[Closed] The Flowers Upside Down

[Desiderio Morandi]

an abandoned farmhouse

morning on the 28th of roalis, 2720

H

e glanced up sharply when she laughed, furrowing his brow. It was a surprised sort of laugh; he cleared his throat, a little abashed, though he could not think why. Had he really called her a curious fugitive? And… her name, too, her full name and the name he remembered, which burned on his tongue in a way it absolutely should not have. Why had he said any of it? He was not sure. And looking up at her, a faintly surprised smile on her face and no less redness in her cheeks – from this altogether inappropriate angle – was not helping.

He set himself rather studiously to her ankle, though that was not helping, either.

Least exciting, she said first, and then cleared her throat.

“Only you?” It slipped out; he could not help it at all. He looked up again sharply, his brow furrowing.

Even with his hands on her stockinged ankle, his bafflement drove all thought of impropriety out of his head. Only her? Only her? There was no ‘only’ to it, or to anything about her. It seemed that every time he tried not to look at her, he found himself looking even harder, and noticing – more and more things.

It was only the case, he told himself, only the puzzle. That was separate from any friendship they may have had once. That accounted for his curiosity about the scars, and his strangely lingering desire to remember the feeling of her hand in his, with its servant’s calluses, and how newly small it felt. Or the feeling of her back, soft but strangely solid, where it had brushed his arm; or the sight of her in an embroidered summer dress, or the thought of her red-faced and wispy-haired and with a flour-dusted apron, hard at work in an unfamiliar kitchen. Or in any number of other places, in Hesse or even Mugroba; it was baffling, how little he knew.

It was only that, for all these incongruencies, he thought she might well be the most exciting fugitive he had ever… hmm.

He cleared his throat.

“I did,” he replied, frowning. “But I am very good at what I do,” he added, because he could not quite help it. He eased back from her ankle on his haunches, taking a deep breath.

He stood up around the time that she winced; he clicked his teeth again, grimacing. “You shall if you rest it,” he snapped. “Otherwise –”

I shall have you relieved of duty, he had almost said.

“Huh,” he snorted, sighing. “The swelling has gone down already. It should continue to improve, so long as you take care with it. Again, you should rather have a doctor or a living conversationalist. Alas,” he repeated, “it is only I.”

He paused a moment to look over her shoulder, where Shadow’s bulky shape, blurry and dark at this distance except for a lolling red tongue, was skidding about the greenery and panting. And rolling around in the mud. He supposed Aurelie was right; he would need a bath. And sooner than later, if they did not wish for Graywatch to find them by smell.

He tested the ropes then with his hands. It was easier to find the bucket and the pulley now that he could see; the well was not, he thought, as long-abandoned as he had originally supposed.

“Perhaps with your unorthodox methodology at being a fugitive and my expertise at catching them, we may get somewhere together.” His voice was dry and deadpan. “I daresay you have more experience than I do, regardless. Until an hour ago, I had none at all.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 28, 2720 - Morning
An Abandoned Farmhouse

Desiderio sounded rather surprised, or possibly annoyed, at her choice of words. She didn't know quite at what part. She couldn't imagine she'd proven that hard to track down, had she? Not that being difficult to catch was an achievement to be proud of. Aurelie felt still a pinching, wincing discomfort that she should need to be "caught" at all.

There was an awkward silence after that. He was still holding her ankle, so she was rather limited in her choices of distractions. The longer he spent fussing over it, the harder it was for her to ignore. Bells and chimes. Yes, only her! Only one short, red-haired passive among... Among so many. She was surprised anyone could pick her out from a crowd well enough to track her down, really. She'd never been worth much notice before.

Maybe he found it insulting. If she thought about it, it certainly implied he wasted his time trying to find her. Aurelie didn't think Inspector Morandi was a man who enjoyed wasting his time. Aurelie was more sure of it when he spoke; she could hear the frown in his voice. Injured his professional pride, she supposed. Her stomach twisted a little, thinking of just what it was that he did.

How many others? How many detainees were there, like her? Who had made it out, who probably just wanted to—to live their lives, like anyone else, and instead they'd... Aurelie suppressed a shudder. The pictures she had of her friend and the man he was now just didn't quite make sense. If he thought it was the right thing to do, why were they here now? And if he didn't...? She didn't understand, and it made her heart ache for wanting to.

