Meraki heard the tapping. He glanced over, once or twice, to check what it was. When he realized it was Gideon’s foot, he stopped the glances. He focused on the mug of tea and waited for the water to heat up. While he did so, he ran his mind back… his thoughts coiled inward like shadowed fronds of a fern. To the stem, to where the mystery first began, to when he’d first seen Gideon on the dock. Every interaction, every frown and growled word and awry grin. Why? Why did he feel so repulsed by the attractive human? Why did his field bother him? Why didn’t a single person know anything about the dockhand? Why did crowds split apart for his path? What were intention tremors?
He felt as if he had a million clues right before him, but no understanding of how they all connected. A jumbled mess of puzzle pieces that he tried to fit, even though he knew there were more missing than found. What Meraki did not know, however, was that he was trying to put together one puzzle from pieces sourced from many puzzles. Other than superstitions, he had little understanding when it came to matters beyond the mortal realm. He would never guess, not consciously, for he had no words, no frame to fit such understanding within. But he could feel suspicions in the darker corners of his mind, instinct turning around with curiosity.
The tsat picked up the kettle and poured the water, though it wasn’t quite boiling yet. Hot enough, he figured. He glanced over and saw the wide, dark eyes looking at him… the tapping foot… the calm, handsome face…
What are you hopin’ to find here, exactly?
Meraki hesitated. He turned away and gave a small gasp when he saw that he’d poured too much water into the mug. The wick set aside the kettle, then hurried to try and contain the water. It was no use. It flowed over the edge of the surface, onto the ground, in a hot damp puddle. He reached into his vest and took out a folded rag, then dabbed around the mug to clean it up.
Once finished, he dried off the mug and then walked over. He dampened his field so it wouldn’t bother the other man. The tsat held out the tea and said, “Not hopin’ for anything. Y’ looked like y’ could use a friend… and some tea.”
“I’ll let y’ be, if that’s what y’ want,” he offered. He remained near though, to watch if the human might need help with drinking the tea or if the shaking would cause some trouble. Meraki wasn’t opposed to grabbing onto the mug if required, to avoid a spill or the like. He gazed with his dark green eyes, able to look down at the taller man while Gideon sat in the chair. “Y’ don’t got to worry ‘bout me, Gideon. I knows you think I’m irritatin’ and that I kicked yer hammer off the dock not by accident and that y’ don’t let no one get close to ya, but ent no one can go through life without gettin’ to know some folks for the better of it. Don’t gotta be all alone wit’ it, whatever it is y’ dealin’ wit’.”
“Okay?” he added in a quieter voice. He frowned slightly. “If y’ still want me to go… I’ll go.”
He felt as if he had a million clues right before him, but no understanding of how they all connected. A jumbled mess of puzzle pieces that he tried to fit, even though he knew there were more missing than found. What Meraki did not know, however, was that he was trying to put together one puzzle from pieces sourced from many puzzles. Other than superstitions, he had little understanding when it came to matters beyond the mortal realm. He would never guess, not consciously, for he had no words, no frame to fit such understanding within. But he could feel suspicions in the darker corners of his mind, instinct turning around with curiosity.
The tsat picked up the kettle and poured the water, though it wasn’t quite boiling yet. Hot enough, he figured. He glanced over and saw the wide, dark eyes looking at him… the tapping foot… the calm, handsome face…
What are you hopin’ to find here, exactly?
Meraki hesitated. He turned away and gave a small gasp when he saw that he’d poured too much water into the mug. The wick set aside the kettle, then hurried to try and contain the water. It was no use. It flowed over the edge of the surface, onto the ground, in a hot damp puddle. He reached into his vest and took out a folded rag, then dabbed around the mug to clean it up.
Once finished, he dried off the mug and then walked over. He dampened his field so it wouldn’t bother the other man. The tsat held out the tea and said, “Not hopin’ for anything. Y’ looked like y’ could use a friend… and some tea.”
“I’ll let y’ be, if that’s what y’ want,” he offered. He remained near though, to watch if the human might need help with drinking the tea or if the shaking would cause some trouble. Meraki wasn’t opposed to grabbing onto the mug if required, to avoid a spill or the like. He gazed with his dark green eyes, able to look down at the taller man while Gideon sat in the chair. “Y’ don’t got to worry ‘bout me, Gideon. I knows you think I’m irritatin’ and that I kicked yer hammer off the dock not by accident and that y’ don’t let no one get close to ya, but ent no one can go through life without gettin’ to know some folks for the better of it. Don’t gotta be all alone wit’ it, whatever it is y’ dealin’ wit’.”
“Okay?” he added in a quieter voice. He frowned slightly. “If y’ still want me to go… I’ll go.”
