[Closed] The Miles Won't Phase Me

[Aremu Ediwo]

Midday, Hamis 18, 2720
The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

Aurelie offered to share the burden of blame for poor conversation with him. Aremu studied her for a moment, and then slowly he smiled once more, however briefly. “Sure,” he agreed. “In that case, there’s no sense in either of us apologizing, is there?” He raised his eyebrows at her, just a little. He wasn’t so sure about equal responsibility, but he wasn’t set against it either.

It seemed to Aremu very hard to determine how to handle such things. No, he wanted to say; no. The responsibility’s all mine, Aurelie. She’d never had the freedom of choice; her life had been all encircled, with red brick walls built up around it the last eleven years. And yet she had chosen to leave. Aremu couldn’t quite bring himself to think that she had chosen him, too; it was only that he’d been available, and he knew better than to think more of it. But he had been available, and he was now too, even if only for company as she did the dishes.

It’s very different, Aremu wanted to say, but I understand, Aurelie – I understand something of it, after all. After I lost my hand – no, he couldn’t, not even in his mind, in words that he knew he wouldn’t say. After I stopped working shipside, perhaps; that felt more manageable, but he still knew he wouldn’t begin at it.

It was selfish, he thought. He wanted her to know such things for his own sake, and not hers; he didn’t think they would lighten her burden. He didn’t think he could, not really; to learn such things about him, he knew, would be heavy, and in the end it wasn’t really the same. I found purpose again, was what he wanted to tell her, when I thought I couldn’t; but he couldn’t make any promises of the same for her.

Aremu shook his head. “No more apologies,” he said, quietly, looking at her. “Please. I'm very glad you told me what you want; I hope you always will."

He couldn’t say why it bothered him so – yes, Aremu thought, achingly, he could. She had no idea how he was looking at her; she couldn’t possibly know the sort of thoughts he’d had. He felt as even if the imagining of it was to take advantage of her. And yet – it came back to not knowing what to make of her, not quite. On the ship, he’d been determined to treat her as in need of coddling, when it came to food; she had called him out on it, quite resoundingly, and he’d lost that encounter entirely.

It wasn’t a one-sided friendship; she wasn’t some child he’d been corresponding with.

Even putting that aside, such as he could, he didn’t want her to apologize. He didn’t want to make her feel as though she ought to.

Aremu shifted a little. “I like keeping busy too,” he said, after a moment. He found another smile for her, and this one came more easily. “Let’s see,” Aremu frowned, more thoughtful than upset. “Ah, there’s – um – if you want to practice embroidery, I can find some old sheets and things for you to use. If you want to read, we can go to the library, and we can try to sort out together where to start. You can make over your room, if you like; there are other hangings and curtains in cabinet, and you can swap yours out if you prefer.”

“Does any of that sound all right?” Aremu asked, looking back at her. He hadn’t meant quite to stand so close; he hadn’t really realized he was, before a few moments earlier, when he’d found himself looking down at her arms. Now to move away seemed odd; it felt very important to him that she not realized the nature of it. He’d sat on the ship holding her hand, with her just next to him for hours; nothing should have changed. Nothing had changed, Aremu told himself, quite firmly; nothing would change.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Midday | The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

Apologies where none were warranted was a bad habit of hers. Aurelie had been trying to break it, for months and months she had been trying. She couldn't remember where the habit had begun, if it was Before or After. She remembered a little of having done so as child, so she thought perhaps it was Before. Then again, she had been a child After, too, for a brief period of time—the years sometimes blurred together, and she had trouble sifting through where one ended and the other began.

Her hands were dry now, so she freed one to tuck her hair behind one ear and hummed a quiet sound. The last person who had asked her to stop had been Fionn. She hadn't been able to do it then, either. Aurelie dried one of the plates and she tried not to think too much. She had tried a lot of things she hadn't been able to do, in the end. Her wrist felt heavy, and every time she leaned forward both lockets clinked together softly.

"I can try," was all she said, with something about her face a little soft around the edges. She couldn't promise more than that, when she'd already failed so many times. She looked at the backs of her hands, freckled still even in the rainy season, covered in all kinds of small nicks and scars, and focused only on that for a moment until the worst of the feeling receded from her mind.

