2684.02.05: Study Break

Date: 05.02.2684 (02.04.10)
Location: Library, Healer Hall
People: Ely, Galina, Grigoriy (NPC), M'lo, Pralius
Firelizards: Blue Cyanosis, Gold Poison Ivy
Synopsis: An attempt to get some studying done is interrupted by the arrival of a pregnant greenrider and her 'mate. Galina exposes a rare fragment of emotion.


Midafternoon in the Healer Hall leaves the the library sparsely populated as many of the Apprentices and Junior Apprentices have been shuttled off to their basic classes. Only the most Senior of Apprentices and those Journeymen and Masters not currently teaching might be found perusing the Hall's extensive resources and records. One such Apprentice is Pralius, tall and gawky in his early twenties, he's still reasonably well dressed in khakis and a white shirt of light, breathable fabric, his brown flight jacket draped over his chair. His sandy blonde hair is brushed back out of his face so he can more easily see the two books spread out before him beside what is likely the only personally owned laptop computer in the Hall, let alone the Library. The glow from the screen lights his face from below, giving it a slightly eerie greenish tinge. Though it seems he's currently more interested in the books than in the computer, he does from time to time turn to make some notes, fingers tapping away on the keyboard in those brief moments.

"This won't take long, Galina," the gravelly, road-worn voice of a much older, male Healer can be heard just outside the library, the slight limp in his stride being audible by the way his boots scuff on the ground. "Wait here and I reckon I'll be back in an hour, if that. Mind yourself." It's the audible equivalent of a finger-wag, met with the equally audible equivalent of an impassive look in the flat response: "Of course." Female, that one; young, perhaps late teens. As the man limps off, Galina turns and enters the library proper, her stride gone silent and her arrival marked only by the faint whisper of skirts. She's off to one of the more obscure sections of the library, her pace measured and unhurried.

Pralius is seated a bit away from the door, so he doesn't really /hear/ the conversation as become aware of people talking. He's seated towards the stacks on specialized study, so Galina probably walks right past his table. As if being an Apprentice in his early twenties wasn't bad enough a first impression, it seems he's looking over books on reproductive anatomy. Really mature. Well, actually he is just studying, but there's no way to know that for sure from the outside looking in. Pralius glances up briefly as she walks past, but doesn't move to interrupt her journey. After all, he doesn't know her and she's probably there on her own errands.

His interest in reproductive anatomy and his rank seem to be of no interest to the younger Senior Apprentice as she passes by. It's straight to the rather minimal section of surgery tomes that she heads, her head tipping back a little to study a few of the books that are a few shelves higher than she can feasibly reach. The line of Galina's mouth flattens with unspoken and mild irritation and she's forced, if only for now, to focus on those books she /can/ reach. Pralius might hear it at a table not far from the computer nook — the fluttering of wings and the solid *thud* of something being dropped on that table. A rather large journal or notebook of some sort is left behind, with only the briefest flicker of blue hinting at the bearer of it.

The thud certainly catches his attention. After the recent renegade presence at Fort Weyr and several months living with a dragon and her rider, he practically ducks for cover under the table before his more reasoned mind takes over and he peers, noticing that it's only a book. The flicker of firelizard doesn't even faze him, his own fair enjoying their freedom for a bit now that all but the youngest are old enough to hunt for themselves. Only Poison Ivy spends any amount of regular time with him and at the moment she's curled up in his jacket such that the golden tip of her tail seems more like a decorative element of the jacket than a bit of firelizard. After a moment, when he's sure nothing will explode, he shrugs, then turns back to his reading. Unfortunately, he seems oblivious to Galina's distant height-related plight. In that his six foot frame could be of assistance.

The flutter of wings manifests again, this time near the shelves — but there's no thumping or thudding to be had, now, just bit of warbling from the blue while he anticipates his next order. "Cyanosis," intones Galina, her voice flat, "Retrieve." Some mental image must be sent, for the 'lizard descends to a higher shelf and immediately reaches for one of the heavier books Unfortunately for her — and the blue — the books in question are wedged too tightly together for him to tug free without shredding things in the process. He does give it a go, but winds up uttering a surprised noise when the book doesn't budge, which sends him tumbling backward from the shelf for the sheer effort put forth. "That will not suffice," she remarks blandly, arms folding lightly over her midsection. Pale gray eyes eventually set about to do the inevitable — first, to look for the ladder (occupied, of course) and then- ah. There. A tall person. Yet, she seems loathe to approach, the line of her mouth twisting a bit before being smoothed out into neutrality.

