[Closed, Mature] I will not ask you

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, Hamis 32, 2720
Western Port, Isla Dzum

Aremu had, at least somewhat, been out of the house the last few days. Once he had been steady enough on his feet, he had gone for a walk through the fields one morning, early; when he’d been sick, it had been in private, and at least with no one watching, and he’d felt better afterwards, rather than worse. He’d walked back, washed his mouth out downstairs, and climbed back into bed with Aurelie; he wasn’t such a fool as to think she hadn’t woken, but she’d dozed back off a little longer, and they had neither of them brought it up.

The next day he’d managed a little longer, both in the morning and the late afternoon. He’d even sat outside in the heat, head tilted back, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. The scrapes on his shoulder had closed, only a little tenderness to them, and his head was steadily better, though still more sensitive than he might have liked.

The headaches were gone, or nearly gone. He didn’t, at least, have a headache all the time, and those he did have weren’t nearly as bad as the first few days after the injury. He felt largely like he had before, or at least close enough to it.

The difference was, of course, Aurelie. There had been no going back from that first moment in the cave, when she’d brushed her lips over his; there was even less from the night before, and all they had shared between them after her careful asking. He’d woken with her still wrapped in his arms, and kissed her, and between them they’d lost a little more time, pleasantly wound away into nothingness.

They had planned the trip to Laus Oma two days earlier. Ahura had told him he was a fool to rush, but Aremu had told her that he felt well enough, and he did not wish to keep his life on hold. To Aurelie, he’d said only that he’d let her know if he didn’t feel up to it, when the time came. The time had come, and Aremu felt fine; the slight ache in his head went away with some kofi, and the salt-washed air smelled wonderful when they set out.

It was easy enough to catch a cart from Dzide’rig, rather than walk the full way to Western Port; even better, they were sharing it with yams, rather than fish or chickens. Aremu had sat with his back against a crate of them, his legs stretched out amidst another pile, and his fingers tangled through Aurelie’s.

He wore the prosthetic, today; the straps ran along his arm, hitched at his elbow and shoulder and finally strapped across his chest. They were covered by the soft dark fabric of his shirt; the clean white bandage on his head was covered by the straw hat he wore, nearly a match for Aurelie’s.

“Domea domea, ada’na,” Aremu thanked the driver with a wave; they climbed down at the marketplace of Western Port, busy and bustling with the morning rush. The fish market was winding down – that was the earliest of them – and livestock were crowding in, goats and chickens mostly what was sold. Aremu grinned at Aurelie.

“This way,” he said, his hand touching her arm lightly, squinting up at the clock in the market square. “We’ve half an hour to the next ferry.”

Western Port was more of a town than Dzide’rig; the streets were cobblestoned, at least those in the heart of it, and a tangle of them sprawled out along the meadow above the beach. If it wasn’t quite large enough to get lost in, it was large enough at least that one couldn’t see the western end while standing at the eastern end.

The houses sprawling down to the water were elegant, on the end further from the port; they walked through them, and past the handful of warehouses which lined the place next to the ferry.

“This is where Apadha’s house is,” Aremu said, gesturing up a street. They’d talked about it, by now, her husband with his house in Western Port, his unexpected death at sea nearly two years ago, the house she rented out, the careful nest egg stored for Efere in a bank in Laus Oma, and Apadha’s quiet move back to Dzide’rig.

There wasn’t much else to see; Aremu steadied Aurelie as they went along the gangplank to the ferry, and held the door open to help her inside. The boat rocked, gently, back and forth; the seats were comfortable, carved wood with cushions propped on them. A horn blasted loudly overhead, and on the hour there were shouts outside, and the ferry began to pull away from the shore.

“It’s a little under an hour,” Aremu said, smiling at Aurelie from a seat across. “There’s tea and kofi, if you’d like anything?”

