clipboard under arm and peeking about for a specific face. She pauses to talk to one of the journeymen who nods farther back into the space and the headwoman heads that way. "Madilla?" she calls out as she heads in that direction, looking forward curiously.
Madilla's voice sounds surprised, but pleasantly so, when it rings out in response. "In here," she calls. "With the herbs." She's in the workroom, standing at the long counter in there with a half-beaker of something yellowy-brown in colour, which she's busy pouring into smaller bottles, each with a carefully-printed label on them. Her back is turned to the door, but only because necessity seems to demand it: she's intent upon her pouring, filling each to exactly the same point.
"Hello there," Milani's voice sing-songs cheerily and she leans in the doorframe, eyeing that beaker a little suspiciously. "I'm sorry I'm a little late," she apologizes. "But maybe not so bad looking at whatever that is," she notes of the beaker-and-bottles. She's dressed neatly in 'working' clothes today, with a scarf around her head, its gaily colored print hanging down over the back of her hair and masking its shortness somewhat.
Madilla turns, cheeks struck pink, and she admits, "I completely forgot, I was so entranced. So we'll-- uh, call you not late, and me not forgetful?" She stoppers the bottle in her hand, adding it to the completed pile. "Let me just finish off this last one, and we'll jump right into it, promise." Another bottle, stoppered. Then: "Cold remedy," by way of explanation. "Something about the change of the seasons always brings them on."
Milani giggles a little and ducks her head, looks up at Madilla with a twinkle in her eyes. "Done deal. I've been so busy and running around I totally understand," the headwoman says more seriously. "Sure, not a problem." And the bottles are eyed again. "I hope it works, because that does not look like it's fun to take at all."
"Well..." begins Madilla, answering the last comment first, as the last of the little bottles is added to the finished pile, and she turns to face the Headwoman properly. "Let's just say I won't be offering to let you taste test." Rueful, but amused. "But it /does/ work. You must be busy. Spring - it always was, at home. And the weyrlings, needing things, too. I'm done - I'll clean the rest of this up later. Do you want to just take a seat in here?" She indicates the chairs, and desk, at the other end. "Quieter than out there. And no one else'll need it, this afternoon."
Milani sticks her tongue out at that remark, nodding. "Thank you for that. And well, if it works, good and if I get a cold, I'll come begging for it," she says laughingly. "Mmm. Spring cleaning, setting up weyrlings, changing up linens, you know how it goes," Millie says airily, as if in the end, the busy isn't all that big of a deal, just a fact of life. "Oh! Sure, and yes, a little peace and quiet for a bit wouldn't hurt." So saying the headwoman walks on in and folds up into that chair, clipboard set on the desk's edge.
There's a little pride in Madilla's voice as she says, "Everyone always does." Come begging? Presumably. "Like managing a household, only much bigger," agrees the younger girl, with something of a knowing smile, but also a measure of... awe? - and a nod. "/Much/ bigger." She nods quickly, as the headwoman sits, lifting her hand to indicate 'just a minute'. When she's back, she has her own clipboard, functionally identical to Milani's, and moves to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "This shouldn't take too much of your time. Especially since - well, we have all your childhood records, right?"
"Oh they do, do they?" Milani laughs for that and then nods. "Mmhm, pretty much. In some ways, headwoman might even be the most holder-like job at a Weyr," she muses thoughtfully. "Only yeah, BIG," and she makes big eyes, gestures with her hands. "Oh yes, should anyway, my mother was always very careful about that, making sure the healers had everything and even if it's a drag to do, I don't miss my appointments."
"I think so," says Madilla, of Headwomaning and holds. "At least - a lot of it sounds familiar. We were pressed into service from an early age." Her gaze is thoughtful, for the memory, but she shakes it away, looking down at her clipboard, instead, and picking up her pen. "Which is good of you." She takes a deep breath, half-smiles, and then nods. "I suppose... first thing I should ask, you're healthy now? Nothing to complain about?"
"Oh?" Milani regards Madilla curiously about that. "I'm completley weyrbred, so that's actually something I don't completely understand, how it all works in a hold. I just have that impression, you know?" Millie smiles though and sits back, one foot bouncing lightly on the floor. "Healthy. Yes. The bugs are all gone, thank /Faranth/." And she gives her hair a mournful pat. "Other than that, healthy as a runner. I haven't been sick in ... oh, ages, really. Not even a sniffle."