Aremu shifted, standing next to her. Aurelie looked up when he spoke again, this time to see a smile on his face and not a frown. The clinging dregs of whatever the mind had conjured up faded away, and she didn't chase them. Later, she could—no, she knew she would. They were the sorts of thoughts she let herself turn over in the dark, alone, not in this sunny cheerful kitchen in the middle of the afternoon while she carefully dried one of the cups. Aurelie regarded it a moment, and then set it down on the counter again. She couldn't reach the cabinet to put it away.

"It all does," she said with a smile and the soft clinking of dishes. Aurelie looked up, realizing for the first time how close Aremu had come to stand. It seemed in appropriate, to dwell on it, so she tried not to. She couldn't step back either, not without drawing attention to the situation. Not a situation, she scolded herself; it was fine. There was nothing odd in it, other than what her own mind added. That was her own fault, for being so terribly foolish. It was like being conscious about someone standing too near a pet or a chair, she reminded herself.

Aurelie considered the options he had presented her with; she felt, too, a little sorry that he'd had to think of such things for her. There was no way around it, but it did needle at her. She had never had trouble finding something for her to do before. In—not her kitchen, not her home, nothing was hers there, not even herself. But, Circle keep her, she had always thought of it as her kitchen, hadn't she? Since she'd first clawed out a place for herself there. Years and years ago, because she had wanted it to be hers, she had made it so.

"The library, maybe?" she said after a moment. "I have to confess that the journey here was the most consecutive time I've had to practice my embroidery since I picked it up a few years ago," she added with a smile that scrunched up her nose just a little ruefully. Besides, if they went to the library she could hopefully keep herself occupied, and not need to rely on Aremu to keep her busy at every moment.

The dishes were clean and dry; now all that was left was the putting away, which Aurelie did slowly, not yet sure where each item belonged. The cups she moved to put away last of all, stretching her arm up and out, standing on the tops of her toes to reach.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Midday, Hamis 18, 2720
The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

Let me, Aremu wanted to say. He had thought he would reach for the cups, and take them from her, and reach up to the shelf where they went. She was just a bit shorter than Ahura, not even the length between his knuckles, but enough that she had to strain up to the shelves.

He didn’t, in the end; he let her do it, herself, standing on her tiptoes and all. It seemed important to let her finish what she had started; he couldn’t put it any more clearly to himself than that. When she hesitated, once or twice, he would show her where things went; he wasn’t sure where to find the line between helping and taking over, but he did his best. It was easy enough to put a little distance between them in the doing.

Aurelie had wanted the library; Aremu took her there again. He explained what he knew of Uzoji’s bookshelf; other than the physical and static grimoires, there were books on airships, on the history of Mugroba and the islands, and epics and poetry. The books he knew, he explained; the rest, they could take down and examine together.

“My reading tends to be more practical,” Aremu said, glancing back over his shoulder at the small shelves tucked in the shade by the window. He smiled at Aurelie. “But you’re welcome to read about kofi cultivation, if you like.” He grinned, a little sheepish.

Once Aurelie had found a book, they both went back to the kitchen. Aremu bent to the ledger and papers once more, this time with Aurelie quietly turning pages on the other side of the table.

After a little while, Aremu set the ledger aside. He stretched his arms up overhead, rolling his neck from side to side with a quiet grunt. He glanced up at the light coming through the windows - not quite slanting into evening yet, but neither the clear bright light of afternoon once more. It had cooled, noticeably; the day’s warmth tended to linger into evening, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier.

“Are you at a stopping place?” Aremu asked Aurelie with a smile. Her small face was intent on the book, her mouth moving ever so slightly ever so often as she read; he’d noticed without meaning to as he worked. He found himself admiring her dedication, and sorry, too, for how little Anaxas had offered her.

Whenever Aurelie was ready, he was ready; Aremu would lead them out the door.

The front door opened onto the sweeping road which lead down from the house, and disappeared around the downward sweep of the island. “There,” Aremu grinned, pointing off to the distant right, “is the tsug orchard. These,” he swept his hand all the way left to the road, “are the sugarcane fields, though they’re months from harvest.”

