#aislinn simmers

[lettersnorth]

Buscarron’s lay all the way out in the South Shroud along the upper paths and as such it was a destination more than a mere stroll away. Aislinn saddled Barnabas and lent Locke one of the working chocobos from Heartwood’s stables. 

Despite the reason for the outing, the two didn’t let such a thing get in the way of that spark of banter that always held court between them. Aislinn would wager she had never thought she could talk to someone half as well or as long as she did with Locke. Meanwhile, It'd been quite some time since Locke last rode on top of a chocobo. More often than not, the Hyur relied upon machinery to get him to his destination whether it was the Waltz itself or his prized manacutter. A chocobo of all things was quite the change of pace from his usual norm, but not entirely unwelcome.

It wasn’t until they had nearly reached their destination, with the noonday sun shining through the canopy overhead, that they began to grow quiet. Rounding the path and over the bridge into the settlement proper, Aislinn seemed to know where to go. 

“Here.” She said to Locke as they pulled alongside the sole tavern. Again, Gridanians and their disinclination to having more than one watering hole in any given place. 

Dismounting and hitching Barnabas to the post outside the doors, she stared up balefully at the doors. The color and vibrancy about her that Locke was able to uncover withdrew behind that armor plating of a reserved and almost stolid expression. 

“I’ll try and make this quick.” She murmured, turning to him, giving him what was likely to be her last smile until they left and saw the back of this place. It was wry in the way it formed along her lips but it was there. “No reason to inflict him on you longer than necessary. We’ll get what we need and go.”

Locke found himself running an idle hand over his weapons for a quick check out of reflex. The gunblade on his back? Check. A spare dagger at his side? Check. The revolver tucked within his coat? Aye, it was all there. 

"Take what time you need, love. I've got your back." He softly reassured before he allowed Aislinn to take the lead.

Inside, it was quiet. Most of the tables sat empty. Even on a good day a small tavern on the fringes of the Shroud didn’t turn a brisk business. Nevertheless, Aislinn’s green eyes were keen behind her spectacles, scanning the taproom before settling on the man behind the bar. Sunlight poured in from the picture windows at the front of the building, falling in streams along the wooden furniture, lazy motes of dust flaring to existence in its light. To one side a riverstone hearth sat, cold and unlit given the season, but one could imagine it gave the room a cheery feel when the weather turned cold. 

Aislinn made her way to the bar that lined the back wall where a middle-aged midlander man stood absently wiping down a tankard with the unhurried motions of someone merely looking for something to do than anything else. He looked Aislinn up and down as she approached, his attention snagging on her red hair and tell-tale scar. 

“Bloke’s in the back.” He told her, jerking his head behind him to the backroom. His good eye then took in Locke. “He didn’t say you’d have company.” 

“He doesn’t know everything. Much as he likes to pretend different.” Came Aislinn’s even reply. 

The man snorted in amusement, his eye then falling on the stock of one of her guns jutting just over her shoulder. “Just don’t make trouble.” 

“Of course not.” She nodded and then with a touchstone glance at Locke, she made her way down the length of the bar, pushed past the swinging half door and headed into the back. 

The kitchen was wide and spacious, well stocked with all manner of sundry. A stock pot of hunter’s stew sat slowly simmering on the stove. Far to the right sat a large, sturdy butcher block table surrounded by shelves stocked with supplies. It was here that  Sterling sat, idling the time away with a solitary version of triple triad, the cards laid out in overlapping plays on the table. His calf-hide leather duster lay slung over the back of the chair next to him and without it, the shoulder holster of knives he wore seemed to bristle with more warning than usual. A cartel leader’s life was one lived with one eye constantly over their shoulder and he was intent on not going the way of his predecessors.

He looked up as Aislinn entered, and for a moment his black brow twitched in surprise. As if he hadn’t expected her to actually show. But then he caught sight of the fact she wasn’t alone and the expression was wiped clean as he rose to his feet. In reply, Aislinn made a spread palm motion, hands at her sides. It was a silent vocabulary, a wordless conversation occurring in the span of several seconds and an uneasy truce settled in the air. 

“What’s this, then?” He jerked his chin Locke’s way. 

Her flare of anger at the situation, she noticed, was strangely calming. She took a deep, slow breath through her nose as she pressed her lips in a thin line and sharpened her tongue. 

“I’m not running a package halfway around the world by myself, Sterling.” Aislinn said, answering without really answering. A talent of hers. And one Sterling was more than passing familiar with. 

“Right. Let’s try you.” He pinned his frigid gaze on Locke. “What’re you all about?” 

It may have been enough to intimidate most men, but Locke was unlike most men. He had dealt with Sterling's kind before. Those who made deals in seedy backrooms who were far too eager to draw blades than share words. The kind of folk that were just as quick to stab you in the back the second you turned away from them after shaking hands. Aye, the look didn't faze him, he held his ground, keeping a stoic expression in the face of Sterling's questioning. Unlike those deals he made on behalf of his crew, Locke was well aware this one was a wholly mutual endeavor. Sterling needed Aislinn's help just as much as she needed his. 

"Obvious enough from her first statement, isn't it? I'm only here to lend a helping hand," Locke said in retort, more or less repeating Aislinn's words. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd like to speed up this process so we can all be on our way."

It was difficult to say what Sterling made of the reply. There was a tight narrowing of his eyes as he gave the man a slow, weighing once-over before turning a searching gaze back to Aislinn. He, at the very least, must have agreed with the sentiment that the sooner they got this over with, the better. 

“It’s like talking to two peas in a pod.” He said, sardonic and humorless. “Fact remains, you don’t bring a man like this along unless you’re trying to say something.”

Aislinn’s spine seemed made of steel, stiff and unbending in the face of Sterling’s needling. 

“Maybe I am. Maybe think it over later. Doesn’t change that you need a package run.”

He stared at her a moment longer looking like he was rolling a few words around in his mouth but if he had something to say, he thought better of it, instead turning and pulling a leather knapsack up from the floor and setting it on the table. 

“This needs to be delivered to a merchant in Kugane by the name of Daichi Yoshida.” The way Sterling halted and paused between each unfamiliar syllable made the name sound much choppier and longer than it was. “Runs some tea shop. The Wisteria House.”

“You have no idea what it is.” Aislinn pressed as she stepped forward and opened the knapsack. From its depths she withdrew a parchment wrapped package, about 10 ilms square. Whatever lay underneath felt solid. Red wax seals lay affixed to the top and bottom where the parchment came together. Not much of a deterrent if she decided to take a look for herself later. She inconspicuously tapped a finger against one of the seals, trying to pick up on any lingering aether that would tell her if the seals were magically warded.

At least it wasn’t a person, one abhorrent possibility Locke had tossed out the night before. Such things happened, she knew. The thought had never crossed her mind because for as long as she had worked for them, the cartel had always dealt in moving product, their own and others but even they drew a line somewhere. It was a whisper-fine gradation of gray in the scheme of things but it was there. 

She looked up from the box to find Sterling giving her a hard look. As though he shouldn’t have to say anything in reply to her question masquerading as a statement. Wordlessly, she turned and held the box out to Locke and with it she shot a fleeting glance up into the face of his red spectacles that spoke of her determination to discern its contents like she said she would, seals or no seals.

He took the box that Aislinn handed over and his grip against it momentarily tightened to test how much it'd give and its overall weight. Even Sterling didn't know what lay inside, did he? Locke wasn't sure whether he found that reassuring or the exact opposite. Then again, he wasn't a stranger to these games himself. A man could make good money pirating, but everyone had their dry spells. And in those moments a ship like the Waltz made use of its speed ferrying goods from one place to another, especially when it came to the sort of packages that the law wasn't too fond of. Most times, Locke had chosen not to pry too much so long as it didn't endanger his ship or the men on board, but he couldn't deny that nagging curiosity in the back of his mind. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care. As far as we’re concerned it’s a tempering cure.” Sterling turned his eyes on Locke, deciding he might be the reason for Aislinn’s sudden interest in pressing the issue when she knew as well as Sterling how this worked. 

“For the love of Thal, I know you might’ve gone and gotten yourself some high-minded morals but just do the job to the letter and Stark Oak gets back to rights and out of my safe house.” 

“So you say.” Aislinn said, a doubtful note in her tone.

Sterling’s brows dropped low over his eyes like angry slashes from an ink-soaked brush. They were back to this. 

“What do you want from me, Lin? Should I have cut off an ear or a finger and brought it with me as proof?” He snapped.

“Aislinn.” She flatly corrected in the face of his exasperation. This only seemed to serve in exasperating him further. In his mind, she had always had an infuriating way of taking hold of the most meaningless detail of what was said and ignoring the rest.

Aislinn, however, hadn’t ignored anything and the detail of how he addressed her was far from meaningless to her. She noted, for instance, how he stopped just shy of tossing his hands in the air. How with an obstinate word or two from her, cracks began to show in that unflappable demeanor of his. He was more tense and desperate than he let on.  

Under the scrutiny of her gaze, he pointedly picked up the empty knapsack and moved it to the very edge of the table, closest to her. 

“I’ve told you the job. Deliver this to the merchant Yoshida in Kugane. That’s all there is to it. Or are we going to quibble some more over odds and ends?”

Aislinn didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she deliberately turned her head to Locke and raised a questioning brow. If she was operating alone, she would have taken the package and gotten on with it. She hadn’t become a legend of a runner by asking questions. It was one area in which curiosity could have done her in, a truth she had instinctively picked up on from the start. But she wasn’t operating alone. And Locke was putting his ship and crew on the line. For her and some long shot hope that Sterling was telling the truth, at least about Stark Oak. For that, she’d quibble with Sterling over details for as long as it took until Locke was satisfied. 

"Now, now. There will be none of that. We'll keep up our end of the bargain, and I expect you to do the same. If not, we're going to have a problem on our hands and I make sure to pay back my debts one way or another." With the package in his hold, Locke turned to meet Aislinn's gaze. Even with those thick lenses covering his eyes, it was evident he was looking directly at her. The small, reassuring half-smile he flashed her way said it all. 

"We have what we came for, so let's be on our way. I need to get out of this stuffy kitchen and into some fresh air."

Sterling cut a swift glance to Locke, the man’s threat so thinly veiled it couldn’t be missed. “Glad to hear it. I don’t make deals I don’t intend to follow through.” He replied, pushing back in kind. “It’s bad for business.” 

For Aislinn, Locke’s half-smile, like everything else about him, was worth noticing. Foolishly, she let herself linger over the details even as an answering smile fought to make its way to her lips. 

When she turned back to Sterling he was studying her like he had just overturned a puzzle piece he’d been looking for. And damn it to hell, that wasn’t what she had wanted at all. She fought the urge to shift her weight, cast her gaze around the room or to let her fingers fidget with the closest thing they could find. All tells that would give her away more than she already had. 

Stepping forward, she found an excuse in picking up the empty knapsack, retrieving the package from Locke and returning it to its depths. 

“We’ll be in touch once the delivery is made.” She told him, shouldering the pack and already turning to go. 

“I’m sure you will.” He drawled, feeling he’d comfortably regained the upper hand. “You know where to find me.”

Once outside, Aislinn paused at the top of the short set of steps just outside the tavern and let go a breath that had, until that point, been holding her rigid as she peered up at the blue sky through the trees. “Suppose that could’ve gone worse. I always seem stuck between wanting to get as far away from him as quickly as possible and wanting to haul off and punch him right in his face.” She huffed out a laugh at the thought, then turned to look up at Locke. “Let’s head back. You’re right about needing some air.” 

Locke found himself doing the same as he stopped alongside her by the steps and exhaled a short breath of relief. "If you ask me, that was one of the smoother hand-offs I've seen." 

He let loose a chuckle as his thoughts wandered to similar events that had occurred in the past. There was a tension, aye. One so thick you could practically cut into it with a knife, but compared to some of the other hand-offs he'd experienced before this had gone swimmingly in comparison. For one, no weapons were drawn, let alone any blood. But he kept worrying comments like that to himself.

Her statement about punching Sterling in the face drew a quick laugh out of Locke who began to descend the steps. "I had half a mind to do it myself, love. Guy's a right prick. Heh, it was less of a desire for fresh air and more the need to spend a little more time alone with someone I'm quite fond of. Aye, let's head back. I suppose we have a long voyage to prep for."

[livinasimminlife]

Aislinn Simmers, my steampunk fairy for the upcoming Alliance of Magic series. Oh I’m so proud with how she turned out. Here she is enjoying the stellar view on her pirate airship while listening to Baroque on her phonograph. Aislinn works for the Ministry of Magic and Technology as a “Cog in the Machine.” Her specialty is... you guessed it... steam tech. 

Lot by Qtchin. No CC on the lot. Available on the Gallery. I placed her in Limestone Flats, a steampunk desert community (a.k.a. Oasis Springs). Added a candlemaking, robotics, and juice fizzing station. Oh and a refrigerator. Had to make a few minor tweaks for routing issues, but they weren’t hard to fix. Still it’s a stunning lot and incredibly creative. Highly recommend. 

**Photo taken from MTS - Dungeons & Dragons Races as Traits

Since there isn’t a fairy supernatural in TS4, I had to get creative. In my Sims world, the fae can use magic/cast spells so they are spellcasters. 

 To distinguish my fairies from my enchanters (a.k.a. witches), I decided to give the fae each a DND racial trait. The mod is created by Emoria on ModtheSims and is so much fun to play. 

I gave Aislinn her the “halfling” trait. I figured curiosity was a good fit because of her interest in both science and magic. Aislinn also enjoys collecting. I didn’t exactly follow the physical description, other than making her shorter (thanks to a height mod by LuumiaSims - SFS download). 

