Who

Milosh, Tallel

What

During Mr. Mercurial Gets The News , Milosh has a panic attack and has to go see Tallel for a remedy.

When

-- On Pern --
It is 9:19 PM where you are.
It is late night of the seventh day of the eighth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the thirty-seventh day of Summer and 99 degrees. The night is clear, the wind stirring.
In Southern:
It is the thirty-seventh day of Winter and 43 degrees. The winter rain drums the weyr pleasantly throughout the night.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the thirty-seventh day of Winter and 5 degrees. It's cold and dark out.


Where

Igen Weyr, Caravan Grounds, Zingari Camp, Willimina and Tallel's Yurt

OOC Date 01 Apr 2018 06:00

 

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“So. Echo had some news for you.”


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Willimina and Tallel's Yurt

Unlike the outside of this dwelling, the inside of this round tent puts the bolder, more flamboyant side of Tallel's Zingari roots on display, though it's now been augmented by all that the rest of his family brings to it. While simple in layout, there is nothing simple at all about the intricate weave of the rugs thrown down upon the light, portable wooden slat-work spanning collapsible frames. Deep wine red is the most commonly found hue, though gold, green, and silver are found as well in the hangings that drape the tent walls at even intervals. A low, wide table to the left of the hanging door serves as Tallel's primary work space for grinding herbs and mixing medicines, while another one further off to the right - round, this time - is laden with wood and steel serving ware and makes up a small dining area. Cushions lay around the yurt in abundance for sitting, the largest pile of which obscures the low mattress on which he and Willimina sleep. Nearby, a couple of folding dividers fashioned of woven reeds and silk partition off the beds their children sleep in. A few braziers for incense and candles, as well as some round red glow baskets, hang about the ceiling, which tapers up to a vent that can be shut against the weather but is wide enough to give a nice view of the night sky in the evenings.


It's probably too late in the evening for Tallel to be expecting a visit from Milosh, particularly with the way the two men seem to dislike each other, but there's no one else Milosh can think of to talk about this with. Panic is rising in his chest, heavy and hard and it's getting harder and harder to breathe by the moment, he's already wheezing with the force of it. So when he reaches the yurt the young second shares with his wife and children, Milosh pounds on the frame of the yurt. “Caravan Second! Are you in? Please be in…” Milosh sounds desperate, spooked, a bit uneasy. “Tallel, are you here?”

As it turns out, Tallel has just returned from the baths after his shifts in the healer’s tent. His wife and children haven’t returned yet, so he assumes they’re all with Timotin or Ethelinda or some such thing. So he’s by himself when the sudden pounding on his door-frame comes, and it actually makes him jump. When he pull the door open, his hair is still sticking up in damp spikes, there’s still a towel draped over bare shoulders, and he’s only just changed into more presentable pants. Tawny eyes are snapping with sparks of consternation as they fall upon Milosh, but he realizes quickly what this must be about. And he notes the man’s wheezing. “Milosh, did you…run here?” he asks, dark brows furling as the healer in him comes to the fore rather than anything else.

Milosh shakes his head in response to Tallel's question. “No. Didn't run. Panic attack. Have anything?” Milosh is grabbing at his chest not frantically, but in an attempt to suggest the tightness there. “Can I come in, please? Sorry for intruding.” Milosh’s features are pulled into a silent plea, he'd rather not stand out here like this if he can avoid it.

Tallel’s brows hike in surprise at that, but he goes into full healer mode now, automatically rifling through mental files of what he has that might help. “Come on,” he rumbles, pulling Milosh inside and pushing the door shut, then leading him over to the cushions nearest his work table. “Sit straight, and try to focus on breathing deep and slow. I’ll see what I have.” With that, he moves over to his medicine space, setting the tea kettle on the brazier as he goes. Three jars are plucked from his rack, opened, and spoonfuls of the contents from each tilted into an empty tea sachet. He glances over at Milosh as he shakes the herbs together, observing the man carefully. “So. Echo had some news for you.” And Milosh panicked, which Tallel has decided is a far cry better than getting angry or falling into denial.