"Otherwise?" She couldn't tell if that was funny or not. It would have been funny, coming from someone she knew was a friend who loved her. From this half-stranger, it was just... odd. Not threatening, not really, but not funny either. Her attempt at levity didn't work very well either, so she couldn't really judge.

"No, I don't think I should rather." Aurelie hadn't meant to sound so—sentimental, silly. That was her natural state, though. Not much she could do about that. And it was true, anyway. "I-I mean, er. That is. It's only sprained, I'm sure. And I'm, ah. I'm glad it is you, Desiderio."

Bells and chimes. She was glad he'd released her ankle and eased back before she said that. She set about putting her shoe back on, letting that distract her from anything else she might have felt. Or at least much of what else she did feel. Unfortunately, she was too used to getting dressed in the darkness to find it as challenging as she might otherwise. Rising before dawn, before her roommates were awake, rather had that effect.

Desiderio must have been testing the well, from the squeaking somewhere above her. Aurelie finished tying her shoes, trusting him to be rather more equipped to figure that out than she was at the moment. She did hate being so useless. Shadow padded over; he must have been enjoying himself, because he was panting heavily. And he smelled even worse than he had before—they absolutely needed to give him a bath before they moved on. Aurelie doubted Desiderio knew magics strong enough to distract anyone from that.

There it was again, that flat tone that he'd not really had as a child. It was, she realized, him making a joke. Desiderio didn't seem any better at it than she was. And that—"together", he'd said. Aurelie tried not to put much weight on it, but her heart wasn't listening. Even as it pinched and twisted around the idea of Desiderio as a fugitive, like she was. Because of her. There had to be—something he could do. To make it right. Otherwise, he'd have just... thrown away so much. For her sake. No, that just wasn't... wasn't possible.

"I, ah, I don't think you will be able to rely on the, uhm, extremely technical method of not being worth much notice." Aurelie had the most absurd picture of him dressed in human-styled clothing. The image was hard to hold, given how ridiculous it was. Picturing him as a wick was even worse. A giggle escaped her, before she covered her mouth with a hand. Shadow chose that moment to put his face next to hers, and her giggle turned to a gag.

"Oh, my sweet boy, what have you been doing? We're going to have to bathe Shadow for sure," she added, turning her face in what she thought was Desiderio's general direction. "He smells like he rolled around in something dead."

[Desiderio Morandi]

an abandoned farmhouse

morning on the 28th of roalis, 2720

S

quinting down into the darkness, he could make out little but the glint of light off water. The rope held as he lowered the empty bucket in, trying not to be quite so conscious of Aurelie at his elbow, or of the way the last hour was sinking – slowly but surely – in. Sweat was beading on the back of his neck, and his headache was drumming steadily, if still distantly. That had been a magnificent cast; the perceptive mona still felt as if they breathed with the certainty of it.

Strange, how even with the creeping turn of the seconds and his growing dread, that certainty still sat in him as steady as anything. If Alioe had turned back the minutes, even over and over again, he felt without a single doubt that he would have done the same thing until She let them pass unscathed.

He was reaching for the crank when she spoke again. He did not quite understand; she stammered, and he watched her in profile, his brows knit heavy. Only sprained. Well, one did not have to be surgeon to tell her that, it was true.

I’m glad it is you, Desiderio.

His throat caught and he turned away abruptly, nearly fumbling the crank. The bucket juddered in the well. He righted himself as she busied herself about putting her shoe on, and he began to lower the bucket mechanically, forcing a few even breaths in and out of himself.

Hurte, but Shadow stank to the heavens! There was that to distract him, at least, now that pup had rejoined them.

The bucket reached the bottom. It was damnably hot, but he could not bring himself to take off his jacket again. The bucket was a good weight as he started to turn the crank again, and heartened, he smelled nothing but old stone and water from the well.

“I –” He frowned again, looking at her sidelong. Not worth much notice? He thought of her in the market suddenly, browsing squashes, her grey kerchief two heads beneath even the human women.

