Who

Edomar, Maeve

What

Maeve comes to visit Edomar in the Infirmary, and is left with a serious case of heart ache.

Angst

When

It is midmorning of the fourth day of the ninth month of the nineteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Infirmary

OOC Date 29 Mar 2020 04:00

 

Mae6.jpg edomar_default.png

"What are ye doin' here, lass?," he asks with a slightly bewildered smile. "Last I knew, ye were in irons!"


infirmary.jpg

Infirmary

Sterile and scoured, the surfaces of the infirmary, well-tended and beloved by the complement of Healers due a weyr of Southern's size. Soothing tissane simmers at the large hearth, while comfortable chairs circle that particular feature in a waiting-room of sorts. Tables of dull-gleaming oldtimer metal lie as examining slabs, neatly lined in rows with pull-curtains enabling full privacy as needed. A low wall separates the southern half of the room from the rest, and those practicing the apothecary's trade can be seen compounding medicines under the watchful eye of the posted Master.


Edomar has been in the infirmary for just over a sevenday now, which has been enough time for him to become thoroughly bored with the routine of recovery. Wake up, piss, drink water, lay back down, eat, get the dressings changed, lay back down, and usually repeat it all until bedtime. He's never been good at strict routines, so he's become an "appreciative grouch" to the Healers; he understands it's all necessary for his healing, but he doesn't have to like it. At the moment, he's in his usual state behind a curtain - sheet-clad from the waist down, bare from the waist up, save for his bandaged torso and chest. He's propped up on a couple of pillows, apparently engrossed in some reading from a hide-bound book with vellum pages, his firelizards curled up at each shoulder. He's also alone for the time being, the Healers having just changed out his dressings for the next few candlemarks.

After meeting Taurie in the waiting room that day she found out Edomar had been injured, Maeve's been periodically haunting the infirmary when her schedule allows, and always making sure that there are no blonde headed merchants hanging around when she does. She's been finding it hard to keep herself from playing the scene over and over again, booze usually helping with that previously, but it's not an option right now. She had heard from some healer that he had woken up finally, then work got in the way, and it was a couple of days before she managed to get down there during reasonable hours. Finally, on her rest day, she manages to find some time to check on him. Dressed in another stores find, this dress is a little more spring themed with narrow straps and a scoop neckline, the pale blue fabric dotted with tiny yellow flowers, showing off fresh, clean skin as well as the many old scars adorning her arms, a lot that were previously covered by dirt and grime. Chestnut hair is silky smooth and oh-so-clean, light picking up the reddish highlights, as it flows down over her shoulders. No kohl on her face either, and aquamarine eyes are bright and clear, she looks a far cry from the pirate that was. Wandering in past the waiting room, Maeve's heart jumps a bit to see Edomar's bed without anyone around it currently, though the curtains are drawn. Is he sleeping? Only one way to find out. Keeping a watchful eye out, she strides purposefully towards the curtained area she knows he's in, and pauses just a moment before she quickly pulls them open just enough to allow her to squeeze through, then pulls them back together behind her. She doesn't even look at him yet, just listens carefully to make sure there's no imminent yelling.

Edomar is always on alert for a visitor, though he only ever expects that to be a Healer or Taurie. She'd warned him that Weyrleadership would want to speak with him…and that this Eryzz fellow might be along at some point…but apart from that, there's no one he knows at the Weyr who would bother with him. He's thought of Maeve and Torestin, of course, but he has had no inkling of what's happened to them, other than her being in the brig and his escape from the camp. Therefore, it's a surprise when a young woman he doesn't immediately recognize appears on his side of the curtain. He lowers his book, studying her with a curiously arched brow, the itch of familiarity nearly driving him made for several beats before recognition practically smacks him upside the head. "Maeve?" Disbelief quickly turns to to pleasant surprise, and he closes the book, carefully setting it aside before turning his full attention upon her. "What are ye doin' here, lass?," he asks with a slightly bewildered smile. "Last I knew, ye were in irons!"

Maeve is still listening for any disgruntled healers when she hears her name in that oh-so-familiar voice that sets her heart to fluttering. Spinning on her heels to face him, the skirt of her dress swishes a bit around her knees as she closes the gap to Edomar's bedside, fingers twitching to reach out and touch him to make sure it's really him, but instead she just clasps them together as she looks down at him. "I was, all locked up in the brig, too for awhile. Shards, that was bad luck." She pauses, with a furrow between her brows, "Or good luck…maybe. I struck a deal, my life and freedom spared for what I knew of the Captain… It was the only way I could see to get out for good… Like you told me to." Her voice is clear now, not thick, slurred and reeking of booze everytime she opens her mouth. "And you're out too… I told you you could be…." Aqua eyes can't help but run down his bare torso to the fresh bandages, biting down against her lower lip that wants to tremble. "Who was it?" she whispers, "Ramsay or Ripley?"