Milosh more than willingly sinks into the cushions and taps a bit into some of his training to try and regulate his breathing. “Aye. It seems she did. Bad herbs, eh?” The question gives Milosh something more to focus on besides the rising panic and dread, and not at all for the reasons Tallel is probably thinking of. The wheeze is lessening at least, as breathing deeply loosens the muscles in Milosh's chest a fraction. He's not changing the topic, but he is still in shock, his mind is jumping from one place to the next and the man inside who craves control is wigging out from all the chaos. It's got him frazzled around the edges certainly, and a bit on the ADD track.

“I believe so,” Tallel says to the matter of the herbs. “Something I’ll have to make an announcement about in the morning.” Won’t that be fun? Rising, he moves to check the kettle at the brazier, watching Milosh closely again once he’s determined that the water isn’t quite boiling yet. “Have you had any alcohol today?” he asks as he settles himself back down at his table.

Fun indeed, though it's likely neither of the men present think this is fun. Tallel's question prompts Milosh to run a hand over his face and shake his head slightly. “Half an ale with my midday meal, nothing more.” For a moment, Milosh regrets having braided his wet hair because he keeps catching himself wanting to run his hands through it. The adept takes a steadying breath and looks Tallel in the eye now, a question racing through his mind that demands to be asked. “How was Echo when she came to see you today? Is she well, beyond the symptoms of being with child?” OK, two questions, but the heart of his rising panic is beginning to show for those who might know to see it, and for those who don't, all will become clear soon. As it is, Milo’s face contorts into one of frantic worry, more panic fighting to rise.

Tallel weighs Milosh’s answer against his medicines for a calculating moment, then decisively plucks up another jar and uses a small pair of tongs to take something from it and drop it into the sachet. “Don’t drink anything else alcoholic today. You’ll end up sick right alongside Echo, otherwise,” he warns, and drops the sachet into a mug. Now he goes to retrieve the kettle in earnest, pausing when he notes the extreme worry coloring the other man’s expression. “She was perfectly fine apart from that,” he answers, kneeling to fill the mug with water and then rising one last time to set the kettle safely near the brazier. “Shocked to find the reason, understandably, but I’d say that by the time we were done here, she was even eager to tell you. And determined to let me know when she did, though she doesn’t exactly need to now.” Though the sachet remains in the mug, he adds some sweetener and stirs before handing it to Milosh. “Focus on drinking that for now, slowly. No more questions until then.”

Milosh takes the advice about the tea quite seriously, knowing that a mixture of some medicines and alcohol can cause quite intolerable sickness. He seems relieved when Tallel speaks of his cousin's health and accepts his tea, nodding along as the healer explains Echo's eagerness to pass along the news. There's definitely more than a few things Milosh would like to say but he sips at his tea instead, focusing on the heat and his breathing. It isn't long before he can feel some of the effects, his chest untightening, his thoughts slowing. It's a rather huge relief, even the man's facial features relax a bit. “Thank you.” Is the next thing he'll say before drinking down more of the tea. A baby puts many things into perspective, and many many more things on the fast track, and Milosh is going to have to adapt from the crawling pace he's been working through things at.

As Milosh starts on the tea, Tallel is still watching closely, this time for anything out of the ordinary the brew itself might cause. It seems all is well, however, and when the other man begins to relax noticeably, Tallel goes about closing all of his herbs back up and replacing them in their proper spots on the rack. “You’re welcome,” he answers quietly, and means it; he’s seen full-blown panic attacks enough to know just how wholly unpleasant they can become. “You’ve dealt with these for a while, I take it?”

Milosh takes a steadying breath when Tallel asks after his panic attacks and nods. “Since I was young, since I lost my wife and child.” Another steadying breath and a sip of his tea. “I usually have something for them…but I haven't restocked as of late.” They've been happening much less frequently over the last couple of turns.