He was reminded absurdly of when they were children, creeping about Briarwood Hall with its endless, strangely-named parlors and hallways and studies, with the grand statues that seemed to dwarf two very small, very quiet children. Adults all elsewhere, and attendants that seemed mostly content to ignore them, even with his weak eddle of a field. Another strange expression tugged at his lips. He remembered what that was like.

Aurelie let out a giggle before stifling it with her hand. He cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious. He supposed he was rather – well.

And even without the rest, the Seventen did not train its officers to be unassuming.

But it turned into a gag, which rather reflected his feelings on the matter of Shadow’s natural perfume. “Hmph. Whatever he has been doing, he has made himself foul. I am no bed of roses myself, but pup –” He coughed, scowling. “It will allow you to rest your ankle,” he said brusquely, wrinkling his nose.

The bucket came up full, slopping glistening water from the edge. Not the cleanest water, perhaps, but not near as filthy as Shadow – and it would do for them. With a grunt of effort, he set it on the edge.

Aurelie was looking up now, though not at him; her green eyes were wide on somewhere over his shoulder.

He shuffled through his bag for a spare cloth. He hesitated when he found one; he looked over again at her, then back down, frowning. “I am glad that it is you here, as well,” he said, “Aurelie.”

Shadow was straining toward her face with his tongue, once again.

“I know little else.” Harsh, again. “I did not recognize you. At first. I do not know what I might have done, if I had not –” He snorted sharply, dunking the rag in the water; it was bracingly cold. “I know nothing else. Other than that I am sure. I would subdue another magister, if I had to.”

Shadow had perked up his ears, his striped face alert. “Perhaps you should bathe Shadow,” he said, frowning. “I think he does not like me so well.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 28, 2720 - Morning
An Abandoned Farmhouse

The mechanism for the well must be in ill repair. Aurelie heard some more wild squeaking after she began to tie her shoes. Hopefully not in so poor a state that they couldn't draw any water—that would certainly make the whole idea of washing that much more difficult. She didn't fancy trying to hobble to the Arova, nor did she think Desiderio would let her.

If the Arova was even near—Aurelie had no idea how close they had gotten on their way, or how far they had drifted. She wouldn't have known even with her sight. The longer she was away from Brunnhold, the more troubled she was by how very little she knew of the country of her birth. It wasn't too terribly unusual, not being particularly well-traveled, but it rankled at her.

Not just where things were, but how they were, who lived in them... It all made her acutely aware that she had underestimated how small her world really had been for... Well, for her entire life, really. Before Brunnhold there was Briarwood—that sprawling house was a world by itself. Big enough for two small, quiet children. And now? She didn't know.

Shadow, also, would have been a problem if they'd had to find some alternate source of water. She heard no growls or other noises of displeasure from Desiderio nearby, other than a clearing of his throat after she laughed, so she had to assume that everything was in working order. (Had she insulted him by laughing? She did hope not, she only meant—bells and chimes.)

Thank the Lady's providence, because much as she had come immediately to love him, she would be much happier to have him lick her face when he smelled a bit less like rot. Aurelie heard the bucket come back up, and Desiderio setting it down on the edge of the well. Then she heard him speak—and abruptly lost whatever scrap of composure she'd managed to gather for herself.

He was? He was—glad, to... That...? Her mouth opened, but she could find nothing to say. Of all things, she thought she might cry. How could he possibly be glad? Her heart lurched; she blinked rapidly, and turned her face away. Fortunately, Shadow was doing his best to give her as many kisses as possible. Preventing him from doing so (which she didn't want to do, but she wanted a mouth that smelled like that on her face even less) gave her a reasonable distraction. She knew she must look like some kind of overripe tomato, though; she could feel the heat on the back of her neck and all over her face.

Desiderio kept speaking. Aurelie hadn't recognized him either; they had both changed. That idea came with no small amount of sadness—it was only natural, but she had always thought that they would change together. That wasn't the half of it though, because he was still speaking.

"I would subdue another magister, if I had to."

She had been, this whole time, trying to tell herself that none of this had anything to do with her, specifically. Even as she couldn't stop herself from prying at the edges of memory, of trying to find some little piece of friendship, she was trying. Easier to think he'd done what he had done for some personal reason she didn't understand than to let herself believe that he still cared about her—that Desiderio Morandi was still, any part of him, her friend. It would only hurt more when—when she was proven wrong, if she let herself hope like that.

