[Memory] One of the Few Good Memories

A troubled little girl meets an ally.

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Retired Ishma
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Sat Jun 08, 2019 12:00 am

HOME ✹ OLD ROSE HARBOR
on the 5th of achtus, 2710 • during the night
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The night was long, and full of wonder. More than that, though, the night was full of joy, of merrymaking, of laughter and smiles and more than a little drinking. Or - he hadn't been drinking, no, that'd been someone else... that shorter kov he'd brought home earlier, he'd been the one that'd smelled of liquor, hadn't he? Or perhaps that'd been the other kov, back at the bar? Oh, he didn't know. The wick hadn't had a thing to drink but water all night, to soothe that annoying dryness in his mouth, but it'd done little good. By the time he retired to his bed, the young man had still been downing the stuff, a half-empty glass set haphazardly on the edge of the ramshackle bedside table.

Ishma had grumbled all the way there, stumbling through the dimly-lit hall to his bedroom, still not fully at home within the walls of the little house. Muttering about getting ripped off hours before, about some rude chip that had been sitting next to him down at the bar, trying unsuccessfully to get enough Monite from his lips to light his path. He'd made it, that was all that mattered really - and he'd fallen into bed with a comfortable sigh, lying carelessly on his stomach, the dark-haired wick not even bothering to pull the blankets over his form.

It was perhaps due to his overwhelming tiredness (too much excitement for one day did that to you, he knew) that it took a few moments for the Mugrobi to be pulled from his slumber, the faint sound of a familiar voice reaching his ears. Slowly he stirred, pushing himself up with his elbows and taking a moment to register his surroundings.

Still in his room, weird as it still was to think of having a room of his own, so that was a plus. Still dark outside. Still dry-mouthed and slightly hazy, but moments later the man seemed to recall the sounds from the other room, and dragged himself from the warm bed. Clearing his throat, Ishma walked barefoot through the darkness, this time managing to light the room as he muttered a few words of Monite - the sight of his hama, pulling some boch into the house, well that was enough to pull him back to reality.

"Oh," said the wick, eyebrows raised, his face betraying his confusion, "oh dear."

The green-eyed spoke moved forward, closer to the two, "what 'n th' world happened t' ye, boch?" already he was looking her over, eyes narrowed in concern, even as his glamour told of his inward distress - what the man was upset about wasn't exactly clear, but he was uncomfortable with the situation for sure. Ishma glanced to his lover, reaching out and brushing an open palm against the man's arm as if in greeting, "get her some water, will ye? an'... an' pick some of th' green, serrated leaves from th' pot on th' windowsill, and crush 'em up."

Junia leaves, right. It'd been a bit since he'd had to heal someone, but those would do well in taking away the pain.

"An' you, come sit at th' table, boch - need t' get ye off yer feet," even as he spoke the tall young man reached out to the girl, offering assistance to the table should she require it.

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Caina Rose
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Sat Jun 08, 2019 1:22 am

Anaxas/Old Rose Harbour
on the 5th of Achtus, 2710 • Midnight
Tom was right, he really was. Caina remembered soon after her father had died, she’d tried to go back to their house. But her mother, that damn woman, had still been there. She was still living her life. And for a moment, Caina had thought that she could do it too. But even though the house was the same, it hadn’t felt like home anymore. Because Caina couldn’t ignore the fact that her father was gone. She’d barely managed an hour in the house before… well. Before the ‘incident’. Even thinking about it made Caina sick, so she tried to focus on something else. After that, she’d had to leave. Caina had decided that after her father had died, that place was no longer her home. And she hadn’t been back since, not even to get a change of clothes.

“I don’t… think that my father’s a merchant.” Caina answered after a moment. “He worked in the customs office at the dock. But he..” She bit her lip, unsure of whether to tell one of her father’s most important secrets. To hell with it, he was dead. “He did sell information about shipments to his friends.” She kept her eyes on the ground, trying to pretend that she was focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know what Sebastian Rose was doing had been illegal, and Caina didn’t know what Tom would think about such things.

When Tom steered them to someone’s door, Caina was so relieved that she felt her legs give a little. He was right, she really wasn’t doing so good. The cold had soaked into her bones a while ago, and a part of her wondered if it would ever leech back out. She leaned almost completely against the big, insanely tall man, suddenly very sleepy. The only good thing about the cold was that she could hardly feel her wound anymore, although that probably wasn’t a good sign. The first thing she noticed was the warmth of the house, almost unbearable after the dreaded cold of a poor little harbor town. The second thing she noticed were the plants, and the third thing was the strange man entering the room.

