Failing to Find Harmony [PM to Join]

Open for Play
The Six Kingdom's most prestigious university and the de facto cultural capital of Anaxas.

The Stacks | Ghost Town | Muffey

User avatar
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
Contact:

Fri Jun 07, 2019 2:48 pm

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Image
Professor Sauveterre clapped her hands together. “Miss Gosselin, Miss Filangieri, please!”

Madeleine rose from where she’d been sitting against the wall, brushing at the tulle skirt that extended from the short dress bodice she wore and fell, bell-shaped, over her hips and down to the tops of her calves. She wore immaculate white tights beneath it, and pale pink slippers laced up over her ankles beneath. She took a deep breath, reaching to pat the tight bun that scraped her hair off her face, and smiled at Evangeline, her partner for the dance.

Evangeline nodded back, but she didn’t return Madeleine’s smile.

Madeleine’s smile faltered, and she turned to face the mirrors. She had thought maybe Evangeline just hadn’t heard her when she had said hello at the beginning of their lesson, but – what if that wasn’t it?

“Positions, ladies!” Professor Sauveterre lifted her chin, hands parting slightly.

Madeleine’s arms lifted over her head, and her feet slid apart, slightly, angled out. She didn’t have to look to know that Evangeline was holding the same exact pose, the two girls as similar as if a mirror were being held between them, reflections of one another rather than separate entities.

“And… begin!” Professor Sauveterre began to clap her hands together in an even, steady rhythm, counting the beat out loud for them.

Madeleine took a deep breath and let it out. She didn’t have room to worry about how oddly Evangeline was acting; the dance demanded her full attention. She matched herself to the rhythm, dancing three steps to the side, twirling, then back to the center. She and Evangeline leaned in, both of them, kicking their legs off the ground and bending sideways until their fingertips just touched – then pulling and back, gracefully separating once more and continuing the intricate steps of the dance.

The dance built like that, together and apart, together and apart; with each successive pass the two spent more time joined together, and broke apart more forcefully, always in perfect unison. It was a challenging piece, and Madeleine had danced nothing else for the last weeks, practicing every step that she could do alone, and trying to practice with Evangeline as much as possible. Was that it? Was that what she had done wrong? Had she nagged Evangeline to practice too much? Madeleine pushed the thoughts away.

Finally it was time for the final combination; Madeleine darted in, her hands clasping Evangeline’s, and both girls threw their heads back, bodies arching up, dancing in a delicate circle, spinning the other around once, two, three times – then breaking apart with a sharp pull, leaping with one leg leading and the other tucked into the air, to land neatly as far from one another as possible.

Madeleine landed, nimbly, spinning again once in the final move of the dance. Her arms lifted over her head and she held the last pose, looking up to Professor Sauveterre. Professor Sauveterre looked between them, then nodded, once, a short, sharp nod.

“Miss Gosselin, you need more height on that last jump,” she pronounced. “After an entire dance of being together, the gap is rather jarring. Let’s see it again.” She clapped her hands.

Madeleine glanced over at Evangeline. They had been through this; Evangeline’s jumps were a little higher and longer than hers. She thought they had agreed that Evangeline would try to match Madeleine’s jump, but – Evangeline didn’t look at her, gaze fixed on the distant mirrors, chin still lifted. Madeleine swallowed, and the two both moved back to their starting positions. Madeleine’s arms rose again.

Professor Sauveterre began to clap once more, counting the beats of the dance for them. Step step step, then together, lean and spring back apart, then twirl, step, kick, in and clasp and lift, and apart again. Madeleine tried to find the rhythm of the dance; her body felt like it was moving the same as it had earlier, but her mind was separate from it, worrying the question of the jump like a loose tooth. She tried to push it away, tried to focus, but the worries just kept coming back.

What if Evangeline just didn’t like her anymore? What if she didn’t want to partner Madeleine again?

“And clasp-and-spin,” Professor Sauveterre called the steps as the end of the dance approached, still clapping evenly, “and jump!”

Madeleine leapt, legs pulsing and pushing, flinging herself up off the ground as hard as she could, her body clenched in too-rigid lines. She came down and she could feel it was wrong but there was nothing she could do, not anymore, and the edge of her foot rolled against the ground and her ankle twisted beneath her weight. Something pulsed in her ankle, pain snapping through it, and Madeleine’s entire leg crumpled beneath her.

Madeleine cried out, dropping to the ground in a heap of tulle, landing with a painful and inelegant thud. There was an audible gasp from the watching students, and a burst of movement from the wall, three or four girls rushing over to Madeleine.

“Ladies!” Professor Sauveterre clapped her hands together, dashing lightly across the wooden floor to look down at the young galdor. “Give her some space, please. Miss Gosselin, are you all right?”

Madeleine sat up, slowly and carefully, even though she would have infinitely rather stayed curled up on the ground or been swallowed whole by the tutu. Evangeline was not among those around her; the other dancer was still where she’d stopped, feet away, arms crossed over her chest. Her ankle throbbed, excruciatingly, and she shook her head, looking down at it, then back up at Professor Sauveterre, all to aware of the crimson burning on her cheeks and the tears winking in the corners of her eyes. “No, Professor,” she said aloud after a moment. “I'm very sorry. I think something is wrong with my ankle.”

Perhaps half an hour later, Madeleine sat, still in her tutu and bodice, on one of the not-very-comfortable cots in the Brunnhold infirmary. It had been a long and exceptionally unpleasant walk, leaning on two of the other girls, her right knee bent so her ankle was kept off the ground, no weight at all put on it. Now both legs were extended on the cot before her. Her right leg was massively swollen already, the ankle knot practically swallowed by the new puffiness of her leg. A bruise was spreading beneath where the knot had once been two, dark enough to be visible through the pale tights.

Madeleine swallowed hard. She had twisted her ankle before; what confisalto dancer hadn’t? But it hurt, fiercely, and worse she didn’t understand. She hadn’t done anything to Evangeline – she hadn’t! Why was the other girl being so awful? If Evangeline had just done the smaller leap like they had planned, none of this would have happened. Madeleine sniffled a little and sank back against the pillows at the head of the cot. Probably Evangeline didn’t even want to dance with her anymore, if she could even still dance in the showcase. Madeleine clung to the sour misery, nursing it in the pit of her stomach with each throb of her ankle. It wasn’t, she thought miserably, fair at all.

Last edited by Madeleine Gosselin on Mon Jun 24, 2019 9:23 am, edited 3 times in total.