How was she supposed to do that when he said things like that? When he said her name, that he was glad she was there, that he would...? Aurelie hadn't the slightest idea what her face was doing, other than burning up. Or her head, or her heart. They seemed to all be in a similar state of confusion.

"I—" She stopped, choked. Should she feel so touched by that? She was worried, too—for him, not herself. She didn't want to... to ruin things for him, again. Or—that was thinking too highly of it all, assuredly. Nothing seemed ruined for him now, with his career and fiancée and... Oh, she didn't know. She didn't know anything at all.

"I'm sure that's not true," she said, more emphatically than she meant. Chimes. "I mean, ah, only... Er. W-well, maybe... He will, I'm sure. Uhm. I've just been... been the one feeding him." Aurelie didn't think she had done much to earn Shadow's affection beyond that, either. She couldn't imagine that he wouldn't like Desiderio, given time.

"I, ah, can bathe him though. We ought to do that first, before... I suspect it will make... Something of a mess. I've never tried to bathe a dog before." Or a banderwolf, either. That was still hard to think of. He just seemed like such a friendly puppy. "But I'll do my best," she added, and hazarded a smile. Not for Shadow this time, but for Desiderio. Warm as the Roalis air, Circle help her. She was decidedly touched, after all.

[Desiderio Morandi]

an abandoned farmhouse

morning on the 28th of roalis, 2720

S

he had turned away from him, at first, even blind as she was. He knew it, that he should not have spoken so – he could tell now by the way she reddened nearly to the tips of her ears that he should not have. Regardless of what he was to her now, guard or friend or jailor or stranger, he had as heavy a touch with speaking his feelings as he did anything else; and he was quite sure that he had gone too far.

He only wanted to tell her – and by Hurte’s loveliness, the more he wanted it, the harsher he seemed to himself – to make clear to her, somehow, just how certain he was. He had not given the twentieth part of a thought to what all of this might mean, yet; not even the sight of the engagement ring on his finger could at this moment bring him out of the daze that urgency and adrenaline had put him in.

But whatever the consequences of this, whoever and whatever she was now, he felt utterly sure of something, something he felt he must tell her, something – something, he did not know what.

He felt rather more like a bander wolf than pup, who was now dutifully and enthusiastically lapping at her face. When she turned back to him, she tried to speak; he heard the words choke in her throat. He studied her face for as long as he could bear to, unable to read her expression, then turned away himself.

Only, when she spoke again, there was a warm, kind sort of certainty in her voice, as soft as his had been harsh. She went on, stuttering. He looked back, his brow furrowed.

Pup whined softly. Her face was still scarlet.

She was smiling up at him with that same warmth, or at somewhere in the middle of his chest, which was no less frightening.

“I shall help, then,” he said brusquely and matter-of-factly, “insofar as I can. Though I have never bathed a dog before, either.” She had been silent on the rest, as if mortified with embarrassment or fright; best not, he thought wryly, draw attention to his outburst.

She was right. It would be a terrible mess. Hesitating, he shed his jacket, finally, folding it abruptly and setting it aside on his bag. It would hardly do him any good if pup splattered mud and gods knew what else all over him; it was bad enough that she had nothing clean herself. And it was –

It might well be his last uniform for some time, some quiet, practical voice inside of him said. The sash in particular he was averse to mishandling: the sight of the monite stitched into it, crisp and solid, made something inside him twist.

His dress uniform was already a sad sight to behold, though he would take it with him, too, and see – what could be done for it.

Fishing out another cloth, he sat down beside her, unhooking the bucket and setting it at their feet. Pup tensed; Morandi grunted, uncomfortable, trying to loosen his posture.

“Animals – do not take well to me,” he said, frowning. “As a general rule.” They had once, he knew, when he was a boy; again, Seventen training, and his particular temperament, did not lend itself to the most approachable…

He offered her one of the cloths.

