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Madeleine Gosselin
Posts: 134
Joined: Sun May 26, 2019 3:54 pm
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Wed Jun 19, 2019 6:56 am

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
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Niamh looked pointedly at Madeleine’s handkerchief. There were no emotions that Madeleine could understand in the older student’s indectal field, still swirling with the remnants of her quantitative spell, but Madeleine thought she saw some traces of emotion on Niamh’s face, emotions she couldn’t identify. Disgust, Madeleine thought, probably. Niamh must think she was an awful baby; she probably thought no proper galdor would cry like this just from a sprained ankle.

Niamh couldn’t even bring herself to say anything to Madeleine, mumbling about the salve and leaving.

The news about her ankle was good, but Madeleine still felt a sodden, sopping misery in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breaths and trying not to cry anymore. She thought about – anything, anything at all. What worked best was going through dance routines in her head, concentrating on the steps one by one, pretending as if she were really doing them in her mind. Just now that didn’t feel so good; it seemed to set her ankle throbbing and swirl her a little deeper into misery.

Madeleine was crying a little again when Niamh returned; not sobbing, this time, just sitting on the cot with tears sliding steadily down her cheeks. Now that she had started she didn’t think she could stop; her mind skidded from topic to topic, refusing to hold onto anything, always returning to her own overwhelming emotions. Niamh thrust another handkerchief at her, looking as if she had to force herself to smile. Madeleine took it with a whispered thank you and nodded faintly in response to Niamh’s question. The touch on her ankle hurt too, and more tears leaked from her eyes. Madeleine didn’t even understand where they were coming from; she thought she ought to have cried all of the tears already.

Niamh asked if she was all right. Madeleine flinched when the older student cut herself off, embarrassed and ashamed. She knew she couldn’t control her field; it was hard for her at the best of times, and right now it was entirely out of her control, her field shifted deep blue around her, throbbing and sodden with her tears, orange tendrils of embarrassment and shame weaving through it. Madeleine sniffled, drowning in misery, too far beneath the surface to realize how different Niamh’s tone was from what she heard in her head.

And then Niamh stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Madeleine, holding the little golly close.

Madeleine tensed, caught off guard and somewhat shocked by the sudden contact. She sniffled again. Outside of dancing, and contact like being helped to the infirmary, Madeleine couldn’t think of the last time anyone had touched her like this. She couldn’t think of the last time anyone had hugged her. She thought – maybe – her grandmother, the week before Madeleine’s ninth birthday, just before she had died. Madeleine had gone to see her, in her sick bed, and her grandmother had opened her arms and Madeleine had leaned in to hug her; she had smelled awful, Madeleine remembered, but she had smiled anyway, and Madeleine had kissed her papery cheek and she had said –

Madeleine began to sob anew, and this time she couldn’t have swallowed the cries back even if she wanted to. She wrapped her arms back around Niamh, pressed against her, and cried until she thought she might be sick. The deep blue color drained slowly from Madeleine’s field as she sobbed out all the pain and misery in her chest, until all that was left was a tired, drained, hurting little girl, her face curled into the space beneath Niamh’s shoulder, sniffling weakly. She shivered a little, faint tinges of orange-shifted embarrassment swirling through her field and fading away, too relieved to concentrate on the negative emotion for long.

Madeleine sniffled again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered the words into Niamh, trembling faintly. “It just – it hurts,” Madeleine was fully aware that the explanation wasn’t anywhere near sufficient; she wasn’t sure how she could possibly explain. She didn’t have the sense that Niamh was mad at her anymore, which was nice. The hug had been nice too, very nice, and Madeleine, when she had relaxed through her embarrassment, was conscious of a deep sense of gratitude.

Madeleine’s arms were still around Niamh, and it was only now that she realized how much she was pressed up against the older girl. Madeleine sniffled again, pulling back a little to sit back against the pillows of the cot, looking at the big wet spot she’d left on Niamh’s dress, blushing a little. Her face had been – it hadn’t really occurred to Madeleine to notice, but now that she saw the wet spot she realized how close to Niamh’s chest she had been, awkwardly between her shoulder and front.

Madeleine rubbed at her face with the back of her arm, all pretense of being grown-up gone. “I’m sorry,” she said again, meaning it differently this time. “It’s okay – I’m not – I’m not a lesbian, so it’s okay,” The words were Madeleine’s best attempt at explaining that she hadn’t meant to be near Niamh’s chest. She looked hopefully up at the older student. There was no judgment or anything negative in her field, only a childish sort of innocence, well-meant.