On the other side of the road the ground sloped down to the beach; closer to the house it was all cliffs, but it wasn’t too far before there was just a small lip, and down below it gleaming white sand and waves crashing against it. Coconuts trees lined both edges of the roads, leaves waving lightly in the breeze.

The air smelled of the sea, mostly, but of tsug too. They would follow the road down through the field and past the white beach, where it turned, and the house drew out of sight behind them.

“This is still the plantation,” Aremu said with a smile, glancing around at the wilder trees on either side of the road. “When we first came here it was all like this.” Both arms swung loose, here, comfortable, for all that he walked with Aurelie on his left.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | The Ibutatu Estate, Isla Dzum

The library may have been a poor choice; Aurelie wasn't quite sure. She wasn't a strong reader, and opportunities to get better were few and far between. Her fingers had refused to even skim over the grimoires, as if on instinct—Aurelie knew, really, that there was no harm in it. She could do nothing with the knowledge in them, and yet...

She had thought perhaps a book of poetry might have been the thing, short and perhaps easier to finish if not to understand. But she had picked a history book, for all that she thought she would struggle to get through it. It seemed to her a more useful thing to read, to know something of where she was and what had made it.

There were chairs in the library, and she could have stayed in them. A piece of her had thought to, shy about being seen to struggle as she knew she would. They went to the kitchen together, and Aurelie was glad for it. Easier to focus on the struggle of getting through the words somewhere comfortable. The weight of all she didn't have was too heavy, watched by all those leather spines. She sat, and Aremu returned to his ledgers and his paperwork, and gradually her shoulders unwound as she made her slow way through what she had chosen.

By the time the light changed, Aurelie hadn't made it very far. There were, she found, a great many words she didn't know, or at least knew she had never seen in print. Once or twice she had thought to ask, but the idea flooded her with too much shame. Later, she thought, she could look them up, in a dictionary or... or something. If she remembered. If she could bring herself to. Still, she'd persisted. For the sake of doing it, at least, she had persisted. Her mouth stopped moving and she looked up when Aremu started to stretch.

"I think so." Her shoulders were stiff too, and her back. Aurelie didn't think it was quite so appropriate for her to stretch as much as she wanted to. Even less appropriate was her watching Aremu do it, again; Aurelie looked to the windows instead, and thought about the slant of the light.

Really, she was a both eager and anxious about leaving, even though Aremu had told her it was a short enough journey. This was the first she had seen, really, of anything beyond the house. That was a strange kind of realization. Aurelie hadn't left it since they had arrived that morning, and hadn't even really arrived in the most ideal circumstances for looking around. She would have been hard-pressed to take in the scenery from the swirling holes in the sides of the trunk, after all. How different the landscape would be hadn't taken hold of her yet; it did now, and she couldn't stop looking.

Even her dim memories of that childhood trip to the seaside were nothing like this—not this dazzling white sand, like sugar spilled out from a bowl, or the line of coconut trees she had only ever seen illustrated in a book. As they continued, their surroundings changed. Less neat, and less orderly. Aurelie had thought they would have passed off the property by now, but Aremu informed her that was not so as if he read her mind. She made some noise of surprise.

"All of it?" She looked out over the trees that lined the road now again, and then back up, curious. She tried to imagine the work that had to have been done, to change it so; her imagination faltered here. Briarwood was a vast estate, but the grounds she had been allowed to spend time in were well-manicured and tame, and had been since long before her birth. And after that? There were gardens in Brunnhold, and stands of trees that one might call woods, but it didn't feel the same. They were as they had been for decades, carefully kept.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Aremu glanced around. “Not so grown over,” he clarified. “Actually, the woods aren’t terribly thick here; they’re thicker along the road than anywhere else. The field where the sugarcane is was all grass, like what’s behind the house, but thicker and higher – as high as my head was, when I was a boy,” he grinned at the memory of it, suddenly.

“Uzoji and I used to chase each other through it,” Aremu said, glancing over at Aurelie, then back at the road before them. “There were tsug where the grove is now, but they were wild, and there weren’t many. No one had really lived here in decades, though; even the house was worn down.”