"All things considered, I'd say it turned out t' be good luck, in the end," Edomar says of Maeve's situation. "Asked someone t' make certain ye were treated well, but looks like I needn't've worried." As for the fact that he, too, is out, he manages a soft, rueful chuckle. "I wanted t' be for a long time, lass. It was just the when and how of it that was th' trick. Could've done with a few less blades on th' way, though." To her last, he sighs, resting his head fully upon the pillows. "Ramsay," he answers flatly. "He's dead. Nearly made me dead, too, but…here I am." He smiles again, the expression small but genuine. "Being out suits ye. Ye look as you ought."

"You should know better than that, Edomar," Maeve chuckles ruefully as she comes up to the bed and leans her hip up against the edge as she looks down at him, "I've been taking care of myself long before I met even you." There's a wrinkle of her nose in distaste when he calls her 'lass' like that again, making her truly feel that he sees her as nothing but some kid and not the young woman she is. With the way her heart trips over itself just being in close proximity, she really wishes he would see she's all grown up now. When he mentions having wanted out for awhile, her expression falters for a moment, eyes dropping to the bed where fingers play idly with the edge of a sheet, fidgetting nervously. Then he goes on about who it was who dealt the wounds and her heard skips a beat when she hears that Ramsay is dead. "At least I don't have to worry about him being sent after me for blabbing my head off then." His next smile is rather disarming when she catches it in a brief glance at his face, pale cheeks obviously pinking as she averts her gaze back quickly lest the feeling overwhelm her. "What do you mean by that?" she asks, softly inquisitive and maybe probing just a bit.

"Aye, so ye have," Edomar agrees, though there's a soft edge of amusement to his tone. "But ev'ryone needs help now and again. Certainly wouldn't be here if I hadn't had some meself." He wonders at that brief nose-wrinkle, and would be perplexed to find Maeve believes that's what he thinks. But he remains in the dark on that note. "It'd be a fool who tries t' get to ye in here," he says. "Or t' me, for that matter. Though I can't say I find th' thought o' Ripley or Waimyn getting set upon by dragons all that unappealin'." There's a smirk for that. Then he catches that blush, and his brows steeple a bit as he utters a soft sigh. He knows what that is, and evidently it's lasted beyond what he thought was likely the booze making her uninhibited. But he'll deal with it when it faces him directly. "I mean ye look like a proper woman," he answers. "Like ye belong t' no one but yerself, not kept in some cage like bein' part o' that crew was. Ye look strong an' pretty an' sure now, not as though ye're standin' in his shadow."

"And that's exactly why I insisted on the Weyr's protection in return for the information I gave them," Maeve replies, lips creeping into a slow smile as she still feels rather clever for that bit of thinking. Then he's talking about the fate the ainevitably awaits the Captain and his crew, and part of her stomach drops a bit, still not wholly able to shake the loyalty there that was beat, sometimes literally, into her. But she knows staying would have killed her eventually and Edomar had inadvertantly given her a reason to live. But her expression doesn't falter long and pirates are quickly forgotten as he explains what he meant, and the knot in her stomach eases as her heart warms considerably, fluttering in her chest. Her previous thought is proven wrong when he comes out and calls her a proper woman, a jolt of hope running through her. Each attribute he names make her cheeks glow a bit brighter, eyes once more riveted on her fingers that pick a bit of loose thread from the edge of the sheet. "Edomar… I… " Her voice trembles as she wants to say more, but for some reason the face of a cetain blond woman pops into her head then and she's thrown off considerably. "I…met Taurie, the night I found out you were here. Who is she…exactly?" she asks with much trepidation, pretty sure she's not going to like the answer.

Oh, Faranth, here it is. Edomar ruefully thinks that he'd be doing quite the dance around this if he weren't laid up. Getting skewered is making him sit still for some things, and it's probably all for the best, no matter how painful it gets. "Ach. Maeve…" He scrubs a hand over his face, bringing it back down carefully as he trains his steely-blue gaze upon her. His expression is open, apology already evident in an earnest gaze. "She's one o' the merchants from here. The ship we took, the crew that was killed…they were hers. Met 'er on the beach near the Weyr one day, learned that, an'…knew I had t' make it right. Started givin' 'er bits of information. She saved me, after the fight with Ramsay. And…I'm in love with 'er." There are a number of ways he could have put that, but he figures it's best to just lay it out plainly. In the wake of that honesty, he just watches Maeve carefully, a dull ache forming in his chest because of his surety that his confession won't be taken well…and the regret he's had for some time that he can't return her feelings, even if he does care about her.