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Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
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Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
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Wed Jun 19, 2019 4:20 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
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If Niamh had been able to read Madeleine's thoughts right then, or better yet had been able to read them from the beginning, she would have done everything to reassure the girl and done her utmost to boost her confidence. However, she didn't have such an ability, only having her regular senses to go on rather than any paranormal abilities. What she knew was the state of the younger student's field, the depth of the feeling it contained and how the child must be drowning in it. Her aura was sloshing with emotions, overflowing so that it was impossible for the eldest Madden to ignore the tremors feeling and the vivid shifts. And yet no matter how much of it slipped out, there always seemed to be more, so so much more and it was so overwhelming for the older student that it was difficult for her to cope with. She couldn't even begin to imagine how the child was managing; she probably wasn't managing at all given just how many tears had flowed out of her this afternoon.

Of course when she was faced with such a thing, she clasped the auburn-haired girl to her, hoping to absorb some of that ill-feeling and give her a chance to let it out properly.

And absorb it she did.

The indectal state melted away, the initially soft pink-shift that it held as it bled kindness and concern and caring darkened, the pink turning purple and growing stormy and murky. The feel of her own field was far from pleasant, a direct response to what she was reading from Madeleine and a reaction to the way that she clung to her as if she needed her as a tether or else risked being cast adrift by her own extreme misery and loneliness. The dancer held her and sobbed deeper than she had before, the warm wetness of tears soaking through the final form's uniform where it cooled and chilled her skin, leaving it damp; she didn't mind. It was clear that the girl had needed someone to do this and quite possibly she hadn't had anyone hold her in such a way for a long time, if she'd ever been held like this at all.

Instinctively, she found soothing sounds come from her lips, sibilant syllables designed to weave a calming effect over the teenager and acting as an anchor for the redhead as she tried to get her own field under some sort of control or at least, keep her feelings from encroaching on Madeleine's and potentially making her worse rather than better. Fingers moved unconsciously to pet the child's hair, a comforting gesture as Niamh did her best to hold back sympathetic tears.

"There, there. Let it out now, shhh. It's good to let it out," she whispered in response to the feeble justifications, shaking her head subtly, unaware that she was doing it. It wasn't the pain. Oh the pain had certainly affected her and it had set her off but the emotions had been there already, built up to intolerable levels. This injury had just been what had ignited the powder and it was probably just the young woman's kindness that had prevented the child from exploding more violently or worse, imploding. That kind of bottling wasn't good at all and it made sense that when it reached such ridiculously high levels that it would burst out, inappropriate and too intense for the occasion.

Now probably wasn't the time to girl a lecture, even if it was a gentle one, when the true priority was to handle the current emotion correctly and get Madeleine to a tranquil state. Her field certainly felt better although there were notes of embarrassment in it. Niamh was a bit embarrassed too, awkward in this role of mother, especially to a veritable stranger, but also strangely pleased with what she had achieved and finding that maternity seemed to suit her. There was still the swirls of unease and upset at the child's state, knowing that even though the worst had dissipated, the sixth former could easily end up in such a predicament again.

When the teenager finally drew away it was something of a relief, the older girl offering a kind and understanding smile even as she absentmindedly plucked up a handkerchief and used it to dab at the stain on her dress. She pinched the fabric in a vain effort to leech out some of the moisture and settled for tucking the kerchief inside her dress. She was fiddling with it, trying to anchor it when her patient came out with her rather odd pronouncement.

Hazel eyes flicked up, brow furrowed in obvious puzzlement as the redhead failed to see the relevance of the statement.

"That's um... nice?" Niamh offered hesitantly, glancing back down as she worked on cleaning herself up, the movements of her fingers slowing as understanding gradually dawned. Her gaze came up slowly, a new tension entering her frame as her shoulders hunched slightly forward.

Not a lesbian.

The way she'd been eyeing Niamh, goggling at her like she'd never seen anything like her before.

The wariness when they were left alone together.

The mortification in the girl's features at the mention of removing tights and how she'd wanted Niamh to look away.

The awkward innocence that went along with where Niamh had pressed her, how she'd stroked her hair, how she'd-

The redhead moved back so fast that she banged back into the chair she'd recently vacated and only just managed to stop herself from falling over it, sending it clattering onto the floor instead as its legs lost purchase.

