Stranger in a Strange Land (Ha'na & Sam)

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

He nodded, taking another look at her cottage. When he left her to her own devices, he would have to remember this street so he could find her again. He had spent enough time in cities to not get himself hopelessly lost too often, but a little effort never went amiss.

"I will come by the next time I have a cache. I am Sam. I usually set up camp outside the city, but you can leave messages for me at the Windmount Stables." He wasn't sure why he added all that last bit. Perhaps because she had pointed out her home.

Thinking she might be Benshira, he knew the idea of tents would be important to her, but he really didn't want to go into his personal history. Little of it was flattering.

[Hana]

"The Windmount Stables..." She rolled this location around in her mind long enough to dedicate it to memory as she peered over at Horse. Her eyes moved back to him with a tiny nod. "You travel?"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I do," he agreed, nodding. "But I have been here for a while now... Perhaps I will stay. I am learning things, making some money. It is not a bad place."

It wasn't a good place necessarily, either, but he had no burning desire to go elsewhere at the moment, and so here he stayed.

"Have you lived here long?"

[Hana]

"Two... Maybe three seasons now. I spent quite a lot of time wandering," she offered.

She wasn't sure why she'd decided to settle down where she had. Perhaps it was simply that she'd gotten tired. Maybe she'd run out of funds to keep moving, and finally her mizras had gotten so low that she'd been forced to dig in mud and make pottery. Or maybe not.

She looked back at her home thoughtfully, taking a moment to try to figure out the truth for herself.

"It's blending together now, I'm afraid."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"It does that, doesn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

He found himself sighing for no good reason that he could think of. Maybe he felt old. It made sense of a sort: a man at seven, an old man at seventeen. That was some kind of logic for some kind of world.

Sam half-smiled at her, crooked gallows humor shared.

[Hana]

She chuckled slightly, looking down and away from him. Her eyes never stayed in one spot for too long. She'd decided that he reminded her of someone. Perhaps a family member. Or maybe someone she'd once traveled with. She hadn't figured it out just yet.

"Only when I want it to be very clear. Otherwise when I want it to blur together it becomes much too separated. Do you have that problem?"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I try to bury the past," he admitted after a moment. He wasn't sure why he was opening up, even with cryptic bits of information, to this total stranger. "But that just means it haunts me in the dark."

He smiled despite the morbid words.

"The good ones can be even more painful than the bad ones, I think. Why is that? I've heard of no rest for the wicked, but I don't think I'm particularly wicked... Perhaps nobody thinks they're wicked, even when they are."

[Hana]

"The answer is easy," she said calmly enough, picking up a little bowl to look over. "The good things haunt you the most because they were pleasant. It wouldn't be a good survival instinct to long for the bad."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I try not to long for anything from the past. The present is more important, and the future too."

Just at the present he had a pretty jar full of honey with which to slather his food until it ran out, most likely on the morrow.

[Hana]

She nodded.

"That is a good outlook to have, I believe..."

Her youngest brother. He reminded her of... She swallowed and looked to her trunk of pottery, clearing her throat.