“We sort of… began again,” Aremu said, smiling softly at the memories, though they were more than a little tinged with sadness. “Uzoji thought it better that way. We moved everything up to the attic; most of what’s there now is newer.” He wasn’t sure if he should tell Aurelie that the crew had stayed at the house, mostly; he didn’t quite want her to have to think about sleeping in a bed where a pirate had slept. It was one thing to tell her the truth, and another entirely to force her to dwell on the details.

“That was… eight years ago, now,” Aremu said with a little smile towards her. “It took a long time.”

They walked on, along the edges of the road; there were shrubs on either side of them, with small green berries just starting to grow after the rains, and dark shiny leaves. In time, they crossed the tumbled down gate which marked the edge of the property. “Someday perhaps I’ll build it back up,” Aremu said, glancing around.

Overhead, the sky was darkening, now; it wasn’t quite getting to sunset yet, thankfully. Aremu still hoped they’d be back at the house by then; the island wasn’t so dark at night, but it was a new moon, and it wasn’t well lit either. He knew the road well enough to run it in the dark – and so he did, sometimes – but he wasn’t sure if Aurelie should be comfortable like that.

They walked on. The road curved around to the beach again, and for a little while they were walking along the length of it, with stones piled up at the edge and a little strip of white sand below. “Here,” Aremu said, taking Aurelie to the edge of it, and pointing up the coast. “Those are mangrove trees,” he told her, pointing at the tangle of trees with their roots well into the water itself. The Tincta Basta lapped up at the edges of them, and washed through.

“Just like,” his gaze dropped to her necklace, and then lifted again; he hadn’t wanted to stare, though he’d noticed the two lockets earlier. He hadn’t known what to say at the thought that she’d worn it; perhaps he still didn’t. “You can’t see the vines from here,” Aremu went on, “but there’s another patch at the southern edge of the beach by the house. I’ll show you, though the flowering isn’t until Yaris.”

They went on. It had been nearly an hour, all told, when the road curved once more. There was more of a path leading down from it, though it was wide enough for two or three to walk abreast. They went through a narrow path of woods, and then it split, one left and one right.

“The main part of the village is there,” Aremu said, smiling, gesturing right. “The humans live there. Uh, we’ll just stop – the imbali live over here. If Ahura isn’t home, some of her neighbors should be. She’ll find out I’m back, one way or another; it’s better to do it myself, I think,” Aremu smiled at Aurelie.

The path led to a grove of small houses tucked at the edge of a field. Neatly hoed gardens surrounded them; chicken-wire surrounded a hut and a few dozen chickens, pecking at the dirt, and further, more distant, there were a handful of goats chewing at the field itself. They were simple enough, square wooden houses with long triangular thatched roofs, elegantly woven together. Windows in the walls beneath let in the air but not the light.

“Aremu!” Came a happy cry.

Aremu glanced up; a small boy came charging towards him. He laughed, his hand settling on Efere’s back as the boy collided with him, letting out an ‘oof.’ Efere giggled too, grinning up at him. “Aremu, you’re back!”

“Yes,” Aremu said. “Ah – Efere, this is Aurelie. Aurelie, this is Efere pez Kefeer.”

Efere turned and looked at Aurelie, his eyes wide and his mouth set in an o. He looked back at Aremu, squinting. “Aurelie of Bunnhold?” He asked, pronouncing the unfamiliar word in a careful sing-song. He wore only a pair of slightly dirty brown shorts, his feet bare and most of him happily dirty.

“Yes,” Aremu said, smiling down at him. “But um, now she’s – not in Brunnhold.”

Efere turned, looking back at Aurelie with wide eyes. “Were you always white?” He asked, bright-eyed. “Did they steal your color when they locked you up?”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

The light was dimming, but it wasn't dark and wouldn't be for a while yet. Not nearly low enough for Aurelie to miss that flash of a grin as Aremu talked about the grass, and of running through it with Uzoji when they were children.

She found, suddenly, it was easier to picture than it had been months ago—the two of them as children here. She had tried when they met, and found it quite difficult. Then, of course, she hadn't seen the island. Hadn't even known about it to picture, really; she had just been trying to puzzle out what felt like a gap between what she might have expected and the way Aremu was. But more than that, it was his face while he said it. Then, Aremu had smiled a little, but not once did he look like this. Not walking comfortably, the brightness of his grin striking in his face. Even when it turned soft and sad, she thought it was one of the better sights she had seen in quite a while.