It wasn’t so busy as day they had planned; Aremu wanted to check on the status of the part he’d ordered, and arrange to have it brought to the docks for the afternoon. After that, he’d thought they would go and see something of the town – he wanted very badly to take Aurelie to a bookshop, and perhaps a fabric merchant, to be able to choose something for herself. Otherwise, he thought – otherwise, he supposed, they would let the day go as it would.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Morning | Western Port, Isla Dzum

Aurelie hadn't been sure if they would go to Laus Oma, in the end. He had seemed reasonably like he was recovering to her, but she couldn't help but have doubts. Even when they'd planned the trip two days before she'd had doubts; Ahura too, Aurelie knew. He'd promised to tell her if he wasn't feeling well enough for it. Aurelie hadn't put much stock in his assessment of how well he was or was not; Aremu hadn't proven himself particularly reliable in that area up until now.

But to her own eyes he seemed well enough, at least, for this. She kept to herself that she planned to keep a sharp eye on his health while they were out. Some part of her wondered that her positive assessment wasn't more selfish than it was objective. Aurelie was rather looking forward to it herself; she had been too nervous the other week in the village to appreciate it properly, too unsettled. Now? Aurelie thought she felt no more settled, but more grounded than she had that day.

If that, too, made her uneasy, she banished it to some corner of her mind that wouldn't impose itself on the day. Far away to the pleasant idleness of the morning, the salt air, the warm thread of Aremu's fingers in her own. That had changed in her too. Or not inside of her, but between the two of them; that had shifted to something from which there was no return.

The weather was pleasant and the air clean when they left. Bright, as it always seemed to be until rather suddenly it wasn't. The prosthetic, straps covered by Aremu's dark shirt, surprised her somehow. Aurelie couldn't think of why, until she realized that she had seen him more without it than with it. They had, she thought, spent so little time in each other's company for all that she'd met him for the first time now six months ago. Most of it had been at the house. She said nothing of it, and tucked her surprise away to think about on her own, later.

She liked their brief walk through Western Port. She liked knowing where Apadha's house was, being able to see the street and fix it as a location in her mind's eye. The crowd wasn't so big now, even though Western Port was certainly more of a town than Dzide'rig. It felt more manageable to her at least; Aurelie knew that there was nothing more to that feeling than a shift in her own perspective. On her own, without Aremu, she wasn't sure she would have liked it so much. It still felt so very far from anywhere she had ever called home; she knew Laus Oma would be the same. But she wasn't on her own. She tried not to cling, but she stayed close enough that there was likely little distinction, and she enjoyed the brief time for what it was.

The ferry was new for her too. Stepping on it was odd. It felt different from the oddness of the airship, but not entirely dissimilar either. It still swayed gently underfoot. Aurelie was suddenly quite grateful she could swim at least a little; a vision of catastrophe immediately floated into her mind before she could bat it away. There was no real fear in it, and yet her mind insisted on the image anyway. She sat neatly on her seat, back straight and hands folded. Her hat was on top of them; it felt in the way once they were sitting down inside.

"Oh, ah—I'm all right. Unless you were already going to—I mean, I'm still... Hmm." She lapsed into a brief silence, aware she would only fill it with increasingly incoherent mumbling if she carried on without such a pause.

"I can't remember the last time I was on a ferry." The admission was quiet, but not shy. She couldn't say why she felt such a strong desire to keep her voice down. Aurelie smiled anyway, and did her best to look around without making it too terribly obvious that's what she was doing. "If I ever have. I would have been a very little girl."

Just a little under an hour. That wasn't so long. Aurelie had, too, brought a little of her sewing with her. For no reason other than to keep her hands busy; she looked a little sheepish as she brought it out of her pocket and settled it on top of the hat. Nothing intricate; she had learned her lesson on the airship, about keeping her hands steady enough for such work when she wasn't used to it. She was still puzzling through her flower pattern, unsatisfied with the versions she'd come up with so far. Fingertips brushed over the work she had done so far, but she didn't pick it up immediately. Too busy trying to catalogue all that was unfamiliar.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, Hamis 32, 2720
A Ferry from Western Port, Isla Dzum to Laus Oma

There were more than a few little girls and boys on this ferry, racing back and forth without paying any heed to its rocking.

“Juela!” One little girl cried out; she was teary-eyed, racing past them to bury her face in a lap of bright cloth, the nearby imbala clicking her tongue and rubbing the girl’s short hair, bending her bright-wrapped head to listen as the little girl sobbed out a tale of childish unfairness.

The ferry was shifting away from the dock now; the horn blasted again. A handful of seabirds scattered up into the sky, just visible out the window, and they pulled away from the shore, cutting through the white capped lapping waves.

“It’s different than an airship,” Aremu said, turning to look at the window, at the distant line between the sea and the sky beyond; the sky, at least, was a bright and brilliant blue, as if it had never known a storm. He smiled back at Aurelie. “I did mean to get some kofi; I’ll fetch some for you.”

Aremu came back with Aurelie’s cup in his hand, his own tucked carefully between his right arm and his body. He was grateful to have his balance back, by now; he moved evenly and steadily on the swaying ship, as if it were solid ground beneath him, even with children still shrieking and running about, the little girl as bright as if she had never cried.

Aremu handed Aurelie her kofi, and settled down with his, taking a sip. It tasted, he thought, as if it had been made on a ship, but it wasn’t bad otherwise.

“Is there anything particular you want to do or see?” Aremu asked, smiling at Aurelie. “We’ve my errand to run, and then - the day, really. I thought maybe - there’s a bookseller I rather like, and he keeps an eye out for me for mechanical books,” Aremu grinned, somewhere between sheepish and excited, an almost boyish enthusiasm in his eyes.

“And I thought - I know you didn’t have much choice of fabrics,” Aremu smiled. “You look lovely, I mean, but I just thought - you might enjoy seeing more of what there is,” he knew how he was looking at her; he knew. He didn’t tell her yet about the lunch place he had chosen - famous for serving a dozen different dishes every day, portions or two of three bites of fish, vegetable and goat dishes with rice and tam’oqap, or the mango pickles served alongside it. That he knew she would like; that, he wanted to keep a surprise.

He couldn’t seem to help it, Aremu thought. He knew better; he knew himself a fool. But it was so easy - it was just so easy - and for all that half of him was holding its breath and waiting for it to fall apart, the other wanted nothing but to enjoy it, while it lasted.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Morning | The Ferry from Western Port to Laus Oma

Aurelie watched the children who ran about the ferry with half an eye. They didn't seem to mind the gentle motion of the boat underneath of them at all. Certainly not enough to deter them from whatever game they had devised to keep themselves occupied on the trip. A smile hovered around the edges of her mouth, even when one little girl began sobbing in her mother's lap. The injustices of childhood were many.

"Just a bit different," Aurelie agreed with another smile. She had been looking out the window when the horn sounded again, but she turned back to Aremu as he offered to get kofi for them both. The day was really very lovely, the sky as blue as she had ever seen it, arching down to meet the water where the color reflected back up.

There was something nice about all of these things together. The motion of the ferry; the blue sky and warm sun; the shrieks of the children punctuated once or twice by a sharp, exasperated admonishment from a mother when the play got out of hand. Aurelie kept quiet and watchful with her neat, retiring posture, letting all of it fill her up.

She even, just for a moment, tried to see if she could find that not-nothing from any of the imbala nearby. It was a fruitless effort; she never had gotten very good at it. Part of her had always been a little afraid to try, as if the more she was aware of it, the less tolerable Brunnhold would become. That, she thought with a funny kind of skipping of her heartbeat, no longer mattered.

By the time Aremu returned—steady, Aurelie had noted with relief—the tears had dried and the little girl was back to running about with the others. Aurelie took the cup he held out to her with a smile and a murmur of thanks, settling her hands around the warmth of it. She took a sip after a moment.

"Me?" Her eyebrows raised, slightly surprised. Her face tinted just a little, to be called "lovely". Aurelie took another sip of her kofi and thought. She had been happy just go along on the errand. To see more than just the plantation, and even just Dzum. An impulse she hadn't known she could have, let alone ever have been in a position to indulge. How odd, she thought, and her mouth turned up at the corners that much more.

"That all sounds, uhm, wonderful," she said at last, clearing her throat. Chimes. She really needed to—to keep her wits on her, even if he said things like that. Looked at her like that. "What else is... I've not had, ah... much leisure time in. In a long while."

She had paused, glancing briefly around them. She couldn't seem to help herself, although it felt silly. There was no fear in her eyes, only hesitation. It was obvious looking at her where she came from; she thought it was obvious looking at her what she was, too, if anyone knew what it was they would see. It was the pity, she had concluded, that she didn't want to see on anyone's face.

That was only a moment though; just a breath, just a heartbeat. That sort of worry had no place here. This was a lovely day, she told herself firmly, and she was looking forward to spending it with Aremu. To see what else might make him smile that way, too. "I wouldn't mind, uhm. Just walking around, really. Is there, ah... You know," she said with the trace of a laugh, "I don't know what sorts of things people would... do. Er, it's been—well. You know."

A thought did occur to her, but she was rather conflicted about sharing it. She would have liked, she thought, to make him another bookmark, or something like it—a nicer one, not made in stolen moments with off-cast materials. But she hadn't any sense what that cost. Or, too, any money of her own to begin with. Just looking would have been nice, she thought. But that was likely very dull for Aremu, to watch her look at embroidery floss without even any intention of buying it. So she held her tongue. Just the time was enough; even if they had only been there to run errands and return, she would have been happy.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, Hamis 32, 2720
A Ferry from Western Port, Isla Dzum to Laus Oma

Aremu listened, intently; it was easier, he thought, having – practiced, so to speak, on more sensitive subjects, to listen carefully to her here, and to understand where she was coming from, to sort out which gaps to leave empty and which to fill in. When he didn’t worry so much, he thought he could almost understand what was behind the stops and starts; he supposed there was a lesson in that, but he didn’t think it was one he was capable of learning.

He nodded, a little, when she finished. “That’s all right,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m not so much for it either, I think.” He tried to think back to trips he’d taken with Efreet, with Niccolette – and then, because the distinction was a foolish, superficial one, to places he’d gone with Uzoji, with Tom, with other friends. “I think just walking around is good enough. If you see anywhere that interests you, we can always stop and look. I’d be glad to see you enjoy yourself,” Aremu smiled at her, just a little too soft, he thought, though he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

The ferry went along, moving steadily through the water.

Aremu drank a little more of his kofi, looking across the seat at Aurelie. He knew he had to say it; he had been putting it off, he thought, for a little while. It would have been better to have addressed it before they’d ever kissed, before they’d added that layer to the deepening relationship between them, but he didn’t know if it mattered, really, in the end. He hadn’t exactly planned what had happened between them – he had never quite intended for it, for all that he was grateful for it, for all that he couldn’t bring himself – hadn’t been able to then, and still wasn’t now – to try to undo any of it, or at least stop it from going further.

It was, he thought wryly, too late for him, anyway; he knew that, even if he didn’t want to know it, and didn’t want to face it. He thought of the costs that one paid, and he knew, along his bones and in the core of their marrow, that he would pay for this, in time.

But none of that mattered, not just now, not with Aurelie smiling at him, her hat in her lap and kofi in her hand.

“I wanted to make a gift to you of some books,” Aremu said, coming out with it. He didn’t know how else to say it; he didn’t know what else to say about. “Or – if there’s anything else you’d like, at any of the stores we see – ” he smiled at her, although it was uncertain, and maybe a little sheepish. “But the bookseller has quite a lot of different sorts of books, more than there are in the house, and I thought you might find some that you want.”

Aremu shifted, a little; he wanted to take her hand, but he didn’t know whether he should. He didn’t want her to think it was because of that. “I’ve been thinking of it since the ship, really,” Aremu said, looking at her. I have more than I need, he almost wanted to say; I’ve saved, he might have said, and I spend almost nothing, and Niccolette pays me more than she should, and she increased it again the last time she was here. “You can think of it as a late birthday gift, if you like,” Aremu offered, a little hopefully.

“Would that be all right?” Aremu set the kofi down, his hand just at the edge of his seat; he didn’t reach for her, still, not yet, his gaze intent on her freckled face.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Morning | The Ferry from Western Port to Laus Oma

Aurelie smiled bright and pleased, and her face was, she knew, just a bit warm. That wasn't her fault. She couldn't have stopped her face from doing that if she had wanted to, and Aurelie found she didn't really want to. It felt like a kind of indulgence, to let her face do what it would and not worry too terribly much about if anyone saw.

"I—" I'm happy just spending time with you, she almost said, and then closed her mouth. It seemed a silly thing to say when she saw him every day. And as of late, nights too. No, that thought wasn't helpful in the least. Aurelie steered herself away from that line of thinking mostly successfully, but not before her face got just that much pinker. "That, ah. That sounds like a plan, then. Walking around. Er. And if you'd like to... I'm happy with anything, really."

The ferry chugged along steadily, and a silence spun out between them.

No, not a silence. A quiet. Or so it felt to Aurelie, who was happy to lapse into such a space. There was no silence to be found at all, with the laughter and shrieks of the children, the sound of the water, the ferry itself. Quiet conversations from adults, too. A sea bird of some kind, in the distance. Just nothing said between the two of them; that suited Aurelie just fine.

She had been taking another sip of her kofi when Aremu spoke again, and she very nearly choked. A gift? Whatever for? Aurelie wasn't sure what her face looked like just then; she felt rather stunned. She had been given so few gifts in such a long time, it hardly seemed...

And since the ship! That seemed even stranger and more unlikely. Unlikely or not, she had to believe it was true, because he said so. Gracious Lady, she must look like she'd been smacked over the back of the head. A late birthday gift, he said, as if the reason for it were the issue.

"All right?" Oh, chimes. Her voice squeaked, and her face was distinctly warm. "You really don't have t-to do that if you... I didn't get you anything, or... Oh. I, uhm. I-if... Really?"

She hadn't any idea how to either accept or decline such a thing with any grace. Or if she should decline, if it was appropriate to accept, if... She was smiling, she knew she was. A flustered, stupid, besotted thing; she knew that too, without being able to see herself. Now she absolutely had to make a better bookmark. Something better than a bookmark, even; it wasn't like she had to put it in the mail, now.

"But, ah, you did already write me the letter and..." She looked down at her hands, not quite sure what to do. Oh, Gracious Lady.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, Hamis 32, 2720
A Ferry from Western Port, Isla Dzum to Laus Oma

Aurelie’s mouth had opened a little when he made the offer; her eyes were wide and rounder than usual, and her face pinked beneath her freckles, her blush darkening rapidly. When she spoke, her voice was a little higher than usual, almost squeaking.

Maybe he should have expected it, Aremu thought; he should have known. This, he knew he had needed to ask in advance. It was better that they discussed it here than in the bookstore, when there would be an urgency to it. They had time, now; he thought time would help her, to slowly be able to unpack her thoughts.

“Really,” Aremu said, firmly. He couldn’t leave it, not quite; she was looking down at her hands, nervous, and he reached out and took one of them in his, fingers curling gently over her hand. “I do want to.”

There was silence between them for a few moments after her voice trailed off, punctuated by the sounds of warm conversation around them, the occasional squeak of a sea bird circling outside, the whooshing lap of the waves against the ship.

“Please?” Aremu asked, a little quietly.

It isn’t so much, he could have said; it’s just a few books. It’s only a gift. He nearly did, but he didn’t want either to tell her what it should mean - what it should be. She deserved, he thought, to make up her own mind.

I want to, he could have said. I don’t want you to be bored; I want you to be happy - I want you to stay. That, he couldn’t quite bring himself to say; he knew he couldn’t. Even the first half of it, which he thought he could have managed, felt incomplete now that he knew the second half of it. The weight of it ached in his chest, and he didn’t dare shift it to her shoulders - strong, he thought, though he knew they were.

It’s all right, he could have said instead, not to take it. Perhaps he should have; he wondered whether, if he truly cared about her, he would have. He didn’t; perhaps it was true, after all. He wasn’t sure if it was or not; it was all right, he thought, but he wondered if that implied he wouldn’t be hurt, and he thought that that implication, at least, would be a lie. He didn’t know, quite, where the line was; he didn’t know, quite, how to find it.

Please, he had said instead, the opposite of telling her it would be all right to let it go. Please. His hand was still over hers, gently; his thumb slid, gently, soft, over the edges of the small nicks and scars and the scattered freckles, the feel of it familiar beneath his thumb.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Morning | The Ferry from Western Port to Laus Oma

Oh, she did hope Aremu didn't think she was upset. Upset wouldn't have been the right word at all. What Aurelie was feeling wasn't upset, she just was so very flustered. She knew, really, that it wasn't such a dear thing. Buying her a few books was unlikely to be much of a financial hardship. It was being thought of that threw her.

A tiny sliver of her heart wondered if it was pity, for what she had lacked all this time. That seemed a cruel twist to put on the words he said, and she couldn't make herself believe it was so. Aremu took her hand, and Aurelie very deliberately left it so. That was an indulgence, too, and a test for herself.

"W-well. Uhm." She looked over at him, turning her palm up to take his hand properly. Oh, bells and chimes. What was she supposed to do with that? "If you insist," she said, relenting at last with a smile and a brief, light pressure of her fingers. She didn't pull her hand away, and she hoped he wouldn't either, not right away.

If you do things like this, she thought, it will be rather hard to get me to leave when my welcome wears thin. She didn't want to read much into it; she thought she succeeded. But no matter the degree of sentiment it was sweet, even the way he said it—with a request, with a "please". Like what she wanted mattered most of all. Like, she thought, it really was something meant to make her happy. There was guilt in her acceptance, but pleasure too.

Now, she thought firmly, she would have to make him something else. Aurelie wasn't sure how she'd accomplish this. Perhaps, she thought a little uneasily, she should be selfish a little more. There were many things already in the house, but embroidery floss wasn't one of them. It still counted as a gift if she made it, didn't it? If a lesser one.

"I-in that case," she started hesitantly, "I do have—a request. For a place to go, perhaps. We don't have to! I wouldn't be upset if we didn't. I don't, ah, I don't want to be a burden so please s-say no if this seems terribly dull. Uhm." Another wretched pause; brief. She reminded herself that this wasn't, truly, a request for herself. At least not entirely.

"I, ah. I've never—really had proper thread for. Er." Aurelie gestured with her free hand to her needlework, forgotten on her lap. "If there's a place to... to buy that, ah... I would be happy just to look! Er, although, that would be terribly boring for you, I imagine, so... Er. But that would be, ah. An option."

That was terribly selfish, wasn't it? She knew in her heart it was. She shouldn't have asked, but now she couldn't take it back. Certainly, her desire to make something for Aremu was her excuse for it; she knew it was just an excuse. She would assuredly get more satisfaction out of the project than he would get out of the result. Her face was uncertain, and painfully shy.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, Hamis 32, 2720
A Ferry from Western Port, Isla Dzum to Laus Oma

Aurelie accepted, in the end; her hand turned over beneath his and reached up, and she squeezed lightly when she did. Aremu smiled; he couldn’t quite help it, feeling something he hadn’t known he held tense in his shoulders. She hadn’t liked it; he knew she hadn’t.

When you go, he could almost have said, when you go – selfishly, he didn’t want to. He told himself that talk of it would make her uncomfortable, would make her feel that she had to leave, and that was the last thing he wanted. He knew better, or, rather, he knew that he was lying to himself if he said that was the only reason he didn’t want to say it. That it was true, or that he thought it true, didn’t seem to matter much, then.

Aurelie went on, carefully. Aremu smiled at her, and nodded when she said she had a request. Yes, he could have said, then; whatever you want. He thought maybe he should have. She worried her way around to it, starting first by going on about how he could say now, how she didn’t want to be a burden. You couldn’t be, he wanted to say, and he held it back – held it in – because he thought to let her say what she wished to say, and because he thought, too, that he didn’t quite know how to say such things to her.

Yet, he added to himself, and he didn’t know whether he was afraid of it or glad of it.

“We’ll find somewhere,” Aremu promised, smiling at her. “Perhaps there’ll be a place near where I’d thought to go for fabric,” He squeezed her hand lightly, “and if not we’ll look for one.”

Embroidery thread, Aremu thought, a little amused and more than a little happy. He didn’t know either how to say that he thought he’d enjoy watching her enjoy herself; he couldn’t, quite, just come out with it, for all that he wanted to. He couldn’t, either, quite say how glad he was that she had asked, and all the more for knowing it had been hard for her.

It wasn’t so long, really, before the ferry slowed as it approached the harbor; it wasn’t so long after that that they bumped, softly, into place, and held against the dock. Aremu and Aurelie followed the rest of the crowd across the thicker gangplank onto the busy docks, teeming with life and bright color.

“Ships come here from all over Mugroba,” Aremu explained; he’d offered Aurelie his left arm, his right wrist tucked into his pocket. “Laus Oma is the center of the Muluku islands. Ships come all the way from Thul Ka, but from the rest of the world as well – from Old Rose Harbor, Mestigia in Hesse, and even Tessalon in Bastia. Those land mostly at the larger docks; these here are the ferry docks, where the ferries that move between the different islands come and go from.”

“This way,” Aremu led them along the old, worn wood, through the crowds; those there were almost all Mugobi, and perhaps mostly human, though with plenty of arati and imbali to be found as well. They went off to the cobblestone streets, slightly damp with seawater closest to the port, and then drier the further they went.

It wasn’t too long before Aremu found his destination in the row of warehouses; they were mostly smiths and importers here, and from more than a few places sparks flew from hot, ready hearths. Aremu released Aurelie to stand with him, and rapped sharply at the entrance.

Feza came out, cleaning his hands on a rag; he was a dura, with half a foot of height on Aremu and a pot belly which never kept him from taking his shirt off while he worked. He raised his eyebrows. “Ediwo!” He grinned. “I’ve had your part waiting days.”

Aremu bowed. “My apologies, Feza.” He introduced Aurelie, politely, and they moved inside.

Aremu and Feza discussed the part in some detail; Aremu inspected it, carefully, feeling it with his fingertips, turning it over, as he and Feza discussed how it would be used, and where Aremu planned to put it in the machine. He sketched the schematic out lightly with a bit of chalk, the other man nodding intently, and they discussed the suitability of the part, both animated and intent.

They agreed, in time, that Feza would send someone with the part in a box for the evening ferry to Dzum; Aremu shook his hand, and left him the balance of coin.

“Was it too terribly dull?” Aremu asked Aurelie with a smile as they went back outside. He waved to a passing public coach, pulled by two moa, which pulled over; he climbed inside, helping Aurelie onto the bench next to him; the two young well-dressed duri women sitting on the opposite bench smiled at them and went immediately back to their own conversation in Mugrobi.

They pulled out, rattling steadily down the street, heading towards the heart of town.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Morning | Laus Oma, Mere Mauthua

Aurelie held their fingers threaded together, difficult as that was for her, and she had asked. That had been difficult too, but in the end it had been... Just fine. Or it was now, before they'd actually done the thing. She supposed it could prove terribly unpleasant when they got there. It was also possible they'd find no such thing at all; truthfully, Aurelie had only the dimmest of ideas of where one got such things. There was little call for fancywork from the passive population of the university, really.

Well, whatever would prove to be the case—that it was dull, that it was impossible, that it was too dear a thing after all—for now Aremu was smiling at her. He had agreed to it, and he was smiling at her. That, she thought, was plenty.

The rest of the trip passed quietly and pleasantly. Before too long they had docked, ferry knocking gently into place. As they departed, walking down the gangplank and into the bright bustle of the crowd, Aremu offered her his arm. Aurelie, of all things, hesitated for just a moment to take it. She tried to cover her hesitation with a slight adjustment of the angle of her hat on her head, but she didn't think it really worked very well.

You're being silly, she scolded herself firmly. There was nothing even remotely unseemly about taking his arm; less, even, than in taking his hand as she had on the ferry. The only difference here was that there were so very many people. Some part of her that Aurelie didn't think she liked the source of told her that all of them were witnesses. To what, she didn't know. She shook herself, and took the arm offered her carefully.

He always, she thought with a smile, made sure to tell her something like this wherever they went. It was a very silly thing to be endeared by; it was only common decency, likely, to do so. But she liked to know, and she found herself endeared by it without having much say in the matter. Perhaps it was just that she was a silly-minded person, in the end.

The crowds made Aurelie rather glad she had taken his arm, in the end. She felt rather certain she would have gotten herself separated and lost without it. She did not, she remembered sharply, do well in crowds. It had been a long time since she'd tested the theory—not since Yaris, really, and the errand she had gone on with Allie when the Stacks and campus both were swollen with visitors. Then she had clung to her roommate, and trailed a little behind her. Now, Aurelie held firm but did her best not to hide. Her grasp of Aremu's arm tensed every time she felt the brush of a field.

Their first stop was of course the errand. The shop was nestled in among many others of a similar kind, all rather industrial. The sparks that flew from some of them took her slightly aback once or twice. The whole of it was somehow oddly foreign, like stepping into a world that she truly knew nothing about. More than anything else so far; this was just rather a far cry from either the inside of a classroom, or the distinctly more domestic sphere of her life's work. She released Aremu's arm, standing next to him while he knocked at the door, and looked around with somewhat open curiosity.

That did change when the door opened and the man they had come to see stepped out. Aurelie's eyes dropped then out of habit; he was, of course, not wearing a shirt at all. That was a habit here to which Aurelie didn't know she would ever adjust. She looked up when Aremu introduced her and they stepped inside; that, too proved to be something of an effort.

Aurelie had not come on the errand because she was needed or useful. As such, she stood and waited while the two men discussed the part, Aremu's plans, and all sorts of other things that Aurelie could only somewhat follow. Mostly she didn't try, and she let the chatter wash over her. She liked listening to it, even without any understanding. The time there didn't seem so long; soon enough they were leaving again, and Aremu turned to her with a smile.

"Not at all," Aurelie said, shaking her head. "I—oh, thank you. Er. I liked it. You seemed like you were, ah, having fun." Aurelie inclined her head to the two women seated across from them, who paid them very little mind.

"I take it that it seems like it will work the way you'd like, then?" Fun might have been the wrong word; Aurelie wasn't quite sure. Aremu had seemed very excited about it, at least, which had made the waiting around more enjoyable than it might have been otherwise. She could quite possibly have stood there and listened—well, not all day, but for a long time at least.