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim - she wants to be good at many things. 

Traits: Hot-headed (all that steam) 🤭, Foodie, Maker, Appraiser, Collector, Creatively Gifted, Creative Visionary, Handy, + I gave her Heat and Ice Proof since her airship is open... for obvious reasons. 

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Cravendy meets Lin! I think both of them have a terrible time.

Cravendy Hound woke up two days prior, and has spent those days awkwardly exploring the company while simultaneously avoiding all of its members. Finally, she understands what has happened in her absence...a very basic understanding, at least. The details are far too many to untangle at the moment.

Cravendy Hound has left a note on Lin’s door, inviting her to meet at one of the Lavender Bed islands. She waits on the bench absolutely terrified. Outwardly, this unintentionally translates into a menacing aura. Fists clenched, eyes dark, looking pissed off as hell.

Aislinn North It was a day with no work to be done. For most people, that would be a cause to celebrate. Right now, at this point in time, for Aislinn, it's a nightmare. Nyscera's people and Bertram, all of them had conspired against her. Sweeping the paperwork from her desk, aiding her in the clinic, leaving her with no escape. Work was the distraction used to keep her thoughts from looking back. Like a colorful toy you waved in front of a child to keep their attention where you wanted it. However, there was one piece of parchment left for her on her now far-too-clean desk. A note. She turned her head to the sound of approaching footsteps, the blood promptly draining from her face as she read it over. What in the Seven Hells was this? She fought back a litany of curses. No. She wasn't doing this today. She couldn't do this today. However, underneath the note was another's handwriting. Bertram had written something. And whatever he had penned had her out here, in the rain, making her way to this damned meeting. She caught sight of the familiar silhouette as she approached and immediately felt her throat go dry. As she drew closer, she realized the look was all wrong. The anger, the glaring eyes. Nothing about this....person was Wyda. She came to stand wordlessly just under the gazebo's shelter. She simply couldn't find anything to say.

Cravendy Hound similarly feels her heart sink when Lin steps into view. There is no plan, no eloquent speech prepared. Hells, she doesn’t even have a rough idea of what she wants to talk about. But she feels like she has to say something - anything - for both of their sakes. And yet, words fail her. The silence stretches between two of them like a widening fissure, and it feels unsurmountable. Gods, what was she thinking?

Cravendy Hound gets up. Why did she do that? Now she’s standing! She moves to sit back down, but wouldn’t that be more awkward? Cravendy freezes in a half-squat for a second until finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. Hells. She’s got the nerves of a kid on stage for the first time, but at least things can only get better...right?

Cravendy Hound strides over to Lin, grabs her shoulder, sits her down on a bench, and then takes a seat across from her. Okay, pieces in place. Things should happen now. Aaaanytime now. “.....................................”

(Aislinn North) ((Awww! OKay, this has me laughing! xD)) (Cravendy Hound) xD!! )) (Cravendy Hound) cravs has 0 braincells 0 plans. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in many ways ))

Aislinn North eyes flared widely as Cravendy grabbed hold of her shoulders, clearly taking umbrage at being maneuvered into place by a person she knows is a total stranger. Unfortunately, her still-healing injuries leave her unable to swiftly move out of the way in time and she finds herself plopped on the nearby bench instead. "Nymeia's bloody britches." she muttered, returning the Seawolf's glare with one of her own. "Starting to think I might have been better off wandering another circle around the House." In all honesty, it's the most emotion she's displayed since the events of that horrible day.

Cravendy Hound: “Aye, you an’ me both. Suppose we got that in common? Not wantin' to be ‘ere. Today being a weird an’ unpleasant day.” Cravendy tries to laugh and her voice cracks from high to low. Twelve have mercy, her expressions are not fully her own yet. Her face reddens and her scowl only deepens. “M-mud an’ shite! Been more than a year since I last spoke, I promise I ain’t like this normally...”

Aislinn North "I'll have to take your word on that." came Aislinn's rapid fire retort. She had clearly reached 'Anger' along her trip through the five stages of grief. But even she can hear the bite in her words and knows they're misdirected. She looked away, out over the water as a war waged within her chest. Logically, what happened wasn't Cravendy's fault. It also wasn't Cravendy's fault she woke up. She just did. Logically, Aislinn knew all of this. She just didn't like it. "....It'll get easier, I'm sure." she finally, grudgingly allowed. That felt alright to say. That felt safe.

Cravendy Hound winces slightly, but the bite in Lin’s voice feels deserved. It isn’t as if she’s unaware of what has happened in the past year. In dreams you can become another on the flip of a dime...She’s in possession of memories that are both hers, and not hers. She shakes her head.

Cravendy Hound: “Don’t go easy on me. I know what happened. The mess I caused.” She  crosses her arms and...my god. She was never going to get used to how after waking up, she suddenly had the toned body of a fistfighter. God, everything is so weird. “...An’ I won’t go easy on ye. Ye look like shite, an’ ye look like ye can stand to get somethin’ off yer chest.

(Cravendy Hound) sleep is the most powerful workout xD )) (Aislinn North) ((God, I wish that were true! lol!))

Aislinn North shot the Seawolf a swift, dry look out of the corner of her eye. "You're looking for someone to unload on you, aren't you?" she shrewdly assessed. "Did you? Cause this mess? I mean, did you mean to summon..." her voice caught, stumbled over the word. "the primal?"

Cravendy Hound: “Personally, could do without. But when ye do somethin’ wrong, an’ ye don’t get what ye deserve then...well, I’d be wonderin’ whether or not I was still dreamin’.” Her jaw set, tight. To Lin’s second point, she found herself at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to absolve herself of guilt and claim it wasn’t her fault. A half-truth to make everyone feel better, and one that she knew would gnaw away at her heart like all of her other white lies. No...She literally died following this creed. She had to carry on differently, no matter how uncomfortable.

Cravendy Hound: “....It was unintentional. But what I did leadin’ up to it was my fault.”

Cravendy Hound: “Accident or not, I made a right mess of things. If hatin’ me will make ye feel better, then I’ll gladly bear it.” Hair fell in front of her face as she let out a short breath.

Aislinn North "How could I hate you? I don't *know* you." Aislinn replied. "And that's an awful lot of wasted energy, in my experience." She grew quiet as she mulled over Cravendy's words. For a long stretch the only sound was the rain drumming against the roof of the gazebo. She saw what she was trying to do. Get all the information and assemble it into something that made sense. That gave her answers. And what would answers do now? They wouldn't change the outcome. "You're right though...you did make a mess of things." she said with blunt honesty. "And we're all just going to have to learn to live with it. Not all of us are going to manage...*well*"

Cravendy Hound’s brows knitted together. She was partly relieved to hear that she wasn’t going to be immediately hated by Lin. Dream-friend or no, it was definitely something she could do without. But the other half of her was frustrated at the existence of yet another problem that she caused, that she couldn’t fix at once.

