[Closed, Mature] Never Felt Like Any Blessing

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Aremu didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but he knew when he awoke that he must have. Aurelie was squirming about on his lap, and he shifted, stifling a noise deep in his throat. She was warm and comfortingly heavy on his lap; he remembered an odd dreamlike sense of her tethering him to Vita. He remembered a good deal more as well, looking down at her now.

“Yes,” Aremu said, quietly, “I think so too.” He thought – he wanted, very badly, to tilt his head down and kiss her again. He swallowed, looking down at her, his head throbbing. The light had changed, he thought; it was clearer than the pale darkness of the storm, and there was a hazy darkening quality to it.

Late, Aremu thought, his eyes closing again for a moment. It was getting late.

He looked back down at Aurelie; he smiled a little at her, his hand coming up and hovering at her cheek for a moment. Aremu swallowed again, hard. Having slept, he felt more like himself; however long had passed between them in the cave seemed like only like a strange dream, and he didn’t know in the least what to make of it, now that he was awake once more. Her hair was mussed, just a little; he thought he could tell where his fingers had disarranged it as it tried to dry.

Aremu took a deep breath, his face evening out into a frown. “We’ll have to swim back,” he said, quietly. “I…” he turned his head to the side, and frowned a little more. I can’t tow you, he wanted to say; I’m not entirely sure I can manage myself. I’m sorry, Aurelie, he wanted to say; you deserve better than me.

Awake, he couldn’t remember how he’d thought he could kiss her; awake, he couldn’t remember – but he remembered her hand fisted in his shirt, and the other one cradling his cheek, and the little noises she’d made. He remembered them; they felt seared into him. He looked at her again, and the beautiful smile on her face, the one he’d woken up to, seemed to have faded away.

He felt it like a blow.

“If I’ve – ” Aremu’s eyes closed for a moment, and opened again, settling on her. He frowned again. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean to push anything on you, Aurelie. I’m sorry,” his hand came to her cheek, delicately cupping it, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone just once, and then lowered, slowly, down to his side. She was still on his lap, and he wanted so badly for her to stay, and at the same time knew without a doubt that he couldn’t ask it of her.

“And I’m sorry too,” Aremu said, his voice shaking just a little, “because all I want to do is kiss you again. I won’t – if you’re not – if you don’t want – ” Aremu closed his eyes again, the pounding in his head returning with a vengeance, as if to make up for whatever sleep he’d managed, his chin tilting down. He couldn’t quite bear to look at her face; he didn’t know what he’d see, and he was more than a little afraid of finding out.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Afternoon | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

When he first woke, looking down at her, Aurelie thought he might kiss her again. She wouldn't have minded, really. Watching him blink down at her made her smile just a little more, brighter than it had been. He smiled back, and for a moment Aurelie thought that whatever that had been between the two of them, it hadn't been as terrible an idea as she'd first supposed.

But it was only a moment.

The smile faded to a frown, and then he said that they'd have to swim back. She had assumed so, really. There was, to her knowledge, no other way out of the cave. The frown wasn't too unexpected; he did frown rather a lot, even if he'd been smiling at her a moment ago. He looked to the side, and frowned a little more. Not a general sort of frown, that one. She thought, tasting something bitter on the back of her tongue, that he looked like something was wrong. The list of potential options was limited.

Her stomach sank, although she was still sitting on his lap and leaning against him. He hadn't moved her, which she thought... Well, it was possible that he didn't want her to move. But it was equally as likely, looking at his face turned away from her, that he was just thinking of how to put it. She didn't really know. All she knew for certain was that he'd looked at her a moment and his face had fallen, and he had turned away.

The apology made her feel a little more wretched. How could he have pushed anything on her, when she was the one who started it? Despite knowing better. She wasn't the one who had hit her head; Aurelie had not even that thin excuse for her poor judgement. She bit her lip when his hand came to her cheek. She might have felt better about all of it if he'd left it there, but he didn't. Just one swipe against the freckles that spread across her face, and then back down to his side.

"You don't have to—" Apologize, she was about to blurt out. She really was an idiot. He started to apologize again. Aremu's voice shook. He closed his eyes, and he tilted his face down. Oh.

Oh.

She shouldn't smile. It was wretched to smile now. He looked fully miserable. She didn't want him to be miserable, generally speaking, as much as it could be avoided. Especially not now, after everything. But she was smiling. Because she was terrible, and an idiot, she even laughed a little. Nothing was funny at all, and she laughed anyway. Delighted. Aurelie laid her hands lightly on the sides of his wonderful, solemn face, and she smiled at him.