"Sweet Lady, I'm not- Not you as well! How has everyone heard that-" the redhead wailed, fingers skittering over her hair, tugging strands free of the tie that held it back, the other balled beneath her chin. Her hazel gaze shimmered with tears, as much frustration as hurt and not helped by the residual feelings she had over Madeleine's breakdown. "That's a vicious rumour that my brother and his friends started because their immature erseholes and some of them think that I'm a frigid- Why can't I just-"

The redheaded woman turned her back on her young patient, arms wrapped around her torso as she heaved in a breath in an attempt to calm herself down. Her field pulsed violently, thrumming with distress and frustration and fury.

Her clocking ersehole of a brother! Why couldn't he leave things be? Why couldn't the boys who pursued her for sport, sniggering together as one of their number approached her for a dare, understand that her lack of interest didn't make her frigid? That her rejecting them didn't make her a lesbian? Men and their clocking egos and entitlements and-

Deep breaths, she told herself, sucking in another breath and releasing it in a violent whoosh.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me. I'm not- That isn't- I was just... you needed a hug, I thought- It's not like that," she told Madeleine, unable to turn around to look at her as fingers curled tightly around her arms. Her body was trembling.

"I'm not a lesbian," she choked out, a teariness to her voice.
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Madeleine Gosselin
Posts: 134
Joined: Sun May 26, 2019 3:54 pm
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Race: Galdor
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Thu Jun 20, 2019 2:03 am

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Niamh was crooning something to her, nonsense syllables that didn’t seem to make words, as Madeleine sobbed painfully into her chest. She ought to have been insulted, to have felt like Niamh was treating her like a child, but honestly it was nice. Something about it seemed to set her at ease, and the hand stroking her hair was nice too, very nice, odd and intimate even on top of the embrace, but welcome.

And then the hug ended, and it all fell apart.

Again.

Madeleine watched wide-eyed as Niamh seemed to go through something in front of her. At first, she was just cleaning her dress, carefully trying to dry the wet spot that Madeleine had left on the front of it – ew, and also oops – and then something seemed to change in her face. Her shoulders hunched up a little, and then Niamh lunged backwards as if Madeleine had tried to hit her, slamming into the chair, and burst.

Madeleine stared, eyes steadily widening. Niamh’s hair seemed to be loosening steadily, hovering wild and free around her head, and now there were tears in her eyes too. Madeleine’s face might have been all eyes, or at least it felt that way, they were so wide she thought they might pop out of her head.

“I’m sorry,” Madeleine meant to say it loudly, she really did, but instead the words emerged almost as a whisper. She didn’t think Niamh even heard her. She was still staring as Niamh explained it wasn’t true, only a rumor. Did that mean the rest of it – the bit about the Professor – wasn’t true either? Madeleine hoped not, she liked Niamh, she didn’t want to think of her as wanton.

It didn’t make any sense to Madeleine; she didn’t understand why there would have been a rumor like that if it wasn’t true. She knew that they weren’t always, she did know, but – but – she felt miserable and guilty. She’d only wanted to tell Niamh that the hug had been okay, that it hadn’t been improper, and instead she’d ruined everything.

Niamh couldn’t look at her again. Madeleine was sure Niamh hated her now, in addition to probably thinking she was an awful crybaby. There was heat behind her eyes, but Madeleine didn’t cry, even when she heard how awful and tight Niamh’s voice was, how upset she seemed.

“I’m sorry,” Madeleine tried again. “I didn’t – I didn’t – ” her lower lip trembled. She took a deep breath, finding a way to hold the tight misery back. Her field was throbbing softly with misery again, but it was a softer feeling, not the vibrant overwhelming emotions that had filled her cloud of mona before.

