[Closed] The Miles Won't Phase Me

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

I ’ll show you,” Aremu offered, grateful for something to do that wasn’t the ledger, “so next time...” he trailed off. He closed it with one hand, glancing down at the papers on the table. He frowned; he didn’t know that that had come out right. He glanced up at Aurelie once more, her bright red face and her little smile, and thought maybe he could rescue it, still.

“I don’t mind,” Aremu tried to say, awkwardly, “if you’d like me to make tea. But,” he could feel the frown deepening a little in his forehead; he looked down, and then up again, searching her face briefly, and not lingering elsewhere.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Aremu said, quietly. “It’s my hope that you’ll be comfortable here.”

He couldn’t bring himself to go on then; perhaps, he thought, uneasily, there was nothing more to add. It was a strange feeling, and his shoulders tightened against it, just a little.

There was a sink; the whole of the house had running water, an installation which Uzoji set up years ago. Aremu had learned his way around the pipes, though he wasn’t an expert. He filled up the kettle again and set it to boiling; the stove, at least, he was confident Aurelie could use on her own. The cascaras he dumped out the back door, into the soil of the kofi plants there.

“There’s, ah,” Aremu took Aurelie to the larder, and took down the tins, one by one, “some black tea, Hessean,” Aremu said, “and from the Steppes. The Hessean is rather good; I’d use the Steppe tea if you want to mix it with other things. For tisanes, there are plenty of herbs: hibiscus, mint, chamomile, rooibos, sage,” Aremu rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, opening the rooibos tin and holding it out to Aurelie with a little smile.

“There’s also - I was drinking,” Aremu set the tins back down and took down a larger jar, opening it to show Aurelie the red and brown shells inside. “It’s the kofi shells, actually, from the beans. Steeped, it makes a floral sort of tea.”

She was very close to him, now; she smelled like the soap he had brought, floral and a little spicy. Aremu cleared his throat, oddly conscious of it; he kept far enough away that the soft skirt of her little dress didn’t brush him.

I didn’t mean to ask, he’d wanted to say, when she’d said Ana had picked out the dress, or to dredge up - I’m sorry, he had wanted to say. If he had spoiled things, though, she hadn’t given any sign of it.

When he’d gone through all the herbs, Aremu stepped back a little, leaving her space as best as he could, his right wrist still in his pocket, as it had been throughout. As it should, he thought, have been all along. “What do you like?” He asked. “There isn’t any milk, but there is sugar, if you’d want that.”

In general, Aremu thought, he drank kofi. Sometimes he had tea - as he had today - from the cascaras. He thought of Tom making mint tea for him fondly, very fondly, but he didn’t make it on his own. Ahura liked to mix the herbs; sometimes she would set something down for him after dinner, rarely telling him what was in it; and, dutifully, he would drink it. It was usually good, or so he felt.

Most of these herbs they had used more - before. Back, Aremu thought, frowning, when there had been a ship tied up often enough on the platform outside, back when the house hadn’t been so... quiet.

He smiled at Aurelie through the worst of such thoughts; there was a breeze drifting through the kitchen, tousling the thin fine strands of her hair just a little. Now you know, he wanted to say. Whenever you like - whatever you like - whatever is here and is mine to share, I’m happy to offer.

”if you’re not sure,” Aremu said instead, smiling a little more, “then we’ll try something together and um, see how it goes.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

Making him stop what he was doing hadn't been her intention, not at all. Nor was putting that frown on his face, that awkward tone in his voice. She knew, now, that both were just something of Aremu's manner. But she also knew that it didn't have to be so; she had seen it for herself.

What did her face look like then, when he said he hoped she would be comfortable here? She wasn't uncomfortable. Well, that wasn't true. She was, but not in a way that she thought was avoidable. This isn't my house, she wanted to say, but she remembered the way he called it Uzoji and Niccolette's house. Even though from what he had told her, he was the only one who lived here most of the time. That hadn't struck her as strange at the time; it stuck out to her now.

"I don't know if I've been comfortable anywhere. Er, well," she paused, feeling foolish and mean besides, "I mean to say..." She looked down at her shoes, and then up again at his face. She smiled, unsure. "I hope so, too. Think so."

He moved to the sink and set a kettle on the stove, dumped whatever it was that he had made before out the back door. Aurelie followed him to the larder. Next time, she thought as he brought down tins, it would be nice if she could just do it. Next time--what a funny thought, next time. She looked at each one dutifully, marking their contents in her mind. The tea she had to make herself at Brunnhold had been serviceable, but nothing more. Many things they had to make were purchased for quantity, not quality--faculty and students who wanted finer things tended to buy them for themselves. To have a choice even here was just as odd as the rest.

The larger jar she looked at with even more interest; she had never heard of such a thing. They had to stand rather close together for the purpose, and she tried not to think about it. It wasn't too close, not really, just--close. Aurelie cleared her throat. Aremu stepped back, and there was space enough between them then that she shouldn't think too much more on the subject.

"A black tea, maybe? Whatever you think--maybe just by itself. For right now." Aurelie looked at the other tins, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. "I don't need any sugar or... I don't take much in it, usually." They took that tin down and moved back to the kitchen, no fuss made over it one way or the other.

Aurelie had thought to try something else, perhaps, but she thought now that she wanted mostly something grounding. That was just what it was, and not so unfamiliar she didn't know what that meant. Also, she was very fond of mint and chamomile together, but it was the middle of the day.

While they waited for the tea to steep, Aurelie stood by it, watching the color deepen and thinking of nothing in particular. She looked over to the table, at the stacks of papers and so on there. "What did I interrupt?" The very act of waiting for tea to be ready was relaxing; she looked up with a little curiosity. "If you don't mind my asking."

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aremu felt something go stiff on his face when Aurelie said she hadn’t been comfortable anywhere. He swallowed, woodenly, understanding. Of course, he thought to say; it was thoughtless of me to say it. Of course, he thought to say; I’m sorry to have presumed.

She went on though, and he didn’t quite know what to make of her quiet admission of hope. It made him feel as if apologizing would be wrong; it didn’t quite leave him feeling better about having said what he had. He tried to smile, instead, and nodded.

Not knowing how to make tea was a problem, and it was one he could solve. She knew how to boil water; if she knew where to find the kettle, the tea and the cups, then she should not have to depend on him for it, if she didn’t want to. He held on to that. He should have known it would be too much to ask such a thing; he should have found another way of it.

It wasn’t as hard to hold on, though, somehow, watching Aurelie studying the teas and herbs. Black tea, she said, and Aremu smiled. “All right,” he agreed.

They took the Hessean tea, in the end. The water was coming to a boil on the stove, and Aremu let Aurelie add the tea and pour it into the teapot. He showed her where the cups were as well.

The set he liked best were green, cheerful things, a little lumpy, with hand painted vines and dzum’ulusa flowers in red and yellow beneath the glaze. They were each one different, the flowers slightly uneven, but they were study and comfortable, and Aremu had grown rather fond of them. There were others, some about the same and others more elegant, but unless Aurelie had some other preference, it would be another of those which he took down.

They’re from Western Port, he thought to say, but he didn’t know if it would sound defensive or proud, and neither felt quite right. He didn’t say anything, instead. He did show her the sugar tin, at least, for all she had said she didn’t take much. It was well sealed, and came open beneath his fingers with a quiet pop.

“Balancing the ledgers,” Aremu said; he smiled at Aurelie, leaning now against the counter. “I’ve been gone more than a month; Ahura and Tsau - our foreman - have kept all the bills for me, wage bills for the workers, sales of crops, purchases for the plantation. It’s on me to tally them up, to check for issues or discrepancies, to...” Aremu shrugged a little, “try to make sense of it.” He said, after a moment.

“I’m not terribly good with such things,” he said, somewhat sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I do the best I can. A man who knows what he is doing - sorry. A person who knows what they are doing can spot problems coming, and make adjustments months ago. I always seem to be catching up.”

“You’re very easy to talk to,” Aremu said, quietly, after a moment. He held himself there; he didn’t go on. He thought he shouldn’t have said it at all; he regretted doing so, somewhat. It was true, all the same; even when it had been only her words, he had found himself wanting to speak.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

Aurelie smiled broadly at the cups Aremu took down from the cupboard. There were more delicate sets in there as well, and some similarly not so, but different--Aurelie liked these. She liked their uneven flowers in cheerful red and yellow, on top of a field of green. They had a sturdy, charmingly homespun quality to them, and Aurelie found herself taken with them rather immediately.

Now, she thought, she could at least make tea without putting a burden on anyone else. She knew where the cups were, and the kettle. She could use a stove, at least. That wasn't so different, no more than any stove differed from any other. Aurelie hadn't thought much about how settled she had become in her routine at Brunnhold; she knew where everything was that she needed, how the day would flow, what to do in almost all cases. After eleven years, she had become--not comfortable. She hadn't lied there, Brunnhold was never comfortable, at least not for very long and not because of the place as much as in spite of it. Adjusted, she supposed.

She had done it once, Aurelie thought to herself firmly, hoping to draw strength from it. That, too, had taken her from everything she knew. From the rhythms and the surety of her day-to-day. And if she had settled into such a place, one that relied upon her but did not want or love her... Surely, surely she could settle here, too. Where she wasn't needed, but was at least--invited.

"Oh, that's right you--you told me. That you've been gone. I had forgotten," she admitted, a little embarrassed. Forgetting was the wrong term; she hadn't forgotten, really. But time had slipped away from her, contracted and twisted, and she found that she had trouble keeping track of the months.

At least she had known where to send her letter; she didn't know what she would have done if it had gone astray. Her mouth pressed into a thin line for just a moment, but she very deliberately pushed the thought down. That hadn't happened, and there was no point in dwelling on what might have been.

Aurelie listened to his explanation and just nodded. It sounded like a lot to keep track of. Not too unlike managing all of the details of the kitchen stores--orders, supply levels, special events, that sort of thing. She had helped with that, from time to time. Not much, but she liked thinking about it. It was specific and practical. Aurelie wondered if Aremu wasn't better at it than he gave himself credit for. She thought of saying so, but considering what she knew of him, she didn't think he would appreciate it. Whether or not he was being fair in his evaluation, Aurelie didn't think her saying anything on the matter would communicate much but that she didn't believe him.

"M-me? I am?" Aurelie's voice came out a surprised, flustered squeak; she looked up rather sharply. Her mouth open like some kind of dreadful ginger goldfish in that way she had. She closed it with an audible snap. "What makes you say--really? Er, well, ah. Thank you--I think?"

Oh, this was terrible. She had gotten at least a little better about this sort of thing--putting her entire foot in her mouth as quickly as possible--or she had thought she had, at any rate. This whole experience was challenging that notion rather strongly. The color in her face had receeded; it returned now, just as strongly as it had been when she stood at the edge of the kitchen and he had said the green was nice. No, more so--she could feel it creeping all down the back of her neck.

"I like talking. To you, I mean, I actually don't--generally. I like listening m-more. Uhm. I liked writing to you--I'm sorry my letters were always so... Well. But I enjoyed them, and uhm. I'm glad I'm here." She paused there. It was true; she was glad, and hadn't thought of it in those words until now. What an absurd thing to not have realized. Such a simple thing. She could have laughed; in fact, she did. Briefly, but she laughed.

"Oh! Ah, n-not to. Er. That reminds me, just, that I didn't get a chance to tell you. I did like the candies you sent me. Very much." A good part of a rather terrible time, she didn't say. Because it had been, and also it didn't matter now. Only the fact that she had liked them mattered in this moment, and that was what she held on to. She looked up when she said it, and then quickly back down at her feet. Smiling, still.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aremu shook his head a little when Aurelie said she had forgotten he had been traveling. You’ve had a lot to think about, he wanted to say; it’s all right. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember. It felt self-pitying - felt as if it would emerge self-pitting - for all he didn’t mean it that way.

Me? She squeaked. Her small mouth cams open and stayed that way. Aremu couldn’t help it; he grinned. A red flush was creeping up her cheeks; with her slightly sideways to him, he could just see it on the back of her neck, where her hair didn’t quite cover.

“You’re a good listener,” Aremu said, “and you ask good questions.” He found he was still grinning; perhaps he shouldn’t have been. He couldn’t quite seem to help it. She looked utterly flustered, and there was something sort of restful about it. After the last few days, perhaps it should have been harder to smile; perhaps usually it was. Just now it was easy, or at least easy enough.

“I’m glad,” Aremu said, quietly, when Aurelie returned the compliment. He was still smiling; perhaps it was less of a grin now, and more of something else, a little softer. “I liked your letters, Aurelie,” Aremu said, quiet and firm.

Why did you think I was writing? He wanted to ask. I don’t think pity would have gotten me very far; Uzoji did not ask me to even visit you, let alone beyond that. I liked them; I liked the baking I did, and writing to you of it, and reading about what it make you think of, and guessing at what you might send next. Perhaps it was wrong of me; perhaps I did wrong, when I wrote to you of the world here, never really thinking you should see it.

Looking at her in the kitchen just now, cheeks flushed and smiling, Aremu couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

She laughed, then, and Aremu found he was grinning again.

“Oh! I’m glad,” he had half forgotten his poor attempt at a birthday gift, in everything since.

Aremu’s face lit up a little more. “Here,” he turned, glancing up at the rafters. He went over a little ways, and came back with a long brown pod, lighter in color than his fingers but wider, with knobs all along it. “This is tamarind,” he said, smiling at Aurelie. He extended it out to her, careful not to brush her fingertips with his own. He wasn’t so sure - he didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable, and so he was careful.

“Then,” Aremu took it back from her when she was done; he cracked the side of it, peeling off some of the hard shell to reveal a sticky darker brown mass inside, with veins running along it. He held it carefully in his fingers, peeling off the top of the shell.

“Hold this,” Aremu murmured, gently, setting it back in Aurelie’s hands. With her steadying it, he peeled away the vein.

“You can eat it like this, if you like,” Aremu grinned at her. “It’s very sour; the candy’s mixed with sugar, of course. There’s still a sweetness to it. Be careful, though, there’s seeds inside.” Aremu carefully pulled off some of the mass for himself, and put it in his mouth, lifting his eyebrows cheerfully at Aurelie. His lips puckered a little, and he grinned, eating the coating off the seed; he covered his mouth with his hand to take out the dark black seed, and set it away off to the side when he was through.

It was sour; there was no avoiding it. But it was sweet, too; so long as one accepted it, Aremu thought, there was much to enjoy.

“Otherwise, you can use it to make candy, or a drink, or to cook with,” Aremu said, smiling more easily still.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

At least her utter shock proved amusing. Aurelie thought maybe that shouldn't warm her so, seeing as it was arguably at her expense. It transformed all of his face, to see him smile so; somewhere the back of Aurelie's mind informed her that he looked better this way. He was, of course, handsome when frowning as well--that was rather how it worked, generally speaking. But she preferred a grin to a frown, no matter the cause, so she thought that it was all right, really. Worth the price of her own rather meager dignity.

(Another, rather more sensible part of her chose this moment also to remind her that the relative handsomeness of his expressions was not strictly speaking relevant or important. Aurelie chose to ignore this part on the grounds that it was an evaluation of objective fact, not subjective feeling.)

She mentioned the candies and he looked up to the rafters. Aurelie watched curiously as he wandered a little way off, though she didn't follow--the tea was very nearly done, and she thought she ought to strain it out of the pot before it became too bitter to be drinkable. She had in fact begun to do so when Aremu returned, a sort of large pod in hand. Aurelie took it gingerly when he held it out to her.

It was, she thought, rather like a pea pod--but larger, obviously, and not so green. Being as it was brown, of course. The outside was more dry, too, and she expected the contents to rattle about, but they didn't. Aurelie handed it back after a moment's inspection.

"Hmm," was all she said, a trace of amusement in the not-a-word as she looked at the sticky darker inside. The visual appeal was not particularly high--but that was true of many things that were quite good, and she tried not to evaluate food on aesthetic appeal. She held the pod in her hands again when Aremu gave it back to her, watching him peel away a fiberous sort of vein.

It really did look rather atrocious, like she had burnt a stew. Or--well, she didn't think about the other things it resembled. Burnt stew was comparison enough. Still, she had liked the candies well enough, and considered it a point of personal pride to try anything at least once. Picky eaters made poor cooks. Also, how was she supposed to say no to the look on Aremu's face? She followed his example dubiously.

Bells and chimes was it sour! Aurelie hadn't been quite prepared; it made her face pucker and the back of her jaw tingle. Aurelie made a muffled noise of surprise, holding her hand over her face. But she rolled it around in her mouth anyway, trying to be careful about the seed. There was some sweetness to it, as well; less than in the candies, obviously, but not none. Aurelie almost preferred it this way. The sweet felt hard-won and all the better for it.

There was no delicate way to take the seed out of her mouth, but there was also only Aremu to see her. She kept her hand in front of her face, of course, but she didn't think he would judge her too harshly. Actually, she rather relied upon it as there was no way around just spitting the thing out and setting it to the side as he had done. The taste lingered, making Aurelie giggle behind her hand.

"I don't think I was prepared for that," she admitted with a bright smile. "Certainly, ah, bracing. But I liked it--I think."

"Oh! The tea is--here, let me..." After a moment she remembered that the pot was, in fact, done steeping. She took up the teapot and poured the tea into the cups with a habitual quiet and care. Then she set it back down just as carefully. "Do you take anything in it...?" Aurelie paused again, looking at him expectantly. However he took it, she was ready to a cup so.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aurelie had looked thoroughly skeptical as Aremu set out deconstructing the taramind. It was a warm, amused sort of skepticism, though, more cheerful than anything. There was a very intent set to her pale red brows, and she watched his fingers curiously.

She squinted in the general direction of the tamarind pulp. Aremu waited; he wasn’t sure, after all, if she would try it. He hoped she wouldn’t; he knew perhaps it didn’t matter, and yet it felt very much as if it did, after all.

Aurelie pinched off a piece off the end and popped it into her mouth. Aremu was still smiling, although something crept into the edges of it, worried. Her eyes went very wide, and her hand clapped over her mouth. Aremu didn’t laugh, then, his face creasing slightly.

Aurelie spit the seed out, clean, and she giggled.

Aremu grinned, then; his face relaxed into it once more, and he eased more comfortably back against the counter. He set the seed aside, and his right arm shifted, out of his pocket, his elbow propped on the countertop, the wrist well-covered by his sleeve once more. “Bracing’s a good word for it,” Aremu agreed. His grin widened when she said she’d liked it, the last of the tension leaving him.

He liked bracing, Aremu thought – the shock of the water when he dove from the cliff, the exhilaration of a climb or a high place or the drop from the edge of it, the sudden shock of sour tamarind or bitter kofi. He wondered what that said about him, or if it said anything at all. He nearly thought of saying it, but Aurelie’s hands were on the teapot, then, carefully pouring, and he thought he’d passed the time.

“No,” Aremu shook his head. “Thank you,” he smiled at Aurelie, taking the cup from her. He straightened up a little, the rest of the pod still sitting on the counter, and held it comfortably in his hand, watching the steam drift from it. His right wrist slipped back into his pocket, tucked away once more.

He had never, Aremu realized, pushed the fabric back down from his elbow. For a moment, he glanced down at his left arm. One of the worst of his burn scars was there, running down the back of his wrist. The strangest part was that he didn’t remember it, not quite, not fully. He’d had a lot of burns shipside; there were a lot of dangers to working with a hot engine, with the sort of flying they did. It was only cosmetic, that one, and he didn’t really mind it. He was proud of it, or at least he had been once, of the burns and nicks on his skin. They’d been hard-earned, after all.

If Aurelie minded, Aremu thought, she hadn’t given any sign. He looked up from his own arm, aware his smile had gone a bit crooked in the thinking of it. If they were to get on together – if she was to stay here – Aremu shifted a bit, thinking it over. Perhaps, he thought, it was better to be out with it.

“I can keep covered,” Aremu said, quietly, glancing at the dark steaming liquid, and then back up at Aurelie, “if they, um, bother you.” He set the cup down, untasted, turning his arm a little so the scars caught the light; the burn scar gleamed, carved through muscles and veins. There were others, too – spots of burns, here and there, and thin lines, tracing his forearm and hand both. He’d known a lot of sharp edges, Aremu thought, wryly, some more intimately than others.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Aremu tried a little smile, glancing at Aurelie. He felt the urge, then, to pull the sleeve down – his right wrist was still firmly tucked away – but he left it, for the moment. He knew what he'd meant; he thought, surely, she would as well.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

The tea chased away much of the lingering sourness. They were an odd combination of flavors, the dark Hessean black tea and the bright sharp sourness of the tamarind. Aurelie let the thought roll about in her mind a moment, before putting it away as something to ponder in the future.

It was a comfortable kind of silence that fell over her then. She held the green and floral cup in her hands and felt the heat radiate through to her palms. Plenty warm enough outside that she didn't precisely need the extra warmth, but it was soothing all the same. She hadn't much else to say, so she didn't try. Aurelie thought, or she hoped, that this was fine for both of them. It seemed so until Aremu's expression shifted again when he looked up from his arm. Like the smile he had held before was hung on a hook, and someone had come and knocked into the frame.

Had she been meant to say something? Or to sit down? She watched and struggled to keep her face from turning fretful. She would have asked outright, but she couldn't find the words to do so. Not any that both communicated the heart of her concern and didn't sound terribly childish even inside her own mind, that is.

"Keep--oh." Aurelie blinked down, a small thoughtful frown on her face. He meant the arm; she hadn't thought too much about it since starting to make tea. His sleeves had been rolled up when she entered, and he had only put the one down. There were quite a lot of scars there, though the one that ran down the back of his wrist was what caught light and attention both as he turned his arm slightly.

Aurelie's frowned deepened. What was she meant to say? She didn't think it would be terribly kind or helpful for her to say what first came to her--that she didn't know a single passive in Brunnhold who had reached adulthood without some manner of scars to show for it. Those were different, she thought. Or at least, mostly. She had no idea of course how Aremu had gotten any of the ones she could see now. Perhaps some where the same, or similar enough, or--well. It didn't matter, what she did or did not have that was or was not the same.

It is all just you, she thought to say. And I haven't any idea why that should bother me. She kept that to herself. I mind my own because of how I got them, mostly; they remind me of times when I have been foolish and careless. She didn't say that either. Nor did she ask: do you want me to mind? She thought these things and for once she kept them in her head where they belonged.

She looked back up to see him smiling, just a little. Like he felt obligated, maybe, for her sake. Aurelie tucked her hair behind her ears again, thinking. When she spoke, it was slowly, trying to pick her way through as carefully as she could.

"You don't have to... to do that. I'm not--they don't bother me." She paused, looking away for a moment and then back. "That would be rather hypocri--hmm. That is, w-what I mean is, I am not uncomfortable. If you aren't." Aurelie wanted to shrug, but that seemed inappropriate. She kept her shoulders down, her posture a little stiff from the effort. The frown eased off of her face, though, and she meant what she had said.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Oh, Aurelie said, and a little frown came over her face.

You fool, Aremu thought. You absolute fool. She had laughed; she had actually laughed. He felt the weight of it sink into all the lines of his face. He felt unbearably, unutterably selfish, and worse, there was no way of taking it back now. He wished he could have. If he could have reached into the air and snatched the words back, he would have done so; if he could have crammed them back into his mouth and swallow them down to churn, heavy, in the pit of his stomach, he would have without hesitation.

The little frown on her face deepened.

Try as he might, Aremu couldn’t put any words to the silence. Of course, he wondered if she might say; it seemed rude to mention it, but, now that you have…

If he let himself know it, he had wanted, perhaps, a no, why should they. And yet even that – he didn’t know. He felt strange and restless, and thought longing of the bracing plunge off the cliffside into the water below, the way the shock of it drove everything else from his head, all thoughts except the struggle back to the surface, the relentless pounding of the waves against him.

He held a smile to his face; he knew it was uncertain. He couldn’t find the liar’s smile, smooth and even, inside himself. To offer it to her seemed as terrible as telling her a lie; he didn’t, just then, understand the difference.

Her small hand came up, and tucked a strand of hair behind the little shell of her ear. Aremu swallowed, tightly, and thought he should look away, and yet he couldn’t.

He listened, when she spoke, quiet, trying not to put his own thoughts to the gaps between her thoughts. I’m not, Aurelie said. You’re not what? Aremu wanted to ask. They don’t bother me, she said instead, and looked away. She looked back; a few of the thin, fine strands tumbled off of the edge of her ear, the sunlight gleaming through them.

Rather hypocritical, she began. Aremu did not look at the scars on her chest, nor at the ones on her hands; she didn’t finish it. Maybe he would have, if she had; he didn’t think so.

Aremu exhaled, softly and slowly, when she came to it. “No,” he said, quietly, honestly, looking down at his arm once more, and turning it to catch the light. His throat was tight, and he pushed through it, evenly, glancing back up at her face once more. “Not these,” Aremu said, quietly, honestly enough that his throat ached from how raw it felt. He felt an ache through his right arm, in the place where his hand wasn’t any more, a ripple.

Had he wanted her to say something? To ask about it? He had, Aremu thought. He was a fool, an utter and complete fool. What was she meant to say? The lack was a part of him now; she had no way of knowing anything about it. Wasn’t it better this way, anyway? There was some part of him that felt he should always be just a little less to those who had known him before; even Tom or Niccolette, both of whom had lost more than he could imagine – even to them, he thought, surely he would always be a little less.


And to Aurelie? He didn’t know how to make sense of it; he didn’t know what he wanted her to feel. His shoulders were tight, and aching, and he didn’t in the least know what to say. He hadn’t had any of the tea yet; there was still a little steam whisking off the top, and he took it, thinking to have a sip before it grew too cold.

It was good tea, at least. He thought he could say something about that, and leave it behind; he glanced at her face, and he thought maybe she’d let him, go steadily on as if nothing had happened, as if they could both forget about it. He felt the weight of it in the frown on his face; he always felt it, the weight of such mistakes, and sometimes it was so hard to smile through the burden of them.

He went back over it, and he stiffened, and frowned, looking at her. “No, that's not - I meant…” Aremu shifted, understanding too late what she must have meant. He closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them, and tried again. “I can’t imagine looking at you should make me uncomfortable,” Aremu said, awkwardly. “I meant that I – I make myself… uncomfortable, sometimes.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

She had meant to be--not reassuring, she wasn't sure that was right. "Reassuring" felt to her a condescending sort of idea in this particular circumstance, like she was putting worries into Aremu's mind that he didn't have. What did her opinion matter, anyway? She couldn't think of a better word for what she had wanted to be, though, so maybe that was right in the end.

No matter what she had meant, she didn't think she had achieved it, because her own face had softened but Aremu's did not. Oh, he smiled--an unsteady sort of thing, that seemed as if it held for her and not because it meant very much. Or maybe it was genuine, she didn't know his face that well. Perhaps she was just projecting, and he didn't mind her frowning kind of silence while she thought about what to say as much as she was afraid of.

Perhaps he did, after all. He exhaled slowly, looking down and not at her. Aurelie tilted her head, holding herself still. No, he said, and then: not these. Her eyes didn't fall to his pocket, but it felt like they had anyway. Where had she gone wrong? Which part of it? The silence, surely--that she couldn't have helped. It took her a long time somtimes, to sort out what she might say. Probably it should take her longer, given how often what she managed to come up with was the wrong answer entirely.

No, she didn't know. She couldn't; they had been writing letters for months, but not about this, certainly, and she didn't think as she knew him well enough to guess what had been the error. The saying or the not-saying, asking or leaving things alone--which would have been right? She had no way of knowing. She had said what she said, and she had meant it as well. None of it bothered her, except in the way that she didn't know where to be careful and where not to be. That wasn't a bother, not really, just an area in which she tried to exercise caution.

She took another sip of her tea, letting the dark liquid settle all through her while she rolled this turn of the conversation around in her mind. Keeping both of her hands on the sturdy, lumpy cup meant they couldn't go to her arm or her neck or her pocket. It also meant she couldn't put a nail in her mouth; all of these were things she would rather avoid. She kept her eyes on Aremu, weighing every change of his face.

"L-looking at--me? Why would--oh." Aurelie did take her hand off the cup then to clutch at the neckline of the dress. She had thought, looking at it, that it was high enough. No, she knew it was. There was no way he could see--but her arms and hands, those were visible enough. Minor. Aurelie pulled her hand away from her chest and settled in on her left arm, taking a sharp breath. No, no. That wasn't--it was fine.

Looking at her, really--what did that even mean? Aurelie put her hand down with some effort. She had more of her tea, her posture stiff all over. "I'm sorry if I--said something... Or... I only meant to say, er, that I don't... Whatever you want to... Oh chimes, I really am rotten with words." She wanted close her eyes, to not look--but that, she thought firmly and scoldingly to herself, would not help. Aurelie took a breath, straightening up, and tried again to carry on.

"Nothing you have done or are makes me uncomfortable," she said first, almost sharply. As she continued, her voice softened. "B-but I think. I understand. I don't want to assume or--hmm." She tilted her head to one side, looking up through the pale red of her eyelashes, unsure of how to make herself more clear.

"I assumed," she said after a moment, slowly, "that if you wanted me to... know, you would tell me." Her eyes were steady, then, and she found a smile for her face. They were the echo of words he'd said to her not two days ago, and she meant them just as much. Now, or in the future.