"I can only imagine," she offered, looking up. She didn't know much else to say, but she liked to listen. Aremu clearly cared a great deal for all of it, for all that he spoke of it as if he was only barely less a guest here than she was. That was the part she liked best of all, and she almost commented on it. But it seemed a silly sort of thing to say, and she kept it to herself in the end.

The road continued on before them, and eventually they reached the edge of the property. The gate was more a suggestion than a real gate at this point; Aurelie thought she understood a little better, looking at it, what a state the rest of it must have been in. She ran her fingers over it. "I'm sure the gate would appreciate the attention."

Seeing all these things she had only had described to her, or seen in drawings (or even more rarely, spectragrams) was, really, rather wonderful. Her imagination had filled in gaps incorrectly here and there, she knew now. She couldn't have said what the gaps were, only that her mind had not properly filled them. Seeing things (and smelling, and hearing, and tasting too) was all much better than just imagining them from description, or looking at pictures in books. The mangroves were stranger somehow in reality, even from so far away.

Aremu looked to the locket when he pointed out the mangrove trees to her; he hadn't mentioned it to her directly, and frankly she had forgotten she had them both. It had seemed a normal enough choice at the time—she didn't like keeping personal items in her room, and the only other alternative was to put it in her pocket. Easier and safer to just string it on the chain with the spectragrams of her family, and keep it with her. Then she didn't have to be worried about losing it, or having someone find it and ask her questions she didn't know how to answer.

Now, walking along this strip of sand, telling him she would like to see the patch closer to the house, Aurelie thought it must look very strange. Since he hadn't said anything, she didn't know how to explain. What explanation she could offer, she wasn't sure. The practical one, of course, but it felt incomplete. Why not just keep it in her pocket? Aurelie couldn't have properly said, other than it felt to her a poor way to treat a gift. Her fingers itched to tuck it back under her collar, out of sight.

After an hour or so, the road curved and then they followed a narrowed, rougher path until it split. Aurelie looked up, something flickering across her face even she couldn't name, before it was replaced by something she could: anxiety. It was baffling, of course; she didn't know why she felt so. She had wanted to come, after all; to feel anxious because they had reached their destination was absurd. She supposed she just hadn't actually thought this far ahead.

"All right," she agreed, feeling like an absolute idiot. She didn't step any closer, and she didn't linger behind. Aurelie found an answering smile easily enough.

Her hand had still found its way into her pocket as they approached the cluster of small, neat houses and the gardens that surrounded them. It stayed there, even as she smiled at the chickens and goats. They weren't doing anything worth smiling at, she supposed; just going about their business. She did it anyway.

The cry took her by surprise, wrapped up in her own mind. So, too, did the small rocket of a boy that had produced it. Aurelie hid her own laugh behind her hand, pulling it out of her pocket. The impression of thread was left behind on three of her fingers, bright red. As she lowered it again, a grin spread across her face. The wide eyes and the way his mouth fell open made laugh again; it was funny and charming all together.

"It is very nice to meet you, Efere pez Kefeer," she said, pronouncing the name carefully, her face as serious as she could manage. Which, really, wasn't terribly serious at all—it was hard to be solemn even in jest as she looked at him in his shorts all covered in dirt. She thought very briefly of some of the children of the staff at Briarwood in the summer. Aurelie had never been allowed to play with them, but they had always seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"Always—" She didn't know quite what to make of the question; it was very funny, and yet she wasn't sure if she should laugh. She swallowed a bit at the end of it. When they locked you up. He was only a boy, and the words meant very little coming from him; they were, in fact, even true. Still a stab of something went through her, and she couldn't quite keep it off of her face.

"Yes," she managed with a grin in the end. "I always have been." She looked up at Aremu a little helplessly; it was terribly precious, and she was wildly out of her depth.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Aremu’s eyebrows shot up. “Efere!” He had said when the boy asked the questions.

Efere drifted closer to Aurelie.

Aurelie answered, such as she could, looking at Aremu, almost as wide-eyed as Efere.