Pralius is not a neutral person. Cyanosis' unhappy squawk of surprise gets his attention, head turning slightly towards the lizard noises. The dainty gold snout pokes out from his jacket, emits a scolding trill, then returns to her nap. When Galina emerges and seems to stare at him for a moment, perhaps caught between embarrassment and need. But hey, he's not a mindhealer. In his usual fashion, he smiles at her when it becomes clear she's looking at him, oh tall person, "Afternoon." Such a simple word, but he manages to make it seem warm, somehow.

Mute appraisal might be all that's clicking behind those empty-seeming eyes of hers; embarrassment and need might not even register in the slightest. It's hard to say. The young woman continues her unblinking and inscrutable assessment of Pralius for a few uncomfortably long seconds after his 'afternoon' is spoken. Galina echoes the greeting as a deadpan, "Afternoon." Automatic, that. The studying ceases with a slow blink and then a slight lifting of her chin, "If it would not be an imposition, there are a few books that I require from that shelf." Helpfully, Cyanosis perches himself on it with a dismayed trill at one of the books in question, his wings fluttering a bit.

Pralius blinks, his eyebrows drawing together into a slight frown for a moment, then he shrugs, smiles again and nods, "Sure, just let me know which ones." He stands, beginning to move towards her and her shelf of evil, unreachable books, "I'm Pralius, by the way. Usually I'm posted to Fort Weyr, but I came in for additional training. I don't believe we've met before." Oh, the question that isn't really a question. It's clear he wants her name, but he's left her open to simply acknowledge that as truth.

"Of course," says she, another slow blink given to Pralius before her attention shifts up to that shelf. "The one that he is perched in front of, the two to the left, and a fourth, four books to the right of it," is rattled off, the titles deemed unnecessary. Of course, they're four fairly obscure or otherwise untouched titles: A Compendium of Surgical Techniques, The Files of Master Iosef, A Treatise on Basic Surgeries by Master Zinoviy, and An Illustrated Guide to Surgical Implements. Some light reading, indeed. Galina seems to take the introduction for what it is, although she does not offer anything in kind — it's clear enough what her rank and posting are (which is to say, Senior Apprentice, at the Hall). Instead: "I saw you briefly at Fort Weyr, however we have not met properly."

Pralius nods, glancing at the shelf and taking in the titles in a quick skim before he moves to start carefully pulling down the venerable tomes, "Considering a speciality in surgery?" Well, duh! but conversation is good, right? Once the books are all carefully stacked in his arms he turns back, "Which table are you at? I can bring them there and save your poor blue the strain." He blinks when she mentions having seen him briefly, then his mouth forms a little 'o', "Oh, you were there when Ely… yeah… at the dance hall. I was a little more focused on her since she and her WeyrMate want me to be in attendance when she gives birth."

With the books being so removed, Cyanosis takes flight again to wing over to where he'd dropped the journal not all that long ago. He perches atop it, chittering a bit despite the sharp look shot his way by Galina. The pale-eyed one regards Pralius after a moment or two and then intones, "That is the specialty I have chosen. My mentor recommended those books." She doesn't answer the question of 'where', opting, instead, to simply go in that direction while addressing the latter with a bland, "Yes." And then? Silence. Conversation is, clearly, not her strongest suit. Not by a long shot.

Pralius chuckles at Cyanosis chitter and follows Galina towards the little blue and the journal, "Considering your penchant for conversation, I'd say you've chosen well since many of your patients will be happier if you don't talk." He smirks a little, setting the books carefully on the table for her, "I'm still trying to find a mentor in obstetrics. I guess being gone from the Hall so long I'm not really sure who to ask. Well, other than the CraftMaster, and after my introductory herbalism course she still scares me."

"The CraftMaster has indicated that I have the bedside manner of a black hole," is a simple statement of fact, her eyes briefly flicking to Pralius before she moves to move the books and spread them out. "However, that is the only thing she has told me that has made any sense. I am simply of the belief that the well-being of the patient doesn't require conversations involving the state of their family or whether they are doing well at their duties." Galina doesn't elaborate, her fingers splaying on the surface of the table. "I am not overly familiar with any of the Masters or Senior Journeymen in obstretrics," is finally offered with a faint distortion of her features that might be mild displeasure, "However, my mentor might know of a few. Senior Journeyman Grigoriy." And for anyone that's spent /any/ time at the Hall and has a penchant for gossip, the fifty-something turn-old wandering surgeon is more oft-referred to as Gory Ori. "He will return to retrieve me in an hour or so; he might be able to assist you then."

Pralius chuckles, "That sounds like CraftMaster Fraille." Though at one point he might have called her a great many names, he fears her wrath more than the odd looks of the other Healers. He grins again, and shrugs, "She's like that. Mostly scary. But she knows her stuff, even if she is so ancient I'm surprised her personal kit isn't rusty. And there's more to bedside manner than small-talk… especially with children and distraught women." He pats the stack of books, then nods, "Maybe I'll ask him. It's so interesting, but it's still kind of… hush-hush at the apprentice level."

That stack of books is rapidly dwindling; Galina's occupied with placing the tomes side-by-side to fully study the covers. A context-less "Of course," is intoned and then she falls silent, soon settling into a chair to claim the thinnest of the tomes. Her posture is naturally rigid, instinctively poised. Cyanosis, helpfully, scoots her journal over to place it within arm's reach and then he's quick to perch on her shoulder with a melodic trill. "Thank you," is rather belatedly offered for his efforts in bringing the books to the table. There's a slow blink up at him for the rest of his words, puzzlement creasing her brow subtly. "There is nothing about it that an Apprentice cannot read about or observe under supervision."

Pralius nods, trying really hard not to roll his eyes at Galina's ascerbic manner, "And I have. Observed, that is. Weyrwoman Kessa practically had her baby in my lap, which was a shock, let me tell you. Still, it's something that's hard to /practice/ as an apprentice. It's not like colds and sprains where the Journeyman is more than willing to watch you do the dirty work." He shrugs slightly, "But at least I found the section in the library."

"Delivering an infant in the natural manner is far easier to practice as an apprentice than the alternative means," Galina responds, a long-fingered hand resting lightly on the thick tome of techniques. Fingers tap once, purposefully, and then withdraw to flip open her journal. Her handwriting, much like her speech, is precise, neat, and curiously tight. The illustrations might be a bit startling, but those are blissfully few and far between. Agreement comes as a mild, "Of course." Pause. "Were the facilities at Fort Weyr so poor that you had to return to further your education?"

Pralius chuckles, "Well, the WeyrWoman slipping and going into early labor at 2 in the morning was far from normal." He smirks, watching her write for a moment. After some of what he's seen, definitely including dragons eating, surgical diagrams didn't seem that bad. Her last words cause him to flush for a moment, then shake his head, "I was told that if I was serious about pursuing my Journeyman's knot I needed to return to the hall for some specialized classes and probably a meeting with the council of masters. Especially with my interest in obstetrics."

Seated at a table with a couple of particularly imposing tomes is a young Senior Apprentice, while Pralius stands nearby. The young woman is reading out of one book while writing in a journal that's easily at hand. There's a mildly quirked brow at his response. "I did not indicate that such a thing was normal. Delivering an infant vaginally," clarifying her stance on 'natural', "is something far easier for an apprentice to practice and feasibly accomplish than cutting a woman open to retrieve her child surgically." There's silence afterward while he explains … and then more silence, while Galina appears absorbed in her work. Cyanosis is beyond bored and promptly falls asleep on her shoulder. Notes are taken, pages are flipped, and, after a long moment or four a bland, "I see," is intoned. And then … yes, more silence.

Pralius nods, shrugging some, "Well, surgery's always been a journeyman level task." He glances back at his books and laptop, then nods, "Well, it was nice meeting you. Have a pleasant afternoon." He grins, then turns back to move to his own studies.

"Of course." And it would seem that whatever she's working on is quick to consume the whole of her attention, with Galina barely lifting her head enough to acknowledge Pralius' retreat. She of the too-rigid posture is an unmoving and silent thing for the longest time, save for the movements needed to transcribe this, that, or the other and to flip between pages. Indeed, the rest of the world might not even be there for all the attention paid to it.

The silence and relative sanctuary of the library is broken by the echoing sounds of footsteps and voices filtering in from the hallway beyond - booted feet sound against stone as whoever's approaching gets closer and closer with little regard to the fact people might be studying. "… can't find a sharding thing here," A woman's voice drifts in, a sarcastic lilt to an otherwise pleasant voice - it's a usual feature to this particular voice, though, and certainly not uncommon. "It'd be nice if the Headwoman had been more —" There's a scuffling of booted feet as Ely herself skids to a stop just inside the library, effectively snapping her mouth shut against the rather loud complaint once she realizes where exactly she is. Glancing back guiltily over her shoulder at M'lo, who's following behind her, she continues in a more moderate tone, " — had been more sharding specific." Digging her fingers underneath her riding helmet, she works at carefully peeling it off, setting her amber hair falling loose to her shoulders in one swift movement. Her free hand runs down the front of her jacket, deftly unbuttoning as her fingertips trail along the front to rid herself of these unnecessary layers. It's only when her jacket is open wide that the new addition to her figure can be noticed - the telltale bump that's just starting to make itself known just below her belly button. Noting Pralius and Galina nearby, she offers the pair of them a smirk and a wave, "Having fun with your studying much?"

M'lo enters in behind Ely, carrying a good sized box with one brawny arm. His hair is in disarray, strands of it stuck in the goggles on top of his head and others mussed by his helmet, which is tucked under his other arm. "I've got a delivery," he intones quietly, attempting a serious tone of voice despite the mischeivous twinkle in his eye. "For a Senior Apprentice Pralius at Harper Hall. Anyone seen a Pralius around?" He stops next to Ely and suddenly grins at Pralius, unable to keep up the charade. He's also mindful of their surroundings, and tries to keep his voice low, but conversation at that level isn't going to be carried on so far away, so with a sideways nod of his head to indicated for Ely to follow him in, M'lo approaches Pralius's table. Once there, he says quietly, "Hey, man. Here, it's heavy. Dunno who it's from. Your mom, maybe?"

As if Ely's voice wasn't enough to draw his attention, Milo's broad announcement certainly was. Several people, healers and library staff alike hiss at them for silence and Pralius, looking a bit embarrassed at his friends' loud arrival, "Milo… this is a /library/. Keep it down." Still, he waves them towards his table, sliding bookmarks into the texts and stacks them up to make a bit more space, especially for the baby bump, "It's studying. How are you two doing?"

She's aware. Even if she's not looking, she's quite well aware of their arrival. Galina doesn't look up, however, her focus being studiously maintained for the duration. Ely's query is met with a bland, "Fun is relative. This is enjoyable to me." But the implication is clear that it isn't for others. In either case, she remains where she is, ambivalent to their passage onward to talk to Pralius. She's here for a purpose, so don't mind the bookworm any.

As if Ely's voice wasn't enough to draw his attention, Milo's broad announcement certainly was. With a grin, he waves them towards his table, sliding bookmarks into the texts and stacks them up to make a bit more space, especially for the baby bump, "It's studying. How are you two doing?" Ivy peeks her head ever so briefly out from under his jacket to trill a short greeting before returning to her nap. Pralius' broad grin, shortens for moment, "Ely, you shouldn't go /between/ in your condition."

Ely tugs at the neckline of her tunic as she follows M'lo in, prying a few buttons loose there as well while she's at it. With a further soft scraping of boots, she slides to a stop next to Pralius' table, the smirk on her lips growing marginally, "Much, much better. I don't feel like throwing up the minute food touches my lips /and/ some choice other symptoms have ah … decreased." Curling her fingers around her helmet, she absently rolls the wherhide between her fingers for a moment as she leans forward to peer at the different books stacked around the table and then at the box that M'lo's brought, "You should open it. I've been dying to see what's inside it since we left. M'lo wouldn't let me peek though. Some sort of … Roc wing ethics." Smirking even more, she heaves a mock, frustrated sigh at that. Whatever good humor might've been there decreases just a little at the mention of Betweening and a frown is aimed at Pralius instead, "You think I'd be sharding silly enough to go Between? Mags and I straight flew from the Weyr. Sharding cold and uncomfortable, but we did it." There's a touch of /something/ looming in her voice as she says in a rather hurt voice, "We come out of our way to visit and all I get is accusations?"

M'lo shakes his head at Pralius, but Ely's already frowning and sounding hurt. He puts a hand on her back between her shoulderblades. "Hey, it's all right," he says softly to her. "We both flew straight," he informs the Healer. "And it /was/ cold. Irelanth and Mags had a blast, though." Galina gets a smile. "Hello," he says. "We're friends of Pralius. Nice to meet you…?" He trails off, waiting for a name. He pulls out a chair a little bit more, clearly hoping Ely will sit in it. And he stares pointedly at the box that Pralius needs to open, obviously. Right now.

Pale gray eyes flick appraisingly to M'lo when he speaks, though the implied question is one that isn't answered. The 'Hello' is echoed with a flat one of her own, an automatic response more than something she feels is entirely necessary. Intead, a statement of fact is made in the form of, "I see. I saw you and her," there's a lift of her chin toward Ely, "at Fort Weyr." Galina lowers her head again to focus on the task at hand, with the implied question not being answered. If her rank or craft is desired, it's laid bare on her shoulder … but, being the disturbing little literalist that she can be, such a thing is sufficient introduction for her.

Pralius motions for Ely to calm, "I'm sorry. I didn't think. I still can't /believe/ K'shan said that to you. He's lucky I wasn't there when he said it or he might've gotten two bruises." He closes the laptop, moving it out of the way to get to the box, "So, you don't even know who it's from?" He glances at Galina, then back at Milo, "She was there that night in the dance hall… but at least you got her name, all I got was that reminder." He chuckles, "How are you two doing, though? Seems like I've been gone forever."

Ely breathes out a soft sigh at the touch from M'lo, visibly relaxing a little from his words. It isn't enough to banish the constricted quality in her voice, which makes her words a bit thicker than usual as she quips shortly in return, "No. You didn't think at all." Clutching at her helmet a bit tighter than normal, she sinks into the offered seat with a huff, settling her elbows onto the table in front of her. "K'shan is a sharding idiot. If Kessa hadn't pulled me back, I'd have kept on swinging and … and .. " she begins, her voice quivering a little with the sudden build up of emotion in it. It actually cracks halfway through and she has to swallow several times to continue seething, "To think it's normal to tell someone that .. I .. " Clenching the wherhide in her fists until her knuckles turn white, she gulps suddenly and falls silent. The next breath is slow and measured and she actually sniffles a little. Attempting ot change the subject quickly, she looks to Galina, as though suddenly realizing she's there, "You do look familiar … a little."

So, when Galina doesn't introduce herself, M'lo's eyebrows go up, and then he turns them on Pralius. "Sorry," he whispers to her. "Maybe we should move to another table and let her study?" he asks Pralius very quietly. He scowls for a second at the reminder of K'shan, and then firmly shakes his head. "Let's not talk about that," he mutters. Another shake, this one less sharp, at the question of who the box is from. "There's no name on it, is there?" he asks. "I'm all right. Been working hard on the wall. You should see it, it's almost hip-high, now. We're going to have to start framing the windows by the door, soon." He grimaces a little at Ely's display of emotion, and starts to reach for a handkerchief in his pocket, until she calms down. There is a quick, pleading look to Pralius, a widening of his eyes and a 'help me' lift of his brows. He seats himself next to Ely and rests his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

There's a distinct flattening of the girl's mouth at something or another, though it seems directed at whatever she's reading. Ely's statement draws another look askance, with a dull, "I offered to show you how to brew the tea so it was not so strong prior to the incident in the dance hall." M'lo's apology is met with an owlish blink. Confusion is temporarily writ on Galya's face, only to be quickly smoothed out. "There is nothing to apologize for. If you have questions, ask them." And all that emotional stuff? Yes, there's just a hint more confusion for it before her attention is drawn back to her studies with the occasional, inexplicable look to the door leading out. The books, for whatever interest they may hold for outsiders, are thick surgical tomes — dry and dusty in more ways than one.

Pralius reaches out to give Ely's hand a gentle squeeze if she doesn't try to stab him for it, then nods, "You're going to make a wonderful mother and you two will make a beautiful baby. Now, let's open this package." He grins, reaching for his knife, then glances at Galina seated several tables away, then shrugs, "We'd have to go somewhere else entirely to do that."

Ely twines her fingers easily through M'lo's, giving his hand a gentle return squeeze as she tries to keep her emotions under control. Such a feat is like trying to hold back a flood or reverse the tides - impossible. Swallowing several times at the rising lump in her throat, she tries her best to focus on Galina as a topic change, "Yes. The tea. The flavoring. You … you wanted to make it not taste like medicine." The words come out quavering and haltingly, but they're atleast clear and without too much emotion lodged in them. It's surprising but she doesn't pull away from Pralius' squeezing of her other hand, not even jerking away from the touch. It only serves to have her sniffle once, her lower lip trembling just a little. Just as that knife raises, Ely's control breaks and she gulps back a sob, "Stop lying to me P-pralius. I'm .. I'm going to be a /horrid/ mother." As though the realization just hit, she breaks out with another sob, sniffling louder this time, her voice constricted with emotion, "I don't know a sharding /thing/ about babies. I .. I .. "

"All right," M'lo says to Galina, and gives her a sort of weirded-out grin. "What's your name, ma'am? I'm M'lo, brown Irelanth's." He starts to reach a hand out to shake hers, but stops himself before it's above the table-top, put off by her attitude. He turns to look at Pralius, and smiles. "Hear that, love?" he asks Ely. "Smile. Things'll be all right." Then he pauses and sticks his tongue out at him. "I didn't hear about how great a father /I'm/ gonna be," he teases. He looks at the package, curious to find out what it is and who it's from. But then, Ely's crying. "Oh, no!" he croons, and wraps his arms around her. He smoothes his hand over her hair while the other rubs soothing circles on her back. "No, no, love, it'll be all right. I'll be there to help. Things'll be great, I /promise/." He makes little shushing noises, looking around with an apologetic face at the library patrons. "You know more than you think. After all, you took care of Maglinoth while she was a baby. And you've been reading all that stuff my mother gave you. And you've nursed baby goats before, right? And Waldo. You raised him from an egg, too. And they're all fine!" He keeps soothing and rocking her. "Please don't cry," he pleads, his own voice breaking just a little. He lifts his eyes to Pralius. "She's been like this for /days/," he stage-whispers. "I don't know what to /do/. Is this normal?"

"My mentor and I will be returning to Fort Weyr in a day or two. I will bring a few things then." It's as much a promise as she'll make without saying the word, some mental note or another being made. "I will send word through Cyanosis when we are there, if you would like." With M'lo finally asking his query, some measure of satisfaction might be felt from her; her answer, then, is a succinct, "Galina." His hand is given an owlish look anyway; like as not, she wouldn't know what to do with it if it /were/ offered. Perhaps there's just something there in the greenrider's tone that draws her attention, with Galina soon closing the book she was reading from. Her journal is also closed and pale eyes are shifted to fix with disturbing intensity on Ely. And if ever she could be described as fervent and firm, it is now, with rare emotion registering in her voice. While the mask of indifference is unbroken, her tone is anything /but/ indifferent. "You will love your child. That is enough to ensure that you will not be a horrid mother." One corner of her mouth distorts. "Of that, I can reassure you."

Pralius sets his beltknife to the side, quickly moving to embrace Ely from the other side from Milo, the split in his lip from the day she decked him throbbing slightly in ignored memory. For a moment he just hugs her, then glances at Galina and offers a smile for her… kindly meant words… before adding some of his own, "You're not alone, Ely. You have Milo and Wyn and I. And you love your baby and that's what matters most." He glances at Milo and offers what he hopes is a supportive look despite being equally baffled. He'd /never/ seen Ely like this.