"I wouldn't mind. I mean—" Oh, chimes. That wasn't the right way to say that all. "I do want. Very much. T-to, uhm, to kiss you again, I mean. Maybe, er, not right now. Because I also want to, ah. As cozy as this is, I think I would like to leave this cave after all."

Aurelie bit her lip; the taste of it was strange, and vaguely unpleasant. She smiled around that, too. This one was a bit hopeful, and more than a bit shy. Both things bled out into her voice when she continued. "But after...?"

[Aremu Ediwo]

Afternoon, 28 Hamis, 2720
Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

Of all the reactions Aremu had half-imagined, a kaleidoscope of images that had flickered half-aware through him as he spilled out his aching fear, Aurelie laughing wasn’t one of them.

She did; she laughed, very softly, still sitting in his lap, and her hands came to touch his face. He looked up once more, eyes wide, and saw her smiling.

She went on; she bit her lip, looking at him, still smiling, and he ached. “After,” Aremu promised, and he was smiling, too, unexpectedly. His hand came up and curled over her cheek, the whole thing slight enough to fit in his palm, his fingers curling over her ear to tease into her hair, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. He felt an odd sense of awe, as if he had woken up to find a dream had come true.

“Can I kiss you just once now? Before we go?” Aremu asked softly; he was still smiling, and he found it very easy.

If Aurelie let him, he would lean forward and kiss her again, just a little more deeply this time, though still with nothing like urgency to it. If not he wouldn’t press further, content with his hand on her cheek and his fingers in her hair, and the beautiful smile on her face.

They went.

“The edge of the cave slopes a bit,” Aremu explained. “It’s narrow at the opening.” As they went forward, they could both see the faint gleam of light over the water, just a tiny gap of space between the waves. “Once you’re out,” Aremu said, “turn right and swim towards shore. Try to get a little distance out from the cliff, just to be safe.”

Aremu’s head still ached, horrible, a deep dull ache that seemed to have settled in. Standing required him to heave himself up with the wall as his guide, and he had clung to it for a moment until he was sure he could walk. Waves of nausea swept through him, and he breathed through them, in and out.

They went.

The water was a shock; Aremu hadn’t realized how close to dry he had gotten, although his clothing had still been well-damp, and the skin beneath felt strange and thin. For a moment he floundered, his head aching, treading water and gasping.

No, Aremu thought, no; not like this. No. He turned himself towards shore and began to swim; it was awkward and clumsy at first, and then he found the rhythm of it through his headache, and he went, one stroke and kick at a time.

He pulled himself onto the first corner of beach he found, on his knees in the damp sand, not quite able to get out of the way of the waves there. He was sick, then, one hand planted in the sand, his right arm tucked in close to his body; he threw up what felt like everything inside, coughing, and then did it again, ending in dry heaves which shook his whole body and let him gasping, tears stinging his eyes.

Aremu lurched up to his feet, in time; wet sand caked his legs from knees to feet, and his palm, soaking the sleeve of his arm. He gasped, swaying, and held, his eyes closing for a moment.

In the light it was easier to see him; there was a cut on the back of his head, and a dark memory of a stain on his shirt, though the swim had washed most of it clean. The fabric over his right shoulder was torn badly, in several places, and beneath it his back was scraped as well. Both cuts stung, but the pain was nothing compared to the headache; Aremu tried to focus on it to center himself.

“I’m fine,” he would promise Aurelie, his voice hoarse and his face aching with tiredness.

It was growing late; the light was slanted with sunset by now. Aremu looked at the beach chairs for a moment, half-thinking to offer to spend the night there. He looked back at Aurelie, drenched once more, her small face tight with worry and her hair soaking wet. He couldn’t say it; he couldn’t do it. She might not care, he told himself, but he couldn’t leave her in the house alone, not after everything.

“Back to the house,” Aremu rasped. The hill seemed impossibly steep in his imagination; he felt it stretch up before him like a cliff. But he knew how to climb cliffs, Aremu thought dazedly - one move at a time.

They went.

If Aremu stumbled once it was in the sand, and if some dry sand clung to the wet when he got back up, he did get back up. If he wobbled, if his face was taut with the pain of it, if his head ached, he kept going, one step after the other, onwards.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Early Evening | Inside the Cliff, Ibutatu Estate

The promise of an after was enough, Aurelie thought. She had been hopeful, but not expectant; it was entirely possible she had misread everything, and that this was all just—but that promise was followed close on its heels by another. Or what felt to her like another. She tilted her face to lean into the touch of Aremu's hand, the fluttering of her heart beating softly against the cage of her breast.