“The bucket is at your knee.” He paused, looking down instead of over. “You shall keep Shadow yourself, then?” His tone was no less brusque, but there was a lump in his throat. “Dogs. Five or six of them we promised ourselves, I believe.” He could almost remember their names; he had wanted to name one of them Francesca, after his youngest aunt. A graceful , long-nosed hound with billowing white curls. A bander wolf had been rather beyond even his childish imagination.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 28, 2720 - Morning
An Abandoned Farmhouse

Had she been able to speak at all, Aurelie might have been compelled to apologize. She had grown, she regretted to say, into a very silly sort of person. Perhaps she might not have, in the expected course of things, but she strongly suspected that this foolishness was in her nature. Desiderio couldn't possibly have meant that quite the way she was taking it, anyway. So it was undoubtedly for the best that when she did find her voice, it was to talk about—Shadow.

Together, they could do that... together. That made sense; two people were better than one, and Shadow was a large pup. (How old was he? There was no way to know, but Aurelie wondered just how big he was going to end up. He already came halfway up her thigh—surely he wouldn't get much bigger than this...? She wasn't a tall woman, even by galdori standards, but still...)

"A, uhm, journey of discovery for us both, then." Aurelie wished she could see his face—she had no idea what sort of reaction he had to anything she said unless he chose to inform her somehow. She hadn't, even when she could see him, found Inspector Morandi particularly easy to read. But this was so much worse, and much more frustrating. Aurelie had grown so reliant on watching others for signs of—all sorts of things. How would she...?

She would adjust, she reminded herself again. She would. She had to. It wasn't like she had any choice in the matter.

Aurelie heard a rustling—fabric? His jacket, she realized. He must have put on a clean one. That was... smart. They would likely end up filthy before they got Shadow anything approaching clean. Aurelie couldn't have done the same, even if she had a jacket to spare—that would hardly be appropriate. Even if she didn't count as a young woman properly, the principle was still... That much still applied. Probably. Just as well that this filthy, miserable dress was the only thing she had to wear.

Desiderio's voice came from somewhere near her, after she heard the sound of a bucket being set down. He must have come to sit next to her. Aurelie was oddly aware of it, for something she couldn't see. "R-Really? They always seemed to like you well enough, when we... Ah. When we were, uhm. Children."

The groundkeeper's dogs, in particular, had liked the both of them. Once, one of the females (a pretty little thing, what had her name been?) had given birth and they'd both been allowed to play with the puppies. Oh, Nurse had scolded them soundly when she found out. Aurelie had gotten scolded the most—Briarwood Hall was her home, and she had a duty to everyone within its walls. Suppose the dogs had hurt Desiderio? His health, after all, was so very poor.

That wasn't a concern anymore, Aurelie thought, remembering with startling clarity the feeling of linen and just the slightest bit of his skin on the tip of a finger. You stop that immediately! Health didn't seem quite a fair trade, if that were true.

"Thank you," she murmured, groping out for the cloth held out to her. She thought absolutely nothing at all when she touched the fingers of his hand in grasping it; hadn't she just had her hand in his not too many moments ago? No, no, wait. That was a singularly unhelpful line of thought.

"O-Oh, well, ah. I'm not—sure I... W-Well, that is, if Cass doesn't mind and... Since I'm not... Ahem. Maybe. But if you... wanted to...? I still think h-he would be a good... family..." Aurelie chewed on her lip, plunging the cloth into the water. Oh, it was bitingly cold! A welcome relief against the Roalis heat, but only barely. She held a hand out somewhere in front of her—Shadow had wandered off again.

"...At least five or six, absolutely." They'd had such names for them—one after an aunt of Desiderio's, she remembered that much. Jewel, she thought, had been one of her suggestions. Big dogs; Nurse had always thought that was funny, considering they weren't particularly large themselves. She'd begged Desiderio to draw them all; she remembered how delighted she had been with those drawings. With all those plans. "With bander wolves, perhaps... only the one is enough." A soft smile, an aching voice. Aurelie tucked her hair behind her ears with a wet hand, leaving the cloth in the bucket for now.

"Shadow! Come here, darling—where have you gone? Shadow!" She pitched her voice, projecting it perhaps more than she needed to. She had no idea how far away he'd wandered, however, and wanted to make sure he heard.

[Desiderio Morandi]

an abandoned farmhouse

morning on the 28th of roalis, 2720

H

er fingers brushed his. They were very warm, where the cold water was drying from his; he felt gooseflesh raise on his arms, and decided firmly to ignore it.