Cravendy Hound: “Maybe ye don’t know me, and maybe I don’t know ye, but whether ye like it or not, I’m ‘ere for you. Because...” Cravendy pauses. Because what? She feels selfish for saying anything at all. If her goal isn’t closure, then what is it? She doesn’t know, and it infuriates her. “...Just because.”

Cravendy Hound: “....................” It dawns on her that she hasn’t introduced herself. Shit, is it too late to bring it up now? She simmers in anxiety and, as usual, it comes across as looking like she’s about to fight something.

Aislinn North sat back sharply, caught up short. Clearly, she wasn't ready for that. She looked away. Her fingers tapped out a quick rhythm against her leg, her jaw squared. How many times did it take for her to learn this particular lesson? Cracking herself open again and again only to lose people. No. *This* time she would get it. *This* she'd learn. Upon glancing back at Cravendy, her dark musings fly from her. The woman looked like she wanted to punch something. Aislinn tensed. "Alright, there?" ...she asked uncertainly.

(Cravendy Hound) xD )) (Aislinn North) ((Lin's wondering if she's gonna have to dodge and roll xD))

Cravendy Hound narrows an eye as she reads Lin’s expression. Shit, looks like she’s closing up. But then again, what other outcome could she expect? Thrust herself in her life and expect immediate and full reconciliation? Of course not. Cravendy doesn’t know Lin either, and maybe never seeing each other would be the best path to take...but it feels wrong to see her like this. It just does.

Cravendy Hound: “It’s not alright! I...I wake up after tryin’ to end things and I guess things are better? But worse at the same time? I’m still where I was a year ago an...” She cuts off her outburst. Piss n’ wind, just another way to further alienate Lin. “‘SCUSE ME.”

Cravendy Hound gets up, dunks herself under the water and yells at the top of her lungs. When she comes back, she looks spent. “Should’ve said this at the beginnin’, but I’m Cravendy. And I’m...I’m just losing me mind! Haha. That’s a...a joke.”

(Cravendy Hound) i dont know whether to laugh or cry )) (Aislinn North) ((ohhhhh...I think this is one of those times where its just both!)) (Cravendy Hound) both? both. xD )) (Aislinn North) ((xD)) (Aislinn North) ((Also did she just go and pitch herself into the water, or just her head?)) (Cravendy Hound) LOL she stepped into the water, slams herself completely underwater, and then came back )) (Aislinn North) ((lol! Got it!)) (Cravendy Hound) lmao i dont know which would give off more of an insane person vibe. if she crawled on the wood and dunked just her head in the water versus what she actually did )) (Aislinn North) ((lol! Oy, that's true! Six of one, I suppose))

Aislinn North As the woman let loose on her, Aislinn realized the turn of phrase she's used since childhood may have been misconstrued. She sat in stunned silence after watching Cravendy pitch herself into the lake. She'd get up but at the moment, in her condition, that seemed like too much of a chore. "I didn't..." it was all for the best as Cravendy immediately returned and squelched back down on the bench. "It's just...something I say. Of course nothing about this is alright." she let go a breath. "Cravendy...I gathered that. From the note you left me." A part of her had to admire someone who could do exactly what they felt like doing. She, herself, had been holding in a scream for days. She looked forward to when she could pick up her pistol again and target shoot. She had always been better at letting her gun snarl and growl for her. "And like I said, it's not an easy thing. But it'll get easier."

Cravendy Hound sits in wet, miserable silence. Her hair, once a dense tangle resembling a pine tree, is now slicked down against her face and shoulders. And she’s godsdamned grateful for looking like a mess right now, as it hides the tears and redness in her eyes. She’s not some whelp to be pitied, she’s a tough pirate that shoots first and asks questions later! Used to be, anyway. Cravendy sniffs once. Must be the cold.

Cravendy Hound: “Hah, ah...No.” She takes a bundle of hair in her hand and wrings water out of it. It’s a little salty. “Yeah. No...No? No.”

Cravendy Hound: “........Aye.”

Aislinn North tipped her head as she listened to Cravendy argue. Though whether it was with Aislinn or herself, the highlander couldn't be sure. "Aye." she affirmed. "Because there's no other option." she spoke like someone who knew that was the way of it.

Aislinn North After a pause, she slowly pulled herself to her feet. "I'll be heading back to the House now. Not that anyone has left me much of anything to do...but still." she sighed. She hesitated a moment, studying Cravendy. Feeling torn in several directions all at once. "Come back up when you're ready. No sense sitting in wet clothes for very long."

Cravendy Hound sighs. Well, that went swimmingly. She shrugs her shoulders and lets Lin go, preferring to unwind in the privacy of this lonely island for now.

[abendrotbrav]

@despondentdruid said: Mamihlapinatapei wow you really do want to be assassinated? - drabble words

mamihlapinatapei: the look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

It’s a moment of silence. The fire burns quiet in the background, the fire alarm stuffed with cotton and old shirts, and she’s fashioned a brazier out of stray items. The fire crackles within her room in Chaldea, and it isn’t as high as he prefers, she knows, but it’s less occupied than the simulation room. She’s gathered up blankets and pillows, and the floor is now padded to at least the dog’s comfort, Keeva curled around Cu, and Aislinn half-laying in Sophia’s lap. The dogs rolling and shifting in their sleep had forced the two close, the low simmer of body heat just inches away. 

They had been mid-bickering, about what, Sophia was rather certain neither were really paying attention. Her hand is tacky with marshmallow taffy, and her hand was leering close to Cu’s hair, to which he retaliated by grabbing it in protest. The laughter and voices die, then, fade out.

Suddenly, as if all at once, she became aware of their proximity. The heat of the hand firm around her wrist, how close she was to his face. The red of his eyes, inhumanly so, yet they’re warm. So warm.

The breath in her throat catches, quietly. Their faces aren’t as close as her hand is, but they’re close. So close. She can see his eyes looking at her’s. See the fire in the corners, blending into the red. See, faintly at the center, the green of her own eyes reflected back at her. There’s a moment where his gaze flickers down, to her lips, to her hand, and his mouth is just barely parted. She can see the sharpness of his teeth and something curious stirs.

A shameful part of her wonders if she could paint those pale lips red by pressing her own to them. If she would cut her tongue on his teeth. How her fingers would feel with his tongue on them. His breath against her-

Her hand on the blanket is inches away from his own. Her fingertip grazes, butterfly light, just barely, against his knuckle. Almost as suddenly as that, the spell ends. Her hand let go of, and Sophia hesitates, before she pulls it back with a laugh, forced. The air is heady and feels hot like the flames. They’ll pretend it didn’t happen, surely. She hopes he doesn’t know.

These shameful feelings are best buried, after all.

[quinnsolanum]

145 73 and 16

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? 

Aislinn stared at him for a moment, before breaking out into a fit of amused giggles. 

“Considering the last person that I kissed was my boyfriend… yes. Yes, I would most certainly kiss him again.” She grinned, with a hint of a playful slyness. 