Tags:
User avatar
Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Maximus
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Sun Jun 09, 2019 5:42 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
.
Image
Theory was a very good thing. For pretty much every field you worked in, you needed to have an idea of what you were doing and sometimes there was a great deal that you needed to know before you could apply your skills. However, sooner or later, you had to actually apply your skills. Niamh had quite a bit of skill with Living Conversation, especially for someone who hadn't actually graduated yet but given that she'd chosen to focus more on people than animals or plants, applying her skills did mean that she was working with a very valuable commodity that she might unintentionally break with disastrous results. Needless to say, it had taken her quite awhile to work up to a level where she could administer medical care without having her every move watched, a supervisor always breathing down her neck. Even now, if she did something in the Infirmary, she wasn't typically allowed to make judgements herself, triage ensuring that she was given cases within her capabilities and if there were none then she'd get to observe another at work.

It was a necessary part of her coursework for the year that she take on a certain number of shifts in the Infirmary, factored in around her classes, usually in periods when others had some form of independent study. They usually took place during times that were considered 'busy' but that didn't always mean that they felt worthwhile. On a day when there was genuinely nothing to do, she'd get to go and study in her own time and pick up another shift at a later date but that was obviously a disappointment, the young woman thrown back into theory. Today was her lucky day though.

Not so lucky for the girl who'd been foisted on the final year student who was suffering from a dancing injury. Her poor patient wasn't likely to be feeling lucky at all but it depended on whether she was a serious dancer or some poor sod who'd hoped to improve their skills for socialisation purposes and run into mishap. The former was likely to be more difficult, especially as if a dancer came in with an injury, it was usually sufficiently nasty. Many dancers learned to handle minor injuries themselves or worse, attempted to simply walk - or more often dance - them off. A proper dancer posed other problems as well so she hoped it wasn't one. They might have more interesting injuries, something that posed more of a challenge but they could also get quite... upset.

When she went to the cot in question and saw her patient, her heart sank. The sight of the bodice and tutu definitely wasn't ballroom; it wasn't the sort of attire you wore if you were trying to ensure that you didn't look a twit in a social gathering. A serious dancer then. The redhead could work with that, she just needed to be suitably sympathetic and weather any rudeness that might be thrown her way. Sometimes dancers could be exceptionally rude, especially if you told them that it'd be better to let them heal without the aid of magic.

The young woman pulled her ponytail a bit tighter to prevent the escape of any flyaway nuisance hairs, sleeves already rolled up with the armband of a Infirmary helper around her bicep, which was the only thing that set her apart from her fellow students given that she was still in her regular uniform. She plastered a smile on her face as she reached the bedside, reaching for the chart at the bottom of the bed.

"Hello there... Madeleine. I'm Niamh Madden and I'll be treating you today. You can just call me Niamh, you don't have to be formal with me. Are you all right being called Madeleine or do you prefer a shortened version like Maddie?" she questioned, hazel eyes flicking quickly over the chart to take in any pertinent information. Her gaze skimmed over the details of the incident, well aware that she'd be asking the girl about it in any case. The chart was popped back into place, the eldest Madden well aware that she should be giving her attention to the other instead of frowning down at someone else's scrawl. Why did people always write so messily on these things? Was it a rule? Did you have to have horrible handwriting to work in the medical field or was it just those who wrote out the charts?

Gaze moved over the swelling, visually comparing the two limbs as she got an idea of the severity, the injured leg clear even if she hadn't examined the chart. It wasn't just swelling though but bruising as well, visible even through her tights which... didn't bode well. Obviously, Niamh couldn't be certain that she could treat it until she got a proper look at it, did some careful probing and possibly ran a diagnostic, but she thought it was something she could handle. Even so, the young woman wondered why she'd been allowed near it when there was no one here to watch for her mistakes. Was she so trusted now?

The dancer was young, only beginning to gain maturity in her face as baby fat shrank away, fifteen years old according to the chart and with pain and misery in her face and field. The elder student's own field was quite indectal but she tried to soften it somewhat, the teary gaze certainly enough to work sympathy into it on her behalf.

"Now this looks like it hurts a lot but you just have to tough it out a little bit longer while I check you over, okay? If it gets too much, I can see about taking the pain away but the more you feel, the more you can tell me and that means it'll be easier for me to make you dancing fit again, all right?" the redhead explained kindly, moving to stand on the girl's right side. "Are you able to take your tights off yourself, even part of the way? I'll need to get a good look at your injury."

If the girl needed it then she'd help her out but she was aware that it was quite problematic to simply grip the top of the tights and pull them off herself. There was something undignified in it and she didn't want to embarrass Madeleine or make her uncomfortable. She was also aware that it might not be wholly appropriate. It wasn't like sticking your hands up an ordinary skirt and tugging down from there but even in this situation, it wouldn't be very appropriate. Not at all.
User avatar
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
Contact:

Mon Jun 10, 2019 12:11 am

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Image
Madeleine hadn’t been waiting that long, not really, but it felt like a long time. She’d taken one of the pillows from the back of the cot and put it under her ankle to prop it up; it had hurt to move it and hurt to settle it back into place, but it felt a little better than before once the throbbing stopped. Her confisalto slippers had stayed back at the dancing room – Professor Sauveterre had told her to take them off, that someone would put them away, and she had worn the small flat slippers she usually wore when not in the traditional boots of the student uniform.

When someone finally came, it wasn’t even a proper healer, just a student with an armband. Madeleine stared at her, blinking back tears. What if the girl couldn’t heal her? Or if she tried and made it worse? The showcase was coming up, and Madeleine had been practicing so much; she wanted to be in the showcase more than anything. If Evangeline would even still dance with her. Madeleine blinked, rapidly, trying to clear away the tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Madeleine, please,” Madeleine made a little face at the nickname Maddie. She didn’t like it very much; it felt very undignified to have such a name. Madeleine, she thought, was much better, especially now that she was a sixth form. “Thank you, Niamh,” she added, politely.

Niamh studied the paper that the nurse Madeleine had talked to when she first came had written on, looking from it to Madeleine’s leg. Madeleine studied the older student at the same time, a little frown wrinkling her forehead. Niamh Madden sounded like a familiar name, but Madeleine couldn’t quite remember. She didn’t think they had met before. Maybe Sebastian had mentioned her? He was studying Living Conversation as well, so perhaps they knew each other, and –

Abruptly, Madeleine remembered. Her cheeks flamed red, and she was staring wide-eyed at Niamh when the other girl looked up at her again. Sebastian had talked about her. He had said something to Angelique – Madeleine had overheard – that Niamh was a very good student in the form above him. Madeleine didn’t remember what had prompted the remark, she hadn’t been paying attention before that.

Angelique had laughed. “Oh, Niamh!” she had said, disdainful. “You know she’s going around pretending to be a lesbian, don’t you? Apparently, she absolutely threw herself at Professor Moore and he turned her down, of course, so she –“ Someone else had come too close, and Angelique had trailed off with a suggestive shrug.