As someone who was undeniably a wick entered the room, Caina shrank back. And it wasn’t because he was a stranger. There had been a time that Caina wouldn’t have flinched at a wick, but those days were long gone. Now she was filled with fear of any magic, and it was a fear that would eventually turn to prejudice. For now, she tucked herself further into Tom’s coat, practically behind him. She tried to glare at the other man, but wasn’t sure how well it turned out. Her grip tightened on Tom, muscles tensing like she was ready to sprint. “Don’t leave!” She hissed at her newfound friend, not taking her eyes off of Ishma.
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Tom Cooke
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Sat Jun 08, 2019 8:50 pm

redwine 🙫 old rose harbor
during the night of the 5th of achtus, 2710
Sold information to his friends, did he?

As they stood just inside Ishma’s door, dripping thawing snow, he was still chewing through that in his head. Trying to make sense of it all. Part of him was regretting not leaving the lass in Redwine; he was chiding himself for his softness, cursing that impulsive streak of his.

For a moment, he worried that Taufiq was still out. Then he heard familiar footsteps on the floorboards and the whisper of Monite – saw the spoke move in from the hall, looking tired and a little out-of-sorts. Tom couldn’t help his wry smile. By the looks of it, Ish’d had quite the night himself. He felt Ishma’s glamour come into range – he wondered if he’d ever get used to that strange sensation that hung round wicks and the like – and, though he couldn’t tell much about it, he knew something was off; he saw it in hama’s face, too, in those flickers of anxiety that weren’t just for the boch. He met the spoke’s eye with concern in his own, but he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he nodded brusquely, making to leave the girl with Ishma and go fetch what his hama needed.

Until Caina panicked, at least. Unsteady as she was on her wobbly legs, Tom felt her lock into place, burrowing back into his coat and standing her ground like an anchor. “Caina,” he hissed under his breath, confused. He swore, then gave the other young man an apologetic look. “Hell, I don’t know— hang on—”

Tom let out another string of curses.

Then he turned a little and knelt, laying a hand gently on Caina’s shoulder. “I ain’t leavin’,” he said in a low voice, “but you got to behave, ye chen? For some reason, I reckon you trust me, an’—” He paused, stumbling over his words in his tiredness, mouth moving without making a sound. He glanced over and up at Ishma, then back at Caina’s face. Her eyes hadn’t moved from the spoke and didn’t look likely to, but he had to try. He squeezed her uninjured shoulder a little. “Look at me. Look at me, hey?”

His voice got even quieter. He had the look of a man spilling something from the bottom of his soul, sharing something he wouldn’t have shared with just anyone. The look in his dark eyes was almost pleading.

“That man” – he gestured at Taufiq – “is my hama. You know what that means? It’s a word in Tek, an’ it means he’s my heart. It don’t just mean I love him. It means he’s got my heart, an’ I got his. You understand? If you don’t trust him, then you can’t trust me. An’ if you trust me, then you got to trust him. ’Cause we got the same heart.” He ran his free hand over his brow, massaging his temples; he heaved a sigh, and when his hand fell from his face, it was slack and tired. “Listen—

“You’re in a bad way, Caina. You’re bleedin’, an’ you ain’t got much walkin’ left in you. You’re hurtin’, ain’t you? Ishma can make it hurt less. He knows how to patch you up so you’ll be back on your feet in no time, an’ he’s gentle, too. An’ I ain’t leavin’.”


With a grunt of effort, Tom heaved himself to his feet. He squeezed her shoulder again and gestured at Ishma, then tried to shuffle the girl toward the wick. “I got to go get water,” he said, “an’ you got to let hama take a look at that wound. Can you do that? For tomcat?”

He shot a helpless glance at Ishma, shrugging slightly and mouthing, I don’t fuckin’ know.
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Retired Ishma
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Sat Jun 08, 2019 11:16 pm

HOME ✹ OLD ROSE HARBOR
on the 5th of achtus, 2710 • during the night
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It would be an understatement to say that Ishma pez Taufiq was confused by the little wounded thing, shrinking back behind his hama and shooting a glare in his direction. Her wariness was understandable; she'd been hurt and wasn't likely to trust him immediately, he'd been a boch on the streets not many years ago and he could still understand the reluctance to trust. However, this seemed different from any simple caution - she disliked him for one reason or another, some reason that'd been noticeable upon his entrance into the room. Her reaction caused the wick to take a step back, hands raised in surrender, green eyes flicking to his hama's face for any explanation.