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? 

She tapped her chin in thought, before walking over to her neatly made white double bed. She motions to it - where only two white pillows rest. Beside it is a nightstand, where a stuffed Ahriman sits, it’s unblinking eye gazing unrelentingly towards its company. 

“This is the only stuffed plushie that I own. I do not sleep with it, but it is here. I think most would find it very peculiar if I slept with a voidkin…” She laughed brightly, as though it was some kind of hidden joke. 

145. Tea or coffee? 

“Tea. Most certainly.” She responded without even a moment’s hesitation. 

“I am an herbalist and alchemist. There is very little difference between making a cup of tea and an infusion or decoction, only in the length of time that it is allowed to steep, how it is filtered, and if the herbs are simmered in the water. Therefore, teas have a wide variety of effects, all dependent on the blend of herbs used. A good herbalist can tell you exactly what blend to purchase or make to increase your energy levels like a cup of coffee would, and they can add additional effects to it. Ones to assist in memory retention, mental clarity… there is a very large list.” 

She smiled. “If you are interested in any of my tea blends after listening to my speech, you need only contact me. I would be happy to discuss it with you further. Others have told me that they are quite delicious!” 

{{Thank you for the ask, @spartanivwarsol12343! ^^ }}

[lettersnorth]

For What Ails You

Bertram arrives within the Heartwood clinic with all of the silence that one would expect for a man with the epithet 'Windshadow'. Of course, it wasn't precisely polite to go sneaking around unannounced in proper company, so Bertram produced a quick pair of raps upon the door as he slipped through. He took a moment to glance around the room in search for who might be present. He'd been told that he could find Aislinn here but he was still uncomfortable removing his visor in unfamiliar company.

Aislinn appeared to be in the middle of something that took a good portion of her concentration. She stood at the stove, her back to the door. Spread across the clinic's counters were a variety of jars that stored everything from herbs to aethersand and perhaps even an animal part or two. Currently, she was flipping between two open recipe books with one hand while the other continually stirred a mixture that was simmering in a double boiler on the stove.

At the sound of someone knocking, her expression cleared and she glanced over her shoulder. "Bertram." she greeted, albeit a bit absently. "Alright, there?"

"Keeping myself together in one piece." He answered with a subtle smile, a hand rising up to rub at the back of his neck idly before his attention shifted to the work that Aislinn was doing at the bench. His hand shifted from his neck to his visor as he moved. There's a quiet 'click' as he removes the device from his face and focuses his good eye upon the various reagents. "You certainly seem ... busy?" He then turns his attention back to Aislinn with a slightly risen brow.

"One piece is always preferable." she nodded, her hand never pausing in the stirring of the pot. "Ahh..." she looked back to the accoutrements she had spread out across the counter. "Just...trying a new potion." she said blithely. Perhaps a touch too blithe, to be honest. "But once it's done simmering it has to sit awhile, so not too terribly busy. You've caught me near the end."

Bertram nodded his head slowly, his attention shifting back to the potion-in-progress with a curious expression. "Is it ... for anything in particular ..." his attention flicks back to Aislinn, "... or is it just some exploratory alchemy?" He offers the woman a light smile.

Aislinn paused at the question, reaching up to brush away a wayward strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. She considered and immediately discarded half a dozen lies she could have told him. In light of certain events that would have made quite the hypocrite of her.

"I'm still having a bit of trouble. With..." she trailed off, tapping a finger against her breastbone. "That issue I told you about earlier. Those attacks that make me feel like I might burn up from the inside out. It hasn't happened half as much since...well, since we dealt with all the Red Argos business but it's still there." she was quiet a moment as she stopped stirring the concoction and moved the pot off the stove to cool. "It's a bother." she said simply though that was certainly downplaying the issue. "So I'm trying this to see if it helps or not."

Bertram furrowed his brow slightly as Aislinn explains the purpose of the concoction. The man glances off to the side for a moment as he takes in a slow breath and then he's back to leveling his attention upon the pot. "It's ... not getting worse, is it?" He asked, sounding noticeably concerned, "Do you have theories as to what it might be that's causing it?"

Setting down the whisk she had been using, she takes up a towel from the rack and wipes her hands. "It...doesn't happen as often but...it feels as though it's become more intense." Again, an understatement. The other night she been crippled by it, unable to rise from the rug in her room until it had passed.

She busied herself with cleaning up the open jars, screwing the tops back on and moving to place them back on the shelves. As though if she just kept moving it would make the subject loom that much less in her mind. "Not as easy to shake off. But..." Theories. She had a few. Though that would require regaling Bertram with tales of what had happened to her while living in Ul'dah and she was less than inclined to do such a thing. "I don't really know. Nothing concrete. Though if this doesn't work I was thinking I would go and see the monks."

Bertram slowly turns his attention toward Aislinn as she offers up her back-up solution. It was, of course, easy to see the concern within his expression. Though that wasn't necessarily a surprise given the circumstances. "... do you think the Fist's'll have the answers?" He asked quietly, a bit like a dolt. Of course she did Bertram, why would she go otherwise? He cleared his throat and shook his head, side glancing to the cooling pot. "If there's anything I can do for you in that regard ...I'll do whatever I can."

Aislinn finished wiping down the counter. At those particular words, her lips compressed a moment in a flat line before she managed a tight smile she didn't feel. She flicked the towel at him before hanging it back over the rack. "It's the monks. I think I can remember my way there, I'll be fine." she said, neatly declining his offer. With a sigh, she settled against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. "But you came by the clinic for a reason of your own, didn't you?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

Bertram lifted his hands up in a faux-defensive gesture as the towel is flicked in his direction. A quiet laugh and bow of his head conceding to her point. "You're ... right of course. You usually are." He clears his throat, "But, all the same, I just want to make sure you know I've got your back if you need it." There's a pauses as she turns the questioning around on him. "Yes ... well ... I was hoping to find some ointments for ..." He looks embarrassed, "Bug bites?"

She gave a single, non-committal nod in reply to his assertion that he would be there if she needed. But as he explained his true purpose for stopping by, her face became more expressive as she raised a skeptical brow. "What sort of bug bites? Let me see."

"I ... ah ... midges, I think?" He tries to offer though he seems entirely unsure about that situation. "I honestly didn't get a very good look at them." He lets out a quiet, nervous laugh as he shakes his head and lifts up an arm and begins to roll back a sleeve. And ... sure enough, the arms is peppered with a small constellation of angry looking red dots. Nothing life threatening, of course, but ... boy did it look uncomfortable.

Aislinn leaned forward and took a look at his arm. It was indeed, a right mess. Pushing herself off the counter, she carefully took hold of it and peered a bit closer at the bites. "Nymeia's Blood, Bertram, did you go for a joy-walk through a swamp?" she tsked. Releasing his arm, she turned for the cabinets that lined the clinic's counter and began rifling through the various pots and jars located within.