“I liked the hug,” Madeleine was really trying, but she didn’t seem to be able to do any better than a whisper. The worst part of it was that she really had liked the hug, it had felt – it had felt nice. It had been much nicer to cry into Niamh’s arms than it ever was to cry into her pillow. She swallowed a little, trying desperately to think of what she could say, some way to make it better. She wanted more than anything to make it better, to fix what she’d done, but she didn’t think she could.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Madeleine tried again, finally. She was quiet, looking down at the blanket in her lap, and ventured, hesitantly. “Sometimes Angelique is – is – she’s – ” Madeleine couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence; saying it would make it too real, would be too embarrassing in front of Niamh. It was Madeleine’s own fault, after all, really, not Angelique’s. Of that, Madeleine was mostly sure. “I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”

Madeleine was cringing a little, half-expecting Niamh to walk off and never return. Her ankle didn’t hurt anymore, not really, but she didn’t think Niamh would want to heal her anymore, or maybe that she wouldn’t even be able to. Madeleine felt like an awful idiot; not only had she hurt Niamh’s feelings, when Niamh had been so nice to Madeleine, nice in ways she didn’t even deserve, but she had also ruined her only chance of getting her ankle healed, Madeleine was sure.

Madeleine didn’t know what else to say. She just didn’t. If there were any way to rewind time and take back what she’d said, she would have. For once, at least she knew what she’d done wrong; disappointingly, it didn’t really seem to help. So Madeleine just waited, staring quietly at Niamh’s back for a moment, then looking down at her lap, shoulders slumped, and wished that the mona might let her turn back time.

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Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
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Sun Jun 23, 2019 12:58 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
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Fingers dug hard into her arms, the young woman silently wondering just how much of this she was to endure. How many years had that particular rumour pursued her? How many years had the idea that she was a homosexual followed her around and how likely was it to persist even after she graduated? If she escaped her father's wishes for her, had a chance to pursue post-graduate studies then would she discover someone who treated her differently because of what they'd heard? Would it persist a year from now, two, five, ten?

Was it fair that she had to deal with such adolescent foolishness? Was she going to have to suffer for years to come because of the childish behaviour of her peers? All their cruel words had already wormed their way into her heart, wounding and festering within it so that her self-esteem and confidence suffered, so that she was left feeling edgy in social gatherings and constantly expected such words to reach her father's ears, for him to express his disappointment in her, maybe even disgust. It didn't matter that he wanted to pass her off to the best prospective husband, haggle with other men as if she was some precious item that could be bought and sold, chattel rather than a living, thinking independent person. Toibin had always had a soft spot for her, she had always held a special place in his affections and to earn his disappointment, to have him look at her differently because of such vile lies.

Niamh was sick of being judged on hearsay and jealous rumour rather than her actual actions and merits.

Her fingers dug into her arms hard, a tremor beginning in her feet that sent her whole frame trembling like a tree in the process of being felled. The trembling increased but she didn't bend, didn't fall under the onslaught of her own nervous system. It wasn't misery that flooded through her system and shook her so, it wasn't misery that made her eyes burn and tears stream hotly down her cheeks.

She was angry. She was honestly fucking furious. She'd had enough. She'd really had enough.

It wasn't Madeleine's fault. She hadn't said any of it to be malicious but what she had said in perfect innocence, that was much, much worse. The eldest Madden didn't appreciate being someone who could be talked about quite so casually, filthy lies about her dropping from anyone's lips. Maybe the child would think twice before she said such things again or perhaps she'd actually say something to counter the bile she'd heard.

"Angelique is a bitch!" she hissed, whirling to face the dancer, freckled face a mask of fury. Her field pulsed dangerously, the air seeming to warm in the presence of her aura, blazing with the intensity of her rage.

Sick of it! She was sick of it!

"Your sister is a manipulative, cold-hearted bitch who'd probably betray her whole family if it'd give her a leg up in life. Do you think she wouldn't take a crack at an Incumbent's daughter? Do you know how embarrassing that would be to my father if he heard some of the things that the likes of your sister says?" she spat out, part of her brain screaming at her, desperately trying to claw back some sanity and apply brakes to her tongue. She could hear her own voice rising, hear the hatred in her tone. "Yes, she'll make a perfect politician. She'd be quite happy to dismantle those who stand in her way, all while seeming as sweet and innocent as could be, and I'm sure that she's more than capable of buttering up any man who might be of value to her and there are oh so many men in politics."

She was going to regret this. She was going to regret this so much. She shouldn't be flinging all this at the sixth-former. It wasn't fair and she wasn't the one who deserved the explosion of Niamh's ire. But she was here when the Living Conversationalist needed to hit out at something and she was an unbelievably easy target. It had been far too long since she'd allowed her temper to surface in its full intensity and now that she'd unleashed it once in the presence of both of her brothers, it seemed ready to burst out all more readily.