Madeleine tried to understand what Angelique had meant as she looked at Niamh. She saw an older galdor, brownish-red hair with bangs on her forehead, delicate features and pretty eyes. What about her had made Angelique say 'of course' like that? Was it possible to tell if someone would really throw themselves at a Professor just from looking at them? She didn't look wanton, but Madeleine couldn’t really figure it out at all, and she stared even harder in the attempt, as if the solution might be hiding somewhere on Niamh’s face, her gaze tracking the older student as she moved to stand on Madeleine’s side.

“Oh,” It took Madeleine a moment to realize that Niamh was asking her a question again. She gave up on understanding Angelique, much more intent on being able to dance on her ankle again. “All right,” she agreed, willing to have her ankle hurt a little longer if it meant it might get better sooner.

Niamh asked her to take her tights off, and Madeleine blushed deeper again, looking down at the bed. It had been awful enough having to walk through the school in her tutu and tights; the tutu itself was soft and full, and sitting stretched down to her knees, but – even though Madeleine understood that Niamh needed to examine her ankle, the thought of taking her tights off and sitting there bare-legged was awful. “I – I can,” Madeleine said, awkwardly.

Abruptly she froze again, eyes widening once more. Niamh was a lesbian! That meant – didn’t it mean – she liked women? Or was she only pretending to? It was all too confusing, but Madeleine decided it was better to be safe than sorry. She wouldn’t like a man to help her or even to watch if she took her tights off, so she oughtn’t like Niamh to do either. “Would you – um – please look away?” Madeleine asked, very politely, cheeks still bright red.

If Niamh obliged, Madeleine would set about stripping her tights off. It was a little difficult while sitting, but she managed to sort of roll them down over her thighs to her knees, and from there she could smooth her skirt back out to cover her knees and preserve what she could of her modesty. Her left leg was easy from there, and Madeleine had slipped the tights off over her foot, then gone about trying to slide the tights down off her right leg. If she didn’t want to rip the fabric, it meant touching her ankle, and it – it really hurt. Madeleine couldn’t help the little whimpering noises that emerged as she slid her hands under the tights, the pressure on her ankle hot and painful. Still, she had said she would do it, and she persevered, although she was sniffling and tears were rolling down her cheeks by the time she finished. Carefully, she folded the tights and set them off to the side.

“Okay,” Madeleine whispered, letting Niamh know she was done. She wiped at her eyes with her hands, but it didn't seem to be helping; she was still crying.

User avatar
Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Maximus
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Wed Jun 12, 2019 4:35 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
.
Image
The girl was quite upset and Niamh had a horrible feeling that she was part of the reason for it. The younger student hadn't seemed pleased by her arrival, her uniform marking her as a student rather than a true healer and no doubt prompting fears that she wouldn't receive adequate care. Maybe it wasn't that but a notion that the arrival of anyone capable of healing meant the prospect of further pain. As a dancer, she'd no doubt had injuries before and thus, she'd have reason to dread the sight of a healer; the use of healing magic could be quite painful for the recipient, a fact of which the eldest Madden was all too aware. She knew that there was plenty of reason why it didn't have to be about her personally or the fact that she was a student rather than a qualified healer.

It didn't stop her from feeling as if it was all her fault though. She needed to do better, to set Madeleine at ease in her presence and have confidence in the care that she could provide.

"Yes, I suspected that you were too mature to still use childish nicknames. Madeleine it is," she responded brightly, worriedly that she was actually being condescending in her attempt at treating her patient as a grown up. Circle help her, why did she manage to be so bloody fake when she was trying to be genuine? Why was she so bad at this? Well, her bedside manner and social skills in general did leave much to be desired so really it wasn't that surprising that she wasn't actually going to become a doctor.

As if you could if you wanted to, she reminded herself with a note of bitterness, squashing the emotion quickly before it had a chance to ripple out in her field. No negative emotions right now. If her field was going to show anything it would be warmth and comfort and positivity, not the morose shades of her own thoughts.

The older student waited to see what Madeleine would say regarding the tights question. Belatedly she realised that she should have put up a privacy screen when she came or at the very least before she mentioned taking off the tights. As it was, it suited her that the dancer was willing to be independent both because it gave her a chance to move the screen into place and allowed the girl to have a role in her own care; people didn't really like to be passive and have things done to them that were outside of their control.

"Of course. I need to put up this screen to give us some privacy anyway so take your time and if you need help..." she left the sentence hanging while she went about her stated task.

Part of her was glad to turn away to give the child privacy - not that she wouldn't have done so in any case - because there was something unsettling about the way the younger student had been staring at her. The blue eyes were opened wide enough that Niamh felt as if she might well get lost and drown in the watery pools. There was no better way to describe the look than an ogle although the older redhead couldn't fathom what could have provoked such a reaction. She hadn't done anything strange, had she?

It was something for her to worry over while she sorted out the screen and waited for Madeleine to complete her task, not turning around prematurely no matter what she heard. Hearing the girl struggle and forcing herself not to do anything was really difficult. Remaining strong, she moved to the little bedside cupboard to get a spare blanket. When permission to turn around was granted, the blanket would be laid across the girl, covering from the waist down past the knee while leaving enough at the top for Madeleine to cover the bodice if she wished as well.

"For the sake of your modesty, even though it's just us girls," Niamh offered with a smile that was almost conspiratorial. She was hoping to convey that it was just something between them, a secret but how well that came across...

"I'm sorry that you're hurting so much but I'll try to put a stop to it as soon as I can. If it was so rough though, you could have asked- Never mind, what's done is done," the student remarked, the last a little distracted as she went looking for a handkerchief, belatedly remembering that she had a clean but rather crumpled one in her skirt pocket. "Here you are. Now I'm going to look you over and if it gets to be too much for you then you just tell me, okay? Why don't you tell me a little about yourself while I examine you? I know you're a dancer - confisalto, right? That's challenging and takes a lot of practice. Were you just practising for yourself or do you have an event coming up?"

While beginning her line of questioning, the Living Conversationalist rolled up her sleeves, making sure that they weren't going to unfurl before laying delicate fingers on her patient's leg. Pressure would be as gentle as she could manage but it was necessary to probe lightly, to gain an indication of what was going on under the surface. She could have used a Diagnostic spell but there were secular means of dealing with this so why use magical ones? If she couldn't tell with her physical exam then she was prepared to put a request in with the mona. The swelling looked bad though so it was possible that the mona would be needed after all but she didn't want to overutilise it; it wasn't a mere tool after all.

If Madeleine didn't protest then Niamh would take the time to move slowly and carefully around the girl's ankle, pressing lightly in places to gauge how much fluid was under her fingertips.
User avatar
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
Contact:

Thu Jun 13, 2019 12:47 am

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Niamh turned away and began to put a screen up, giving them some privacy and leaving Madeleine to battle against her tights alone. Madeleine was grateful for it, because taking one’s tights off while sitting in an infirmary bed wasn’t very dignified, and that was even without all the pain. She did her best, but she was still crying when Niamh came back with a blanket, face newly pressed into her palms and shoulders trembling.

