[Closed] Like I am only a wall

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 17 Hamis, 2720
(Sometimes) Aurelie's Room, (Always) The Tsuqeqachye’ki

Aremu nodded. “I’ll come and check on you in the morning,” he promised. “And bring you something to eat.”

I could stay, he almost offered; I could sleep in the corner, with a blanket over me. He didn’t know what fears were in him; he couldn’t find the shape of them. Something would happen in the night, he thought, or she would begin to cry again, and she would be alone. The thought of it was even worse than the thought of watching her cry once more; the thought of not knowing tore at him, somewhere he should not have been to tear.

It was, Aremu thought, horribly selfish, to ask her to be uncomfortable just so that he could soothe his own anxieties. He knew something of Anaxi and Anaxi proprieties; he knew it would make her uncomfortable.

“Good night, Aurelie,” was the only thing he said in the end. He took his sweater and the bowl of cold rice, the one they neither of them had eaten, for it did not smell especially good, anymore. Thinking ahead, he at least left the spoon. One handed, he dumped the rice down the trash chute in the kitchen, and washed the bowl and set it aside. He thought perhaps he was hungry, but he knew how carefully food was rationed aboard such a ship, and he did not want to force Chibugo to make more excuses for him.

There was noise and laughter coming from the cockpit of the ship, light spilling out beneath the door. Aremu didn’t know that he could bear it – especially the Hesseans – and so he didn’t go to find out.

Aremu shrugged on his sweater as he went outside; the chill wind pricked at him, raced over his skin, and he shivered in to it. He climbed up to the roof once more, and tucked himself out of sight, strapped in well enough for emergencies. He lay there, and he watched the stars for a long time. At first he found his constellations, named the shapes of them to himself, tracing them one to another through the bright stars.

And then, in time, he let go of that, too, and he simply looked. He didn’t know when it became sleep, or what sleep was to him; he dreamt of stars, and the things they had whispered to him once, and when he woke they were still, and when he slept they were there again. He thought perhaps he was somewhere between the stars and the ship, between being asleep and awake, and he couldn’t find even a fingerhold on anything more secure.

He woke to the pale light of early morning; he shifted, and rubbed his eyes with his left hand, and sat himself up against the edge of the roof, arm draped over his knees, and watched the faint beginnings of light spill out over the world below. They were still over land, as he had known they must be; it was Anaxas, still, beneath them, as it would be for most of the day. He could see nothing he knew, and he did not strain himself in the looking.

Before long he climbed back down; as he had promised, he turned the handle twice, and stopped for the count of three, and then opened the door, a tiny sliver.

She was asleep in the bed, red hair spread out over the pillow; he couldn’t see her face, but the heap of blankets over her rose and fell, steadily.

Silently, Aremu closed the door once more.

He went back outside, and sat, and watched the early dawn spill out over the world below; still, she slept. He made himself known in the cockpit for a bit, and then he checked on her again, and found her sleeping still. He took kofi in the kitchen with Chibugo and some of the others, and said he’d take breakfast in his room, and brought a bowl of thick barley-flour porridge in a bowl with him, sweetened with ginger, cinnamon, pepper, turmeric and cardamom, with only the faintest pinch of heat.

He turned the handle twice, and waited; he opened the door, then, the bowl balance between his hip and the wall, and slipped inside. He set the bowl down as quietly as he could, covering it, and tucked a spoon between it and the wall. He glanced at her once in the bed, and then turned to go once more, thinking not to disturb her.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

17th of Hamis, 2720 - Morning | Someone's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

Aurelie didn't dream, and without the familiar rhythms of Brunnhold all around her, she could not say how long she slept. She knew that she didn't sleep in a steady, unbroken way--she woke up many times in the night, disturbed not by noise but by the lack of it. Once she had forgotten where she was and what had happened, and that moment of disorientation before memory returned had been utterly terrifying. It had passed, but not easily.

Because she hadn't dreamt while she slept, she hadn't thought. Her wakings had been too brief for more than reassuring herself that nothing had changed and drifting blearily back into her exhaustion. Other than this, she was very still. Aurelie did not move much when she slept, on the whole. Not even in such unfamiliar circumstances. All of it blurred together, with nothing to distinguish one moment from the next.

In one of these semi-wakings she thought she heard the door, but couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what was imagined. No sound came after that, and she fell asleep again. When she finally woke and knew she could stay that way, dawn had long since spilled in through the window. Aurelie blinked at it, and shut her eyes against the brightness.

When was the last time she had slept through the rising of the sun? She couldn't remember. Normally she was up long before it, getting the kitchen ready, taking the chance to bathe when there were fewer people around. Sleeping in wasn't comforting; she felt annoyed, and then ashamed. There was no work for her to do, no reason for her to be awake, and yet it still made her feel useless and weighed-down.

No work to do. The idea of it struck her suddenly, hard enough to open her eyes properly. What... was she to do then? Aurelie turned over to look out the window into the unbroken sky outside of it, and she realized she had no idea. Idleness didn't sit well with her, and that was all she had to look forward to. Now, and... as far into the future as she could see. Aurelie also knew she didn't want to leave this room. That sat even more poorly, twisting in her stomach and souring the back of her mouth. Even though Aremu seemed to think it could be done, Aurelie didn't really want to find out that he was wrong. Overly-optimistic.

The sky was unbroken before her, and her thoughts unbroken inside. She didn't hear the rattling of the door handle, quiet as it was. She did, however, hear it open; panic held her in place for a breath, a heartbeat. Don't be ridiculous, you know who it is! Aurelie scolded herself, and turned. He must have thought her still asleep, because Aurelie was looking at Aremu's back when she started to sit up.

"I'm, er--I'm awake. Ah." Her voice sounded cracked; not much had improved in that regard overnight. "I mean, rather, ah. Well I am but--good morning? ...It is, still, isn't it?" Aurelie pushed herself up to sitting and looked across the room, frowning. She was quite unexpectedly grateful she had slept in her uniform after all; she didn't quite want to think too long on the idea of being seen in anything else. Especially not while asleep. Absurd, and yet... well. She had, and it didn't matter, and that was fine.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 17 Hamis, 2720
(Sometimes) Aurelie's Room, (Always) The Tsuqeqachye’ki

Aremu wasn’t exactly sure what the etiquette was of checking whether someone was awake. It wasn’t as if Aurelie was ill, and it made sense to be worried about whether or not things had worsened in the night. He had thought to leave her entirely, but she could not leave the room – or, at least, he thought they had agreed she should not, and hadn’t really had the feeling she had wanted to.

He thought it best to check on her, but he also hadn’t wanted to wake her if she were sleeping, or to intrude on her privacy if she wished to keep it. At the same time, what she had actually said was that she didn’t want to be alone – but if that had only applied to the night before? She had asked, he told himself, if you’d be back in the morning. He remembered the asking, too, her voice still run ragged with tears and more than a little aching. He didn’t think she’d have asked in such a way if she hadn’t wanted him to come back.

Her small, hoarse voice and the quiet sound of a blanket shifting intruded on these self-recriminating thoughts as he reached for the door. Aremu held, uncertain; she’d been in bed, of that he was certain, and he didn’t think he’d heard the sounds of her getting up. All he’d seen was the lump of the covers and her soft hair – not too short, but not long, either, a little tousled after a night of sleep.

“It is,” Aremu said. He shifted; he didn’t turn back to look at her. His right arm had been loose, and, without thinking more of it, he tucked his wrist into his pocket. He knew it for something like foolishness; she had never been the least squeamish about it. He hadn’t worn the prosthetic all the night before; so far as he could tell, she hadn’t even seemed to notice. It was more habit than anything, by now, to put it out of sight when there was anyone else to look, and nothing to do with it. He still wore the same clothing from the night before, including the sweater, though it was more rumpled now. He hadn’t meant to change; he didn’t think he smelled, and he wasn’t entirely sure where he could go for it. Sneaking in to a storage room to change seemed a thoroughly unnecessary risk.

“I mean – good morning,” Aremu said, still gazing firmly at the wall. “I hope you slept all right.” He didn’t quite dare to ask; he thought it unlikely for his wishes to have been realized, and he didn't want to make her say it.

“I – um,” Aremu swallowed, shifting uncertainly. He was frowning again, he realized; he tried to smooth it out, but it seemed to keep coming back. It always did. “I brought you some breakfast if you’re hungry.” He gestured with his left hand towards the covered bowl, and stilled the urge to look sideways towards it. “Do you want um – kofi or tea? Some of the crew are Hessean, so there’s some of each.”

“I can go and come back,” Aremu went on, still uncertain, “if you need a moment.” Even to ask if she were decent felt absurdly intrusive, as if he had been thinking about her in her shift or something; he felt a crawling embarrassment along the back of his neck. Either, Aremu felt, she should tell him to go, or else she’d say he didn’t need to, and that would be enough of an answer that he should know he could turn around, or so he hoped. Otherwise, he supposed, he’d just stay here looking at the wall until – until. There were worse things, Aremu told himself.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

17th of Hamis, 2720 - Morning | Someone's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

Oh, good. It was still morning after all--Aurelie sighed a little in relief, even though it felt silly to care. Certainly it wasn't as if it made a difference, considering she had nowhere to be but here. She could spend all day right here in this bed and it wouldn't matter at all. The idea made her a little giddy, although she found it vaguely repugnant.

Aremu answered her without turning back around. For a moment, still fogged with sleep, Aurelie couldn't figure out why. She frowned at the back of his head, blinking slowly in the light. Perhaps there was something to look at. He tucked his arm away, and she thought that maybe that was it. She had wanted to say that he didn't have to, but she didn't know that it was really about her and she would hate to draw attention to something he didn't want her to. That could be wrong, of course, but she thought silence on the subject suited equally well regardless of the truth of things.

Except he kept going, still staring at the wall. Her eyebrows came up. "Oh, w-well. As well as I might expect, I suppose." That was too honest for politeness, but that seemed acceptable given the circumstances.

She tilted her head, and while he continued she thought perhaps it better to stand. The ground felt, still, wobbly under her feet--she had forgotten, and squeaked a little in surprise as she braced herself. She wasn't wearing any socks, or--or other things. But, she consoled herself, it wasn't as if one could tell unless they looked very closely. An advantage of both her build and the rather ill-fitting nature of her clothes, she supposed. Aurelie couldn't imagine anyone looking at her that closely, in that the only person likely to look at her much at all today was Aremu. He seemed rather determined to never look at her again, at this rate.

"Oh, tea is--oh!" As she came to her wobbling stand, she had been still trying to figure out why he was facing the door. When he asked if she needed a moment, it quite suddenly slid into place. Perhaps it was just that she was feeling better, or that she was still tired despite having slept in so late--Aurelie laughed. Not, she hoped, unkindly. It just all seemed rather silly, and she couldn't help it. She brought a hand to cover her mouth, and quieted it. The smile lingered on her face.

"Thank you, for bringing me... breakfast. Er. You don't have to, ah, keep. I'm not, uhm. I am dressed," she offered, only stuttering a little at the end. There was just something dreadfully embarrassing about having to say it, even though she couldn't put her finger on what. She smoothed a hand down over her skirt, which was less rumpled than she might have feared. The sturdy cotton twill of her uniform was not precisely comfortable, but it certainly had that advantage.

"Did you, ah, have--oh this is very strange, this wobbling business--did you eat already...?"

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 17 Hamis, 2720
Aurelie's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

At the small squeak that came from behind him, Aremu jerked, and only at the last possible moment did he manage to keep himself from turning to look back. He didn’t quite know what to make of it; he didn’t think it had sounded frightened. He didn’t think Aurelie either the sort to shriek in fear at a mouse or insect – though, in truth, any insect which could survive aboard the Tsuqeqachye’ki might well be worth shrieking at.

Tea, Aurelie began, and then she laughed.

Some of the tension in Aremu’s shoulders eased at the sound, even before she went on to tell him that she was, in fact, dressed. “Oh,” he said, audibly relived. He turned back, slowly, his hand still in his pocket. He found he was smiling, just a little, uncertainly; her smile looked about the same, but they were, the both of them, smiling.

She looked, he thought, better; something of the worst of the pinched look had gone from her face, or at least so he told himself. So, he thought, he probably wished to believe. “I’m sorry,” Aremu said, smiling a little more. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She was dressed, although her pale blue uniform was more rumpled than it had been the night before, and he couldn’t imagine it had been terribly comfortable to sleep in.

Surely Aurelie didn’t usually sleep in her clothing. Aremu realized rather uneasily that hadn’t thought of sleeping clothes any more than he had of combs. What sort of thing did women sleep in, generally, when there wasn’t – er – when they slept on their own? He thought of – his imagination quailed, faintly, at attempting to put Aurelie in any such thing which came to mind, even the small lacy robes such as he’d seen Niccolette wear (or, once, rather memorably, Uzoji). He wasn’t sure he knew how to picture her in anything other than her uniform, and it seemed – downright wrong. Ahura, he hoped, would know what to do there, or else Aurelie herself, perhaps – Ahura could ask her, at least, as he could not, or at least, he didn’t think she wanted him to.

Awkward smiles were easier than hysterical sobbing. Aremu was aware of the wash of heat over his neck and cheeks, although he was comforted by knowing how hard it was to see such blushes against Mugrobi skin. Actually, he’d probably have done worse to himself to make her laugh, Aremu thought; it hadn’t made him feel ashamed or bad, really. A bit embarrassed, perhaps, but – it was light, and superficial, relative to all the heaviness of the last day and the days that had come before it. He found he didn’t mind.

“Uh, no, not yet,” Aremu said, after a moment. “I’ll, um,” he shook his head, lightly. “I ought to be able to go back and take more later,” he said, with what he hoped was an encouraging sort of smile. He wasn’t entirely certain there’d be more left later, but he was fairly sure he could get away with the claim that he’d simply eaten all of it and still wanted more. Chibugo, at least, would understand; they could restock on the islands, if it turned out to be necessary. He didn’t know where they were off to next; he knew he would not ask.

“I’ll be back with some tea,” Aremu added, after a moment, edging backwards towards the door. He was keenly aware that a lie would have been much smarter than the truth, in this circumstance; he was also keenly aware that he had not even considered it. He rather wished she hadn’t asked; he found himself enormously grateful she had not managed to wonder about where he had slept, and hoped with all of himself, however little it was, that she should not think to do so.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

17th of Hamis, 2720 - Morning | Someone's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

The smile she'd found caught and stuck. Aurelie didn't laugh again at the relief in Aremu's "oh". Despite the fact that it was so thick in the single syllable she thought she might see the shape of it in the air. He did turn around at least, which made her feel a bit better. If he was to be the only person she really spoke to for the next day or so, she would like it rather more if he would look at her. And, she reflected, she would like it rather more generally speaking, as they were friends.

Her laughter at least hadn't offended, which was good too. Her smile strengthened then, settled more comfortably on her face. She felt--better. No less afraid, or anxious, and she still didn't... Thinking on it too much did her no good. And she was unsteady as she stood, but she thought that was because the ship was unsteady beneath her rather than any sort of physical or mental anguish. Probably. But she didn't think she would cry today, at least not without more provocation. Significant provocation, she hoped. One never knew, but she tried to stay positive.

"Thank you for, er. The consideration." She sort of carefully shuffled closer, not trusting herself not to pitch sideways. She had done so a few times last night, even when she'd had support.

When she'd leaned on Aremu rather heavily for support, actually; she tried not to think about it. This was a new sort of thing to have to puzzle out. He did, of course, treat her like a person and not some kind of oddly mobile extension of the school itself. And they were both, of course, passives. Intellectually, she could process these facts, while also her mind insisted that it wasn't quite the same--he wasn't, of course, from Brunnhold. Neither, now, was she and it wasn't the done thing either, all of the hanging on and the hand-holding and...

But she still couldn't quite reconcile whether she ought to apply to herself the standards of a young woman or a lamp. She didn't know many men at all on speaking terms; thinking of Fionn didn't help in the least, as that was rather different. Neither, she thought despairingly, did thinking of Professor Moore, who didn't count in various ways. Best to just put it out of her mind entirely. As much as she could. It felt ridiculous, anyway. Surely she had more pressing concerns that the dictates of social convention.

Aurelie looked up from her shuffling sharply, ear catching on that "ought to" that followed the shaking of his head. "Ought to?" She frowned, fretting before she could stop herself. That sounded rather like he was avoiding saying that he would for certain. Avoiding lying to her.

He looked distinctly like was trying to escape, edging towards the door. Aurelie knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she was probably overstepping the bounds of friendship, but she couldn't help it. She looked at Aremu and that funny smile, and his heading to the door, and she frowned again.

"That sounds like there's room for doubt," she said. She shuffled a little closer, looking at the bowl he'd indicated before. "You're not..." Aurelie squinted, weighing her words. She didn't know how to ask the question, quite, without feeling rude. She had been rude already, of course; being at least a little rested and feeling less like she was going to crumple like wet paper made her bold, apparently. That didn't mean she needed to add to it.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 17 Hamis, 2720
Aurelie's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

There is little room for certainty in truth, Aremu thought to say, and I did not wish to lie. Of course there is a chance - I cannot know the future - but I expect that...

He shifted, turning to look at her once more. She was squinting at him, and he couldn’t have said exactly what to make of it, except that he thought to say such a thing would be, somehow, worse than a lie.

“No,” Aremu said, uncertainly, the last dregs of his smile fading. “That is - I’m not sure.” He shifted; his left hand found his pocket too, and he glanced down, somewhere between sheepish and ashamed, feeling like a small boy caught in a some misbehavior. Not a lie - he had never lied, as a boy, or at least never knowingly. There had been times he had come close to it, unknowingly, when he had failed to honor truth as it should have been. Perhaps it had always been that it was never in him to know.

Such thoughts were little help, Aremu knew; there was nothing of comfort in them. He wondered if some day the ache of it would fade; certainly the sharpness of it had dulled over time, into a more manageable ache. That seemed to him all he could truly hope for, and he was grateful for it, or grateful enough.

Aremu found himself going on; he wasn’t sure why. It was something, he thought guiltily, in Aurelie’s eyes, as if she were disappointed, or worse, worried. “I don’t need to - I’m - I mean I’m accustomed...” he shifted again, finding that in the wake of his first effort, he could think of very little else in the way of a decent explanation.

I’ve gone longer, he could have said, when there’s need; anyway, most likely there should be something later. That seemed pitiful, little matter that it was true. I don’t want you to worry about me. That seemed presumptuous; perhaps he was only reading into the frown on her small face. Even if it wasn’t - it didn’t seem to accord well with friendship. It was some other, stranger, condescending emotion, and he did not like to wear it. He did not think her to be weak; he knew her to be strong.

“I didn’t want to give you away or ask you to go without,” Aremu said, quietly. “And it seemed - it’s a small ship, and I didn’t think I could get away with taking two bowls at once.” Could he manage a joke about his appetite? He couldn’t think of any and he suspected they wouldn’t help his case in the least. Anyway, he hadn’t had much of one, earlier; he had been full of worry, with little enough space left over.

Trust me, he thought, was what he really wanted to say; I’m doing my best to look out for you. Or was that too selfish? He didn’t know; it seemed selfish to him either way, as if there was no way around it, or at least no way that he could find.

This, at least, he had thought about; it wasn’t like the brush or the nightgown or all the other things he had forgotten. He had made a plan, when it came to food. It just - hadn’t included telling Aurelie about it.

“If I can get something else to bring back now,” Aremu offered, tentative, hopeful, “I will.” If the kitchen was empty - if there were flatbreads or eggs or something else he hadn’t taken - there was, he felt, a good chance of it.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

17th of Hamis, 2720 - Morning | Someone's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

Aremu stopped smiling under the weight of her concern. Aurelie felt a little bad about it, then, but her concern outweighed that feeling. There was nothing she could do to stop herself, anyway--it sounded rather distinctly like her friend was telling her he wasn't eating.

He hedged around it, putting his hand in his other pocket. Aurelie felt a little like she was scolding an errant child, and immediately wondered if that was a condescending thing to think. She didn't think he was a child, of course, or even childish. Just that the air of it hung around while she looked at him and frowned. Perhaps it wasn't unwarranted, as the longer she looked the more guilty he seemed to get.

And there it was, at last, quietly. Her suspicions confirmed; he was not eating something, and bringing it to her instead. While she was touched by the sentiment, just like she was by the consideration for her comfort earlier, Aurelie didn't want her comfort to come at Aremu's expense. This was all burden enough, favor enough. I'm accustomed too, to going without. Aurelie didn't think the reminder, if it was a reminder and not new information, would help here.

For a moment she wondered if he knew that these things happened in Brunnhold, for all that the frequency of it had dropped off in recent years. The sorts of punishments that happened when mistakes were made, the kinds that left no marks. Did anyone know? It was so woven into the fabric of her reality, she couldn't imagine a total lack of awareness. Aurelie couldn't imagine lots of things; that didn't make them unreal.

"Thank you, for being careful," she said slowly, trying to pick her way through words. Aurelie had so few friends; she wasn't sure how much of her concern she should express, or how. She chewed on her lip, chapped and dry. A bit of it split open and she tasted copper in her mouth. What kind of face was she making, she wondered? Worried, she thought. The lines of it seemed to settle across her pointed, freckled face despite her best efforts.

"It doesn't--I am not happier, hearing... I mean, I am grateful, for the concern. And I wouldn't--I don't want to tell you, what to do or not do, ah. B-but, that is... Oh bells and chimes. Please eat something. I don't want to--burden you, or..." Aurelie trailed off, looking up at him. Had he planned on this all along? Was he going to mention it? Two and a half days wasn't forever, and yet... She would rather have known that part of the plan, if so. Though, she thought sourly, she would never have agreed with it.

She huffed, not letting her eyes slide off of Aremu's face. She had the sneaking suspicion that if she did, he would slip out the door before she could fit in any more haranguing. There had to be a middle solution, she thought. Unless she was missing something, which was quite likely.

"If you can't, get something else I mean, I would rather--I would rather share, if possible. Unless you wouldn't--I would feel better that way. Okay?" Then she smiled, a little embarrassed by her scolding. "I'm just, er, concerned. I'm sorry if--that's not... wanted."

[Aremu Ediwo]

Morning, 17 Hamis, 2720
Aurelie's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

Aurelie kept her gaze fixed firmly on his face. Aremu had thought to make for the door when she looked away, but she seemed remarkably unwilling to, frowning quite resolutely at him even as she professed gratitude for his concern. She sounded, Aremu thought, uncomfortably, rather as if she were telling him she thought him a fool.

Maybe he was. Probably so, really.

Aremu shifted; his left hand came out of his pocket, and rubbed the back of his neck, which was still warm beneath his palm. “You’re not a burden,” he said, quietly, the only time he made to interrupt her; he didn’t know if it was, quite, an interruption, or if instead she would have anyway been silent, just then, making a little breathy noise and staring at him quite intently still.

“All right,” Aremu agreed. He thought he would have agreed to anything she came up with, just then, short of him eating the food and leaving none for her. He had done his best to get a full portion, anyway. He didn’t have a good sense of Aurelie’s appetite; he could eat an entire bowl of the stuff, and Niccolette would probably have had about a spoonful and called it sufficient. Aurelie was much shorter than the other woman, and very slight – slighter, now, he was almost sure, than in Dentis – but he couldn’t really imagine her with a delicate, picky, bird-like appetite. She seemed as if she ought to be one of those girls who ate a good deal.

“No,” Aremu said when she apologized, his hand lowering to hang loose at his side. “It’s um…” he shifted. “I felt you had enough to deal with,” he said, looking at her, a frown furrowing his brow. “I meant to take some of it from you, but if I’ve the right to do that, then you’ve the right to concern also, I think. I’m your friend as much you’re mine, or so I – um – so I hope.”

Now, slowly, a little smile tried itself on the edges of his lips; it didn’t linger long, but when it left, something of the frown he’d held before had eased. “I’ll be right back,” Aremu promised.

He went down the hallway; there was a burst of laughter from the kitchen, and he nearly flinched. It was two of the Hessean crewmen whose names he hadn’t yet learned; they glanced over when he entered, and ignored him, talking to one another in Heshath, both laughing still beneath the words.

There was, Aremu was relieved to see, more food; someone had put out a handful of boiled eggs and a large thin flatbread. He took one of the pieces of flatbread, and wrapped it into a bowl; he tucked an egg into the edge of it, and then a cup of tea and kofi as well, carefully balancing them all. He spread his fingers wide around the base of it, his right wrist tucked into his pocket.

Only when he was back out in the hall did Aremu reach to steady the bowl with his right wrist, the edge of the sweater resting against it. He went back to the room; he shifted, bracing the bowl between his wrist and the wall, turned the handle twice, and waited, counting to himself. Only then did he open the door, take the bowl once more, and come inside.

Feeling rather uncertain, Aremu offered Aurelie another smile.

There was, really, only the bed to sit on; the bowl was on a small table next to it, with space for Aurelie to sit there, at least. They had two bowls now, and two spoons, which should make it easier, Aremu felt; he couldn’t have said why he was still anxious about it.

“Do you like hardboiled eggs?” Aremu asked, rather hopefully. He set the second bowl down next to the first; he took the small, strong cup of tea from it, and offered it to Aurelie with a smile as hopeful as his voice had been. He took the kofi for himself, and glanced down at the bed; then, after a moment, he sat down instead on the floor, his back against the wall and his feet flat. From there, he could set the cup down if need be, and reach up for either of the bowls.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

17th of Hamis, 2720 - Morning | Someone's Room, The Tsuqeqachye’ki

The suggestion, such as it was, sounded very silly said out loud. Maybe all of it had been rather silly; she had no real basis for her scolding, she thought. Except, well. She remembered that he had written to her even though it had made his injured shoulder worse; Aurelie had been suspicious that this was not an isolated sort of incident. Some of the creases in her brow relaxed when he agreed to the idea, despite rather feeling like she ought not to have said anything.

That didn't make him frown any less. Aurelie reflected briefly that she'd only seen him smile for very brief periods at a time. Of course, she had really only seen him under less than ideal circumstances. Certainly not the sort of events that led to an excess of smiling. She hadn't managed much of it herself, she thought. Normally she did--at least she tried to. Smiles that meant very little, but smiles all the same.

She smiled now, and it did mean something. It curled just the corners of her mouth, and touched much more of her eyes. Her face felt a little warm; this was all tremendously awkward, and she wondered if it was a contagious condition. "Well, that's, er. Fair enough, I... I think. Hmm."

And then he all but bolted from the room. At least he had smiled a moment first; Aurelie consoled herself with that.

While Aremu was gone, Aurelie looked around again. She hadn't seen much of the room really in the night before. There had been only starlight to illuminate things, and while it was enough to see by that was only just barely. She felt a little steadier on her feet now. A little--stepping away from any steady object, bolted in place, felt like an exercise in foolishness. Foolishness it was, though--that was the order of the day. The month. Her entire life, it felt like.

Not that there was much to see, or anywhere to go. Aurelie walked around the edges of it, and then went to sit back down. She didn't know how long it would take; the ship wasn't large. At least. She didn't think it was--she had no idea. All that she had seen really was this one room. And then inside of the trunk, which wasn't the same and didn't count. But she thought it couldn't possibly be quite as large as the sort of airship she had been on as a small child, if it was so easy to get her aboard and keep her hidden.

Waiting was difficult, actually. Aurelie kept thinking she should be doing something, but there was nothing. Just sitting there. She did think, at least, to run a comb through her hair--she had yet to do so, and tried not to think about the fact that she had been standing there scolding Aremu looking like she had just rolled out of bed. Because she had.

At some point, and it could have been minutes or just seconds, she stood back up. Relief washed through her when she heard that jostling of the door handle--she remembered now, in the light of day, that he had mentioned some kind of system that involved the door. When he entered the room and smiled at her, she smiled back.

Aurelie wanted to do something to help, but she felt very useless. There didn't seem to be anywhere but the bed to sit, and the table near it to set things on. She took the tea gratefully; she didn't always have it in the morning, but she felt like it was called for now. Sitting on the bed while Aremu was on the floor felt odd, but it felt odder still to sit on the floor with him, so she didn't.

"I do," she said and smiled again, or continued to, or changed something in it--she really didn't know. "Although I didn't as a child--I didn't like the yolks, and Nurse always scolded me for wasting food if I didn't eat the whole thing." She hadn't thought about that in a long time; she hadn't thought about whether or not she liked eggs, either. It didn't really matter, generally speaking, what she did or did not like. There was only what was in front of her, always. Preference didn't much come into it. She took some of her tea, not really knowing what to say from there, her eyes fixed on the bottom of the cup as much as possible.