“Efere,” Aremu said, slowly seeing the humor in it, smiling a little back at Aurelie. “Why should you ask such a thing?” He asked. “You remember ada’na Niccolette, don’t you?”

“Yes," Efere said, dutifully. “But ada’na Aurelie has spots where I thought maybe it was her dark skin leftover.”

“She -“ Aremu looked back at Aurelie. “These are called freckles, Efere.” He was smiling now, although he thought maybe he shouldn’t have been. “All sorts of Anaxi have them, galdori and imbali too. They are a nice thing to have.”

He had never thought to explain freckles. Aremu tried to remember when he had first leaned of such things. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know; there had been foreigners in and out of the house as a boy. Perhaps it was for the best he hadn’t tried; he had to wonder if the describing would have given Efere more nightmares if he had.

“Oh,” Efere said. He smiled at Aurelie.

“Go and get your juelajuela,” Aremu told him, shaking his head. “Remember you must speak nicely to ladies.”

“I was nice!” Efere protested. “You have nice freckles ada’na Aurelie,” he grinned up at her, and turned and ran off, disappearing behind the rows of houses with bare feet slapping no silly against the dirt.

“I apologize,” Aremu said, still smiling despite himself at Aurelie. “Not very many Anaxi come here - he doesn’t know any better.” Anymore, he nearly said. He tried to imagine what Efere would make of Tom, and the reverse; he found it hard to picture.

When they locked you up, Efere had said, simply and easily, without thinking. Had Aremu described it so? He didn’t think so. He didn’t know if it was a place Efere had come to on his own, or if Ahura, Apadha or Ulofo had explained it so. He hadn’t been able to argue with it, not really, or not honestly, at least. If it wasn’t true precisely then it was true in spirit; she had been imprisoned, with locks of a larger sort.

Ahura came holding Efere’s hand in hers. She was dressed in her usual bright colors, orange and purple. She smiled at the sight of him, and then her gaze went to Aurelie and her eyes went wide.

“It is ada’na Aurelie!” Efere said, excitedly. He ran back to Aremu, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Ahura came closer, slowly. Her lined face broke into a smile; she bowed, and came closer and took Aurelie’s small hands in her own. “Welcome,” she said in Estuan, “blood of my blood.” She added in Mugrobi. She looked to Aremu, commandingly.

“Blood of my blood,” Aremu translated, ruffling Efere’s hair until the boy laughed and swatted at his hand. Something which he had not known he feared softened inside him. “It is how they greeted imbali,” Aremu said softly, “long ago, when they came here from elsewhere.”

It is how she greeted me, once, Aremu couldn’t quite say.

Ahura was smiling at Aurelie, still holding her hands tightly.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Oh, it was terribly hopeless. She had tried not to laugh, she really had. Someone else might have been more bothered by the question, she supposed, or by the logic behind it. Aurelie only giggled a little helplessly, despite her best intentions. She held out her hand and looked at the backs of them while Aremu explained freckles. She did have quite a lot of them; she could almost see Efere's point, really.

"Exactly so," Aurelie agreed with an answering smile for Efere. "They're very common." Aurelie had never considered hers to be particularly nice. Her mother had always tutted over them when she was a child, and despaired that she took so much after her father's side of the family. Ana, of course, had none at all--she had never even seen her sister with a single temporary blemish, let alone the great quantities of spots that Aurelie had regardless of season. Even with the rather large hat Aremu had thought to offer her, Aurelie knew she would only end up with more.

So, perhaps it was good then that at least someone thought they were nice. Not that it was particularly important, Aurelie supposed. They were nice on other people. If her face was warm, it was only from the effort of trying not to laugh too much more. An effort that failed her again as Efere ran off.

Aurelie looked up and shook her head, still smiling from ear to ear. "It's quite all right; I don't mind. He seems..." Aurelie searched for the appropriate word. "Spirited." She was still smiling, looking towards the row of houses where he'd disappeared. Generations, Aurelie thought again.

She had always liked children. She hadn't been terribly good at being one, of course, but she liked them now that she was older. Not that she got to spend time with them often, and certainly none so young—just the few young girls who came to them every year, like she had done. Sometimes she would sit with them, if they cried. Often, she would sit with them if they did not. Rarely, she let herself think that she had always wanted— But only rarely, and she turned away from the thought even now.