Madeleine sniffled, pulling her hands away from her face, eyes red and cheeks marred by the steady trickling of tears down her face. One droplet made it all the way down to her chin, wobbled, and splashed off onto the blanket, and Madeleine sniffled again. She was much too dignified, now that she was all of fifteen, to wipe her eyes or nose on her arm, even if they were wet and she really wanted to. Her sleeve was off-limits too, because it was her confisalto bodice, and she didn’t want to get it dirty.

Madeleine’s eyes widened a little more at the discussion of modesty. She took the top of the blanket and immediately pulled it up all the way to her shoulders, awkwardly trying to arrange it around them while leaving her arms free, and eventually settling on a compromise that had one hand beneath the blanket and the other on top of it, awkwardly holding it in place. She looked down at the blanket and wondered if she could wipe her face on that instead, but it didn’t seem like it would be very – soothing. There were no new tears coming, at least, although her nose was still threatening to run.

It felt like Niamh was angry with her for taking the tights off herself, the older student cutting off her own words, leaving Madeleine to fill in the rest – and she did, imagination happy to supply a thorough chastising. Madeleine’s shoulders hunched in, and she looked even smaller than she already was beneath the blanket, and even more like a child than she had a few moments earlier. The handkerchief was appreciated though, and Madeleine accepted it in her free hand with a soft sniffle and a quiet thanks. She looked down at the blanket, then adjusted it a little and tried to sneak her other hand out as well, patting her eyes and cheeks with the handkerchief and, once they were dry, blowing her nose as quietly as she could. She looked around for something to do with the handkerchief and, finally, set it in an awkward crumpled ball on the cot, misery still tight in her small chest.

Niamh set her fingers on Madeleine’s leg, and Madeleine flinched, distracted from the question about confisalto by both the pain and a sudden burst of fear. If Niamh really was a lesbian and she touched Madeleine’s bare leg, was it – wrong? Madeleine chewed on the concern, panic welling in her chest. No, Madeleine decided. If Niamh had been a male doctor, he would touch Madeleine’s leg if he had to in order to evaluate the injury and that wouldn’t be wrong. Madeleine had, of course, been treated by male doctors before, although she didn’t think anybody had ever left her alone with one, behind a privacy screen where anything could happen. Anything. Madeleine wasn’t entirely sure what those things were, but she was confident that they were bad.

If Niamh asked, though, Madeleine would make a little head gesture somewhere between a shake and a nod, face pinched and white, and insist that it was okay, and Niamh could examine her.

Either way, it would take her a little while to get around to the question Niamh had actually asked. “Yes, I dance confisalto,” Madeleine confirmed.“It’s an – an advanced class, I suppose? It doesn’t work exactly like the other classes, I don’t know if art is the same, but for dance you go through some levels in your lower years, but then, if you want, you just – the class is just like, um, a company, I suppose? But for Brunnhold, and it’s… we’re only students.” The blanket slipped a little and Madeleine adjusted it, settling both hands on top now and trying to sort of hold it in place against herself. It was easier if she lay back a little more, so she did, carefully reclining against the pillows.

“But we have showcases,” Madeleine explained. She was losing a little of her pinched look as she kept explaining, warming to what was clearly a familiar and cherished topic, “just like a real dance company. Maybe you’ve – we put up advertisements. There’s only two per year, so everyone practices really hard. We’ve been working on our components for weeks and weeks, and today we were putting everything together? So, you know, you memorize the steps, and some of the practice is alone, and some with your partner, and then you bring it all together to see – to see where you need to work on, and anyway it’s different, you know, to really do it. And the piece we’ve been working on ends with a jump, or nearly ends anyway, and we ran it through twice, but the second time I – “

The newfound enthusiasm faltered and faded, and Madeleine looked down at her swollen ankle. There was quite a bit of swelling and bruising; it was clearly more than just a mild sprain, although it would likely take Niamh trying to move the joint before she could diagnose it as moderate or severe. At least nothing seemed to be broken.

“The showcase is only a few weeks away,” Madeleine said, voice very small once more. She bit back the question that she wanted to ask; Niamh had only just started examining her and she hadn’t even used any magic, just her fingertips, so Madeleine didn’t see how the living conversationalist could possibly tell her whether she would be able to dance in it. Instead, Madeleine looked back down at her lap, quiet and still again.

Image
User avatar
Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Maximus
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Sun Jun 16, 2019 12:56 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
.
Image
Not being the one in pain, the final year student was quite capable of maintaining the indectal nature of her ramscott field despite her underlying nervousness. Niamh wasn't releasing any inconvenient feelings that might give the younger girl insight into how she was feeling but Madeleine didn't have the same advantages. She was younger, she was in pain and she was in distress. As a result, she didn't have as strong a handle on her emotions. Of course, the redhead had no intention of prying unnecessarily but it was quite difficult to give someone emotional privacy when they were so close and had everything bubbling vigorously on the surface. It was a bit of a nuisance honestly but it was something that could be tuned out or leastwise she could filter it out so that it was like background noise. Or she could have if it was exactly what she'd expect in this type of situation. Fear, pain, anxiety, even frustration would have been understandable given the circumstances but there was a nervous energy to her, something that had been added into the mix since the student's introduction and arrival, something which Niamh couldn't interpret and didn't dare look into more closely. It was a niggling little thing like a loose tooth and no matter how much she tried to ignore it, it seemed to take up an impossible amount of attention. It was so very there and it grated on her nerves. It was a distraction that she really didn't need right now.

Despite the feelings rippling through Madeleine's field, seeming to move in and out of focus, the eldest Madden began her examination. She knew that she could be minimally invasive for a time, not cause too much pain but she would inevitably have to rotate the joint and that was liable to draw a strong reaction; she wouldn't be surprised if her patient screamed. She didn't think that it was a break but she couldn't be absolutely certain without a diagnostic; hairline fractures could be very sneaky. If it was a sprain then it could be a moderate one that was being quite dramatic when it came to swelling or it could be a severe one. She wouldn't know until she checked the range of motion and while she'd palpated it, she could only gain some indication of which ligaments might be damaged based on the areas with the most severe swelling. If she pressed a little harder then she could probably feel the damaged ligaments but that would mean causing more pain. All pain giving would be done at once and would require some warning. Icing the injury wouldn't go amiss.

While she conducted her exam, the dancer began to speak. Niamh had chosen the right line of questioning, a definite liveliness entering the young woman's features as she explained. She was warming up, perhaps forgetting her aloofness somewhat as she spoke about something that she so evidently adored. Furthermore, her emotions seemed to alter, field soothed and for that the redhead was grateful. However, the more that the teenager spoke, the more the student healer worried, mouth pressed into a taut line, forehead creased as she considered the implications even before the girl explained that the showcase was only a few weeks away.