Ely clings tightly to M'lo, curling her fingers around his shirt and pressing as close to him as the seating arrangements allow. Coherent words are beyond her at the moment, though - each shuddering, trembling gulp of air is accompanied by a sob as her shoulders shake with the wave of emotion. Eventually muffled words begin to filter in through the lump that's seated itself firmly in her throat, " … babies … I can't … don't know … doesn't count." Sniffling loudly, her thick voice is muffled, strained and cracking every other word. If anything the words of comfort have the opposite effect for a bit - she starts to add sobs of gratitude to her sobs of dismay. Inhaling slowly and shakily, she soon manages to peer out at everyone, her eyes visibly red and tears streaming freely down her cheeks. Lips trembling slightly with suppressed emotion, she manages in a constricted voice, "But what if … what if it doesn't love /me/?" She glances between M'lo, Galina and Pralius, alternating between sniffling and trembling. Atleast her sobs are under control, though she looks still on the verge of another attack, "I don't … " Another pathetic sniffle, "I don't know what's wrong with me .. I'm .. I'm sorry." The apology has a further flood of tears streaming down her face and she wipes at them furiously with the back of her hand.

Gallina's words are heard, and M'lo gives her a grateful look. Pralius, too, receives a silent thank-you from him. "Aww," he says. "Of /course/ the baby will love you," he assures Ely. "You'll be her /mother/." He pulls back from her enough to look her in the face. "Ely, my love… the baby will love both of us, as much as we love each other." He kisses her forehead. "Please don't fret so much. I can't be good for you." He runs his hands up and down her arms slowly. "Take a deep breath." He demonstrates, encouraging her to breath and calm down. "Just… breathe, and focus on that. Put your worries away, all right? Right now, you're here with me, and I'm /telling/ you," he says, his voice calm and utterly confident, "The pregnancy will go fine. The labor won't be as bad as you're afraid of, we'll love the baby and the baby will love us. All right?" He smiles at her a little.

"Love is an acquired taste," Galina responds, still with that strange firmness in her tone. "If you feed it to them, they will reciprocate." Still, even as she speaks, there's a deep tension that works through her frame and she's forced to lower her hands to her lap, which allows them to clench — unseen — under the table. The line of her mouth hardens just a touch and she adds, "Your concern now is indicator enough that you will be a good mother. Trust in that." Further reassurance manifests only in a fleeting smile that flickers and vanishes in the blink of an eye. "There are books to prepare you, but there are none that will replace a mother's," subtle emphasis on that word, "instincts."

Pralius frees one hand long enough to reach into the pocket of his jacket and withdraw his insulated flask, "C'mon, Ely, just drink some water and it'll be fine. Every expectant mother worries, but you'll be great because you care. And I've never seen a child not reciprocate the treatment they were given. Love for love." He nods again, and though he catches that tension in Galina, now isn't the time to push the obviously recalcitrant girl when he had a friend crying already.

Ely takes in a shaky breath before letting it out in a soft sigh, her shoulders still trembling slightly with the movement. It's an attempt to follow M'lo's advice, obviously, and the tenseness in her frame relaxes bit by bit as the sensible words being spoken to her begin to sink through that wall of hysteria. "You … You're right," she manages in a voice that's a lot higher pitched than usual due to her recent bout of tears - the evidence is still fresh in the wetness on her cheeks. "We'll be in it together. Everything … everything will be fine," she repeats, clenching her fingers tighter around M'lo's shirt as she shrinks even closer to him for more support, "I love you and we'll both love the baby and the baby'll love us." It's almost as though she has to repeat the words to make them true, but each syllable seems calmer and less hysterical. Sniffling once or twice more, she turns teary eyes to Galina first and then Pralius, a soft breath escaping her in the form of a weak chuckle, "You're all right. I … I don't know what came over me." Swallowing several times and trying to clear her throat, she extracates one of her hands to take hold of the flask of water gratefully. A weary smirk is aimed at Pralius after she takes a sip, "Open your box now. The spectacle is over. I think .. anyways." She grimaces in remembrance and takes another drink of water, "I feel sharding horrible now. I /hate/ crying. I /never/ cry." She seems equally frustrated at herself for losing control.

M'lo remembers the handkerchief in his pocket and gets it out now, handing it over to Ely. It smells like laundry soap and him. He keeps an arm around her, but siezes on the new topic. "Yes! The box, Pralius. What is /in/ the box?"

"Of course," is flatly intoned, though the tension remains until Galina forces her thoughts along strange but familiar gyres to work it right back out. Cyanosis trills a bit, the tone a concerned one, but is quickly calmed by a gently uttered word from the younger woman. While their focus turns to the box, hers returns to her book and her writing, impassivity quickly setting back in as a matter of necessity. Don't mind her any; she'll go back to being that silent, weird, rigid statue of marble just over there that only moves when a page needs to be turned.