Didn't like wicks or didn't like Mugrobi, he figured, settling on the former as he took yet another step backward and allowed Tom to do the talking. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his loose linen trousers, he allowed his glamour to relax around him, the feeling as if the wick had exhaled any worries about why he'd been stirred in the dark of the night. Could've been Tom with the injuries, as it usually was - he could thank Hulali's everflowing waters for his lover's safety for the night, at least, even if he'd brought back some odd, bleeding boch with a stink eye.

The musician tilted his head a bit as he listened to the other man speak, gaze settling curiously on his hama's dark hair, resisting the urge to walk over and run his fingers through it - he'd missed him, alright? Might've had a nice day on his own, and a nicer time with some strangers, but the best of days and nights were those when Tom came home to him. The human's explanations to the little chip made him raise an eyebrow, the dark-haired wick more than a little surprised by the kind words, and it showed in the light pink dusting across Ishma's face in the dim light.

"Ent gonna hurt ye, boch," the tall spoke attempted to assure, his voice soft as his gaze darted back to the cautious girl, "Caina, he called ye? I'm Ishma - I know a fair deal about fixin' wounds like those, Caina, an' seems t' me ye definitely need some fixin' up."

He wasn't quite sure of how to handle the situation, how to gain this little chip's trust here, but he was trying. The wick hadn't been around many bochi in... years, now that he thought about it, and it felt as if he'd lost his charm. He was still curious about how hama'd run into the girl in the first place, a bit frustrated that he hadn't just come home alone, but he put those nagging thoughts out of mind for the moment and focused his energy into his glamour - into settling the air of the room, relaxing his nerves, so that there was nothing beyond the state of his existence that might've put the girl off.

"Can ye come t' th' table, 'least? Sit down an' breathe?" he moved then, towards the kitchen table, pulling out a chair in offering.

"When'd ye last eat, Caina? Look terribly thin, chip," Ishma looked back to the taller of the two humans, nodding in his direction, "an' ye need t' eat too, Tom. I'll make somethin' for th' two of ye an' we'll get Caina here all fixed up, ye chen?"
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Caina Rose
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Mon Jun 10, 2019 11:43 pm

Quarter Fords • Anaxas/Old Rose Harbor
on the 5th of Achtus, 2710 • during the night
Watching the wick act all hesitant made Caina feel more brave. The Seventen officer that had taken her away had never been hesitant, had never been concerned for her wellbeing.

She could feel his field, could tell that he was a wick, but it was impossible for the little girl to know anything beyond that. Any contact with a field (or glamour, in this case) instantly felt like a threat.

Caina realized, as she tried to keep Tom from leaving, that the old human really, really liked to curse. She’d heard the pirates and dock workers swear, but they were all priests compared to this man. Sebastian Rose would never have allowed his daughter to associate with someone like this. Her heart hurt as she thought of her father, but also internally giggled as she thought of what his reaction might’ve been to Tom. The man knelt before her, once again speaking in lovely soft tones and cadences. The guy always knew what to say, it seemed, and Caina finally ripped her gaze away from the wick at the sternness of Tom’s tone. As he spoke, Caina knew that he meant every word. And even though she still didn’t trust the wick as far as she could throw him, she trusted Tom. So she’d deal with this magic user, for as long as she had to.

Ishma introduced himself, but Caina ignored him. The calm in his voice helped her anxiety as well, although she still didn’t want to get near him.

She nodded slowly when Tom mentioned her shoulder. The pain had settled into a dull ache, but every time Caina moved her arm it flared up magnificently. She begrudgingly moved where Tom pushed her, eyes now on the ground, though she smiled a little when he mentioned the nickname.

She walked to the table, taking her eyes off Ishma for just a moment, glancing at the door every few seconds. She easily hopped up into the chair, and kicked her feet on the legs a few times before steadying and looking around the kitchen. It was very cozy, completely different from Caina’s home. The kitchen in her house had been neatly organized, although perpetually dirty. There was a dark stain on one of the cabinets in particular, and Caina had spent many hours being forced to try to scrub it off. In the light, Caina couldn’t see anything particularly dirty, but she did look with great interest at the incense dispenser, trying to figure out what it was.

A shrug was all Ishma got as an answer. It wasn’t an attempt to remain aloof, as Caina genuinely did not know. She’d spent the last of her coin at an inn sometime ago, for a piece of bread and cheese. She missed her father’s cooking- it wasn’t something that he did often, as he was usually too busy, but he always made sure to cook her favorite foods.

The thought of eating something that wasn’t stale or half-spoiled made Caina light up, daring to get excited. But as soon as Tom was out the door and out of earshot, her soft smile turned into a glare, and she levelled it heavily at Ishma.
“No magic.”

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