#him foolish tarik oh boy

[patchesjam]

holy shit hasan is so hot saw him in witcher outfit holy

[heartofgolduria]

Found Family

On the route from Wispil to Kerse Aithne - pronounced “En-YA”

She’d told Akane and Vivi not to worry and that she’d be back before dinner, but as she trudged down the well-worn and muddy path to the address the barhand had hastily scribbled for her she wondered if she might be walking forever--Bellis wasn’t that big, was it? The sun was hanging low in the sky, elongating the shadows of tall Verdruan trees and casting gold, ethereal light onto the puddles in the old road. Finally, she stopped at a small house, tucked into the trees about two hundred paces back from the edge of the road. Linen hung from a clothesline, flapping lightly in the breeze on one side of the house and on the other, a grove of small fruit-bearing trees was nestled against the edge of the forest. She could hear a woman singing, loudly and off-key, somewhere in the fruit grove.

Aviyah cautiously made her way up the path to the house toward the singing, stepping carefully around what looked to be deliberately dug holes in the ground, some with half-buried trinkets in them, and she raised an eyebrow in curiosity, realizing that she had no idea who she was supposed to be meeting here. She knelt down to inspect one of the items in one of the holes--half of a shoe filled with various buttons--and was immediately startled by the sound of someone or something screeching from the trees. A finely-dressed goblin came screaming from the fruit grove, yelling incoherently as he snatched the makeshift pouch from Aviyah’s hands. She raised her hands defensively, showing no weapons, as she was berated by the angry creature, who was snarling and spitting what she assumed had to be curses at her through his sharp teeth. 

“Gnish?” a voice called from nearby. “Gnish what is it? You’d better not be--” The woman Aviyah had heard singing earlier emerged from the trees, a large basket of dark purple fruit perched on her hip. The two women locked eyes for a moment and the basket fell with a thump into the grass. 

“It’s you,” she said quietly, taking a small step forward. The light from the setting sun illuminated her hair into a blaze of orange braided into a messy pile on top of her head. Her skirt and hands were stained with whatever she had been picking and her eyes were wide as she stared down the other girl. 

Aviyah pulled the letter out of the pouch on her hip and held it out to the girl to inspect the seal, but she didn’t. Instead she rushed forward and threw her arms around a stunned Aviyah’s neck. Aviyah settled into the embrace after a moment of surprise and they stayed that way for a moment before the other girl--Aithne, she had to assume-- pulled back with tears in her bright eyes. 

“Come inside,” she said. “I’ll put on the kettle. We have so much to talk about.” 

The small farmhouse was quaint and sparsely decorated. Inside the door, Aviyah was ushered into a small kitchen. Pots and pans were stacked haphazardly on almost every countertop. A brass candelabra dripped wax onto a dining room table crammed into the corner. Aithne pulled out one of the mismatching chairs for her guest and set to work lighting a fire in the small wood stove, cursing under her breath for several moments before the inside began to flicker with the beginnings of a fire. She filled a small pot with water from a pitcher and set it over the grate and then turned to Aviyah, wiping her hands on her apron.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I know it’s not much to look at. Tarik was supposed to be bringing me some hooks for all these wretched pans. I keep saying I don’t need any more but there I am, bringing them home anyway. Oh, Tarik is my husband. He’s not home right now but he should be back soon. You’ve met Gnish already. I would introduce myself but, well?” She gestured to the letter that was still gripped tightly in Aviyah’s hands. “And you’re Aviyah.” 

“You have a lovely home,” Aviyah replied, immediately feeling foolish. She didn’t know what else to say. If she was being honest, she didn’t know what she thought her brother’s company had been like, but she knew this was not what she’d been expecting. 

“Thank you, I--hold that thought!” Aithne turned back to the stove where the small pot was steaming and dipped her finger into the water, hissing at the high temperature and retrieving the pot from the stove. “Sorry! If you let it boil, it’ll absolutely ruin the flavor profile.  My mother didn’t teach me much about cooking but she did teach me how to brew tea.” As she talked, she was pouring the scalding water into small cast iron cups. Aviyah’s lips quirked up in a small smile. So maybe her brother had made some decent friends after all. 

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup from Aithne’s waiting hands graciously, letting the warmth seep into her, feeling the clammy cold that had been plaguing them since they left Wispil slowly being swallowed up. Aithne sat down at the table next to her and they both sat there silently for a spell, absently stirring at their cups. 