Madilla's head bobs a few times. "It's the right impression. At least, in my experience. It's just - well, the women do all of the chores, all together. The Headwomaning, and the cleaning, and the cooking and-- all of it. So you learn a bit of everything." Her expression changes, between one statement and the next; she's quite relaxed, for the talk about holds and headwomen, but stiffer, more forcibly professional, for the rest. "I'm sorry about your hair," is an exception, but only barely. "Though I think the new look-- suits you. A bit. It doesn't look bad." She manages to nod for the rest, scribbling something down on her clipboard. "Not prone to them, then. Do you make sure to eat, regularly? Sleep enough? No headaches?"
"In some ways, that actually sounds kind of nice. Companionable. But I wouldn't want that to be you know, the only thing that was expected of me," Milani says slowly, thoughtfully still and then there's that apology and she just grins wryly. "I couldn't do the comb-throughs right. It was just too much. So it had to go. And um -- thanks." There's more laughter at the next set of questions. "I eat like a runner too. I've got a lot of energy, so I snack a lot. Sleep's been a little on the short side lately, mostly because of having to stay on top of everything, but I try to catch up on my restdays. Headaches? Nope."
Lips parting wryly, Madilla says, "I didn't mind it. We were-- there was always chatter, and it was friendly. I don't think any of us really ever thought about what more we /could/ do. Until I was sent away." Her expression is understanding, for the comb-throughs, and she nods slowly, the hand with the pen in it lifting to touch her own hair. "I was lucky," she murmurs, softly. The answers to her questions get noted down, too, in very slow, deliberate notations. "Sleep's important. Get as much as you can. Um. Hm. Ever had any major injuries - broken bones, bad wounds?"
"I guess it's kind of that way. I mean, it wouldn't have occurred to me not to think the way I think either if that's all I'd ever known." She pauses, frowning faintly and her lips move as she retraces that sentence, then shrugs. "Yeah, there was just so much to clean and well, maybe I keep the wrong company," she notes with a sudden wicked grin. "Anyway, I did bust up my ankle a couple of turns ago, but that healed up nicely, no problems there."
"Exactly," agrees Madilla, with feeling. "It's a bit of an adjustment, to discover that people think differently. That /you/ have to think differently." She doesn't elaborate further; Milani's comment on the wrong company draws a flush, though she nods, hurriedly looking back down at her clipboard. Safe. "No aches in the joint, or anything? That's good. It can be... dangerous. And as a child - you were healthy?"
"Can't be easy," Milani says, regarding Madilla a little more closely and her teeth catch a little at her lip as Madilla flushes. "No, no aches at all and well, if my file is pretty thin, it's because I've really never had any problems. The usual fevers at the usual times, the occasional cold, but nothing serious. Just lots of energy and a bottomless appetite, especially for sweets, but I never seem to gain any weight. Or well, I didn't /used/ to. I'm being a little more careful now, when I noticed some of my skirts were getting a little tight. I do a lot more sitting and writing as a headwoman, even as an assistant than I did when I was younger."
"Not really," admits Madilla, managing to look up, and smile ruefully. "But one manages. You get used to it." But: business. She nods, making more notes as the headwoman speaks, tilting her head up every so often to look at her, before making a few more. "It's a typical adjustment," she offers, of the last. "Because you do spend less time doing, as you get older. But better to get in that habit now, than later: it's harder to lose the weight, when you get older. What about--" She's controlling her expression, forcing it to remain calm, blush-free. "Your monthlies. Regular? No problems?"
"With time," Milani says lightly and shifts position in the chair, setting her elbow down on the arm of one and pillowing her head in her hand. "Right. I have a friend who was very worried about my constant intake of cookies and tried to get me to switch to celery. I just cut down on the cookies instead," she says with a little laugh and crosses one leg over the other, foot bouncing a little. "Yes, mostly. I've had to take two long jumps between in the last turn, but no problems there either, since it was early enough," Milani says steadily. "I try to avoid having to go that route, but sometimes it just happens. I use what my mother gave me. Either way, it hasn't seemed to mess with anything overall."
Madilla's lips part into a genuine smile, for the celery. "I can't blame you there," she admits. "Celery isn't much of a replacement." Her desperate attempts to keep her expression professional, her cheeks pale, are thwarted further by the rest of Milani's words. Despite herself, her cheeks go pink, and, again, she has to lower her head towards her work, to try and hide the worst of it. And the sadness. "It is better to avoid it," she says, finally, after swallowing. "But - if you've had no problems, then that's good. If you did, any at all, you should come straight here." Hastily, then, she moves on: "Any reactions to anything? Dust, trees or flowers, foods? Medicines?"
"Celery isn't much of a replacement for anything," is Milani's very definite statement on that poor beleaguered vegetable. She catches that look and purses her lips faintly, sits back in her chair more. "I've been more careful since. And I promise, I will. I don't fancy having any of that kind of problem," the headwoman says all too sincerely. For the last bit: "Nope, none of those. I mean, I sneeze when it's dusty, but that's normal, right?"
Madilla breathes. Then, manages a smile. "Poor celery, unloved and unwanted." She sucks on her lip, while nodding, to the rest of Milani's words, as her flush fades again, and she - seems to, at least - begins to recover all of her slipping composure. "I'm glad to hear it," she says, with feeling, looking up properly again. "Yes, that's normal. Do you check... for lumps?" This, she does manage to say without blushing. Clinical, even.
"Unless it's in soup or stew," Milani points out about the celery an then wrinkles her brows faintly at Madilla about that last question. "Lumps? What kind of lumps?"
"That's different," agrees Madilla, of the celery. To clarify that last question, she says, very blandly, "In your breasts."
Blue-green eyes promptly drop to her own chest and then Milani looks back up and across at Madilla, looking perplexed. "Whatever for?" Apparently, no, she hasn't gotten that lecture yet.
Poor Madilla. She swallows, takes a long breath, and then, without meeting Milani's gaze - in fact, deliberately avoiding it, she explains: "Sometimes, women get lumps. Growths. You can get them a lot of places, but... it's better, if you can catch them early." Her words are sort of jumbled, very awkward. "You just... feel about. See if anything feels different. Lumpy. And if there is, you come to a healer, and we check for you, too."
It takes a moment or two for Millie to digest that. "Oh. Well. That sounds really annoying and painful. Feel around, hm? Okay. That shouldn't be hard to do." And then she's tilting her head a little, sliding her chin more deeply into her palm. "Do we get to pick the cute journeymen for that?"
Madilla's mask of seriousness falls, suddenly, at the cute journeymen remark. She giggles, the flush on her cheeks deepening; she promptly looks most embarrassed with herself. "If you like," she grins, after taking another deep breath. "They're very professional about it, but... Could be fun anyway." Another swallow. "Is there anything else I should know? Otherwise - that's about it."
"It would make it a whole lot more fun," Milani says, grinning in return and a girlish giggle escapes at the end. After all, she's not that much older than Madilla. "Even with the whole professional thing," she notes further, "after all, everyone gets off-duty sometimes." And there she's got a perky grin for Madilla. It fades briefly as she casts her eyes up to the ceiling, looking thoughtful. "Nope, can't think of anything. Do you need to measure me or check anything out? I don't think I've grown any. Shells, hope not, because this is /plenty/ tall enough for me."
The giggle seems to make Madilla more comfortable again; she's grinning, now, if a little ruefully. "That's true. And most of them would be more than happy to... take a less professional interest. I'm sure." More professional again, although that smile hasn't completely faded, she shakes her head. "You shouldn't have grown. By now. No - all's fine. But if anything does come up, any concerns... Just come and talk to us."
"Oh, totally true of most men," Milani says baldly but there's a sweet smile for Madilla along with it. With that last, she leans forward to get her clipboard from the desk's edge. "Thank Faranth for that. Any taller and the only men who'd still be taller than I am are my brother, N'thei and K'del." Big eyes made as if this has some sort of significance. "And thanks Madilla, I will. And we should get drinks sometime, or go for a walk around the lake, chat a bit. For now though, duty, duty, duty." Says she, with a wave of her clipboard.
Madilla looks more amused than anything by this statement, and actually laughs again. "It wouldn't do, to be taller than all of /them/. They're /tall/. At least, the latter two. I don't know your brother." She nods several times quickly, at least once for the thanks, and definitely for the drinks or walk. "I'd like that. Mm - I should clean up, too. I'll talk to you later, Milani. Have a good afternoon."
"He's a titch taller than the Weyrleader is Remi. He comes by to visit sometimes. Red hair. Freckles. Blue eyes. Glasses. He's a dork, but very sweet." And she's slipping out of her chair, is Milani as she beams across at Madilla. "See you around, Madilla!" The headwoman bounces on out, humming slightly off-key.
Madilla nods, smiling for the description, and waves, before she, too, gets up from her chair, wandering back to her beaker and jars - back to work.