Afternoon, 36 Dentis, 2719
The Ibutatu Residence, Quarter Fords
There were things to do, after all, and he had no time to waste. He only had a few good hours before he had to get back to the place of his employ. So, he made his choice, and he headed through the neighborhoods to walk through Quarters Fords until he found a familiar looking house.
At the gate of the estate, Meraki hesitated for a few minutes before he finally moved past and down the small path lined by trees. The quiet house wasn’t so shadowed in the afternoon light, but it was as large as he remembered. His steps slowed while he approached the front door. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea… what if the golly answered the door? What if she were still angry at him for reading those books?
Meraki frowned. He picked up his feet, refused to act so hesitant, and made himself walk quicker. While he might have felt uncertain, he wouldn’t show it in any visible sense. The tsat reached the front door. He took a quick breath, then knocked lightly on it. He waited a minute or so, then knocked louder.
…and no answer. The wick leaned back and glanced over the house. Maybe they were out? Or away… He thought about the books inside the place. He could finish reading them if the- would they be able to even track them down if they got taken out of the- - no, no… he couldn’t do that. Meraki shook his head and stopped his survey of the exterior. While he felt the temptation, he liked to believe he knew better than that.
The young wick looked far worse than the last time he’d seen Aremu. His clothing had faded and stained with multiple washes of getting blood out… but the faint recollection of blood could never be entirely forgotten by the cheap material. His hands were bandaged in thin gauze, the beige-white dappled with rust-red stains. His bottom lip looked to be a terrible affair, scabbed over a wide split that had the middle stages of bruising around the swollen flesh. His temple had similar coloration of bruises dappled around his temple and cheek. His vest, like usual, was left open but hung heavier on his frame. Whatever injuries he hid under the clothes, was anyone’s guess. Rougher blood-speckled spots on his shirt, at the side of his lower back, made it obvious something had been there. Meraki tried to fix his hair some. The copper-blond strands were still messy from recently waking up. His eyes were swollen too, in red puffy and smoke-irritated exhaustion.
But he wanted to visit. For multiple reasons, some better than others. He wanted to see how Aremu was faring, now that there’d been some time for the injuries to heal – a good fifteen days or so worth – and… as he glanced at the house once again… maybe he could ask some questions of the other man. Maybe he could… maybe he could see if… he thought about the books again.
Meraki slammed his palm against the door this time, flatly knocking on it and he called, “Hello? Is anybody home? Aremu, you in there?” Stupid big houses. Even if they were home, they probably couldn’t even hear… Meraki glanced to the side, then rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for this! He impatiently shuffled on the front step, then started to walk back down the path to leave. Maybe he'd try again tomorrow.