"Please," she laughed again, a little dazzled. A promise there, too, maybe. Something to hold her over until they were back. After, she reminded herself, because there was depth but no rush to it. All the same, it was difficult to pull away.

Aurelie felt steadier than she had expected, coming to stand. Steadier by far than Aremu, who clung to the wall and seemed to find it difficult to let it go. A little fear skittered across the surface of her heart. But there was no other way out, and nothing to be done for him here. She had no support to give, not even that of her shoulders, because he was in the water before she could offer. She had the strangest awareness that if she had been as she should be, there might have been something she could do. It was a pointless, unhelpful thought; she put it away.

Aurelie went back into the water, and concentrated only on getting back to shore. The injury made him slow; Aurelie and Aremu reached the beach at close to the same time, and not too far apart in distance either. Just in time, she thought with some alarm, to see him be promptly sick into the sand.

In the slanted golden light of the hour, she could see the injury more clearly. A gash on the back of his head, and a stain on his shirt. The water could only get out so much; there had been, she remembered, quite a lot of blood. She thought she should turn away, to let him be—miserable, in some degree of privacy, but her concern wouldn't let her. She stood some small distance away, but tensed like she would run over at the slightest indication that she was needed. Which, of course, she would have.

She hadn't, somehow, realized how badly his shoulder was scraped up as well. It was the right shoulder, which was always away from her. Aurelie swallowed, looking at it as he stood. Her brows drew together and her mouth settled into a frown.

"Are you..." Aurelie couldn't bring herself to finish the question. He was not fine—no matter what he said in answer to what she hadn't asked. Aurelie was beginning to doubt he knew what the word meant. She didn't know many standards where dry heaves and swaying on your feet qualified. Her mouth pressed into a disapproving sort of line, edging to a scold, but she held her tongue.

Get him back to the house, first. Then she could worry about the state of his vocabulary. Plenty of time for that, and anything else, when they were inside. She could only be glad that she was merely exhausted, and not much hurt herself. She would offer whatever support he would take from her, and they could make their way back to the house this way. It wasn't so far, she told herself. Just make it back, and worry about the later when it came.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, 28 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House

One step, Aremu told himself, aching. One step, and then the next. His whole world had seemed to narrow to it, the taste of vomit in his mouth and the throbbing ache of his head, and the next step.

The small embankment from the beach to the road seemed like a mountain; Aremu went step by step, and wondered, with each one, whether now he should need to crawl. He would have; he was ashamed to crawl in front of Aurelie, because he knew what it looked like with his hand and his wrist or elbow, but he had determined not to stay on the beach, and he couldn’t stay here.

They made it to the top, and Aremu lost his battle against the nausea once more, dropping to his knees and dry heaving again. His whole body was wracked with the force of it; he had nothing more to give, gasping and shaking.

He grunted, planting his hand and wrist against the ground when it was over, and held there for a moment, trying to work up the courage to stand. Aurelie’s arms were around him, then, pulling, and Aremu could have cried. She didn’t take much of his weight, not really, but he couldn’t stay there with her trying to help. They wobbled from side to side, but he was upright at the end of it, and she was too.

“I can do it,” Aremu tried to insist; he didn’t know if he fumbled the words out in the end or not, because Aurelie was determinedly tucking herself beneath his left arm, looking up at him with her lovely mouth a thin line, as if daring him to refuse her. He didn’t; he yielded, and he sank against her, just a little.

At first he tried to carry his weight himself; by the end he didn’t know what he was doing, how much he was asking her to carry. He thought he might have cried if there had been any moisture left in him; that indignity, at least, he was spared. He couldn’t quite manage to muster up any gratitude for it.

Up and up they went, up the winding slope of the road to the house, the packed dirt damp with rain beneath his feet. The stairs seemed like a mirage when they appeared, but then they were there, beneath his feet, and the front door was opening – he thought Aurelie must have done it, because he didn’t think he could have – and Aremu was sinking down on to one of the couches.

He didn’t lie down; he thought if he lay down, he wouldn’t get up. He leaned back instead, crusted over with salt, his shoulder and head aching and his headache worst of all, his throat dry and scratchy with thirst, and couldn’t have imagined being more comfortable.

Aremu closed his eyes, shaking a little. He didn’t know if he was asleep or awake, not quite, but he didn’t have to do anything, and that was all, really, that he could have dreamed to ask for.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Early Evening | The Ibutatu House

Aurelie had thought to keep her hands to herself, and offer assistance only if asked for it. She hovered, somewhere on the edge of insisting and leaving well enough alone, as they walked up the beach. Sand stuck between her toes and
the backs of her heels. A glance to the gazebo told her that their towels were soaked through, set as they were rather close to the edge. She made a note to come back for them later, along with anything else that was left behind. At least she had thought, for once, and left her necklace in her room.

That only lasted until they got to the road. Aremu dropped to his knees, and Aurelie's concern sharpened considerably. She didn't care, she thought rather firmly, if his ego was offended by her assistance. This was clearly not the time or place for such delicate sensibilities. She reached out and she lifted him up. It was wobbly; she thought he seemed reluctant to lean on her much. Of all the theoretical lines she felt certain she had crossed, this one at least felt fairly—non-theoretical. Strangely, she cared the least about this one. He tried to insist; she would hear nothing of it.

"I'm sturdier than I seem," was all she said, no small amount of her worry creeping out in her voice and on her face. But no matter how worried she was, or how meddlesome she felt, she was firm. They made it back to the house, and she opened the door. For not the first time, Aurelie found herself a little glad she had no field to speak of—she could keep the level of her feelings contained, to a degree. She helped Aremu sink to one of the couches.

For a moment she just stood there and looked at him. He leaned back, eyes closed. She breathed evenly and slowly, in and out. One thing at a time. They had made it back to the house; what was the next step? Water, Aurelie thought. Water. She went to the kitchen and filled two glasses, bringing one out for Aremu and setting it down within easy reach. After a moment more of hovering, she went back to the kitchen and wet a towel with cold water. She wrung it out until it wasn't dripping anymore, then carefully folded it and brought it back with her, holding it out.

"Here," she said softly, and came to sit next to him. "For... for your head." Aurelie frowned, twisting to try and get another look at the injury. It looked worse, now, than it had one the beach. An ugly sort of gash, dried and crusted with salt. She didn't think that was good, either. One step at a time, she reminded herself. One step at a time.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, 28 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House

Aremu’s eyes were closed. He listened; mostly, he could hear the pounding of his headache, the slow steady throbbing of his pulse in his ears. Beyond it, he heard the quiet familiar faint shifting of the house, the soft whistle of the wind through the door.

He heard, too, Aurelie’s footsteps coming back, small and light against the ground. There was a quiet thud, and then the sound of her foot steps once more.

Don’t go, Aremu wanted to say, absurdly.

He hadn’t dreamt in the cave; he knew he had slept, at least twice, and he didn’t know quite for how long either time. Surely it had been enough to dream, but he was grateful not to have dreamt then.

He wasn’t so fortunate this time. He never counted on such luck; he ran from sleep when he could, climbed from it, dove from it, wrote and read from it, until he was tired enough that to stay awake was worse than what might come.

His head was throbbing and he was diving, downward; Aurelie was a dark blur of hair beneath him, pale red as if lit from above, the only color he could see amidst the dark underground. He reached; he swam and he kicked and he reached and always she was just past the edge of his fingertips. He kicked harder; all the air had been driven from his lungs, and still he kicked - he reached -

“Here.”

Aremu’s eyes opened and he jerked, gasping. He groaned, twisting, his eyes closing and opening again as he blinked at Aurelie. She was frowning at him; Aremu closed his eyes for a moment, his head swaying from side to side. He straightened up, breathing deeply, settling the pounding of his heart and the throbbing of his pulse.

“Thank you,” Aremu croaked after a moment, blinking. He took the cloth from Aurelie, looking blankly down at it. After a moment, gingerly, he draped it over his right wrist, out of the way. Before he could clean, he thought, sluggishly, he needed to know how bad it was. There had been no point in knowing before; there was still little he could do.

Aremu breathed deeply, and felt at his head with his fingertips, slowly and steadily. He grunted aloud, finding the edge of the cut, shuddering. He felt at the length of it, finding the salt clinging to his skin, finding the place where the cut opened against his skin. It was shallower than he had feared, Aremu thought, and not as long as it might have been. He breathed in deeply again.

Aremu reached for the water first, the one Aurelie had set beside him. He took a long drink, steadily himself. He reached for the cloth, and began to apply it to his head, slowly trying to wipe it clean, shaking with the effort of it.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Early Evening | The Ibutatu House

She had only meant for him to take the cold, damp towel from her, not to sit up or do anything more strenuous than reaching out a hand. A lesson in clearer communications, she thought to herself, feeling a little foolish. Personal embarassment rapidly dwindled in her list of concerns, though, watching him sway a little sitting down. She didn't think he was quite focusing when he looked at her. That, she thought, was not a wonderful sign.