"Luckily, we're a fully stocked clinic. No telling what the members of Heartwood are going to get themselves into. Always best to try and prepare for a little bit of everything."

Bertram was quick to clear himself out of Aislinn's way as she set course for the cabinet behind him. He couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh as he swapped ends of the bench with Aislinn. "Just a bit of good samaritan work ... though I might have gone a bit overboard ... given the circumstances."

"Sometimes folk forget that the Elementals are always watching out here. Even if they aren't as potent as before."

"Well, no good deed goes unpunished." Aislinn murmured as she pulled a porcelain blue salve jar from the cabinet. She paused, her hand gripping the wide cork top, as though she just realized what she said. With a shake of her head and a soft snort, she continued, pulling the lid from the salve and giving it a whiff. "This is it." re-corking the jar, she turned and held it out to him. "Was it worth it? The good Samaritan work?"

Bertram laughs quietly at Aislinn's first comment, his head bobbing to the side amusedly before accepting the jar with a grateful smile. His brow furrows slightly at the question that she left him with as he lifts the jar to get a whiff himself. "I'm not sure I'd be a very good 'good samaritan' if I went around judging people I help like that." He teased quietly before taking a sample size of the salve and beginning to spread it on a small patch on his arm in test. "But ... they seemed like a nice enough person. Just seemed a bit ... new to the area, honestly. They were grateful at the very least."

Aislinn tilted her head, seeing that he had missed her point. "Not asking you to judge them, but I'm glad it all seemed to end up well enough. Aside from the run-in with the midges. The Elementals seem a bit touchy lately. That or there are quite a few more people than normal wandering the Shroud who are new to the area."

Bertram blinks quietly at the opening to her response, looking a bit caught off guard and suddenly second guessing what she meant from before. He gets caught up in his mind for a prolonged moment before clearing his throat, "... oh, yeah. Seems like there're more people that usual out and about. Maybe refugees?" He glanced off to the side again before looking down to his arm. He wasn't positive but the salve certainly seemed to be doing the trick. It was a distinct relief. "You're running into folks running awry of the Elementals too?"

"Maybe refugees." she nods in agreement. Leaning over the stove, she checked in on her cooling pot of potion and tested it by shaking the pot gently by the handle. Not quite ready. "But Cravendy apparently had a run in after some target practice of hers went awry. She says her aim still needs work. Can see how something like that might miff the Elementals." she said with a wry twist of her lips. "I may have possibly been chased out for that a time or two back when I was new."

Bertram laughs quietly and shakes his head, idly poking at the bites that he had covered in the salve; testing to see if they would be easily re-aggravated into itchiness. Fortunately the medicine seemed to be doing an *excellent* job. "They ... definitely aren't exactly used to gunfire being anything other than overtly hostile in ninety percent of cases, that's ... probably true." He looks back up at Aislinn with a grateful smile, "This seems to be doing the job." Bertram gives a slightly wry smile. "Maybe there should be a class."

Aislinn gave a pleased smile as he informed her the salve was working. Then a short laugh. "A 'Welcome to Gridania, Mind the Elementals' Class?" she shrugged. "Suppose it wouldn't hurt. Not sure Cravendy would have paid attention though."

Bertram bobs his head to the side slightly, "Yeah, something like that ..." He pauses as Aislinn further explains Cravendy's unlikelihood of actively benefiting from it. He can be shake his head gently with a soft amusement. "A bit of a stubborn streak then?"

In reply to his question she let go another brief laugh but this one lit up her whole face with amusement. "A bit of an understatement, that." she shook her head. "Though I suppose I'm not really one to talk." she tossed a knowing look his way that said she knew he'd agree with her.

Bertram cannot contain that easy and gentle laugh the rose up from his lungs as she gave him the pointed look. Once he'd managed to find more rein upon his faculties he gave a conceding dip of his head to her point. "Well ... if there's anything that I have a lot of experience with, Lin, it's being around stubborn personalities." He gave Aislinn a pointed look in turn. She and Barengar might be two different brands of stubborn, but ... they were *definitely* stubborn. "Maybe I'd have some luck if I taught the class."

One corner of her lips pulled upward at that. "Probably save yourself any more problematic bug bites from all that good samaritan work if you did." once again, she reached over and checked the pot. It had appeared to have settled into a consistency she was satisfied with and she reached for an empty potion jar from the shelves. "Go ask the Adders, I'm sure they're tired of rescuing people as well. They'd probably let you do it if it ended up saving them some work."

Bertram suddenly looks as though he might *actually* be seriously considering the idea that he had initially brought up as a joke. He blinked several times before looking at Aislinn with a decent measure of surprise. And then a quiet laugh as he silently talks his himself down ... for the time being. "Maybe ..." he grins slightly, "... I probably do with a more steady living situation than being an transient in the forest. I ... can admit to that."

Aislinn tilted her head from one side to the other as if considering his point. "So, start with that. Unless you're enjoying the transient life in which case I'm sure you could still convince them of your merits." she poured the potion carefully into the jar and held it up, carefully giving it a final swirl before corking it. Setting the jar aside, she picked up the pot and scooted around him to place it in the sink at his back.

"Perhaps ..." He murmurs thoughtfully, quietly shifting and moving out of Aislinn's way again as he goes about applying more of the salve to his arms. He gives her a curious look that was saddled with a touch of anticipation. "Did it ... turn out alright?" He asks in regards to the potion.

Aislinn glanced over at the jar in question, the deep blue liquid growing darker the longer it cooled. "Maybe. Won't really know until I'm in need of it." She tried not to let on how apprehensive that made her.

Bertram attempted to do the very same. There was a certain discomfort in not knowing if something you were counting on saving you ... just doesn't. The rich blue liquid remains within his gaze for several moments. He'd just have to have faith in Aislinn's formulas. It was about all he could do in this case. He looks back to Aislinn with a quiet smile, putting on his best brave face, "I'm sure it'll help."

"Is there anything that I can do to help around here?" He asks as he begins to roll his sleeves back down. "Seems ... only fair for using your guys' salve." He manages a warm smile.

Aislinn nodded in the face of his assertion that her potion would work but her hand wandered up to her neck, fingers pressing against the dip in her throat. A worried gesture. "At the very least, I'm certain it won't kill me. So there's that." she said as she let go a breath and a half-hearted laugh. Turning to look around the clinic, she considered his request. "Well..." she began thoughtfully. "I noticed we were running low on some herbs. Maybe you've seen enough of the Shroud for awhile but if you're up for it, you could help me restock?"

Bertram does his best to keep on that convinced expression, even as the expectations were brought down to a rather *bare* minimum in his eyes. As Aislinn mused upon how he might be able to return help for help proffered he gave an eager nod of his head. "I think I'd like that quite a bit." He glances toward one of the windows, "I honestly find wandering around out there to be ... pretty calming."

Aislinn inhaled a breath and, upon realizing what she was doing, quickly dropped her hand from her throat. "Right. Let me get changed and then we can go." She picked up the jar off the counter and made her way for the door. "Take the salve with you. Bring it back once the bites are gone." she said over her shoulder. "I'll meet you outside in a few."