If the sprain was truly bad and worse, if there was a break then the young woman would miss her showcase if treated by secular means alone. Depending on how extensive the damage was, even magically it could be too much to do in one treatment simply because it'd require a lot of channelling of monic power and that might not go down too well with the sentient particles.

From Madeleine's perspective, the young woman might appear to be elsewhere, hazel eyes unfocused as she considered the matter inside her own head even though her hands continued to move. Her attention snapped back.

"Okay, Madeleine, I understand how important your showcase is and so I'm going to do my very best to ensure that you'll be able to take part in it. I'm going to have to rotate your ankle to see how bad things are but I'm going to ice it first to see about bringing down some of the swelling, okay? The more of the swelling I can bring down, the clearer things will be when I use magic to have a look inside, all right?" she explained briskly, removing her hands from the injury and frowning down at it briefly. "The ice should also numb and soothe a bit so it won't hurt quite as much when I go to move it. I'll be back in a few moments."

The student didn't wait for any permission from the younger girl, enough command in her voice to suggest that she didn't need it. Instead, she simply ducked around the privacy screen and moved swiftly down to the icebox. Ice was used to keep certain supplies cool and so the box was kept regularly stocked to keep its contents chilled. There was proper ice that could be taken from the unit, the ice that was used to keep everything cool, and it was this that the redhead scooped into cloth and wrapped up well before she carried it back to her patient.

"Now I'm going to place this on your ankle and then I'll wait a few minutes, okay?"

She did as she said, positioning the homemade ice pack around the swelled area before taking a chair and setting it beside the bed, seating herself neatly.

"Right so you might as well tell me more about your dancing while we wait for the swelling to ease a bit. I assume that this isn't the first injury you've had because of confisalto. Have you had an injury this bad before? Or injured this ankle before? Sometimes an injury weakens things and makes re-injury more likely. Anything you can tell me... it might help," Niamh explained, a smile flickering across her lips. "Forgive me, I don't just want to talk about this. It doesn't have to be all about your health and your injury, there'll be enough talk of that after all. Why don't you tell me more about yourself? What else do you do outside of dance?"
User avatar
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
Contact:

Mon Jun 17, 2019 1:55 am

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Madeleine took a deep breath and peeked up from her lap to look at Niamh. The older student was frowning, mouth taut, forehead creased, eyes distant. Madeleine’s shoulders slumped, and her gaze dropped back to her lap, a pulse of utter misery throbbing through her. She couldn’t think of any way to interpret that look other than as a bad sign. Niamh was still probing her ankle, and it hurt, but Madeleine didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Madeleine looked up at the older student again when she spoke, hunching in and drawing her hands tighter against the blanket, gripping it a little more tightly. Niamh said she would do her very best, but the worried look on her face made Madeleine worry too. It wasn’t fair at all that she had to have a student healer. Why couldn’t she have gotten one of the real healers? Somebody who knew more about what they were doing? Maybe they wouldn’t be so worried about fixing her ankle. It was only a sprain!

“Thank you,” Madeleine said small-voiced as Niamh set the ice against her ankle. She rubbed her face with one hand, not wanting to cry again. It was really hard, though, and her blue-shifted field showed just how awful she felt about all of it. She peeked sideways at Niamh as the older woman sat next to her. The first set of questions were what Madeleine expected, and the second weren’t. She didn’t know what to think about it. She’d never made conversation with a doctor before, but, then, Niamh was a student too, and it wouldn’t be weird to have questions like this from another student.

Madeleine thought she had better answer the questions about injury, though. “I have sprained it before,” she said. “My ankle. I mean, I – I think it’s only sprained, because it doesn’t feel too different. I didn’t do it… a lot of times. Twice, I think? Once wasn’t very bad, and then – again, um, two years ago? Six months after the first time. But that wasn’t before a showcase and it healed properly and I – I didn’t think…” Madeleine swallowed. Would it keep happening? She didn’t dare to voice the question, staring down at the offending ankle.

“Otherwise,” Madeleine took a deep breath. “I haven’t had any other injuries, really. I strained my knee, once, but it wasn’t very bad, and I – I mean, my toes hurt sometimes, but I think everyone’s do after dancing on point.” Madeleine glanced down at her feet. They were small, and surprisingly tough; she had a dancer’s calluses, after years of confisalto. “I lost a toenail when I first started dancing point,” she told Niamh, with an odd note of pride to her voice. No one had been impressed; she had showed Angelique during the next break and Angelique had told her she was disgusting. She had wanted to show her parents, but she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve. Secretly, Madeleine was still a little proud. It had made her feel like a real dancer. “It grew back,” she added, wriggling the toes of her uninjured foot. “And we re-fitted my shoes after that, so it didn’t happen again.”

Niamh had wanted to know about what else she did, too, and with significant effort, Madeleine wrenched her mind away from her ankle and focused instead on the rest of her. “I – um – I study, mostly,” Madeleine blinked. “Like everyone, I guess. My focus is on physical conversation but I’m taking some classes in static too, I – um.” Niamh had probably already known that from her field, Madeleine realized, feeling abominably stupid. There wasn’t anything else she could think to say about herself; Madeleine wished she were more interesting.

“I think my brother knows you,” Madeleine offered instead. “I mean, he said – um. He’s Sebastian? Sebastian Gosselin. He and my sister – Angelique – they’re in ninth form. And well, Vespasian is my little brother, he’s in fourth, but I don’t think you’d… you’d know him.” There was a faintly sour feeling to the comment. Madeleine couldn’t imagine Vespasian ever doing anything to be injured, although maybe he might have gotten sick. Probably from studying too much.

“Sebastian’s going to become a surgeon,” Madeleine added, a little proudly. She paused. “And Angelique is going to be a politician. She’s top of her class in perceptive conversation.” Madeleine already regretted having mentioned either sibling to Niamh. It was too hard, now, not to think again about what Angelique had said about Niamh, and she found herself staring at the older girl again, wide-eyed. She was pretty. Even if she was only a student and maybe she couldn’t fix Madeleine’s ankle and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair at all, because maybe a real doctor could –

But all that aside, Madeleine felt, being quite fair, that Niamh was undeniably pretty. She couldn’t really see why anyone would pretend to be a lesbian, and she didn’t exactly understand why Angelique had suggested it. But, then, Angelique usually knew all of the gossip. She knew quite a bit of gossip that Madeleine had never even heard before, and so Madeleine thought that it was probably true, what she had said about Niamh. Even the bit about – throwing herself. Madeleine’s cheeks flamed red, and she dropped her gaze away from the older student. It was a really awful phrase; Madeleine’s chest hurt a little just thinking about it.

Her ankle was feeling a little better – just a little. The ice was soothing, and Madeleine shifted a little, turning her foot so a slightly different part of the swollen ankle rested against it. She adjusted the blanket again, bringing it up to cover her shoulders from where it had fallen, and, then, slowly, her gaze crept from her wounded foot back to Niamh, cheeks reddening a little more.