Pralius glances back at Galina, making a quick mental note of the… danger… of the subject with his fellow Senior Apprentice. He gives Ely one last gentle squeeze before he slowly moves back to his box, "Well, if you insist…" He carefully slits the binding, sliding the box open.

Ely curls her fingers aroun the handkerchief and actually smiles a little at M'lo, despite the tears still showing. Sniffling quietly, she starts to press the cloth to her face, removing all evidence of her lapse in control. "It's not skimpy underwear is it?" she manages with sarcasm, smirking a little as she leans forward to peer at the box as it's opened. There's a bit of thickness still in her voice and it cracks a few times, but other than that she seems to be back to normal. Almost, anyhow.

M'lo smiles back at Ely, and chuckles a little at her sarcastic tease. He leans forward to peer at the box. "Well?" he asks.

"… you're sure? Don't sound right. Don't sound right at all. That file …" the words drift in from the hall outside, the voice being a gravelled sort of old, world-weary and well-worn. The owner is a slightly limping older man who abruptly falls silent once he's aware of where he and his thus-far-unseen associate are at. Papers are shaken with irritation. "Confirm it. Don't care how," he finally says and dismisses the other fellow, while he limp-steps into the library with a momentary pause to reach up and adjust his spectacles. The entire scene is enough to give the Senior Journeyman some pause before his attention fixes, hawklike, on Galina. "Need to talk, Galina." One of her brows lifts, slowly, with a flat: "About what?" "Ain't for talking about /here/." "I see," says she, though there's a distinct note of displeasure in her voice. The Journeyman extends a hand for her shoulder and then catches himself, grunting before shuffling back toward the door. "Be just out here," he states. She merely nods. Galya moves to rise, methodically putting everything into a stack and setting Cyanosis atop it to protect it, as if such books /needed/ protecting.

Pralius' eyes are torn away from the somewhat stunned stare into the box when the sound of Galina's mentor's approach. He glances up at Galina's departure long enough to murmur "Sounds important. I'll ask him about mentors later. It was… good talking to you…" Then he turns back to the box. A little dumbstruck.

Ely sniffles quietly as she wipes the handkerchief one last time across her cheeks, leaving them relatively dry. Galina's exit is acknowledged with a further sniffle and a wave of a free hand before she goes back to clearing away the rest of the tears still clinging to her thick lashes. "It's not /really/ skimpy underwear is it? I was just joking … " she begins, eyeing Pralius' startled look.

M'lo nods when Galina leaves. Then he eyes Pralius. "What is it?" he asks.

"I will inform him that you wish to speak with him." A shallow, singular nod is given to Pralius, a brief look of parting is shot to the other two, then Galina's quick to slip out after her mentor. Unlike he, the shambling would-be gargoyle, she's more of a ghost, all but silent as she goes. And Cyanosis? Don't mind him. He's just going to nap now.

Pralius shakes his head mutely, then pulls out of the box a thick leather tome with his name stamped on the front. The leather is finely crafted and joined in black. Pralius just blinks again, then his mouth opens, then closes, "I… my mother must have spent her whole savings on this…"

Ely curls her fingers around the handkerchief and lowers it away from her face, eyeing the book for a moment, "How dull. I thought it'd be soemthing more exciting. Like skimpy underwear." The slight smirk on her face does transform into a smile though, "That /is/ a nice book, though, as books go. You should be sure to thank her." Finally free of her emotional overload, she breathes a sigh and leans against M'lo, content that she's back to normal. For now.

M'lo looks at the book. "Yeah, it's nice," he says, lacking a little it of enthusiasm. "Be sure to write her a thank-you letter." He stands and holds his hand out to help Ely to her feet. "Come on, love. I don't know about you, but /I/ could use a nap, and it's a long flight back."

Pralius nods, carefully adding the new journal to his library books, "Stay safe, you too. I know it's a long flight back." He grins, carefully sliding his checked out books into his bag, "And I have class in 20 anyway." Laptop slips in as well and he's ready to go!

Ely rises to her feet and starts to follow M'lo out. She does pause partway across the room to glance back at Pralius with a frown, "And you didn't see me cry. Really." Then she's gone with that threat hanging in the air.

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