Children. She had stuttered once again. He was not altogether sure what to say himself.

He had tried to avoid wondering what life might have been like, had everything gone as it should. No, no ‘should’; he had thought it briefly so as a boy, that the Circle had intended some course that had gone awry – but that verged on blasphemy. What ‘should’ have happened was what had happened, and there could have been no other Desiderio Morandi, and no other Aurelie Steerpike, besides.

And what on Vita had he done to his Ever now? He was Inspector Morandi, not her Des; this was not his life, sitting here with someone he had never thought to see again, with the only person in the world save his mother and his uncle who remembered –

“Family,” he grunted sharply. He had not meant for it to come out so – harshly.

He watched her find the bucket in her halting new way, dip the rag in. He glanced up; pup was looking rather dubiously at the bucket, and now he began to wander off again, as if casually, though he looked once or twice over his shoulder. Distracted, he did not think to stand.

A family dog. He tried to imagine Amelie and pup. “I will keep my promise,” he began again, frowning slightly. “But I would not have the two of you parted. If this – Cass – has no objections, I would hardly… I would never take him from you.”

Besides, if she were – a guide might be – no. No use thinking about that. She was tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, and he was struck with another ache of familiarity. Her voice was soft, then; it took him aback. The words froze in his throat.

He was not sure where had gone the drawings he had made of the dogs – the little splotch in the middle of Jewel’s forehead, he remembered – though he felt sure that Mother had thrown them out, their first year back in Bastia. He had done little to stop her; he had spent most of it shut up in his room.

He had very few of his drawings from when he was a child. None, almost, save what Aunt Francesca and Aunt Sicilia had kept, and those somewhere in the mountains of Caroult.

She raised her voice perhaps a little too much; Shadow, who had only gone a little ways away, turned hesitantly and let out a low whine. “He does indeed seem to have the personality of at least five,” Morandi said brusquely, but with a very small smile in Aurelie’s direction.

Shadow began to trot back.

“The water is cold, pup, but it is for your benefit. I would recommend that you get used to listening to your mistress. You are unlikely to find a better one.” Talking to a dog, now, as if he were issuing orders. Ridiculous – and only when the last part had left his lips did he realized what he had said.

He shifted, clearing his throat.

“You have a good, strong voice,” he said, looking over and down at her curiously. “I learned to project, among other things, at Numbrey; I –”

Something in her expression stopped him; he cleared his throat again, looking down. She was hardly another Seventen! Where did he think she had picked up the skill? “If you should rather me not ask, or…” He stiffened. “I am afraid that in learning how to conduct an interrogation, I may have forgotten how to hold a conversation. Among – other things.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 28, 2720 - Morning
An Abandoned Farmhouse

The way Desiderio said "family", so sharp—Aurelie wondered if she had been assuming something she ought not to. Desiderio might not—want or... But she didn't think that was so. He was engaged, after all. Why else would he be engaged, if not for that? Aurelie supposed one could be married and have no children, by choice or circumstance, but it had always struck her as slightly strange.

They had always assumed... But they were children themselves, then, and it was entirely possible that he might have grown to not want those things after all. Aurelie had thought, off and on, that he might have grown not to want her. They would have been married regardless, and she knew that was just sometimes how these things went, but the idea had always made her sad.

None of this was in any way relevant. Desiderio had—done what he had done, for her. (This idea was still too large and too terrifying for her to swallow fully, but she was forcing herself to think of it in the hopes of absorbing it bit by bit.) But that didn't change the fact that he had a life that she wanted him to return to, one that did not and could not have her in it any more than it ever had. Whether or not he wanted ten children or none at all was not something she was allowed to know. She could only hope she hadn't overstepped with her assumptions.

Despite her insistence that she meant it, that she thought Shadow would make a good family pet and that she truly would have been happy knowing Desiderio was taking care of him, part of Aurelie was relieved when he said he wouldn't take Shadow if she could keep him. That was selfish of her; she didn't think she was in any fit state to take care of much of anything, and Shadow already seemed like he'd been through enough.

"Well, if you're sure," she said, grateful. "But, ah, let me know if you... you change your mind." It would be good, she thought, to have him with her. The city still made her feel so nervous, after living in such an enclosed world for so long—but maybe with Shadow by her side, it would be all right.