Image
User avatar
Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Maximus
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Tue Jun 18, 2019 1:20 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
.
Image
The questions about the injury had come more naturally than the more personal ones; the former actually felt relevant. It was easy to nod along with a thoughtful frown on her face, weighing the information that she heard. If the previous sprains hadn't been too severe or if she'd seen a healer about them then it was unlikely that she'd have weakened ligaments in her ankle. Anyone would have sustained such an injury given how she'd gotten it, the twist of an ankle from a poor landing something that could happen to someone even without Madeleine's history. However, she could ensure that the ligaments were suitably strengthened so that it wasn't likely to occur in the normal run of her activities. That was a priority.

She couldn't hide the slight wince that the mention of lost toenails elicited, the notion of doing that to one's body not something of which the Living Conversationalist approved. Yes, she understood that people were willing to do horrifying things for the sake of art and the results were often quite beautiful but it was moments like these, looking at Madeleine's pinched and pained little face and the state of her ankle that she wondered how the pain and the mutilation could possibly be worth it. But they took pride in it and she could see that the younger student did too, apparently all too pleased to have removed something that was meant to remain a part of her body. But she wasn't meant to be a doctor in this scenario was she? They were just talking after all.

The professionalism was waning a bit, the calm and controlled assurance of her field slowly evaporating as the young woman found it harder to keep awkwardness at bay now that she was simply sitting and waiting and trying to converse with the girl as if they were peers. They weren't peers - Madeleine was younger after all - and if they had been, it wouldn't have made it any easier. The fact that she was younger but in that awkward time where being viewed as mature was paramount, it meant that Niamh had to be very careful about how she interacted with her; she had to avoid being condescending or infantilising. In truth, she should treat her like a peer but Circle save her, she was fairly certain that most of those she'd dealt with from 8th, which was Oísin's form, 9th and 10th, her own, thought that she was a dork. Oísin and his friends liked to spread all sorts of rumours about her and sometimes she saw people sniggering and whispering as she passed, those who didn't even look familiar to her. As impressions went, she was only good at presenting herself as a nerd who didn't seem to be interested in the right things like fashion and boys and who she was going to end up marrying, but who seemed to have odd interests like passives and potentially women. Not that there should be anything wrong with liking passives or women - which she didn't, not like that. Being a passive sympathiser was a risky business but it shouldn't be given that passives were their kin and it wasn't likely she was suggesting that they should intermarry or anything.

As for liking women... there wasn't anything wrong with it really, it was legal to be gay and you could get married but morally and socially, things got a bit... wobbly. It wasn't a good thing to have associated with you and unfortunately, that particular rumour had gained far more traction than Niamh personally would have liked. Goodness knew how many people knew about that one, people who probably didn't even know who she was.

It was why she cringed inwardly, a little pulse of discomfort going through her field when she said that Sebastian knew her. Knew her for what? The fact that the younger form went to say what he'd said and then broke off didn't work well on her nerves. What did she mean when she said that her brother knew Niamh and what in Alioe's name had he said? But then she heard the name and her breathing hitched, the redhead sitting suddenly rigid, hazel eyes huge and staring. It wasn't Sebastian that she worried about, not really but it was impossible not to hear that name and immediately think of his sister. Angelique was a very different story altogether. The girl was always a bitch, liable to make the clever sort of comments that appeared outwardly complimentary or friendly but which carried insult underneath and if you tried to suggest that there was any nastiness behind them... well, you were just being overly sensitive, weren't you? And yes, a politician's life would suit her; the young woman was exceptional at sniffing out and gathering the sort of information that you didn't want to come out. Oísin had friends in 9th, including that bloody groping Factory boy with plenty of money and no decorum who was an all too likely candidate for Niamh's future husband; Angelique would no doubt have heard every nasty thing going.

Sweet Lady, had Madeleine heard any of it? Is that why she'd been goggling at her since she arrived and introduced... herself... Oh Circle no, what had the child heard? What rumour from the multitude had she learned? Or had she heard more than one? That wasn't a happy thing to consider while she was sitting here, having to interact with the girl and not knowing if she had heard something unsavoury because she clocking well wasn't going to ask her what she'd picked up on.

The eldest Madden tried to remember how to act like a normal person; she had a feeling that that meant taking breaths but not so many that you were hyperventilating. There was a wobble in her field and she did her utmost to smooth it, to make it seem calm and there definitely wasn’t a note of panic in there.

"I know the twins, yes. I’ve had reason to work with Sebastian once or twice," she explained, unable to get her voice above a whisper, the young woman suddenly sounding hoarse. She cleared her throat and ran nervous, questing fingers over her head, seeking any errant strands. ”I’ve something in common with both of them. In terms of focus. Living is my main and Perceptive is my secondary.”

Saying such things were unnecessary, her favoured mona clear for the child to sense in her field but it was safe to speak of it and it gave her a chance to lead into reassurances. She was the professional one here, yes she was, she had it together, everything was fine, there definitely wasn’t anything else going on here.

Her self-esteem was wobbling.

”I know you must be disappointed that I’m only a student and not a proper healer but… I’m good at what I do, Madeleine. I’m at an Intermediate level in Living Conversation, I’m experienced with this sort of injury but I’m also aware that you can’t expect magic to do everything for you.”

Her words were reassuring to herself. She was capable. No matter what anyone said about her, no matter how many nasty remarks Oísin made about her appearance or her sexuality, or her lack of prospects because of what father wanted. She was clocking clever. That helped. Yes, she knew what she was doing.

Her field was bolstered, flexing it briefly to highlight her own strength before she talked about magic. She might have to say some things out loud to ground herself, things that were going to make Madeleine feel as if she was being treated like an idiot probably but she needed them for herself.

"The mona isn't a tool like a scalpel, you can't treat it like it's dead and unfeeling. Like it should just do what you want it to do and deal with it so depending on how bad the sprain is, I may not be able to fix it completely. Not today. That doesn't mean that you wouldn't be able to come back in a day or so to have another treatment. There's value in letting the body heal on its own time," the young woman explained, standing up and shifting the ice pack from the injury. Fingers danced lightly over the swollen skin, the young woman silently calculating how much it had reduced.

"I'm going to move your ankle now. It will hurt but I'll be brief. Then I'll run a diagnostic spell, just to be certain that it's only a sprain," Niamh told her briskly, the outward confidence and professionalism back, her field mostly the same although there was a slight tremor of anxiety beneath the surface.

The redhead would rotate Madeleine's ankle with care, checking the degree of motion and nodding to herself. A little bit of looseness. There were some tears there, especially given the degree of swelling but possibly one had snapped entirely. The outside of the joint rather than the inside, the more common place to be injured in a sprain. She shifted her ankle into what she imagined was the most comfortable position, allowing the girl to move it to a new place if she wanted - and could.