Bertram offers Aislinn a small smile before nabbing his visor and 'clicking' it back into place. One he's tucked the jar of salve away he follows behind the woman on the way out of the clinic. "I'll be ready when you are, Lin," he offers with a gentle bob of his head before pausing, "and thanks."

Aislinn waved his thanks off as she passed through the door. "Of course. What else is a clinic for?"

[lettersnorth]

Cravendy Hound

Cravendy woke up two days prior, and has spent those days awkwardly exploring the company while simultaneously avoiding all of its members. Finally, she understands what has happened in her absence...a very basic understanding, at least. The details are far too many to untangle at the moment.

Cravendy has left a note on Lin’s door, inviting her to meet at one of the Lavender Bed islands. She waits on the bench absolutely terrified. Outwardly, this unintentionally translates into a menacing aura. Fists clenched, eyes dark, looking pissed off as hell.

It was a day with no work to be done. For most people, that would be a cause to celebrate. Right now, at this point in time, for Aislinn, it's a nightmare. Nyscera's people and Bertram, all of them had conspired against her. Sweeping the paperwork from her desk, aiding her in the clinic, leaving her with no escape. Work was the distraction used to keep her thoughts from looking back. Like a colorful toy you waved in front of a child to keep their attention where you wanted it.

However, there was one piece of parchment left for her on her now far-too-clean desk. A note. The blood promptly drained from her face as she read it over. What in the Seven Hells was this? She fought back a litany of curses. No. She wasn't doing this today. She couldn't do this today. However, underneath the note was another's handwriting. Bertram had written something. And whatever he had penned had her out here, in the rain, making her way to this damned meeting. She caught sight of the familiar silhouette as she approached and immediately felt her throat go dry. As she drew closer, she realized the look was all wrong. The anger, the glaring eyes. Nothing about this....person was Wyda. She came to stand wordlessly just under the gazebo's shelter. She simply couldn't find anything to say.

Cravendy similarly feels her heart sink when Lin steps into view. There is no plan, no eloquent speech prepared. Hells, she doesn’t even have a rough idea of what she wants to talk about. But she feels like she has to say something - anything - for both of their sakes. And yet, words fail her. The silence stretches between two of them like a widening fissure, and it feels insurmountable. Gods, what was she thinking?

Cravendy gets up. Why did she do that? Now she’s standing! She moves to sit back down, but wouldn’t that be more awkward? Cravendy freezes in a half-squat for a second until finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. Hells. She’s got the nerves of a kid on stage for the first time, but at least things can only get better...right?

Cravendy strides over to Lin, grabs her shoulder, sits her down on a bench, and then takes a seat across from her. Okay, pieces in place. Things should happen now. Aaaanytime now. “.....................................”

Aislinn's eyes flared widely as Cravendy grabbed hold of her shoulders, clearly taking umbrage at being maneuvered into place by a person she knows is a total stranger. Unfortunately, her still-healing injuries leave her unable to swiftly move out of the way in time and she finds herself plopped on the nearby bench instead. "Nymeia's bloody britches." she muttered, returning the Seawolf's glare with one of her own. "Starting to think I might have been better off wandering another circle around the House." In all honesty, it's the most emotion she's displayed since the events of that horrible day.

“Aye, you an’ me both. Suppose we got that in common? Not wantin' to be ‘ere. Today being a weird an’ unpleasant day.” Cravendy tries to laugh and her voice cracks from high to low. Twelve have mercy, her expressions are not fully her own yet. Her face reddens and her scowl only deepens. “M-mud an’ shite! Been more than a year since I last spoke, I promise I ain’t like this normally...”

"I'll have to take your word on that." came Aislinn's rapid fire retort. She had clearly reached 'Anger' along her trip through the five stages of grief. But even she can hear the bite in her words and knows they're misdirected. She looked away, out over the water as a war waged within her chest. Logically, what happened wasn't Cravendy's fault. It also wasn't Cravendy's fault she woke up. She just did. Logically, Aislinn knew all of this. She just didn't like it. "....It'll get easier, I'm sure." she finally, grudgingly allowed. That felt alright to say. That felt safe.

Cravendy winces slightly, but the bite in Lin’s voice feels deserved. It isn’t as if she’s unaware of what has happened in the past year. In dreams you can become another on the flip of a dime...She’s in possession of memories that are both hers, and not hers. She shakes her head.

“Don’t go easy on me. I know what happened. The mess I caused.” She  crosses her arms and...my god. She was never going to get used to how after waking up, she suddenly had the toned body of a fistfighter. God, everything is so weird. “...An’ I won’t go easy on ye. Ye look like shite, an’ ye look like ye can stand to get somethin’ off yer chest.

Aislinn North shot the Seawolf a swift, dry look out of the corner of her eye. "You're looking for someone to unload on you, aren't you?" she shrewdly assessed. "Did you? Cause this mess? I mean, did you mean to summon..." her voice caught, stumbled over the word. "the primal?"

“Personally, could do without. But when ye do somethin’ wrong, an’ ye don’t get what ye deserve then...well, I’d be wonderin’ whether or not I was still dreamin’.” Her jaw set, tight. To Lin’s second point, she found herself at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to absolve herself of guilt and claim it wasn’t her fault. A half-truth to make everyone feel better, and one that she knew would gnaw away at her heart like all of her other white lies. No...She literally died following this creed. She had to carry on differently, no matter how uncomfortable. “....It was unintentional. But what I did leadin’ up to it was my fault.”

“Accident or not, I made a right mess of things. If hatin’ me will make ye feel better, then I’ll gladly bear it.” Hair fell in front of her face as she let out a short breath.

"How could I hate you? I don't *know* you." Aislinn replied. "And that's an awful lot of wasted energy, in my experience." She grew quiet as she mulled over Cravendy's words. For a long stretch the only sound was the rain drumming against the roof of the gazebo. She saw what she was trying to do. Get all the information and assemble it into something that made sense. That gave her answers. And what would answers do now? They wouldn't change the outcome. "You're right though...you did make a mess of things." she said with blunt honesty. "And we're all just going to have to learn to live with it. Not all of us are going to manage...*well*"

Cravendy‘s brows knitted together. She was partly relieved to hear that she wasn’t going to be immediately hated by Lin. Dream-friend or no, it was definitely something she could do without. But the other half of her was frustrated at the existence of yet another problem that she caused, that she couldn’t fix at once.

“Maybe ye don’t know me, and maybe I don’t know ye, but whether ye like it or not, I’m ‘ere for you. Because...” Cravendy pauses. Because what? She feels selfish for saying anything at all. If her goal isn’t closure, then what is it? She doesn’t know, and it infuriates her. “...Just because.”

“....................” It dawns on her that she hasn’t introduced herself. Shit, is it too late to bring it up now? She simmers in anxiety and, as usual, it comes across as looking like she’s about to fight something.