Aurelie was glad, suddenly, to have had any of the recipes she sent made for Efere. Aurelie couldn't have said what about it made her feel so; perhaps it was just that she had met him now, and it put full context to what had only been words on a page before. She had been happy to read of it, and happy again now. Maybe it was just that she was a very silly creature in the end. Or some combination of the two. Whatever the reason, she was filled with the joy of it, even though all she had done was write them down on a card.

Efere reappeared not too long after he left, now holding an older woman's hand. She was dressed all in orange and purple; this, Aurelie thought, was probably Ahura. When her eyes went wide at the sight of Aurelie standing there in her green dress and her pinafore and her borrowed hat, Aurelie was nearly overcome with the most absurd desire to apologize. Nothing in Ahura's face was unkind, just surprised, as was sensible—Aurelie had not precisely meant to come here in the first place. The desire came wholly from within her, and an anxiety she had only started to know she felt when the houses had first come into sight.

As Ahura came closer, the other woman started to smile. Something untied in Aurelie's heart, then, and she bowed back. She didn't expect to have her hands clasped; she hadn't expected much at all. Welcome, Ahura said, and then something Aurelie didn't understand. What Aurelie did understand was the look on Ahura's face when she turned to Aremu; she looked at him expectantly as well.

"Oh," was all she could manage for a moment. She looked back to Ahura's lined, smiling face. Aurelie's mouth wobbled, slightly. "Thank you. Er, I—" Aurelie had promised herself that she was done with crying, and so she was. Truly. Even if she had to blink a few more times than she might have, it certainly didn't feel like the moment for it.

"I am very grateful to be here," she said, quiet and sincere. She didn't know what else to say but that; that was all she thought really mattered. She squeezed her hands, gently and briefly.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2720
West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Ahura smiled at Aurelie, soft-faced, and nodded when she spoke of being grateful. She reached up and cupped Aurelie’s small cheek with one hand.

Efere was clinging to Aremu now, both hands fisted in his shirt, lifting his legs off the ground and kicking enthusiastically.

Aremu reached down, grabbed firmly hold of the back of Efere’s shorts, and flipped the little boy over his shoulder. Efere landed behind him with a thud and a delighted shriek, and laughed, scrambling back up to his feet.

There was a rustling from the bushes, and a half-dozen children came out down the trail; all of them were dressed in neat clothing, bright and colorful but not fancy. They ranged in age from a little older than Efere to a girl in her early teens, and all of them carried book bags.

Efere shrieked aloud and ran off towards the other children, excitedly.

“You take her inside,” Ahura said, reaching up to pat Aremu’s cheek. She smiled at Aurelie.

Aremu nodded. “This way,” he told Aurelie. They went into the small house; the inside was simple and well-cared for, with woven mats covering the floor, cool and comfortable despite the heat. Aremu slid his sandals off at the entrance and sat cross-legged; a pleasant smell drifted from one of the nearby rooms.

“They’re coming back from school in Western Port,” Aremu explained, smiling at Aurelie. “There’s a much larger community of imbali there, and usually they get a ride with the duri - human - kids from the other side of the village.”

Aremu had liked seeing her laugh at Efere; he had been relieved by it. Spirited, he thought wryly, was a good word for the little boy. He was, Aremu knew, much loved. Maybe it was easier, Aremu had thought before, when one didn’t have to worry about honor.

The teary-eyed look on her face when Ahura had welcomed her, too, Aremu didn’t know what to make of. He was relieved by it, a little too, although he couldn’t have said on whose behalf. He smiled at her now, although there was a little pinch of worry to his forehead. It seemed to him like a lot, all at once, and he hoped it hadn’t been too much.

Ahura came in after a few moments. “The children go to the beach,” she said, pleased and smiling. Despite the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, she had a youthful look to her, and she moved well and easily. She came and sat with them, cross-legged, and patted Aurelie’s hand with hers.

“Tonight you will cook?” She asked Aremu.

Aremu nodded. “Yes.”

Ahura nodded also. “Tomorrow Ulofo and I will bring. I make for you lamb,” she told Aurelie with a pleased smile.