It was a worse sign when he sort of set it over his wrist instead of putting it anywhere near his head. Aurelie didn't quite understand why until he started feeling around his head with his fingertips. His unwashed fingertips, without being able to see it. At least his own inspection let her look with her eyes—and not with her hands; she thought with a grim sort of amusement at the instructions given to her as a small child in many a trinket shop. It wasn't so bad as she had thought at first. Certainly not good, but it could have been worse.

"I don't think that's—hmm." Aurelie gently took the cloth from him and his shaking hands. She had meant for something cold, for the headache. But now that she was looking at it, that might be a lesser concern to getting the wound clean. The one at his shoulder, too.

Without letting herself think too much about it, she put her hand to Aremu's face again. Her hand was still cold and slightly damp from taking the towel. She frowned, trying to catch his eye. "I think we need to clean that, and I think we have to move to do it. I'll help—I would," she said, shifting her thoughts about, "I would like to help. Please."

It was phrased like a request, but there was nothing on her face that suggested she would listen if her aid was entirely discounted. Aurelie moved her thumb once or twice against Aremu's face, and then drew her hand away. She waited to see if he would have any more of his water, and then, for lack of a better idea, moved them up the stairs to the bathroom by her room.

Nothing about the process was easy. She helped as much as she was able; as much as she was allowed. They still paused once in the middle of it, and when they reached the top she was afraid he might be sick again. She kept a hand on his back, not sure what else to do.

She would have to learn some sort of... of basic aid. Aurelie had never realized quite how helpless she was in this way until now; any injuries she had sustained were either ignored, or there was someone else to call for. This was both too severe to ignore, and there was no one that she knew to call for quickly enough. Tomorrow, Ahura would come—today there was only the two of them, and her dubious assistance. She fought back a wave of self-recrimination; it was also not helpful to dwell too much on her own uselessness.

"Here, we can just—erm, well, there's your shoulder too, and..." Aurelie looked up, frowning slightly. They were standing outside of the door of the bathroom by her room. It was quite simply the closest place she could think of. He could take... take his shirt off, and there were plenty of towels, soap and clean water. She hadn't considered, really, what he would do about the rest of himself—they were both covered in dried, itching salt and sand—but that was, once again, a future step. For a future time.

"I'll help," she added again. She tried to smile, but couldn't shake the worried crease between her eyebrows.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, 28 Hamis, 2720
The Ibutatu House

Aremu didn’t get far; his hand was shaking, and he didn’t trust himself to clean the wound blind, but he thought he had better try it. Aurelie took the cloth from him before he could. She touched his face, her hand cool and damp, and Aremu sighed with the relief of it, leaning his cheek just a little against her.

“All right,” Aremu said, blinking at her. He wasn’t sure whether he had agreed to cleaning or her help - he wasn’t sure what she intended to help with - but she had a very firm look on her face, and he thought it better not to argue.

Floods, but he felt awful. Some sleep, Aremu thought, aching, and he would be able to sort out the rest. For now, he had to stand. His mouth was terribly dry, and he drank some more of the water, and went about getting back to his feet.

It wasn’t a pleasant or easy process. She didn’t make him ask; he would have had to, Aremu knew. He didn’t protest this time, but sagged gratefully against Aurelie, letting her small, sturdy frame bear a little of his weight. I didn’t want to burden you, he tried to explain, but he didn’t seem to be able to speak and move at once, and Aurelie was moving and even less did he want to let her down.

On his own, Aremu thought, he would have crawled. They reached the stairs, and he looked at them, and then at Aurelie. “On my right, please,” Aremu said.

He couldn’t look at her as she did it; he couldn’t watch as his right arm draped over her shoulder, the wrist which ended in nothing at all on her other side. His left hand found the bannister and clung to it - there had been no choice, he told himself.

Aurelie was as no nonsense about it as she had been about his lack of a hand throughout; she didn’t flinch or squeal or look disgusted. It didn’t seem to matter; Aremu knew what he was, or what he wasn’t.

Aremu sagged against the wall. He frowned at Aurelie. “It’s your bathroom,” he said, a little plaintively. He was grateful all the same; he thought he might not have made it up the next flight.

