Evening, 18 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutation House, Dzum
The Ibutation House, Dzum
There had been a few times when he had glanced back to see Aurelie watching him through sleepy eyes more than half shut, a little slumped over in her chair. He had the funny feeling that she could have put her head down on the table and gone straight to sleep. Sometimes the only way he could be entirely sure she was awake was when her quiet voice came from behind him to ask what it was he was adding now.
She perked up when the food was set down before her, studying it with a pleasing sort of enthusiasm. As hungry as he was, Aremu held off to watch her try first the rice, and then the vegetables, careful and intent. Last, she took a piece of flaky fried fish, still steaming hot.
Aremu grinned when she pronounced it very good, and grinned wider when she asked him to show her how to make it. “I’d be glad to,” he said, grinning still. He set into the meal himself with considerable enthusiasm, eating steadily and intently. It was a bit harder than usual to focus entirely on the food; he found his attention wandering to the small Anaxi eating intently beside him, for all he knew better.
It had been hard to gauge how much to make; Aremu knew what he himself could eat, and knew too that it was a lot, especially for someone his size. He’d seen Aurelie eat when hungry, though, and they’d eaten very little since breakfast, and walked to and from the village. As such he’d made quite a lot of food; he couldn’t have said why it pleased him so much to see her eat quite a large portion, in the end, but it did, very much, please him.
Between them they finished every last bite of the fish, which was as good as Aremu had hoped, and most of the rice and vegetables as well. Aurelie looked intently at him after the meal once more; Aremu wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed it, but he found himself permitted to at least assist with the dishes. Aurelie rolled up her sleeves once more, revealing her freckled arms and small strong hands; she scrubbed the dishes clean, and handed them to him, and Aremu dried them and put them together.
We’re a good team, he wanted to say, once, absurdly.
By the end of it she was all but asleep on her feet, at least by Aremu’s estimation; she refused to yield before every bit of the kitchen was clean, determination in every line of her. Aremu couldn’t have said quite why he saw her up the stairs to her room, or why he lingered, just a moment, in the hallway outside as she stumbled, dazed, into the bedroom.
“Good night, Aurelie,” he said, in the end; he smiled at her, and pulled the doorway shut.
Aremu thought perhaps he should have been tired, but he didn’t feel it; he went back down to the kitchen, feet quiet on the stairs, and sorted the pile of letters there, separating them into those he should need to tackle the next day, and those which could wait. When the fullness of dinner had abated somewhat, he stripped down, and set back off out of the house.
It was a pleasure to run once more; his body ached from confinement in Thul Ka, and the days on the ship since. The moment he began to run, he felt it wash through him, as if every inch of him were singing with joy. It was easier, then, to put aside the thoughts he knew he shouldn’t have, the lingering old hurts that should have long ago been laid to rest and the desires that he knew better than to entertain, whatever he thought of Aurelie’s freckles.
Aremu ran, and he ran some more. He ran not on the road, but through the thin trails that wound through the fields beneath the starlight. He ran around the edges of the tsug, and all the way out to the northern cliffs, and then back through the grassy cliffside, back to the house. He was aching all over by the time he returned, sweaty despite the night’s cool chill, and he felt thoroughly drained.
He bathed, with the last of his strength; he drank what was more like two of three glasses of water than one; then, Aremu pulled himself up the stairs to his room at the top of the attic, and collapsed into bed, and wondered if he might be able to keep from dreaming.
She perked up when the food was set down before her, studying it with a pleasing sort of enthusiasm. As hungry as he was, Aremu held off to watch her try first the rice, and then the vegetables, careful and intent. Last, she took a piece of flaky fried fish, still steaming hot.
Aremu grinned when she pronounced it very good, and grinned wider when she asked him to show her how to make it. “I’d be glad to,” he said, grinning still. He set into the meal himself with considerable enthusiasm, eating steadily and intently. It was a bit harder than usual to focus entirely on the food; he found his attention wandering to the small Anaxi eating intently beside him, for all he knew better.
It had been hard to gauge how much to make; Aremu knew what he himself could eat, and knew too that it was a lot, especially for someone his size. He’d seen Aurelie eat when hungry, though, and they’d eaten very little since breakfast, and walked to and from the village. As such he’d made quite a lot of food; he couldn’t have said why it pleased him so much to see her eat quite a large portion, in the end, but it did, very much, please him.
Between them they finished every last bite of the fish, which was as good as Aremu had hoped, and most of the rice and vegetables as well. Aurelie looked intently at him after the meal once more; Aremu wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed it, but he found himself permitted to at least assist with the dishes. Aurelie rolled up her sleeves once more, revealing her freckled arms and small strong hands; she scrubbed the dishes clean, and handed them to him, and Aremu dried them and put them together.
We’re a good team, he wanted to say, once, absurdly.
By the end of it she was all but asleep on her feet, at least by Aremu’s estimation; she refused to yield before every bit of the kitchen was clean, determination in every line of her. Aremu couldn’t have said quite why he saw her up the stairs to her room, or why he lingered, just a moment, in the hallway outside as she stumbled, dazed, into the bedroom.
“Good night, Aurelie,” he said, in the end; he smiled at her, and pulled the doorway shut.
Aremu thought perhaps he should have been tired, but he didn’t feel it; he went back down to the kitchen, feet quiet on the stairs, and sorted the pile of letters there, separating them into those he should need to tackle the next day, and those which could wait. When the fullness of dinner had abated somewhat, he stripped down, and set back off out of the house.
It was a pleasure to run once more; his body ached from confinement in Thul Ka, and the days on the ship since. The moment he began to run, he felt it wash through him, as if every inch of him were singing with joy. It was easier, then, to put aside the thoughts he knew he shouldn’t have, the lingering old hurts that should have long ago been laid to rest and the desires that he knew better than to entertain, whatever he thought of Aurelie’s freckles.
Aremu ran, and he ran some more. He ran not on the road, but through the thin trails that wound through the fields beneath the starlight. He ran around the edges of the tsug, and all the way out to the northern cliffs, and then back through the grassy cliffside, back to the house. He was aching all over by the time he returned, sweaty despite the night’s cool chill, and he felt thoroughly drained.
He bathed, with the last of his strength; he drank what was more like two of three glasses of water than one; then, Aremu pulled himself up the stairs to his room at the top of the attic, and collapsed into bed, and wondered if he might be able to keep from dreaming.