Tallel nods but is quiet with his own thoughts for a moment before moving. Finally remembering the towel around his neck, he rises and tosses it aside, finding the vest he meant to pull on earlier and doing so at last. After that, he finds a waterskin and opens it, takes a sip, and then folds himself down onto the cushions, cross-legged as he sits before Milosh. “I can understand why they might come upon you again, now,” he says. “But I also think it’s a surety that life wouldn’t deal you the same hand twice. I have every confidence that Echo and your child will come through safe and strong and healthy, Milosh. Especially here.” He takes another sip, then caps the bottle once more. “And if it takes a while for the attacks to go away again, come see me.” A hand gestures to the mug. “You’re going to sleep like a rock tonight, by the way.”

At this point, Milosh wants to fidget a bit, but doesn’t care enough to do so, which is probably a good thing. He just nods when Tallel mentions coming back if the attacks don’t stop. He also takes in what Tallel has to say about childbirth and Echo and he nods along to that too. “She reminds me much of my Elena, Echo does, in many ways that make me fear for her in irrational ways.” And the fact that he knows they are irrational fears is at least a good thing. “Which makes me brisk and cold when I try to garner control of said fears, which unfortunately for us all, is what you got to see when first we met.” Milosh swirls the cup a moment before taking down the last of the tea and locking gazes with Tallel. “I was holding her at arm’s length when we met, I wasn’t ready and didn’t want to take the plunge into something serious…And there was the agreement between Echo and I too.” The one where romance was never supposed to be part of the deal. How life changes, eh? “Sorry for that, and for bristling at you out on the Steppes. I’ve had a lot of changing to do…and it hasn't been easy.” Particularly for a man who is very used to getting his own way and not caving to others. He looks down into the empty mug in his hands. “I told her I loved her before I bolted over here… She’s probably worrying, and confused…” Not that he’s making any sense jumping from one topic to the next as he is, a mixture of his worries and the tea muddling with his head a bit.

Again Tallel nods to Milosh’s first, understanding quite well. He takes in the rest of what Milosh has to say intently. “Love never lets things remain how you intend for them to remain. Nothing can stop it.” It’s a conclusion he’d come to not long after Willimina had agreed to marry him. He accepts Milosh’s apology with a nod and a small smile. “Change never is, particularly the sort that needs to happen most. How and why you would bristle is something I needed to see, though. I fully expect you’ll do right by my cousin.” He’d drawn that conclusion, at least, from their exchange out at the Steppes. Mention of what transpired before coming here has his brows hiking. “Took you sharding long enough, man,” he says, though there’s a gruffly droll note to it along with a smirk. “You’d best get back to her, then.”

There’s a light look of panic that accompanies Tallel’s first, but it settles in with a look of acceptance too, because there’s a lot in Milosh’s life lately that has been uncontrollable, and he’s had to learn to just let things happen sometimes. As for doing right by Echo, Milosh nods, the first smile coming to his lips since this whole thing dropped on him. “I told you I wanted to marry her didn’t I? That hasn’t changed, I still do.” He has to laugh a bit at Tallel’s last, head shaking, hands wiping over his face as he prepares to stand. “I’ve been trying for a couple of sevens to find the right time to say it….and out it came just then, because it’s all I could say to her. Funny how that works, hmm?” Milosh stands then, nodding. “Aye, and back before your concoction has me sleeping in the sand eh?” Milosh raises a brow at Tallel with a smirk before turning towards the door. “Thank you, again. Not everyone would stop to help someone they don’t exactly get along with. You’re a good man Tallel.”

To Milosh’s first, Tallel allows himself a true smile in turn, nodding his acceptance. He can’t help a chuckle at the next, rising as the other man does. “I don’t think I managed to make it that potent,” he counters wryly, and gives another nod to Milosh’s last. “If you’re to be another cousin of mine soon, I’d better get used to you, right?” He grins then, a quick thing, but genuine as he passes the other man to open the door and show him out. “Goodnight, Milosh.”

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