The scars on Fionn's hands, the number of times he'd beaten up other passives, she could understand it. Once you let that temper out, it was all too easy to unleash it every time it flared up except that she'd been bottling it for far, far too many years and unlike her brother, she seemed to have less control over it. It was ready to burn everyone in the vicinity, herself included.

"How could you know better when you have that hatcher to take an example from? And Sebastian... He's perfectly fine on his own but when he's with her, he'll back her up in anything and everything. He's enthralled! He's like every man who seems to come into contact with her who isn't on the wrong side of her. But then she strings them along by promising the chance to bed her, I'm sure and your brother probably has probably had her given how... how..."

Sweet Lady!

What was she saying? That couldn't be her, it couldn't be her saying all of those horrible, horrible things. But it was her mouth that had been moving, her lips which had only now gone slack, hanging open in shock at her own filthy accusations. Had she really just told a 15 year old that her sister was a seductress and suggested that she- that her own brother had-

Oh but you have thought it, haven't you? And it's not like anyone is as proper behind closed doors as they'd like everyone to believe, the dark inner voice whispered, velvety toned, alluring even as it tried to soothe her, to assuage her worries that what she was saying was wrong.

Niamh retreated from it with violence, doing her utmost to drown it out, seeming to scream inside. The fiery-shift of her field which had warmed the air so much, vibrating with her fury slipped into blue and then grey, so soft as the young woman willed herself to shrink out of sight. But she was all too visible she was sure. The air was laden with the kind of sucking silence that seemed greedy for more sound, seeming desperate to receive more of the harsh words she'd spewed. Who else had heard? Who was standing frozen beyond the privacy screen, ears cocked expectantly, eagerly. How gleefully would her words be seized upon, her name whispered among the student body?

"Did you hear that Niamh Madden said-"

She dropped heavily on the edge of the bed, face so red that her freckles were scarcely visible. Her head was heavy, the young woman unable to look the girl in the eye, unable to grasp the notion of looking anyone in the eye ever again after that ridiculous outburst.

"I'm so sorry, Madeleine, I didn't mean it. I didn't- I'm just so... so angry a-a-at people like my brother and y-y-your sister who just- Sweet Lady, how can I say anything when I'm worse than them? Look what I just-"

Her voice cracked, a moan issuing from her lips instead and she buried her scarlet face in her hands, field tight and made small around her.

She just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
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Madeleine Gosselin
Posts: 134
Joined: Sun May 26, 2019 3:54 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
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Writer: moralhazard
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Sun Jun 23, 2019 11:58 pm

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
There was a brief moment, as she watched Niamh’s back, when Madeleine thought maybe - maybe! - it would be all right. She had apologized. Maybe Niamh would accept it and forgive her. Maybe for once it would be all right, for once it wouldn’t matter that Madeleine never ever seemed to say the right thing. She had only wanted to reassure Niamh, but somehow it had gone so wrong and Madeleine felt terrible about it. She hadn’t understood before, but she did now. Maybe - just maybe -

And then Niamh turned.

Madeleine flinched back away from the older student’s first vicious curse, eyes widening. She strained back and away from Niamh, trying to scoot back as far as she could on the cot, pressed up against the pillows behind her. Madeleine didn’t sob this time, but tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her face again and she whimpered, wanting as much as she had ever wanted anything in her life for Niamh to stop, to just stop.

How could Niamh say those things? Angelique wasn’t like that - she wasn’t. She loved Sebastian and Vespasian and their parents; maybe she didn’t love Madeleine like that, but that was Madeleine’s fault, not Angelique’s. It had to be, given everything else, because why else would Angelique dislike her so much? If Madeleine could just be better - could be more - Angelique would love her too. Madeleine knew that, somewhere inside, and she cling to it with a sharp desperation, because the alternative was so much worse.

Somehow Niamh even managed to turn a compliment into a bitter insult, hatred dripping from her words with an intensity that Madeleine had never imagined, let alone heard. Her field was crashing around the younger galdor’s, powerful and overwhelming, swamping Madeleine’s weaker one with beastly hot rage. The mona hovering around the smaller galdor were pulled in close to her skin, her field suppressed as if that might keep her from having to feel Niamh’s fury.

Madeleine didn’t mind the insult to herself, if that’s what it was, but she flinched when Niamh started in on Sebastian, and let out a pained little cry at the accusation that Angelique promised men that she would go to bed with them. Her face went white and pale and pinched at the vicious, hateful thing Niamh said next. To Madeleine’s surprise, the tears stopped, anger eking out a slim victory over sadness and fear.