She seemed sure, and so Aremu went inside. There was a stool he could sit on, and he sat, slowly. He felt oddly foggy, looking at Aurelie; she was frowning, looking back at him.

Aremu rubbed his face with his hand. Pull yourself together, ersehole, he told himself. You’re frightening her. I just need to sleep, he wanted to say; I’ll be all right once I get some sleep.

Aurelie’s hands were fluttering nearby. Aremu reached out and caught one, carefully. Like a butterfly, he thought. He stroked his thumb over it, gently, and smiled up at her. He couldn’t think well but it was clear he would have to remove his shirt for any cleaning of his shoulder to take place.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Aremu managed, steadily and even. He remembered Aurelie in the village, her face pink, looking away from every shirtless man. He had been careful - desperately careful - to wear a shirt around her, even at times he might normally not have worn one.

“Are you sure?” Aremu’s hand lowered from Aurelie, down to the hem of his damp, long-sleeved shirt. Only if she gave her permission would he wrestle it off, slowly, grunting with the effort.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 28, 2720 - Early Evening | The Ibutatu House

Her bathroom, was it? Aurelie stopped herself, but only barely by virtue of how tired she was, from pointing out that nothing in this house was hers. It was a bathroom she was using, and that was all. She also refrained from pointing out she'd not had a private bathroom her entire adult life, and didn't put much stock in the concept. It wasn't as if she spent her days pining for such a thing.

She didn't think it really mattered; she didn't know if he even really knew he'd said anything. There was an edge of a whine to the way he said it. Sort of petulant. She didn't want him to have to go up another flight of stairs, anyway. She didn't know that he'd make it without further incident without crawling. However little she cared about offending his sense of pride, that seemed to her perhaps just one indignity too many.

Still, there was no further argument—she kept her stare rather firm, and inside they went. As he took a seat on the stool inside, Aurelie busied herself with gathering things together so that they would be close to hand. She felt rather clear-headed, all things considered. Concerned, of course. But calm, and for all that she had no real idea of what should be done, she was determined to do what she could. As long as she focused on each step that was in front of her, it was fine. Cleaning first, and then likely rest. Dinner seemed out of the question, but perhaps—no, even that was too far ahead.

Her hands hovered a little fretfully; Aremu took one, and smiled up at her. Aurelie smiled back, her train of thought momentarily derailed. Hopeless. She was so utterly and completely hopeless. She bit the inside of her cheek, to keep herself on task. Really, she was quite tired. That she was so easily distracted came as no surprise.

"Hmm? Oh." The sort of pleasant contemplation of his thumb over her hand made it hard for her to quite follow his train of thought for a moment. His shirt, she realized sort of slowly. He would have to take his shirt off for her to deal with his shoulder. A little bit of warmth rose to her face, different than the way she couldn't seem to lift her eyes terribly often in the village. She had tried rather carefully not to put too much thought into if that was normal for Aremu, also.

Aurelie, stop. This is hardly the time. Aremu dropped her hand, moving to the hem of his damp shirt. Aurelie smiled, a little shy. "I'm sure. I don't know how else we'll clean the scrape on your shoulder. A-and, you are very— That is, er. I think I will recover from t-the sight." She had meant that to be a joke. The telling had gotten jumbled somewhere between her head and her mouth, as usual, but she hoped for at least a pitying kind of smile.

Permission had been communicated at least. Aurelie found she had to look away while Aremu wrestled the shirt off, slowly. She wasn't quite sure why; it felt very silly to her, and yet she did it anyway. She knew she would have to look back, and she did when he'd finished. Aurelie tried to keep her thoughts focused on the injury. Mostly, she succeeded—a little wandering was acceptable, she thought. There was only so much she could do. She was only flesh and blood, after all.

She set about cleaning the wound rather industriously to make up for it. Aurelie tried to be careful. It was broader than it was deep, at least. While she did so, something lingered at the back of her mind. Some little something that was off. At first she thought it was something about the injury, but she couldn't think of what about that was bothering her so. It was only when she was almost finished that she realized.

There was, Aurelie realized now, not a mark on him. Scars, yes. The marks of nature, and she thought—of work. Past or present. But there was nothing like that curl of a mark on her shoulder. Nothing that burned, clear and dark, just what they were. What they were not. The weight of it struck her so deeply her hands stilled a moment. Only a moment, and then she shoved it away. Focus, just focus on this. Nothing else mattered.

"Y-you, uhm. Should probably—take a bath, also. We can bandage this up after, I think." Her hands were steady, still. She thought they might not be; it was a relief to be wrong.