Aremu smiled at her, switching to Mugrobi. “Is there any thing you could bring for, ah,” he glanced at Aurelie.

Ahura raised her eyebrows.

“Clothing?” Aremu finished, somewhat weakly.

Ahura’s eyebrows didn’t lower.

Aremu shifted, clearing his throat. “We did not have time to wait,” he said, quietly.

Ahura nodded. She looked back to Aurelie, studying her. “Ada’na Ola can do for her some sewing,” she said, decisively. “Do you want her to come like she did for ada’na Niccolette? Is there any fabric?”

Aremu rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He turned to Aurelie and spoke in Estuan. “Ahura says she can arrange with a seamstress to come to the house, but we’ll need fabric from Western Port or Laus Oma.” He trailed off. “Until then?” He asked Ahura, soft and hopeful, switching back to Mugrobi.

“I bring,” Ahura said aloud in her accented Estuan, smiling. She patted Aurelie’s hand once more. “Do not worry. We take care.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 18, 2720 - Early Evening | West Dzide'rig, Isla Dzum

Anything more uncertain she might have felt was pushed aside as Efere was sent shrieking over Aremu's shoulder. It was like the breaking of a spell; Aurelie laughed again, and anything else that might have been there on her face was buried beneath it.

As they stood outside, Efere shrieking with laughter, more children came down the path. Efere left them then to go join the neatly-dressed group. The adults were, Aurelie thought with a smile, no longer of interest. Fair enough, she thought. Aurelie looked after them all a moment, wistful, and then she followed Aremu inside the house.

"School? So young?" She stood rather awkwardly towards the door, unsure of what do about the question of her shoes. After a moment of hesitation, she decided that regardless of what she should do, they were covered in road dust she didn't want to track into the house. She took them off carefully as well, and sat down with her feet tucked neatly underneath of her, back straight.

A few of the children had looked younger than ten; she hadn't realized that even this was different here. Aurelie herself had, of course, been educated as a child. But it had been private, at the hands of a reasonably indifferent governess. Aurelie remembered her only dimly as a straight-backed young woman only recently graduated from Brunnhold with a stern demeanor and little patience for the struggles of a small child. Aurelie had always been a little afraid of her, for all that she had never been cruel. She could not, now, recall her face or voice, nor even her name. It was curious what the mind held and what it gave away.

She supposed, looking around, that she had a very different kind of upbringing in general. There was a twist to her mouth as she thought; it seemed the further away she was from home—wherever that might be—the more she thought on things past.

Aurelie smiled at Aremu and Ahura both, and it came easily enough. She found it difficult to guess at Ahura's age. Old enough for grandchildren, of course, and Efere was young. Not much older than her own parents would be, maybe. The thought ached a little; every thought seemed to carry an ache on the back of it, today. Aurelie wondered if it would ever stop. She wasn't used to thinking of these things so often. Brunnhold had a way of making it easier not to think than to do so, especially on things past.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said, and her face was clear of any of what was behind it. They switched from Estuan to Mugrobi then, Ahura and Aremu, and Aurelie couldn't follow this part of the conversation. She thought rather uneasily it concerned her, with the way Aremu glanced at her. She was certain of it when Ahura looked at her as well, less of a glance and more of a studying kind of look.

Aurelie couldn't help but worry that she had done something wrong, after all. No matter that she couldn't think of what that something might be. Her brows creased slightly, unsure. She kept her posture straight, but shifted her weight uneasily over the backs of her heels.

"Oh!" Aurelie blinked, and the tension eased out of her shoulders. A little color rose to her face; she still felt so deeply foolish for not having considered it. One hand slipped into her pocket again. "Oh, please, you don't have to..." She trailed off. They did, actually, have to, because Aurelie hadn't thought enough ahead and could do nothing for it herself. The blush rose again, more fiercely.

"Thank you," she said meekly. She smiled, and then looked down at her knees. This was all, already, more than she could ever repay. More kindness than she warranted, from people who knew her hardly at all. Even Aremu didn't know her really. She was struck dumb by it, touched and uneasy all at once. Which showed more on her face? The first, she hoped; she wanted them to know nothing of the second. The string in her pocket pulled tight around her index finger.