How dare she? How dare Niamh say such horrific things? How could she complain about rumors in one breath and in the next accuse Angelique and Sebastian of - of - Madeleine might not have been terribly clear on the specifics of what was involved, but she understood Niamh’s overall implications well enough. They were absolutely disgusting, infinitely worse than the idea that Niamh liked other women.

Madeleine rubbed her eyes on her arm. No wonder Angelique had said what she had about Niamh, she thought spitefully. It was clear to Madeleine that the older student had a filthy, disgusting mind. Something was wrong with her. Madeleine wouldn’t surprised if Niamh was a - a loose woman. Maybe that was why she thought so awfully, so lowly of other people. Madeleine swore to herself that she wouldn’t remember any of this hateful poison, that she would forget it, all of it, as soon as she could. Something was wrong with Niamh; something had to be wrong with her. It made Madeleine feel sick to think that Niamh had held her a few minutes ago. Her skin tingled where the pressure of the other girl’s grasp seemed to linger, and Madeleine wished she could take a long hot bath and scrub it clean.

Niamh sat on the edge of the bed.

Madeleine pulled herself as far away as she could even though it meant moving her leg with her hands, visibly tense at Niamh’s closeness. She watched Niamh carefully all the way through Niamh’s apology. This time it was Madeleine who didn’t feel like forgiving. She wouldn’t - she couldn’t. What Niamh had said was too awful, and forgiving wouldn't change that, wouldn’t undo the last few minutes, the horrid fury that had lashed out from the older student like storm winds.

“Go away,” Madeleine said, softly but firmly, her own anger lending her a little strength, although her voice still quivered. “Please just - go away. Please don’t ever come near me again.” If she could have, Madeleine would have gotten up and left the infirmary - but she couldn’t even do that, not sitting helplessly with her ankle propped on a cushion. All she could do was ask Niamh to leave, in the strongest words she could manage. Madeleine would have rather missed the showcase than spent another minute with the older student.

Madeleine had never seen anyone angry like that before, not in her whole life, and she wasn’t entirely sure Niamh’s emotions were gone, even if her field was calmer now. What if her anger came back? What if she got mad at Madeleine for asking her to leave? What if Niamh’s field burst forth like that again and this time - this time she cast? Soft yellow fear tinged Madeleine’s doetoed field, but she didn’t relent, didn’t apologize again, just looked at Niamh over the edge of her blanket and hoped, desperately, that the older student would go.

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Niamh Madden
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Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
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: I'm a good girl...
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Tue Jun 25, 2019 6:19 am

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
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She'd screwed up. She'd screwed up so clocking badly and Niamh knew it. The air between them was tense, the silence initially sucking and greedy and more than likely someone had heard the exchange. Even if the words hadn't carried in their entirety, it was all too likely that her voice had been heard, recognised even in spite of the irate tones that were unusual for her. It wouldn't be too surprising if someone came to check on things, the raised voice hardly indicative of something going well, the atmosphere she'd created around her not conducive to a healing environment. If someone came it would be humiliating and it would reflect quite badly on her but so it should. What right did she have to have said such awful, malicious things to the child? And what right did she have to try to sway the mona now when her own state of mind could easily fuck up Madeleine's injury more? It wasn't something that she could do in good conscience.

A tear dropped from her lower lid, sliding hotly down her flushed cheek as she tried to straighten up, intending to excuse herself. She blinked rapidly and wiped it away hastily, touching her knuckles to each eye to collect some of the moisture and hoping to be able to push the rest back in.

Her would-be patient beat her to the punch though, mustering far more dignity than the eldest Madden could currently manage herself and told her to go away. Maybe there was a slight plea to the words, a desperate desire to get rid of the unstable, overemotional older female. A child had better control of herself than the Living Conversationalist did in spite of her years and experience and even now, she had to continue her rapid blinking, taking deep breaths so that she wouldn't burst into tears over nothing. Her own hurt feelings and her uncontrollable tongue; she could never scold her passive again for his impetuous nature.

She'd brought all this on herself. It was no wonder that no one really liked her.

Any sense of dignity was gone but the older student tried, getting to her feet with slow care and with as much grace as she could manage. Back straight and somehow able to raise her chin in spite of her deep shame, she looked to Madeleine as she smoothed the material of her skirt. Her field was shrunk small, doetoed and with notes of sadness in it, not too dissimilar to the younger girl's own except that the dancer was scared.