"Right, I'm going to do a diagnostic, it won't take long but just... let me concentrate."

The young woman gathered her field, Quantitative mona channelled with the greatest care as she laid down the appropriate clauses and invocations, respectful words and a tone of appropriate reverence all used to gain the desired effect. The mona didn't hurry to obey, the movement of the particles tranquil and unhurried, the redhead encouraging it to move at a speed that suited it. She wasn't going to make it move at a speed that she dictated when there was no need to have it rush; there was no emergency after all. The probing was gentle, questing, using the mona's curiosity to seek her answers. For Madeleine, she would be able to feel a warm tingle touching her, something akin to velvety tickle of static electricity on the outside and the barest trace of pins and needles within. It wouldn't be painful or uncomfortable but it was probably a little strange.

The information came to her, exact, detailed and confirming what she'd suspected. There were little rips in ligaments and one of them had indeed snapped all together but the bones were intact. There were old injuries, stress fractures and scarring. The tolls of dance but... not relevant to what was happening now.

The student mentally prioritised the different things that needed to be fixed. The pain and the swelling could be dealt with by the use of different medicines and salves so she would only move fluid or dull nerves if it was strictly necessary. The ligaments were the priority though.

Wrapping up her spell, Niamh offered her thanks and released her field, allowing her monic aura to settle in its usual place. If you concentrated, you could feel the odd Quantitative particle in the mix of the habitually summoned Living and Perceptive ones. The redhead stood up just a little straighter, the use of magic seeming to have bolstered her confidence and self-esteem and she brushed hands over the skirt of her uniform.

"No breaks, Madeleine. You have damage to your ligaments on the outside, the- well, the name doesn't matter. I don't know if you've taken anatomy classes at any stage, or have enough information on the matter. They attach bone to bone, keep everything where it's supposed to be and keeps things stable. I've heard people say that a broken bone hurts less than a ripped ligament so it's understandable that it hurts so much and that it's so swollen. It'll also hurt to heal. If I patch up the ligaments though, that's actually the worst of it out of the way. You'll still have bruising and some swelling but ice can help with that and it'll be tender but that's superficial, a few days of going easy would set it straight."

There was bright optimism in her voice, a smile that carried some triumph in being able to offer the good news. Even if Niamh didn't heal her completely, Madeleine should be able to walk out of here under her own power.

"I can numb it with magic or I can use a special salve, it's your choice. The magic should work better but it also means that I won't do as much healing, just enough. What will it be?"

In a way, she hoped that the girl could weather things with the salve alone because Niamh would be able to do more for her and she guessed that the younger student would appreciate being able to get back to work on her showcase performance. However, she also didn't want to be left waiting for it to take affect, giving the doubts a chance to creep back in. It was so close, the balance always ready to tip against her.
User avatar
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
Contact:

Tue Jun 18, 2019 2:10 pm

Afternoon, 6th Bethas, 2719
The Infirmary
Image
There was a very awkward moment. Madeleine had just been telling Niamh about Sebastian and Angelique, and how brilliant they both were. She regretted it, but mostly because it made it too hard not to think about the things Sebastian and Angelique had said about Niamh. What was awkward was that Niamh was staring at Madeleine as if she could read her thoughts, could see inside her and figure out what she was thinking. But Niamh hadn’t cast, Madeleine would have known if she had cast, and so she couldn’t possibly.

Could she?

No, if she could do something like that then surely everyone would know and Angelique would have mentioned it. That was the sort of thing someone would gossip about, wasn’t it? Madeleine wasn’t terribly good at gossiping, the things she tried to say never seemed to interest Angelique, but she thought if she had gone and told Angelique that Niamh Madden could read your thoughts without the mona then Angelique would have been interested, if she believed it.

But there was something in Niamh’s field, a ripple that, close as they were together, Madeleine felt. She couldn’t identify it; it passed through and left her eyes even wider, confusion and self-pity and regret warring noisily in Madeleine’s own field, sharp jagged edges of emotion. They soothed a little when Niamh finally spoke, although even Madeleine couldn’t miss that her voice suddenly sounded odd. She didn’t understand why. Wasn’t Sebastian good to work with? Madeleine bristled a little at the thought that Niamh might not like him, might not think he was a good student like he did her.

Madeleine’s eyes went – if possible – even wider when Niamh defended herself against the accusation of not being a proper healer. She shook her head a little, trying to defend herself, trying to explain that she hadn’t thought that – except that maybe she had – but the words faltered and died in her mouth. Madeleine was left hunching her shoulders against an accusation that made her feel like the worst, most ungrateful person in all of Brunnhold, followed swiftly by a flexed field that crashed against Madeleine’s own vaguer one with the sharpness of a blow.

Niamh just kept talking, accusing Madeleine of lacking respect for the mona, lecturing her on the proper use of magic and not thinking of it like a tool. There were tears welling in the middle Gosselin’s eyes now, and her lower lip trembled as Niamh touched her ankle. “Okay,” Madeleine whispered a response when the older girl said she was going to move her ankle. Even before Niamh touched it, a few more hot tears were sliding down Madeleine’s cheeks.

She’d messed it up. Niamh had only been polite, but Madeleine had messed it up somehow. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong or even when she’d done something wrong, but it was clear that she had done something wrong. Waves of misery flooded her field, and she stifled a little sob at Niamh began to move her ankle, managing to at least hold it until the joint hurt. Crying because of one’s ankle was okay, wasn’t it? Adults could cry if they hurt themselves, couldn’t they? It didn’t make her a baby.

Madeleine’s chin tucked against her chest, and she tugged the blanket up a little more. It was scratchy and uncomfortable but Madeleine buried her face in it as she cried silently, shoulders shaking. It did hurt, it really did, a sharp and throbbing pain that was almost as bad as the ache in Madeleine’s chest.

Madeleine wished desperately that she could wait until she reached her room and cry then, in private, now that she didn’t have to have a roommate anymore. She could sob into her pillow until she felt wrung out like a wet cloth, but better, at least usually. But she couldn’t hold it back, and so here she was, crying her eyes out for the second time of the day in the infirmary. She tried to keep as quiet as she could, choking and stifling the sobs, even though it made her stomach churn with nausea.

Niamh began to cast, and Madeleine clung to the spell as if it might somehow save her life, listening intently and trying to understand the quantitative casting. She didn’t know much about quantitative, but it was neat to listen to somebody cast a spell about her, and interesting enough that, slowly, this wave of tears stopped as well, leaving Madeleine with wet cheeks and red puffy eyes. She fumbled for the handkerchief Niamh had brought her, and wiped her nose with it, but didn’t dare blow, worried the sound might interrupt Niamh’s focus on her spell. Her ankle didn’t hurt as badly as it had when Niamh was moving it, and the tingling from the spell was odd but not painful.