Worrying loose that thread further, Maeve only manages furtive and brief glances at Edomar's face, the earnest look in his eyes too much for her to handle in more than short bursts. She listens keenly though, taken aback briefly when it's known that it was Taurie's ship that they took that one time. The next shock comes with the knowledge that Edomar was already exchanging information with the Weyr. She already knew the woman was the one who saved him, she'd heard that right from the runner's mouth as it were. But it's his last that completely takes the wind out of Maeve, eye suddenly prickling furiously as they fill with tears and her lower lip sets to trebling, a look of anguish forming on her features as she can feel her heart breaking in her chest. Quickly she drops her head with a shake, letting her soft tresses partly shield her from view as she sniffs softly. "Of course you're in love with her. She's gorgeous and probably super smart if she owns her own shipping company at such a young age." Though her face is partly hidden, her voice is thick with breathless hitches now and then, as tears fall quietly upon his bed, just about where her fingers were playing with that thread, now that are just trembling.

Edomar is discovering that he really doesn't do well with women crying. It makes him want to gather them up and shield them from whatever's caused it and kill the thing if necessary. Except in this case - and even Taurie's - the thing is him, and it's one of the most awful feelings in the world. "Ah, Maeve…" he starts sadly, feeling his own eyes prickle as he watches her tears dampen the sheet near his leg and sees the trembling in her fingers. She may not allow it, but he reaches out to try and still it, his own fingers closing over hers ever so gently. "I'm so sorry, lass. Try not t' go an compare yerself, now; tisn't a fair thing for anyone, doin' that. Ye've plenty worthy about ye, and were things diff'rent…" No, it won't do to dig into hypotheticals. "I expect…the heart wants what it wants, and there's nothin' t' help that. Ye feel as ye do, and I feel as I do, and it just…happens. And findin' out what the other person feels can't help but be a risk, aye? Now I've gone and hurt ye in a roundabout way, and I feel awful for it. Mayhap I'll find Taurie can't feel as I do for her and I'll get torn in two, and it'll serve me right for makin' ye cry." It's a very feeble attempt at levity, but he's completely lost as to what to do now and is just grasping for whatever may work.

The barest touch of Edomar's fingers send those confusing, warm sparks up her arms, causing Maeve to recoil, curling her fingers into fists and wrapping her arms around herself, trying to physically hold herself together as the wave of sadness and heartbreak crashes over her. Sobbing quietly, she does listen quite intently to what he has to say, her heart painfully hitching when he starts to talk about what ifs, silently thankful he doesn't follow that thought to its conclusion, she probably couldn't bear it. She knows he wasn't likely to feel as strongly back as she does, but part of her hoped, if they had both gotten away, they could at least try something. But now that's not even a chance, and it's leaving her a little breathless. His attempt at levity does make her chuckle wetly, lifting her head and tucking her hair behind her ear to show red rimmed eyes and damp cheeks, but with a weak smile on her lips. "Then I will take back what I said about her being super smart, cause that would be a dumb move. I really hope you don't get hurt Edomar… As much as I hurt right now, I could never wish this on you." There's a heavy, shuddering sigh as she exhales after taking a deep breath. "I think… I think I'm going to go. I am really happy you are going to be fine, and that you're out, and you killed that bastard Ramsay. I'll be around the Weyr, at least for a Turn while I work off my debt. Maybe I'll run into you again sometime." There's a step towards the curtain then, hesitant to go regardless of her actual words.

Even if it goes unsaid, Edomar can do the math about what Maeve probably hoped for and it just keeps that little ache of regret in his chest all the more. She deserves to know what it is to be happy, and he knows he's dashed that for…who knows how long. Faranth. Somehow, things are no less complicated than what he escaped, though without the risk of death, at least. "I never would've wished it ye either, Maeve," he tells her, his tone quiet and thick. He nods when she says she means to go, and everything else that follows after. "And I'm glad ye're out, too. Glad t' see ye. I mean t' be around. Should be back on my feet soon, but here for a good while yet." He offers up another small smile, though can't help the melancholy that edges it. "If you ever want t' visit, ye'll be welcome. Though I understand if ye don't."

"Please," Maeve tries to scoff into a weak chuckle as she wipes away the tears from her eyes, "I've been hurt way worse that this in my life." It's a lie, but she tries to sell it with a bright smile shot in his direction and an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Her heart skips weakly when he admits he's sticking around the Weyr as well, and again when he invites her to visit whenever she wants. "I will take you up on that, it might just take me a bit of time. I really don't want to lose the only friend I have left in the world." She confesses. But then the knot is rising again in her throat, and the prickling starts anew behind her eyes and she just can't anymore. "Sorry…" she mumbles dumbly as she slips through the curtains and is suddenly gone.

Edomar lets out a heavy sigh as Maeve disappears past the curtain, heavy enough that it makes him wince as the wound across his chest contracts. He scrubs a hand over his face again and fixes his gaze to the ceiling until Llyr appears in his field of vision, peering down at him with an inquisitive chirp as he tries to figure out what his bonded is staring at. "Sharditall," he mutters, and reaches for his water. It's going to be a long voyage…and not just for himself.

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