She was scared of Niamh.

"I'm sorry, Madeleine. For what I said. I can offer my apologies but you're... you're well within your rights to refuse them given what I just- It was unforgivable," the young woman announced, a tremor in her voice but growing steadier as she continued speaking.

"I'll leave you but I'll make certain that someone competent sees to you. I don't want you to suffer just because... because I- You don't deserve such ill treatment. I... I apologise again. A thousand times. Circle forgive me." The last was a whisper, more for herself and those deities she worshipped than for Madeleine. She stepped around the privacy screen.

Quick steps brought her to an older healer she recognised, the woman balancing a board on her arm and taking notes as Niamh approached although from her attitude, it seemed as if she'd been eyeing the screen from whence the redhead had come.

"Um... Miss Hutton? I'm not- I'm not feeling very well. Would I... Could you see to my last patient while I go back to my room to lie down? I wouldn't ask but I don't think- I won't be able to-" she broke off, hands moving over her hair and discovering the frizz for the first time. She untied it with shaking fingers. The severe looking blonde eyed her carefully. It was clear that the young woman was distressed. She was flushed, her hair was a mess, her eyes were shiny and her field was... well it pulsed with her distress, a tangle of guilt and misery and general awfulness contained within its bounds.

Niamh could easily be sick for all anybody else knew and it wasn't like her to bunk off when she'd agreed to do something like this.

"Yes... I don't think you're capable of doing any magic right now," Miss Hutton responded slowly, the drawl of her voice seeming to carry something more, the way she looked at Niamh.

The redhead's voice had carried and been heard then...

"It's a bad sprain, one ligament snapped, some tears in the others, no breaks..." The final form student gave a quick overview of what her diagnostic had shown, all the while aware that the older woman was regarding her rather neutrally but that there was something knowing in her eyes. Something judgmental.

"I'll handle it, Miss Madden. You're dismissed."

The redhead smiled gratefully, lids fluttering closed briefly over stinging hazel eyes. The other woman set down her notes, evidently wrapping them up quickly as Niamh passed, careful not to look back. Hence, she didn't see the healer watching her, lips pursed disapprovingly and shaking her head subtly.

All the eldest Madden knew was that whatever adrenaline her temper had built up within her was officially spent, her fear having burned through it when it needed it, leaving the young woman drained and wobbly, weakened as she headed back towards her room. Part of her was afraid what Madeleine would say when the woman came to tend to her, if she'd explain that the other student had been insulting and vicious, apparently without real provocation. However, most of her didn't care; she just wanted to get back to the privacy of her room and cry before she had classes later.
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Madeleine Gosselin
Posts: 134
Joined: Sun May 26, 2019 3:54 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: moralhazard
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
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Tue Jun 25, 2019 11:40 am

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Niamh didn’t get angry again. Even Madeleine could see that she was sad now, that her eyes were shiny and wet. With Niamh still so close Madeleine could feel the notes of sadness in her field, soft and hushed, too familiar. Madeleine didn’t relent. Niamh apologized again and again, and then again, even begging the gods for forgiveness. Madeleine just watched her, quiet and still, and didn’t say another word.

Niamh was right. It was unforgivable.

Madeleine didn’t lower her gaze until Niamh had gone around the privacy screen. She sniffled a little, and didn’t adjust back, staying awkwardly on the side of the bed, away from the slowly rising depression where Niamh had rested. She didn’t even want to be where Niamh had been; she wanted to erase the last few minutes, the last near hour. At some point the salve had kicked in, and Madeleine’s ankle didn’t hurt anymore. She felt an awful irrational desire to rub the salve away, to get it off of her, simply because Niamh had put it on – but she didn’t, years of training to obey healers outweighing the urge.

“Miss Gosselin?” A slow, gentle, unfamiliar voice came from the other side of the privacy screen. “May I come in?”

Madeleine rubbed at her eyes until they hurt a little bit and cleared her throat. “Yes, please,” she said, politely.

An older woman with blonde hair scraped back into a severe bun stepped around the curtain. Her face was pulled down, a little, but eased into a friendlier look at the sight of the little galdor on the bed. “My name is Miss Hutton,” she said. “I think we should be able to help you with your ankle now. How is it feeling?”