“I didn’t think you would come,” Aithne finally said, much more somber than she’d been moments prior. “When I saw you, I thought I’d seen a ghost. Has anyone ever told you how much you look like him?” Aviyah shook her head. No. He’d been barely thirteen years old the last time she’d seen him alive, in that awkward stage between man and boy--probably nothing like the Murdoch that Aithne had known. She had a hard time remembering his face at all.

“I’m sorry,” Aithne spoke softly, her eyes downcast. She fidgeted with a loose thread on her apron. “I’ve been imagining this meeting for so long but I never actually decided what I would say. Nothing feels like enough. Murdoch was--is--like a brother to me but I can’t imagine…” She trailed off and looked up at Aviyah, consciously making eye contact with the other girl. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Aviyah replied, turning the letter over in her hands. “You did more for me than you know. I needed to thank you for treating him with dignity.”

“It’s the very least I could do for someone I owe my life to. I only wish I could have done more,” Aithne looked up as the younger girl took her hand in hers. 

“I understand,” she said softly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “You did everything you could. I am just thankful he had a friend as kind as you.” The girls embraced  for what felt like ages, neither wanting to let go. For Aviyah, it was like hugging her brother one last time. She imagined that maybe it was that way for Aithne, too. Aithne sniffled gracelessly as she pulled back, her face tear-streaked and she smiled a little as she looked at Aviyah, cupping the girl’s cheek in her hand. 

“He always said you’d come home,” she said through her tears. “I doubted him, but there he is proving me wrong again, even now. I can hear the ‘I told you so’ if I listen hard enough.” They both laughed a little, settling back into their chairs. 

“Yeah,” Aviyah agreed. “That sounds like him.” She closed her eyes and tried to remember what he’d sounded like that day. He’d been irritated with her. Father had asked them to stay behind while he met with the supplier but she’d wanted to go to the street vendor just down the dock. She’d begged him to take her but he wouldn’t leave. “What if someone stole our boat? What then?”  Every part of her wished she had listened to him. 

“He never got to see how I turned out,” she said softly after a moment. She mentally chided herself for being so vulnerable with a virtual stranger, but there was something about Aithne, that invited vulnerability and welcomed it with open arms and warm cups of tea. “I never told him I was sorry.” 

“He knew,” Aithne assured her, taking the other girl’s hand in hers and brushing the back of it softly with her thumbs. “I’m sorry you never got to see how he turned out, either. He was an amazing sailor--probably the best I’ve ever known. We travelled together a lot. He talked about you all the time. His favorite stories were always about you. I never got tired of hearing them. When he--well, I didn’t know what else to do. It made sense to write to you. His, uh, your father had already passed and there was no one left so--” 

“Thank you,” Aviyah cut in before she could tell her any more. There was only one thing she needed to know. She cast her eyes down before asking, “Was it painful? Did he suffer?” 

Aithne stiffened and looked away but didn’t let go of Aviyah’s hand. After a long pause she answered, “No. It was all so fast. I didn’t even have time to react before… Bandits, I think. We were transporting something really valuable and the wrong people found out. They attacked before we even knew they were there. They tore the boat apart looking for it. I don’t remember much, just the fire and pulling him on shore. They never found the cargo, but they took everything else from me that night. He would tell me not to blame myself but…”

“He’s right,” the rogue said, picking up her pack from the floor and rummaging through it before pulling a long scarf out of the bag. It had been washed since she first opened the package in Wispil. She had attentively darned the frayed edges in a bright embroidery thread gifted to her by one of the gnomish seamstresses and finished the end of the pattern with the end of Murdoch’s story. She turned it over for a moment, feeling the raised runic patterns under her fingers. “My father used to say that to wear a kapenia was the highest honor in the world. To wear it meant that you belonged to Varisia and its people. Murdoch was the last of my blood kin, but he wasn’t the last of my family.” She placed the kapenia in Aithne’s hands and took a ragged breath before she continued, “This belongs to you now. May Desna guide and keep you.”  

Aithne’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as she shook her head. “No, I couldn’t,” she said, her voice cracking a little as she held it out to Aviyah with shaking hands. She was met with a kind smile and fingers closing over hers, over the scarf. 

“You were there for him when I couldn’t be. You cared for him, you buried him. You are family to him and so you are family to me and to Varisia.” They embraced one more time, Murdoch’s kapenia pinned between them. 

“Thank you.”