The proximity of Shadow's whine after she called out was—much closer than she'd thought. She didn't need to have been quite so loud. That was mildly embarrassing, but Desiderio said nothing of her shouting right next to him. She couldn't bring herself to turn in his direction, but she spared a small, grateful smile nonetheless. It widened into something warmer and less flustered when he spoke; Shadow certainly did seem to have plenty of personality.

Desiderio spoke to Shadow like he was speaking to a lower-ranking officer. Aurelie almost giggled again—it really was oddly charming, for all his brusqueness—but the last sentence flustered her too much. Shadow could almost assuredly find a better mistress than her. In fact, he probably should, and it was cruel of her to keep him with her just because... because she was lonely, she supposed. "A, uhm, very convincing argument."

Ah, there it was—he did think she had been too loud, after all. Although he didn't sound upset with her. No more than she was coming to accept as his general manner, anyway. In fact, he sounded, of all things, like he was just... curious. About her? Whatever for?

"Oh, I... I don't mind," she offered, frowning. Shadow had come over again, and had stuck his head in the bucket of water. She wasn't sure that was particularly a good idea, but she supposed... It was no worse than the water he'd been living on this whole time, surely? "You can, ah, ask me if you'd like. It... I..." Aurelie stopped, chewing on her lip.

"I want to know, too, you know. About... you, how you—" Why was this so hard to say? She didn't think it was just that she didn't want him to think she was prying. Private and professional lives kept separate—which, now, did she fall into? "I want to know how things are for you now. How they've been. I, uhm. I might not always have good answers to what you ask me, though. Kitchens are noisy," she added, with a shy smile, "and it's important to be heard. For, er, safety and such."

[Desiderio Morandi]

an abandoned farmhouse

morning on the 28th of roalis, 2720

I

do not, he wanted to snap, change my mind.

It was a terribly silly thing to want to say. It was something about the grateful, hopeful softness in her voice; it tugged at him in more ways he did not wish to be tugged.

And it was false, too: Morandi had changed his mind an hour ago, and changed his life in ways which he had not yet even considered, which seemed with each new second to be like a pit opening up underneath him.

But this was – different. He had told her, had he not? He had told her he would not have her parted with pup; he had told her in so many words, and quite firmly, too. Even he could tell that she loved pup. She loved pup, he thought, in a way that weighed a great deal heavier than an idle desire for a family dog. Morandi had done more than a few things which might have been called cruel in the name of justice, but changing his mind on whether or not he wanted her dog, after telling her emphatically that she should take it if she could –

It was the pointlessness, he supposed, that irked him. Even reaching down to push Shadow’s head from the bucket, he could not seem to stop thinking about it.

Why did it irk him this much?

If he would swear to her that she could keep her dog and then change his mind, then what was there to keep him from changing his mind about the whole ordeal? Turning her over to salvage his career, his life, his – family, he thought, to which pup might go.

He found himself distracted, if not completely, when she spoke again. He looked over, watching her steadily.

Want to know, she said first, then – you know. Then, about…

You, she said finally, then stumbled into silence.

He looked down, then back over. She was not looking at him, but there was a small, shy smile on her face. “I should think it would be so,” he agreed.

He hesitated. Kitchens, he kept thinking, baffled. How – terribly human. So Mother had said, anyway, when he had let slip as a boy that he had been watching Aurelie bake, of all things; he had promised never to help, or to put himself in way of a hot oven. She had threatened to tell the Steerpikes – she had said something about the youngest Steerpike being a lady, and something rather cruel about the sorts of scars one saw on cooks.

His eyes wandered back down to her hands, then glanced away. To his own hands: callused, long-fingered, rough around the edges – but with neat, well-clipped nails, by contrast, and no scars.

“It is so in the Seventen,” he offered. “In – heated moments, it is best to… hear and be heard. And not to deliver anything which could be delivered as an order as a suggestion. The habit… carries over somewhat.” He cleared his throat. “But you may ask what you will, as well. Though I am afraid that I am – what I am, and may have no good answers myself.”

A pause.

“Yours was a good answer. It was what I wanted to know,” he added, firm and abrupt. “I am not gifted at speech, but I know a little something of questions and answers.”