“Better,” Madeleine offered. “Numb, I mean. Um. Thank you very much for your help.”

Miss Hutton smiled at her. “Of course. Let me examine it a little myself, and then I should be able to cast, and hopefully you’ll be walking out of here soon.”

Madeleine smiled, tremulously, and nodded. “Thank you,” she said again, taking a deep breath.

Madeleine watched as Miss Hutton read her chart, examined the (now-less) swollen ankle, her indectal field neatly staying away from Maddie’s own more frazzled one. She, too, rotated it, carefully; it didn’t hurt as much this time, although Madeleine still winced, as much from remembered pain as the reality of it. Then, eventually, she took Madeleine’s ankle gently in her hands and began to call on the mona, asking them to put things right, to heal the snapped ligament and the rest of the tears. Her tone was soothing and beseeching, gentle, and between that and the salve Madeleine barely felt anything. The swelling shrank, slowly, back down; the dark color of bruising lightning to a pale yellow green. Maddie could feel her etheric field the whole time the spell was cast, all the way to her neat curling.

Miss Hutton finished the spell with a neat lowered her hands and smiled at Madeleine. “Try to rotate it now. Do you feel any pain?”

Madeleine pointed her toes, carefully, and moved her ankle in a circle. She beamed. “No – no, it feels fine! Thank you, Miss Hutton. Thank you very much.”

Miss Hutton smiled, broader, her cheeks lifting and her eyes sparkling. “You are very welcome, Miss Gosselin.” She hesitated, looking down at the younger galdor. “If there’s anything you’d – you’d like to say, Miss Gosselin, any… concerns you have, please feel free to let me know.”

“About my ankle?” Madeleine asked, wide-eyed.

“Or anything else,” Miss Hutton said, gently.

It took another moment, but slowly Madeleine understood. Miss Hutton was asking if she wanted to make a complaint – about Niamh. Madeleine swallowed, hard. Had Miss Hutton heard what Niamh had said? Had everyone? Her eyes flickered to the privacy screen, then back to Miss Hutton. She focused, hard, and pulled her field in close to herself, gripping the emotions in her chest as tightly as she could, even though it made her ache a little bit to do so, and gave her an odd sort of headache.

“No,” Madeleine said, finally. “I don’t have any - concerns. I just want to know how to – if I – how to take care of my ankle.”

“All right,” Miss Hutton’s lips pursed, lightly, the smile fading. She waited a moment, for something – Madeleine wasn’t sure what – and then gave a little motion with her head like a nod. “I’ll be back in a few moments,” Miss Hutton promised. “It’s better if you stay off that ankle tonight; we’ll send you home with something to eat. Even if you’re not hungry, please be sure to eat all of it. Your body needs the strength. Tomorrow, please take the day to rest as much as you can. You’re welcome to attend class, but I would suggest you take one day of rest from dancing. Come right back if you have any pain at all, please, any time in the next – say – three days. Even a twinge. Is that all clear, Miss Gosselin?”

“Yes,” Madeleine smiled at her again. “Thank you.”

“Very good,” Miss Hutton hesitated once more, then turned to go, leaving Madeleine alone once more.

Madeleine exhaled, slowly and carefully. Why hadn’t she said something? It was clear Miss Hutton knew Niamh had shouted at her. Eventually, even Madeleine had understood that that was what she was asking about. What could he say? She couldn’t – wouldn’t – lie, and if she didn’t lie, that meant she had to tell the truth about what Niamh had said. Madeleine felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it; she knew those words could never, ever cross her lips, not ever. It was too awful. And – Madeleine didn’t know why. She didn’t want to tell on Niamh. She didn’t want to ever see her again either, but she – she didn’t – it was confusing. She felt jumbled up inside. If she didn’t talk about it, maybe she could just forget it and move on.

Miss Hutton came back, and a passive attendant wheeled Madeleine back to her room, helped her change into a nightgown, and returned a few minutes later with a big bowl of soup with bread. Madeleine ate it all, the last few bites a slow, miserable slog, her eyes already drooping. Within a few moments she was nearly asleep, faint thoughts of Niamh swirling slowly through her head and then fading to nothingness. She would, Madeleine thought hazily, in her last moments, feel better in the morning. She didn’t have a choice. Her thoughts and her dreams turned back to dance, back to the showcase, and by the time Madeleine slept there was a little smile on her face once more.

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