Aislinn sat back sharply, caught up short. Clearly, she wasn't ready for that. She looked away. Her fingers tapped out a quick rhythm against her leg, her jaw squared. How many times did it take for her to learn this particular lesson? Cracking herself open again and again only to lose people. No. *This* time she would get it. *This* time she'd learn. Upon glancing back at Cravendy, her dark musings fly from her. The woman looked like she wanted to punch something. Aislinn tensed. "Alright, there?" she asked uncertainly.

Cravendy narrows an eye as she reads Lin’s expression. Shit, looks like she’s closing up. But then again, what other outcome could she expect? Thrust herself in her life and expect immediate and full reconciliation? Of course not. Cravendy doesn’t know Lin either, and maybe never seeing each other would be the best path to take...but it feels wrong to see her like this. It just does. “It’s not alright! I...I wake up after tryin’ to end things and I guess things are better? But worse at the same time? I’m still where I was a year ago an...” She cuts off her outburst. Piss n’ wind, just another way to further alienate Lin. “‘SCUSE ME.”

Cravendy gets up, dunks herself under the water and yells at the top of her lungs. When she comes back, she looks spent. “Should’ve said this at the beginnin’, but I’m Cravendy. And I’m...I’m just losing me mind! Haha. That’s a...a joke.”

As the woman let loose on her, Aislinn realized the turn of phrase she's used since childhood may have been misconstrued. She sat in stunned silence after watching Cravendy pitch herself into the lake. She'd get up but at the moment, in her condition, that seemed like too much of a chore. "I didn't..." it was all for the best as Cravendy immediately returned and squelched back down on the bench. "It's just...something I say. Of course nothing about this is alright!" it’s as close as she’s come to yelling throughout this entire nightmare. She let go a breath and touched a hand to her temple. "Cravendy...I gathered that. From the note you left me." A part of her had to admire someone who could do exactly what they felt like doing. She, herself, had been holding in a scream for days. She looked forward to when she could pick up her pistol again and target shoot. She had always been better at letting her gun snarl and growl for her. "And like I said, it's not an easy thing. But it'll get easier."

Cravendy sits in wet, miserable silence. Her hair, once a dense tangle resembling a pine tree, is now slicked down against her face and shoulders. And she’s godsdamned grateful for looking like a mess right now, as it hides the tears and redness in her eyes. She’s not some whelp to be pitied, she’s a tough pirate that shoots first and asks questions later! Used to be, anyway. Cravendy sniffs once. Must be the cold.

“Hah, ah...No.” She takes a bundle of hair in her hand and wrings water out of it. It’s a little salty. “Yeah. No...No? No. ........Aye.”

Aislinn tipped her head as she listened to Cravendy argue. Though whether it was with Aislinn or herself, the highlander couldn't be sure. "Aye." she affirmed. "Because there's no other option." she spoke like someone who knew that was the way of it.

After a pause, Aislinn slowly pulled herself to her feet. "I'll be heading back to the House now. Not that anyone has left me much of anything to do...but still." she sighed. She hesitated a moment, studying Cravendy. Feeling torn in several directions all at once. "Come back up when you're ready. No sense sitting in wet clothes for very long."

Cravendy sighs. Well, that went swimmingly. She shrugs her shoulders and lets Lin go, preferring to unwind in the privacy of this lonely island for now.

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #24: Unctuous

Music theme

At night, after the sun had set and the desert air grew cool, it was a tradition in Little Ala Mhigo to gather around a cooking fire and share stories while some unctuous piece of meat simmered in a great pot of whatever else had been managed to be foraged that day. The stew varied from thin and watery one day to thick, oily fare that would stick to the ribs the next. It all depended on the luck of the hunters. What never changed is that everyone received a portion, no matter how meager. 

Sitting in the glow of the fire, skin and hair scrubbed clean for the first time in nearly a month, a bowl of something warm and filling in her lap, Aislinn finally felt hyuran again. It was such a simple thing and as the people, her people, gathered close together to hear an elder’s story, she wanted to cry but knew better. So instead, she sat quietly and let the stories and chatter around the fire wash over her.

The elders seemed to understand and respect her need for space in a way a few of the young ones did not. She couldn’t blame them for their curiosity. In the aftermath of Dalamud breaking like an egg she had been the only traveler they’d seen and she’d been brought in slung over the shoulder of one of the hunters with a pair of racing chocobos and a dead body in tow. There was obviously a story there.

She answered their questions as best she could, which was to say haltingly and sometimes circumspect with the details as she stirred a spoon through her oily stew. But when it became obvious she was growing uncomfortable with the attention, an elder would bap the adolescent lightly upside the head and that would be that. They’d leave off and turn their attention elsewhere. 

When her spoon scraped the last bits of the meal from the bottom of her bowl, Gundobald rose from the old crate he had been sitting on and motioned for her to follow him. As he had promised the other day in the tent, he led her to her father’s resting place.

He’d be laid in the shadow of the mesa that sheltered Little Ala Mhigo, with the others the camp had lost. They were all buried facing Gyr Abania so they could always see their way home, the way Gundobald told it. 

“Wha’ was his name?” He asked as she stared numbly down at the freshly turned rock and sand. 

Aislinn glanced briefly over her shoulder. “Jorund Ironfist” 

He made a low noise of acknowledgement in his throat. “A strong battle-name.” 

“He was a strong man.”

And he was. When she was young, her father was a tall tower. A wall no one could breach. She never worried about monsters under her bed at night because what monster could stand against such a man? She used to marvel at how her little hand could fit wholly in one of his wide, calloused palms, even with all her fingers stretching as wide as she could make them. He used to laugh at her efforts. The memories of her life with him began to slip through her mind like oil through her fingers though she tried hard to freeze and study each one. 

He hadn’t been the perfect father. Nymeia knew he had his faults. But he had been hers. She knew she’d never been a part of the plan and he’d tried the best he knew how. All her life, it had always been the two of them. And now it was just her. In her mind she seemed a pitifully inadequate figure left to stand alone. Much like the now pock-scarred world there was a giant crater in her life where her father once stood. It was one loss too many in a life of losses. 

Her shoulders shook with the effort it took not to cry. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t embarrass him by any un-Highlander outpouring of emotion. She was tired. She was just so damned tired and all she wanted in that moment was her da. 

From over her shoulder, Gundobald spoke, watching her struggle.

“I’ve seen men twice yer size fall t’ their knees an’ bawl like newborn babes. There ‘r times there’s nothin’ left t’ do but th’t. I’m thinkin’ fer you, lass, this is one o’ those times.” he said, his gruff voice low. His heavy hand came down to rest atop her head a moment and then he turned and made his way back to the fire glow of the small camp. 

She knew now why he brought her out here at night. So no one would see her in her private grief as sorrow overcame her and tears forced their way out through the cracks in her bedrock in messy, wracking sobs.

He was a wise man.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast