[Closed] Like I am only a wall

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aremu realized only once he was sitting that he’d made something of an error, or at least made things harder on himself. He’d thought – he wasn’t sure what he’d thought. He’d thought Aurelie would take the bowls and… eat, he supposed. Instead, she was still sitting on the bed; she was smiling, at least, sort of pleasantly, and holding the tea, and it was a big improvement from the night before.

Aremu’s shoulders relaxed, a little; he took a sip of his kofi. It turned something in his stomach, clenching like a fist, and he realized rather abruptly that he was hungry, in fact, much hungrier than he’d thought. “I’d never had them hardboiled before Anaxas,” Aremu said, smiling at her. “We have eggs, of course, mostly scrambled, although not exactly the way Anaxi do them. I like them with vegetables – tomatoes, zucchini, onion – and with spices,” he grinned, sheepishly.

“I hope it won’t be… the bread and egg shouldn’t have much heat, anyway,” Aremu said, after a moment.

He set the cup up on the table and came easily to his feet; he uncovered the porridge, and sat down next to Aurelie with it, though he left more space between them than he had the night before. It seemed better, he thought, than hovering. “I don’t know if you’d have had this,” He said, showing her the bowl. “I think porridge is the best term for it in Estuan, but it might be thicker than you’re used to. It’s made of barley-flour; there’s, um, cinnamon, ginger, pepper, and a bit of turmeric and cardamom.” The bowl wobbled, slightly; it wasn’t thick enough to cut into slices, but one could nearly stand a spoon upright in it.

“The flatbread,” Aremu handed Aurelie the first bowl, and reached across for the other; his arm came out of his sleeve, the burn scar on the back of it gleaming in the light, and he shook it lightly to cover it once more. “is Hessean,” Aremu brought the bowl with the egg back. “They put, uh, a spice mixture on top,” he showed her the thick green paste, studded with sesame seeds, “with sesame, sumac, thyme, and – I’m not sure what else.”

That one he settled on the edge of his leg. Aremu glanced down at it, and then back at Aurelie. He grinned, a little sheepish once more. “The egg’s just an egg, I think.”

Aremu glanced down at the bowls, then back at the girl sitting next to him; her short soft hair was mussed, bits of it sticking up off her head in strange directions, and there was something still sleepy about her eyes. He smiled again, still something hopeful about it, for all something solemn lingered too. “Why don’t you take what you like and I’ll... eat the rest? I eat everything,” Aremu glanced down at the bowls once more. He knew he could probably have managed both bowls, although he doubted he could’ve done much more than that – at least, not in one sitting, and not without feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t quite want to tell Aurelie that; he didn’t like the idea of her limiting himself on his behalf. Even half would be enough to take the edge off his hunger.

We could bake together, he wanted to say, if you’d like to, on the islands; maybe it was only a diversion, writing to me. I could cook for you, he wanted to offer, and he didn’t know how to say it or what she might make of it. He couldn’t quite bring himself to suggest she cook for him, but he thought he might like it, if she ever wanted to. He thought it likely she was better at it than Niccolette, who always went by instructions, and never the smell or taste.

You’ll like the island, he wanted to say, but it seemed cruel, still. She had wanted as well as needed to leave, he told himself, but that didn’t make it easy. He thought of what she’d confessed the night before, about her sister, and felt himself better not approaching the subject at all.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

Talking about eggs was nice. Not the subject being specifically eggs, of course, that would be silly. It was just that Aremu seemed to relax a little, and Aurelie felt herself untense as well. She could always talk about food, no matter what else was going on--putting that to the test now was both amusing and comforting at once.

"I shall do my best with it," Aurelie promised solemnly, before a smile broke out across her face again. Something about the mention of spices in the eggs was funny. Of course spices--Aurelie didn't think she'd used so many spices at once in her cooking at all until she tried to recreate Ahura's variations on the cookie recipes she had sent. She really hadn't managed to get very good with it, but it had been fun. Cooking had been fun, something she had missed without realizing it had left her.

She supposed she should start eating; she did want to. Hunger had come over her now, when it had eluded her all the night previous. Really she could have just dug into it and that would have been fine, but it felt slightly strange doing so. She wasn't used to eating while someone else wasn't. For a moment she fretted that this discomfort had been what actually moved her to scolding, rather than genuine concern, but she dismissed the thought quickly enough. Both things were true, and that was... that was fine. Having him come sit beside her was oddly relieving.

"I think it's fairly safe to say I haven't," Aurelie said with a laugh, looking at the porridge as he spoke. It did seem rather thicker than she would have thought from a porridge. "They don't tend to precisely waste the, ah... What is served to, er, gated--our food was always very bland. It drove me to distraction." Aurelie took the bowl with a smile. Maybe that was too dour a thing to say. She thought it was mostly funny, but she thought lots of things were funny that others didn't think were so.

The scar on Aremu's arm caught the light as he reached across for the second bowl with the bread and egg in it. Aurelie tried not to stare; it seemed rude. She tried not to stare generally speaking, and it was fairly easy to manage most of the time. It looked like a burn--she had plenty of those herself. He covered it as if out of habit. Easy enough to keep her focus on Aremu's face, grinning at her. She laughed, a bright and brief giggle. Just an egg, indeed.

"I suppose we'll find out what the rest of the mixture is--or, well. We can try to guess. You can, anyway. I'm certain I'd have no idea." The smile on her face didn't reach being a grin, but it was bright and easy. Her stomach made a noise of protest while she held the bowl of porridge in front of her without eating. Warm spots of color came to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, but she had never much minded it.

Then it was easy enough to agree to sharing in that way. Aurelie was hungry after all, and there was no pretending otherwise. Her first few bites were slow and contemplative, paying more attention to what was in front of her than to anything else. Something thoughtful came over her face. It was thicker than she expected, and absolutely not the sort of flavor she associated with breakfast. That in and of itself was interesting, though. She finished about a third of what was there without even noticing, though she didn't make any haste while she ate. There was very little worse for an empty stomach than eating too much too quickly, at least for her.

"A trade?" she suggested when she thought she'd had enough of it. That seemed the easiest, and she did want to at least try to guess at what was on the bread. If Aremu agreed, she would attempt to juggle the trading as best she could, thinking to herself. Something hovered on the edge of her tongue, and she wanted to say it, but couldn't figure out how. Something revealed by the strong flavors in their breakfast, or at least she was reminded.

"I didn't get to--to try all the recipe variations you sent me," she started, red brows creasing as she tried to find the words. "Would it be--er, if it's not... If it's too much trouble that's fine, I just, ah, I wanted to but it's hard to get the... Opportunity, at Brunnhold. Uhm. That is--do you think we, ah, could? Later? Er. Make them." The request felt very selfish, but she was hopeful maybe it wouldn't be. Baking was enjoyable to do with someone else. Possibly even when that someone else was Aurelie. Hopefully. Maybe.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aremu smiled a little when Aurelie spoke of being annoyed with the bland food. He thought perhaps he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t what she’d said, quite; it was the smile on her face as she said it, as if the memory amused her. Was it that it amused her now, because she shouldn’t have to eat bland food again, if she didn’t want to? He didn’t think so; he thought perhaps it had amused her then, too, although he didn’t think he could have explained why.

“If it was bland by Anaxi standards, I’m glad not to have tried it,” Aremu offered, a little hopefully. He wasn’t very good at humor; he never had been. He wondered if even now this should spoil it; it was easier, again, sitting beside her, and she didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t pull away, at least, or cringe back from him, or ask him to go. It wasn’t, of course, any closer than they’d sat on the bench; it was much further apart than they’d sat on the bed the night before. It seemed different, though, with the warm morning light spilling diagonally through the window.

Aurelie’s stomach let out a little growl, and Aremu couldn’t help grinning at the sound; all the more when red color warmed her cheeks and – he couldn’t help noticing – her ears, flushing beneath her freckles and washing through them.

When she ate, he found something relaxed in his shoulders and all the tight, tense muscles of his back. He wasn’t sure when he’d clenched them so, if it had been while waiting the day before, as Aurelie had sobbed with him helpless beside her, trying to sleep on the roof, walking down the hall – whenever it had been, something in him which he had held tight loosened as he watched her eat.

Aremu held onto the second bowl as she ate the porridge, glancing down. He felt hungry, but – even though watching her eat ought to have made him hungrier, he felt rather more able to wait. He couldn’t have said why; perhaps it was only foolishness. It was just the relief, he thought. He was pleased, too, to have been right; she didn’t gobble at the food, but she ate quickly and well, with the sort of appetite he’d imagined.

“Sure,” Aremu said, smiling. He offered her the flatbread and egg, and once she had taken it, he took the bowl from her, careful not to brush her fingers with his. He settled the bowl onto his lap, and took the other spoon, scooping up a bite and then another. The knots he had tied himself in loosened further, and he felt his shoulders shift, settling down, finding some easier way to be.

When she spoke again, Aremu grinned; he couldn’t help it. He’d started grinning before she’d even come to the end of it, his face bright. “If you’d like to,” he began, “I mean – I’d be very glad to make them together, if you wanted to. I’ve enjoyed trying to learn how to do it, and I’d like you to show you and, um, to learn more also.”

I thought you might not want to, he didn’t want to say; it’s all right, too, if you don’t. But he didn’t feel he needed to say it, in the end. He didn’t think she’d have brought it up, and not in this way – tentative and hopeful – if she didn’t mean it.
“I can show you some Mugrobi cooking too,” Aremu offered, a bit boldly. “I’m not the best at island cooking, and I wouldn’t try to do it when Ahura’s there, but she’s always happy for another hand in the kitchen,” Niccolette, he didn't say, spent hours standing at Ahura’s shoulder and watching, counting the seconds to herself and measuring every ounce. “But there’s some other dishes I’ve put together that I could show you,” he’d forgotten about the food in the quiet hopefulness of the offer; he smiled at her.

“If you’d like,” Aremu added at the end, tentative. He took another spoonful of the porridge then, and then another; he thought he could have eaten the whole thing in a few moments, if he wasn’t careful, but he tried to space it out, to go slowly, not only because he knew that to eat too much, too fast should make him sick, but also in case she should want more.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

A little more of the tension in her shoulders left when Aremu accepted her poor attempt at a joke and offered her one in return. In the end she didn't think it was much funnier than her own, but it made her feel better anyway. The smile on her face didn't fall. He didn't need to understand any better than that; it was enough to not frown, she thought.

Aurelie wasn't accustomed to having an audience while she ate. Company, yes, but that wasn't the same thing. Usually, whoever was with her was also eating. Usually, whoever was with her was just her roommates or on the same shift as she was, and their meals were quiet enough. Aurelie had never found herself good at making conversation, or being included in it. The color that had come to her face held, but it could be set aside in favor of her hunger well enough.

Better when they'd made their little trade and he ate with her too. Satisfying, as well, that she didn't have to be worried that he wouldn't. Aurelie tore off a piece of the bread with careful fingers while she spoke, holding it in her hand. She had been prepared to cram it into her mouth to cut herself off if her request went sour before she could finish it. The brightness on Aremu's face, the smile that moved into place before she'd even reached the end, told her she didn't need to. Her face felt a shade warmer, but in a better way than it had.

"I would--I would very much like to. It would be fun, ah, for me anyway. For--for both of us, I'd hope?" Aurelie found she didn't know what to do with her hands as she spoke, and she was squishing the edges of the bread a little. The bread didn't deserve such treatment, but there was nothing she could do for it. Aurelie thought she'd been expecting Aremu not to want to do such a thing, and was too pleased to be wrong.

She left off her squishing when he continued, and left off her worrying too. Her face lit up, all of her hopeful and glad in a way she didn't think she could be now. "Oh, would you? That would be--" Aurelie cut herself off, but her smile didn't dim even a little.

"Er, I mean... Yes, I would like. I don't know anything about it at all. It would be--very nice. To enjoy cooking with someone. I mean. Er. It's--" Aurelie crammed some bread into her mouth, trying to stop herself from continuing to speak. Good that she'd already torn off a piece so it was waiting for just such a purpose. Her mouth still curved into a smile despite herself. She chewed, swallowed, and laughed.

"I'm ah--I'm holding you to that. I haven't cooked for a small number of people in--well, ever." She tucked an errant strand of red hair behind an equally red ear with one hand. There, that was something. She hadn't been sure what to look forward to exactly, this whole time. "Freedom" was too vague a goal--and what would she do with it? But to learn something new, and to enjoy company while she did so? That was concrete and real. Aurelie could hold on to that, and figure the rest out after that.

For a moment she was quiet, taking another bite of the bread. She had, truly, no idea what was on it. All things she was unfamiliar with, certainly. Aurelie chewed it thoughtfully, letting the piece linger in her mouth longer than was normal. Swallowed, still thinking on it. At last she shook her head and shrugged, smiling up at Aremu.

"I have no idea what any of this is," she confessed, and felt not the least bit sorry.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aurelie’s cheeks were still flushed red; her fingers were pressed tight into the edge of a piece of the flatbread, and she was smiling too. Aremu felt a cool trickle of relief down his spine. She’d be glad, she said, and she thought it would be fun.

He thought so too, but then, cooking had only ever been a worst a chore, and baking never that.

Something lit up on her face when he made his offer, glowing even brighter than the red blush on her cheeks. She cut herself off midway through accepting with a bite of the bread, and came back to say she meant it, and would trust him to hold it up. He grinned and nodded.

She had tried to tuck some hair behind her ear earlier - had managed to - but all it had done was to disarrange the hair on her head further. Aremu had the oddest sense that he would be a little sorry when she tamed it; he felt as if he were being allowed to see something he shouldn’t, that she would be embarrassed when she realized, but all he didn’t think she should be.

To enjoy cooking with someone, Aurelie had said. Aremu was smiling, too. That was it, he thought: he was here. Perhaps that was where the oddly guilty sense of it came from. If there had been someone else here to sit with her - someone who knew how to offer comfort properly, who wasn’t quite so awkward and unsure - but no one else was. It was only him, and he was glad that at least in this, he could be enough.

He didn’t mind too much, Aremu supposed. He didn’t expect more; in fact, he generally expected less. He wasn’t friendless; he wasn’t so blind as to think no one enjoyed his company. He knew those who did, and for all that sometimes he couldn’t understand why, sometimes he could.

What mattered, really, was that Aurelie was smiling, and much of the pinched, haunted look she had carried out with her from Brunnhold had gone, at least for now.

Aremu grinned at her. “I’ll enjoy it too,” he said, and he didn’t think it was wrong to feel pleased at her enthusiasm, at the little giggle earlier, at the laugh just now which had swept through her. Maybe someone else could have found such laughter better, but he had still done it.

Aremu grinned when Aurelie said she wasn’t sure what was on the bread. “That’s all right, I think. Every time I’ve had it it’s been a bit different. A Hessean told me once it’s called Cupboard Secret, and that everyone makes it a bit differently.”

Aremu took another spoonful of the porridge, going slowly through it. All the same, he’d eaten nearly as much as Aurelie already, and he knew he could still eat more. He set the spoon down again, testing himself, finding what he could bear in the waiting.

“I’ve always liked the part of food that’s like a puzzle,” Aremu said, glancing at Aurelie. He smiled a little, feeling self-conscious, but he thought if she didn’t understand, she would at least not mind listening. “There are instructions - like your recipe cards, of course - but there are also a lot of moments when making something when you have to decide. Is it done enough? Is it together enough? What spices should go well together? That’s where the feeling comes in, or so it seems to me.”

Aremu’s smile went a little crooked at the edges, self-conscious; he prodded the porridge in the bowl with the spoon. A moment longer, he told himself, waiting, drawing it out through the hunger still aching in his stomach. What he’d eaten so far should have taken the edge off, but it seemed to have wakened something in him, and he actually felt hungrier than he had. He held through it; he was in charge, he told himself, not his appetite. He wondered if at any moment Aurelie would ask for the porridge back; he didn’t want to look up guiltily from an empty bowl and tell her there was none left.

“Do you like it?” He asked, then, sorry he hadn’t asked earlier. “I think that’s what matters, really.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

Was it wrong to be smiling so much now, when just the night before she had wept longer and harder than she had in her memory? There was a piece of Aurelie that doubted she had the right to be so happy now, to be looking forward to anything at all. Let alone something like getting to cook together with Aremu, who had already done so much for her. Or was it her misery that would have been wrong? After all, she had said that she didn't want to be alone. That meant Aremu had to stay with her, and would have to bear witness to that unrelenting sadness.

Both seemed equally true; that she shouldn't be happy, but that she shouldn't be too sad either. Nothing new there, really. Neither genuine happiness or true sadness were of much concern to most in her life, not even to her. Aurelie had always tried to thread evenly between. Lately her efforts had failed, more and more. If she should be sorry for it, she didn't think she was.

"Truly? Oh. Er, I meant--I'm, ah. Good." Probably the response wasn't required, but she'd given it anyway. Maybe that was okay, too.

Aurelie was a little relieved that Aremu's face broke out into a grin when she confessed she couldn't puzzle out what was on the bread at all. She liked doing it, making him smile. Much more than making him frown, of course, but generally speaking--she liked it. She hadn't been sure she was capable, really. The frown seemed more common, his face dragging into serious lines smoothly and without hesitation, but this was better. At least in her opinion.

"Cupboard Secret--oh I like that. I suppose it wouldn't be much of a secret if you could guess at it just by having some." She ripped off another small piece and chewed on it thoughtfully, but she didn't try to guess what was in it anymore. A glance to the other bowl confirmed that Aremu had already eaten nearly as much as she had, which unknotted some worry in her shoulders.

He kept talking, then, about food. Aurelie found her smile growing wider. She didn't want to interrupt, but it pleased her to listen. She turned a little without much noticing, shifting her weight and her attention both. The egg rolled in the bowl. When he got to the end, Aremu's smile tilted in a way she didn't yet know how to interpret. Yet--Aurelie thought she might come to, and that pleased her too as much as the rest of it.

"I like that too," she offered, in case that twist was regret for having told her. "And that it's like a puzzle with--more than one answer. You can make the same thing, but--feeling is probably a good way to put it." The bowl on her lap was forgotten. She thought she had enough, anyway. She could have eaten more, but it had every possibility of making her sick after going so long without. "Better--better than other puzzles though, because you get to eat it." Aurelie's teeth came again to rest on her lip, trying to keep a sort of silly laugh back.

"And I do like it." Cooking, or the food they were eating now? Either way her answer was the same, really. She shifted again to elaborate on her answer, to keep speaking. Somehow, even though Aremu had asked her about the food that was, in fact, resting on her lap, she'd failed to consider that it was there. Her movements weren't careful enough and the bowl tilted so that the egg escaped and rolled across the bedspread. Aurelie squeaked in surprised and reached for it, trying to keep it from ending up on the floor. She scooped it back up with an embarrassed mumble of an apology, putting it back into the bowl.

"You, ah--if you want the rest, you can have it, by the way. I, er. If I eat any more right now I think I'll be, uhm. It wouldn't end well." She set the bowl carefully back on the table, to prevent further egg escape attempts. More red had crept into her face, but--there were worse things, after all. And at least nothing had broken. Not even her mood, not really.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aremu’s lips twitched when Aurelie called cooking better than other sorts of puzzles, and he chuckled. It wasn’t quite a laugh, exactly, but it was close enough, and it eased whatever sting he’d felt. He could bear it; he always did.

He wasn’t sure what else he’d meant to say, but the squeak from Aurelie caught his attention. Aremu jerked, but by the time he’d let go of the bowl she’d already caught the egg. He felt something like embarrassment, too, even though he knew how futile and useless it was; his right arm twitched against his thigh.

“You’re sure?” Aremu asked, looking at Aurelie. Only once she’d confirmed would he set back into the food; he knew from experience the porridge wouldn’t keep long, and that both it and the flatbread would become stale soon enough. He finished the rest of the porridge, and set the bowl aside on the bed, and then took the egg and the flatbread; he cracked the egg against the edge of the bowl and peeled it one-handed into the other, fingers flaking the shell off of the white piece by piece.

He ate the rest of the flatbread – which was most of it – and then the egg as well, mixing the two together a bit to soften the plainness of the egg. Aremu thought, regretfully, when it was done, that he could have eaten more – but it was enough, and his stomach had settled, the hunger receding back to where it had come from. He drank the last of his kofi, then, even though it wasn’t quite as good cold, and stacked all the dishes carefully on the table, balancing them so that they wouldn’t fall even with the swaying of the ship.

He wasn’t sure, quite, how the morning passed. The light grew clearer and brighter outside; they were going more or less due east, still, so on the side of the ship it was never quite direct. It was a good time, he’d told Aurelie, to watch the ground below, if she liked? They were coming over the edges of the forest, where they rolled to meet the plains, and Aremu had always liked the stitched-together look of the southern farmlands, the way crops led into each other.

That had led into him talking about the island – he had thought he would be boring her, but she watched him wide-eyed and intent, and asked, occasionally, little questions, as if she liked to hear it.

Aremu found himself sitting with his back against the bed, facing the window, Aurelie beside him, his notepad on his lap; his right wrist held it in place, carefully, and although he’d taken the sweater off as it grew warm, he was grateful for the long linen sleeve which tucked over the wrist, and kept it from sight.

Aurelie hadn’t ever remarked on it – hadn’t ever asked – and a part of Aremu was glad, and a part of him was sorry. It had been nearly four years, now, and he knew to those that had met him after the lack was simply a part of him. Either not worth remaking upon, he thought, or else just the sort of thing one didn’t address. Aurelie had no way of knowing he had ever been able to pass for whole, and he couldn’t think of how to tell her. He had never wanted pity, not about anything he lacked.

But it was easy enough to keep such thoughts at bay.

“The sugarcane fields go to here,” Aremu was explaining, sketching the line of them with his left hand. “Then, here,” he began to draw larger xs and smaller ones. “We plant the kofi in the shade of the tsug, like this. Here,” he went around to the edge of the orchard, and drew a box against the page, “is where I’d like to put the processing plant.”

He made a large box, and drew a line from the one to the other, beginning to fill in the diagram of how it would be structured. “It’s just an idea, really,” Aremu peeked up at Aurelie, and then looked back down. “At the moment we transport the kofi to another estate on the island, and pay them to use their facilities. It might not even be more cost-effective to have our own, though it was for the sugarcane, in the end; the transport costs are quite high, and of course one loses some control over the quality. Perhaps it’s mostly that I like the idea of the plantation being independent,” he was frowning, now, studying the page.

Aremu erased a line, and drew it again, careful. “To process it, we,” he paused, and glanced sideways at Aurelie. Something sheepish came over his face again, and he set the pencil down, holding it in place against the paper with his fingers. “Am I terribly dull?” He asked, quietly, as if the question had always been there, and he was just now finding the courage to ask it.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

The morning went by, and Aurelie could hardly keep track of it. There were no shifts to mark the changing of one hour to the next, only the light and her awareness of such a thing. That was still a wonder she chose not to remark upon, even though she thought Aremu might understand well enough if she had. Like speaking about Brunnhold now would bring it closer, let it reach out and pluck her out of the sky to bring her back. Aremu had finished the rest of their shared breakfast, for which she was glad. She hadn't eaten much, less than she might have, but it had been good and filled some hole in her that wasn't quite hunger.

More of it filled in when they went to the window, and the both of them looked down at the land below them. Anaxas still, she thought, although she hadn't been paying attention and wasn't really sure. From so high up, the fields below came together like a quilt of browns and soft spring greens. There were houses, too, dotting them here and there. Or buildings, at least; some of them were houses, and some probably not. Aurelie let her hand curl on the glass looking at them. It was pretty, and all a little unreal.

Natural enough for the conversation to turn to the islands, then. At first it had seemed like he didn't want to tell her, but she couldn't help but want to hear. That might have been the concern, because the more questions she asked the easier it seemed to go. As if she wouldn't want to know--somehow. She could only hope that her interest was communicated well enough from that; it seemed awkward to address a concern that Aremu hadn't voiced and might not be a concern at all.

They sat against the bed now, Aurelie drawing her knees up to her chest while Aremu explained a project he had in mind. She leaned in as much as she thought was appropriate. Which was admittedly not far; for all that they'd been much closer last night, in the full light of day it felt distinctly different. Besides, she wasn't crying now. So there was no need.

The diagram he drew was helpful, for all that she couldn't really picture it. She didn't know what any of this looked like, but she did her best. Her eyebrows started to come together as she concentrated. None of it meant much to her, but it was interesting anyway. She really just liked hearing him talk about it, explaining the idea to her. Even if the details were beyond her, she thought she could follow the idea. It made sense, as far as she understood it--as far as he explained both the problem and the solution. He set the pencil down in the middle of a sentence, and she looked up, surprised.

"Dull?" Aurelie blinked, and then felt guilty. Had she not seemed interested enough? She hadn't said much, it was true. That wasn't a lack of interest, just a lack of--of anything to say. Should she have said something anyway? If anyone was dull here, though, it was her. She had nothing to say because she knew nothing, just happy to listen. "N-no, not at all! I'm sorry, I, er. I just don't know anything about..." She gestured helplessly at the diagram he'd been drawing.

"I'm sorry, I have been listening. I like hearing you talk about it, even if I don't, uhm. Not that--you're explaining just fine, I just. Oh chimes. It is interesting, and I, uhm. I like--hearing about what you're interested in. Or, that's not quite the right... Hmm." Aurelie frowned down at the unfinished diagram, trying to gather her thoughts. Then she lifted her eyes back up with a shrug. "You aren't dull. Not even a little."

Was it enough to say it? Aurelie wasn't sure. She thought of adding that she listened to Fionn go on longer about subjects that made even less sense, and was happy to do it, but something told her that would be less than helpful. Best not to even make mention of that. She hesitated; a question, maybe. To prove it.

"Is it... important, for the plantation to be independent?" She looked up and waited with what she hoped was an encouraging sort of look.

[Aremu Ediwo]

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

Aremu thought he had caught her by surprise and he felt a creeping sort of doubt. Was it that she hadn’t been bored in the least, and was surprised to hear him ask it? Or was it that the question had come too late, and now she was surprised it had come at all?

No, she said, uncertainly. He didn’t know much of truth; he wasn’t sure what to make of it. She went on, and he winced when she said she didn’t know much of it. “I’m sorry -“ he began, quietly, beneath her.

She went on, a rushing tide of words, and he trailed off beneath them.

Some time around when she said she liked hearing about what he was interested in, Aremu smiled; he hadn’t quite meant to. Of course, he began to think - she was probably bored, trapped in the small cabin - but she looked up at him, and said very firmly he wasn’t dull, and this time he knew to believe her. Aremu smiled; his thumb rubbed over the soft coating wrapped over the drafting pencil.

“Good,” he said quietly, exhaling out some ache he hadn’t known was there - or perhaps he had, but to face it directly had been more than he could bear.

Aurelie went on, and Aremu turned more to look at her then, his eyebrows lifting. He nodded at the question; he set the diagram on the ground beside him. Absently, his hand met his wrist on his bent knees; his fingers played with the cuff over his right wrist, pleating the fabric and straightening it.

“Perhaps,” he said, and grinned at her. “It’s a bit of a long story. The plantation was Uzoji’s mother‘s property, part of her inheritance; it was a gift to the two of them after their wedding - after their Mugrobi wedding, actually, they had two.”

Aremu settled his head back against the bed, looking out the window. “Most plantations in the islands aren’t galdori owned,” he said. “One of the others on Dzum is, and of course many of those around Laus Oma, although most of those are more recent acquisitions. There are a lot that are owned by humans, and there are more that are owned by imbali. That has led to rather a lot of strict Inheritance laws.”

“All those legal complexities made the legal situation uncertain after Uzoji’s death,” Aremu went on. “ He died intestate, you see, which - made it all rather complicated. Some of the magistrates felt it should be returned to Rayowa; others felt it should be reclaimed by the land authority. It all actually hinged on the fact that the deed transfer was dated after the Mugrobi wedding, and so it was Niccolette’s, in the end.”

Aremu’s smile went wry, twisting at t the edges. “It was more complicated because I was Niccolette’s agent in the matter, and I cannot speak in court.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Aurelie. Not even speak, he wanted to say; not even answer questions and let the magistrates decide if I lie. Even for my voice to be heard - it is not allowed.

“We had started the sugarcane refining project before all of this,” Aremu said. “And it was all rather hectic because due to the legal uncertainty, our agreement to use the nearby processing plant was revoked. This was all well before harvest, but... things could have dragged out much longer.”

Aremu didn’t say that he had gone to a galdor he knew in Laus Oma and all but begged him to testify to the wedding and its date. He didn’t think Aurelie needed such details, and he did not like, either, what they implied about Niccolette, even if it was true. She had been drowning in grief then; he had not known for a long time whether she would resurface. He thought she had, though not as she had been before.

Aremu shrugged; his face was knotted up in a frown now. “Everything is fine now - secure - but I, um... I think it would be safer to have a measure of independence, such as one can.”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

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

Good, he said, and Aurelie relaxed again. The smile helped too, especially as it had started halfway in her torrent of an explanation before she'd even come quite to the end. Good. And so it was.

They hadn't known each other long, not really. Half a year or so, and only in person those two days. Letters, she thought, said a lot--but they weren't the same as this kind of in-person conversation. Not in the least because Aurelie was a lot better at keeping her foot out of her mouth in a letter, despite feeling overall clumsy with the written word. That she had managed to convey herself at all well enough to be believed was a relief.

Her question when she asked it had been partially to reaffirm her interest in the topic at hand, and partially because she really did want to know. It seemed a fine enough thing for its own sake, the plantation being independent of those around them. There were all kinds of benefits there, she imagined--protections from a series of what-ifs. The way Aremu said it made it sound like there was something more behind the wish.

Aurelie settled herself back again when he began. She wasn't really sure what his definition of a "long story" was, but she was happy enough to hear it. She shifted to lean against the bed and look at him as he started to tell it. The green of her eyes strayed down to where he was fiddling with the cuff of his shirt that covered his wrist. She tried not to let them linger; it seemed rude.

She nodded, at first. It made sense enough; she couldn't imagine that the property had been only Niccolette's to start. It was what followed that first confused, and then stopped her. Human-owned, first, and then--by imbali. More than what was owned by humans or even galdori. Aurelie couldn't help it--her eyes widened in surprise, and she found that just this one fact made the rest harder to process.

Aurelie did her best, of course. She rather thought the consideration for inheritance laws would have lost her a little regardless of her state of distraction. On top of that, she knew very little about the circumstances of Uzoji's death--only that it had happened, and somehow led her to be sitting here now in a roundabout sort of way. Her hands tightened in the fabric of her skirt. Aremu wasn't looking at her as he went on, talking about being Niccolette's agent. That was good, because she found that she was too stunned to school her expression into something more neutral.

The rest, then, she heard only part of--enough to understand and fill in the gaps, she thought. He shrugged, and he frowned, and Aurelie was very still.

"Does--does imbali mean something different than I thought, or..." Aurelie flushed, feeling stupid, but she hadn't quite considered it. The situation was different outside of Anaxas, she knew that much--this was something else again. She hadn't known until he said it that she hadn't thought of the practicalities of those differences, save for once. And even that she hadn't thought on much, finding it too fragile a thing for her to hold on to.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, going red all over her face and sweeping on over the back of her neck, "that must sound--I hadn't thought about... Er. Are the--is that... normal? I'm sorry, I mean to say--" The fabric of her skirt dropped again, her hands coming instead to wave a little uselessly in front of her face. As if she could ward off the feeling of utter foolishness that overtook her now.

"Anaxas is... I m-mean you know this, it's, er. Very. Different. I'm a little--" Aurelie shrugged, not sure how to make herself clear. Bells and chimes, she really was an idiot.