Not a particularly good joke, under the circumstances. Sometimes his jokes came out sounding rather more like threats.

“I shall admit that I am – Shadow!” Another little red crackle through his field at a splatter of muddy water in his face; he wiped it off, grimacing.

Pup shook himself off cheerfully.

He took a deep breath. “Curious,” he went on, glancing back down. “About the bracelet upon your wrist. I insisted that it come with you, at Graywatch; it seems to mean a great deal to you.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Roalis 28, 2720 - Morning
An Abandoned Farmhouse

Aurelie had said she would answer his questions, and she would. She didn't know how, or why he would ask them—she didn't think most of her answers were of much interest to anyone at all. The only person who had ever called her exciting was Yazad, and he was a very singular young man.

Well, and Desiderio. He'd circled around the idea, at least. That, surely, was her fugitive status and not her as a person.

Still, it was odd. She wasn't sure how he'd take it. Aurelie wasn't used to talking about herself, really. And she knew—she knew that most of the answers she could give him would be unpleasant reminders of what she was. She could only hope they'd be worth something anyway. Aurelie wasn't sure, not with the silence that fell after she talked about the kitchens.

They're bigger, she almost said, than anything at Briarwood Hall ever was. Briarwood had seemed so vast to her as a child—and yet Brunnhold was bigger, and there were so many people within its walls. More than one kitchen, even, to support them all. It was terrifying, she could have said too. Terrifyingly large, and that hive of activity—she had worried she'd never find a place in it, that it would swallow her up entirely. Her own family did not want her; why would these people, this place?

Brunnhold didn't want her. Not in the least. But it needed her, and Aurelie had found that of more comfort. She had worked hard so it would need her—in all the ways a Steerpike shouldn't, a lady shouldn't, but she had and she had succeeded. For a while. Aurelie tried not to think of if she could do it again, or about how much bigger Old Rose Harbor was than Brunnhold. Or Anaxas, or all of Vita.

Desiderio broke the silence with talk of the Seventen. Similar; Aurelie could see how that would be. For all her diffusiveness outside of the kitchen, she thought she understood. You didn't gently warn someone of a hot pot in your hands, or give them room to talk back. The machine needed all the pieces in line to operate; what was true of the Brunnhold kitchens seemed to hold true of the Seventen as well.

"So I've heard," she offered, her mouth twisting into something that was neither a smile nor a frown. She couldn't make sense of it still. The friend she had loved was as suited to the life of the Seventen as, well, she would be. (Something in her wondered at that, and it made her uneasy.) "I'm not so good with it myself," she added, softer. The question she wanted to ask the most was about this change; Aurelie knew she wouldn't. Not now, perhaps not ever.

Certainly not with Shadow splattering them with water, prompting some hot crackle through Desiderio's field that made her flinch. Only a little; Shadow seemed unconcerned. Not so much as a yip or a whine. They really need to wash him off. She called his attention to her and began the process as best she could without being able to see him. He put a wet, likely muddy paw on her leg.

Her hands paused in their efforts at the mention of the bracelet. She almost went to shove her hand reflexively in her pockets, but she didn't have any. Desiderio had clearly already seen it, anyway. Still, she hesitated. For some reason, she didn't want to tell him in a way that felt very—beyond the soft sort of ache she felt about it in general. Desiderio had done that...? Even then, he'd insisted...? Her face softened; she resumed attempting to get the filth off of the dog while she answered.

"It does—or it did, or... Someone gave it to me," she said, stumbling her way through. She'd never—she didn't know how to talk about this, to anyone. She'd never had to. Nobody had ever asked, not really, not even Aremu. Ana had been the closest she had come, and she... Aurelie flinched away from the memory. That hadn't been... Aurelie tried to speak carefully, picking through her words like picking a path through brambles.

"A... A friend made it for me. In return for a very poor gift I made him," she added, mouth twisting into another odd-feeling smile. It fell off her face almost straight away. Aurelie shrugged. "Maybe I'm just sentimental, but I... I haven't been given a lot of things. So even though I... W-Well. Thank you for... For insisting that... I still have the drawing you gave me," she blurted out, to her own horror. Replacing one awkward subject with another. Bells and chimes, this was a habit she'd be happy to grow out of!