Whatever Madeleine had done wrong, Niamh didn’t seem to want to talk about it. That was good, at least; Angelique always liked to tell Madeleine exactly how she had screwed up. It was helpful because usually Madeleine didn’t know otherwise, but it also made her feel small in her chest, as if she was as bad as – as – as a passive.

Madeleine focused on what Niamh was saying, looking at her attentively through red and swollen eyes. A ripped ligament. Madeleine hadn’t studied living conversation herself but she had taken some anatomy and she knew the idea of it. She nodded a little. Bruising and swelling sounded good. A few days of going easy –

Only a few days?

Madeleine’s spirits lifted, some of the bleak misery easing out of her field, and Madeleine sat a little straight as well, smoothing out the blanket against her shoulders. “Oh,” Madeleine breathed, returning Niamh’s smile with a shy, soft one of her own. “Oh!”

Madeleine took a deep breath, and set her chin and shoulders, squaring her back. “The salve is fine,” Madeleine said. A little bubble of fear rippled through her – would Niamh think her a greedy and ungrateful caster again? – but she held firm. The pain scared her too, but more than anything Madeleine wanted her ankle to be healed again. Nearly as much, she didn’t want to have to come see Niamh a second time. She had already screwed things up so badly; just thinking about it made her tense up a little again, and her breath hitched in her throat.

“Thank you,” Madeleine added, choking slightly on the words through the thickness in her throat. Her eyes dropped to her lap as she readjusted the blanket against herself. She hesitated, looking at Niamh. It didn’t seem like the older girl needed her but – what if she was waiting for Madeleine? “I’m ready,” she was practically whispering now.

Image
User avatar
Niamh Madden
Posts: 73
Joined: Thu Nov 14, 2019 3:50 pm
Topics: 9
Race: Galdor
: I'm a good girl...
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Writer: Maximus
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Tue Jun 18, 2019 5:57 pm

Bethas 6, 2719 | Afternoon
The Infirmary
.
Image
Madeleine's field so close to her own was a maelstrom of misery and confusion and pity and so many things that it was dizzying, trying to access it not what she was here for and certainly not something she wanted to delve into in any case. There were ways of turning it out, ways that she'd practised and she could manage it, at least in part because she was spending so much time focusing on herself and her work. Being self-centred had its advantages, provided that she wasn't spiralling down into a pit of self-induced misery and focusing on all her failings. The fact that Niamh had mustered faith in herself helped and of course, the injury was grounding, her attention fixed on it instead of the actual warm body that was present and suffering on the Infirmary cot.

It wasn't that the young woman failed to see the tears or to feel the chaos of negativity in her patient's field. Niamh wasn't callous either; she was far from being that. However, it was easier for her to keep that professional exterior up, to run through routine and be practical because if she let herself feel one iota of what the dancer was going through then she might well end up blubbering all over her and wouldn't be any use to anyone. It was one of the reasons why the redhead knew that she couldn't be a doctor, not for life, not even if she succeeded in breaking free of her father's influence and more than likely losing her family in the process. If she was a doctor then she'd have to deal with this sort of thing all the time. And then there were the times that you couldn't do enough to help someone or do anything at all, as was the case with Rina.

The eldest Madden couldn't stomach that kind of thing.

But how could she announce Madeleine's prognosis and look into that puffy, distraught face without feeling something? There was hope in her gaze but there was also so much anxiety and fear and pain and her face was absolutely sopping. The hazel eyes flicked to the sodden handkerchief, almost waterlogged at this stage and wondered what sort of a heartless monster she must seem.

Alioe forgive her, the dancer was so young. How could she have looked at that little face with its lingering childish softness slowly blending into mature curves and not seen her for what she was? She was a fucking child.

Her heart fractured within her, shame and pity and guilt washing through her as well as a sympathetic misery. Her patient didn't need to be treated like an adult and given this overly professional treatment; the girl needed mothering, a hug at the very least. Instead, the redhead mumbled something about getting the salve, wandering out from behind the privacy screen wringing her hands together and with her hazel gaze misty.

The eldest Madden fetched the relevant salves, pausing thoughtfully before she went back and choosing to go in search of some handkerchiefs instead. Once she had the cloth squares, she carried her materials back to Madeleine, setting her burdens down with care on the blanket in the area that she guessed was where the girl's lap was. She held out a handkerchief with a wan smile before taking up the jar of salve and smearing it generously on the swollen area.

"Madeleine, I... it'll take a few minutes for this to take effect but... let me know when it feels a bit better, okay?" she said with great softness, wiping her hands clean on one of the handkerchiefs. Her gaze turned to the dancer, visage full of worry but the professionalism gone and replaced by something soft and concerned instead. This wasn't a doctor worried for a patient but a mother anxious about a child or a older sibling worrying about a younger one.

"Are you all right?" she questioned softly, Niamh already shaking her head as she completed the query, eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "No, of course you aren't, that's a stupid thing to- Look, it's all right, you'll be okay. I promise."

And without any real thought about it, moving on instinct alone, the elder student moved close and wrapped her arms awkwardly around the child. The positioning was less than ideal, Madeleine's face likely to be against her shoulder but a little too low and close to her breast maybe. But she didn't think of that. She was simply offering the only comfort that she could, the sort of comfort she'd always provided her brother with, Fionn sobbing against her far too often in their childhood and apparently not beyond such things now. So she hugged the girl as she had always hugged Fionn, as she had once hugged Lars. It was something you were meant to do, something that she had seen more often with young children or the lower races. Something that people didn't tend to do for her; the redhead was used to hugging herself in an attempt at self-comfort.

Was it something that was less awkward if you were used to doing it? Did you have to know someone for it to feel anything other than strange and stiff and as if you didn't quite fit together right? It wasn't like she hugged many strangers. It wasn't like she hugged many people at all. With Fionn it was okay, it hadn't been when they'd reunited, especially given how bloody rigid he'd gone at her touch but these days he relaxed, subtly moulding to her with a sigh. Something told her that the dancer wasn't the kind to soften and accept this. This was probably an overstep. Madeleine would probably stiffen and act as if Niamh had done something quite rude. At least she didn't let their fields blend, leaving it purposely rigid and inflexible, not open to the mingling in that intimate act. She did dampen it considerably though, shrinking it so that it wouldn't be too obtrusive and invasive, wouldn't be too intimidating for the vague form that was more than an eddle and more organised than a glamour.

Only a child and so vulnerable and unloved, starved of affection. All the galdori children at Brunnhold were so starved whether they had a field or were cursed to be without one. After all, where were their parents now? How hands on were they during their ten years of schooling if they did happen to go home? How hands on had they been even before that? No, they were all starved of it, all left wanting.

Well damn her, she could make it a little better maybe. Maybe help herself feel a little better in the process too.

"It's okay. I know you hurt. You don't deserve this."
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic

Return to “Brunnhold”

  • Information
  • Who is online

    Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests