[The Docks] One Clover, and a Bee, and Revery

by **Philomena** on June 11th, 2015, 3:25 pm

Private Chef! Minnie swallowed, a bit green at the gills at even the THOUGHT of such an indulgence, and immediately felt a little embarrassed for being so prodigal with her money, when food, for all that it was a bit... well bland and revoltingly raw, was more or less free and more or less plentiful. She shrugged, a bit of a blush,a nd said, "Oh... I'm not... not of the sort of folk who could pay for such a thing, Master Fennick." She uses the title, but her voice is less formal than respectful: it says 'I do not know you and do not wish to presume' rather than 'I address you with a symbol of your rank.'

"But if you're looking f'work, well, I d'know the local Guildmistress, and could see about the likelihood of 'er needing summat about the kitchens. Or the store-houses, salting lemons an' whatnot."

The man asked for a tour and she looked a touch embarrassed - she had felt... well not quite GUILT so much as a vague feeling of having acted out of place since she had arrived, for in all honesty, she'd spent little enough time amongst the dockyards, aside from tea once a week or so with Raisa. But she nodded, "Yes, well, there's not... not so much to be explored here, without summit handing you up to the spires, or if you're a dandy swimmer and can go down 'neath. I dunny know a t'ing about the down ways, I'm afraid, but if you ever have a taste for the arts, the up ways, I can show you a beauty or seven."

She nodded a few times, not sure how to start the tour, and turned with at least an educated guess back along the storehouses, drawing a stick with a copper ferrule from her bag to lean on, mostly simply of a habit now for the swimming and sun had done her limbs good. The dockyards here, particularly in the summer were too sweltering for an open air market of the sort to be found at home, but in the cool shade of the warehouses, there'd be goods to be bought and sold, she knew. Mostly she navigated by scent, seeking the smell of brine pots and smokehouses, for if any foodstuffs were to be found here, aside from a few luxuries, they were likely to be ship's larder stock. Finding a sufficiently salt-smoked scent, she turned into the shade of a warehouse, where a few stevedores resedt lazily against a pile of wrapped crates and hogsheads, sipping at mugs of the distinctively colored kelp beer of their Zeltivan home.

x

by **Orin Fenix** on June 13th, 2015, 6:12 am

Orin was still a bit off balance when it came to reading Dr. Lefting’s emotions. The woman frankly seemed all over the place. One second she was guarded and fearful and the next so enthusiastic that even he was hard pressed to keep up. Indeed, even though he had many inches on her and his legs were significantly longer she was very clearly the leader. Of course, that was as it should be seeing as he had absolutely no idea where the two of them were headed. This was much more like the type of adventure Orin had been imagining when he departed Syliras. Of course the fact still remained that they were on Abura and it was rather a lifeless island, in more ways than one. And people here certainly didn’t appreciate his cooking. At least, they hadn’t until he’d discovered this strange, befuddling, yet oddly charming lady here. While she wasn’t at all attractive to him in a romantic sense, Orin had been oddly starved for company. Which was quite silly considering that he’d spent the vast majority of the summer seeing people almost every day. But, apart from a brief stop in Riverfall they’d been the same folks, day after day after endless day. The sea hadn’t helped. After the novelty of being aboard the ship had faded, and considering the reduced quarters and awkward nature of the kitchen, it hadn’t been that novel to begin with, the blue skies and blue seas stretching into infinitely finally ended up stretching his patience when they stayed unchanged for the longest time. It had gotten to the point where storms, while terrifying, had been welcome changes in routine. So, maybe Orin was just starved for new faces and new experiences, and Dr. Lefting certainly qualified as both.

He gave her a sidelong glance as they strode along. She was still a frustratingly closed book, and he was a curious creature. Still, charm hadn’t gotten him anywhere, not that his brand of charm was all that charming. More like a browbeating, if you asked him, although he obviously had never felt the full effect of it himself. She seemed to be responding more to the casual conversation now than she had to the formal address he’d used before although she retained the maddening title she’d assigned to him. Maybe there was still a chance he could get them on a first name basis. ”Really Dr. Lefting? I find it hard to believe, I mean, what I’m trying to say is I’d certainly pay to hear you recite poetry and I’m certain other people would as well.” He gave her a sly look, tempered by a smile. Whatever she said, Orin got the feeling she knew a lot more than just ‘songs and stories.’ He didn’t know where it was coming from. It was probably stupid but he kept coming back to that soft but intelligent aside that had gone completely over his head. That meant she had to be someone much smarter than Orin himself. Still, he really wanted to try to see if he get her to call him Orin.

He’d finally figured out the source of his discomfort with that name. For him, Master Fenix had been and probably always would be his father. Alexander Fenix had been the bane of his childhood, true, but no son liked to think ill of his father. If Orin had any choice in that matter, he wouldn’t think of his father at all, but the spectre lingered. So he stopped for a moment, haunted, and put his hands on his hips. He decided the best approach was a direct one. ”What can I do to get you to call me Orin?” His voice definitely wasn’t desperate. He had too much self-control for that. But he was definitely pleading with Dr. Lefting to consider it. And while they were on the subject of names, he should probably correct her pronunciation of his last name. Again. Although he didn’t exactly want to push his luck, it seemed prudent at this time. ”Also, you are so very close to getting it right, my last name I mean. But it’s fee, as in a type of bill, and nix, rhymes with sticks.” He was actually a bit proud of that last part, and the good cheer that imparted managed to keep him from dwelling too much on the questions and concerns even the hint of his father brought.

Thankfully the subject switched to something infinitely kinder to Orin’s nerves and much more helpful to his current situation. He turned to Dr. Lefting and practically skipped as he started moving again. ”Could you, could you really help me find a job? I’d owe you forever, I swear. It seems like none of the natives actually cook, can you believe that?” Orin certainly couldn’t, and it still seemed wrong on some fundamental level. Everyone cooked, everyone had to cook. It was one of the constants of life, and yet here nobody partook in it. And he didn’t even know if it was by choice or by necessity. Then however, her comments bordered on the absurd and Orin at first though he had misheard her. ”I’m sorry did you say salting lemons? Why would anyone in their right mind do that?” Of the top of his head he couldn’t think of a single good reason why. Everything Orin had been taught told him said that lemons were precious and needed to be used before they went bad. They could be squeezed into a juice or used as a garnish, or, very rarely, eaten although their sour taste didn’t appeal to many. Nothing had ever given a hint that they could be salted. He was suddenly filled with a burning desire to figure out why, tempered only by the knowledge of Dr. Lefting at his side and more importantly the fact that he had no idea where those warehouses were. Nor did he know if he could be employed without a good word from the doctor. Still, the idea of it nearly ate him up inside.

Still, he could get to the bottom of that particular mystery at a later date. Right now he had to pay attention to everything Dr. Lefting was saying. She seemed to be indicating that there were three levels to the city although it took his brain a moment to process that information through her admittedly peculiar accent. From what was coming through though, there were three levels to this city, the ground level, as it were, that they were on now, the towers, and the underwater areas. At least, that’s as much as he grasped from her explanation. It would make a great deal of sense even if it was all a bit daunting. After, the few Akvatari he’d seen were at home in sea and sky but not the ground, so where humans dwelt was the least important section. Underwater was clearly out to him, since he not only couldn’t breathe underwater, he also could barely swim. And though the spires tempted him, they were daunting as well. So he bit his cheeks to bring spit into his suddenly dry mouth. ”Well, I ah, am not really what you’d call an...artist of any sort, unless you consider cooking an art of course but that’s obviously a conversation for another day entirely and I could probably argue both sides here but you wouldn’t want to hear that. But with a good teacher I could I don’t know maybe pick up a few things here or there. Although the person telling me what it all meant would really have to be exceptional.” He actually wasn’t implying Dr. Lefting all all, simply stating facts. He had absolutely no notion of what was and wasn’t art or how to analyze it. It would be like trying to describe color to a blind man.

Now though they had arrived at their destination. If their sudden cessation of movement hadn’t told him, the savory smells drifting in the air would have clued him in. There were scents both exotic and so familiar that it grabbed Orin’s heart and squeezed. It almost overwhelmed the defences he held in place to stave off homesickness. Somehow, smells and aromas triggered memory for Orin like nothing else did. He could be transported to another day in another time in another land simply by the barest hint of something touching his nose and then trapping his brain. It was nearly an involuntary reaction and he struggled a moment to compose himself. Speaking to Dr. Lefting was the best distractio possible so he tried to do his best to focus his full attention on her. ”You’ll remember I’m buying. But, Dr. Lefting, you need to tell me what you want me to make!” He obviously could make a meal on his own and purchase his own supplies but there was no fun and no challenge in that. He’d gone off in the world to seek new dishes and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to pursue. Dr. Lefting clearly wasn’t Syliran, which meant her tastes could be practically anything or everything. The thought of it filled Orin with glee from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Finally he’d get a chance to experiment.

by **Philomena** on June 15th, 2015, 1:33 am

Minnie felt with a peculiarity that, perhaps, a season before would have left her far more self-enclosed the general peculiarity of leading the young cook along bobtail-ed behind her.

A bit of a flatterer, this one. Is he buttering me? I'm too far away for that, too far for them to know to play tricks on me, I would have thought. And that was the university crowd, the sailors would not have done such a thing, not particularly under Raisa's watch, I'd think... I'd think...

"I cunny guarantee anything, Master... Owerring Fee-nix," the last name comes more or less right, though clumsily over-pronounced, "But I'd do my best. But, salted lemons y'hanny seen them? The Guild buys lemons out of... stars I canny remember where precisely. They keep the sailors from the scurvy on long voyages. Captain Wright had them stowed in quarter-barrels, so that if they spoiled..."

She stops herself. Best not bore them first time meeting them, Minnie.

"That is, yes, they salt them so they shanny go rotten in the bilge. You dinny see them on your ship? I hanny ever eaten them until my trip here."

She hears the request for what she wishes, but now, of course, she's been put on a track, a subject she knows a LITTLE about, and she can't resist the thrill of that hunt.

"They started on the Abura run, actually, for it were t'laing for trusting to the sailor's constitutions. A Master.... Horriven discovered it, Ship's Surgeon on the merchant ship Rams-horn, a fluyt that eventually Kenabelle herself were captain of, in fact. The lemons themselves, they say, are good over a flame, bound onto fish with cedar shavings. But that's high cookery, and canny like to be found in sailor's mess. They just dollop them in the side for the ship's stores, I think."

x

by **Orin Fenix** on June 30th, 2015, 1:55 pm

Orin visibly winced as Philomena once again butchered his name. He opened and closed his mouth twice, completely helpless. He'd never met someone with an accent like hers and while he didn't seem to be having any trouble understanding her words she might be having trouble with his. Privately he resolved to speak as clearly and slowly as he dared without offending. While normally he did his best to keep his tongue on a short leash in the presence of strangers, he'd have to be especially careful in this case. Especially because they'd gotten off on the wrong foot and only now were they tentatively getting along, Orin wanted to do everything in his power to make this go well. Of course conversation had never been his strong suit.

Neither, it seemed, was it one of Dr. Lefting's. She had a strange cadence to her words, beyond the accent itself. Ignoring half of what he said, she focused instead on small details that Orin just let slip without meaning. In addition, she seemed to love to go on tangents. Orin was having trouble following her leaps of logic, and his headache, which had faded slightly, came back with a vengeance. Surreptitiously he rubbed his temples, before running a hand through his hair and left it there. He was trying to figure out how best to proceed, and wasn't paying much attention to how he might look. He was determined that he'd get along with the first friendly person he'd met since departing Riverfall, apart from his shipmates of course. However he knew them and here was a mystery for him to discover. And the natives here, while not unwelcoming, weren't necessarily good company. Even on the rare occasions when they came to ground they seemed to inspire sadness in those around them.

"Well, any help you could get me would be much appreciated." His voice came out a little desperately. It had been far too long since he'd been in a real kitchen and his hands were itching to get back to work. While working as a ship's cook seemed ideal for someone who wanted to travel cheaply, the reality was that the quarters were cramped, the equipment was far from ideal, and most of the time he was idle, since he could only cook on calm seas. The risk of fire was too great otherwise. And apart from the kitchen in the building that housed his lodgings, Orin hadn't seen anything suitable. And he'd been too shy to ask for permission to use it. So his current options were cooking over a campfire or trying somehow to gain access to a kitchen that probably was closed to him.

On the next subject Orin was frankly amazed and a little ashamed that he hadn't heard of this particular technique. He supposed that it should work, seeing as salt did preserve other victuals such as meat. It just seemed an unusual practice, particularly in comparison to the method Orin had used. "That's good to know and I'll keep it in mind for the return trip." Orin smiled gratefully, then continued on. He figured it was only fair to share his method of preventing scurvy. "I was taught something a little different though, by a Svefra. He showed me how to make grog. It's two to three parts water to one part rum and one part lemon juice." It wasn't often that Orin got to show off his hard won knowledge. People complimented his cooking, sure, but they usually didn't realize quite how skilled he was. So his voice sped up as he grew more and more excited "You see, on long voyages both the water and the lemons will spoil. However, for whatever reason, rum doesn't. So if you mix the rum with the water and lemons none of it will spoil, you'll keep everyone hydrated, and you've got a tasty drink. Everybody wins."

Just as Orin was finishing up, however, Dr. Lefting got the bit between her teeth and started plowing ahead. She started talking about a trip to Abura which Orin was forced to conclude was her own. It certainly would explain why he’d never heard of salted lemons before, and why she’d only encountered them on her journey here. However, the rest of her words left him more confused than ever even as he did his best to track her train of thought. Her words meandered all over the place until she finally came to a close back on a subject Orin knew more than enough about. He shrugged, embarrassed at her admission that cooking with lemons was high cookery. Orin had certainly had enough experience with that and he didn’t exactly think that highly of himself as a chef. ”I don’t know about all that high cookery stuff you’re saying. You yourself could cook fish with lemons, it’s not that complicated. I’d be happy to show you.” At the very least it might finally decide what Dr. Lefting actually wanted to eat. He noticed that she still hadn’t answered that exact question. Probably she’d forgotten all about it in her tangent.

However, those names kept nagging him. The way she spoke about them was nothing short of strange. ”Captain Wright? Master Horriven? Kenabelle? Are those the crew of your ship, the Rams-horn was it?” No other explanation sprang to mind, although Orin was admittedly grasping at straws. He was trying to stay engaged and show interest without prying, but he was afraid his confusion, mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity, showed plainly on his face. He thought he would've noticed an entire other ship's crew here. It was quite possible that they'd already departed, heading to some other exotic locale. The question then became, why would they leave this woman behind, unless she wanted it. Still, while she was much more comfortable here than Orin himself was, she certainly didn't seem entirely acclimated, even if her mode of dress mimicked that of the residents. Certainly her inability to provide all that much more information about the isle belied her relative knowledge of it as a whole. Either that or she was just as bad with people as Orin himself was, which was entirely possible. So until he found out more, he was stuck in his state of bewilderment. At least it was better than the apathy he'd been slipping into alone in his room with none of the comforts of home to be seen. When everything is unfamiliar, it wears on the heart and soul.

by **Philomena** on July 5th, 2015, 3:51 am

Lemons, dinner, conversation, other people, warehouses, recipes, the ridiculous idea that she might be able to cook, all these things are, of a sudden, swept beneath the rug. Minnie's eyes grew wide, and her hand literally went to her mouth, the other, gloved, and of a peculiar firmness inside its glove, touching the man's shoulder in something between an assurance of his reality, and pure, kindhearted pity.

"Kenabelle Wright? You... you don't know who she is! Oh... oh, Master Owlren, I... she was a captain, a ship's captain, from my home in Zeltiva, and... no, no, I'll tell it entirely wrong, I don't have... home! You must come home with me, to the House of Lives Lived, and I will loan you my copy of the book, you must read it or... no, can you read? If you can't read it, I will read it to you, or maybe Semiyr, her voice is finer than mine, I--"

She stops, and begins turning urgently toward the door, but stops herself.

"No-- no. Supper, I ha' not... we were to do supper, yes, I'm... I'm getting ahead of myself, supper. What were you making? We must get the things for it - fish! But I have the fish... do I? Did I... no, no here it is in my bag. What else do we need?"

x

by **Orin Fenix** on September 1st, 2015, 5:59 pm

Apparently something he had said had set Dr. Lefting off on some kind of a fit of disbelief. And it centered on this Captain Wright who she seemed to revere. Orin frowned, as he tried to determine whether he’d heard of the sailor, even in passing. But his brain was refusing to provide him with any explanation. Perhaps this sailor was a local hero from wherever Dr. Lefting came from. Zeltiva sounded as if Orin should know where and what it was, but sadly he hadn’t paid nearly as much attention to the outside world as he should’ve. After all, his trip hadn’t exactly been expected, more thrust upon him by the necessity of the moment. If only he’d been able to keep his temper in front of Rondo, if only he was better able to stand up for himself in the face of bullies, and if only he’d realized that his own abilities practically assured him a place in any eatery in Syliras, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this strange land with these amazing if aloof people. Literally, they lived in places Orin couldn’t reach.

Of course, on the flip side of the miza, Orin had wanted to see more of the world, so complaining now about how difficult it all was seemed hypocritical. And he’d mostly gotten over his homesickness, though it still gripped him with surprising pain every once in a while. He hadn’t realized how deep the roots he’d planted in Syliras and Mithryn were until he’d torn them up to go haring off on an adventure. He would have thought that considering his tumultuous history there he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to leave but, as tears suddenly sprang into his eyes with longing, he’d discovered that he felt safe there in the familiar surroundings. Leaving everything known and comfortable was never easy. Orin just hadn’t known it would be this hard.

Scratching his neck, puzzled but wanting to know more, Orin risked a sift smile. Although he didn’t really understand a word that she was saying, he sensed that she didn’t have hostile intentions towards him. Although that brought up the question of how the Akvatari, the residents of this land of beauty and sadness, both the highs and lows of emotions, actually would enforce their laws, or if they even had any. He hadn’t seen anything resembling the guard forces he knew. Of course, if danger threatened, they could race off into the sky or disappear under the waves and it would be quite the determined individual who would pursue them after that. But their earthbound guests had no such luck. Still, although Orin wasn’t a warrior by any stretch of the imagination, he had no doubt that he could handle the diminutive woman before him if somehow it came to that. At the very least, he should be able to outrun her, considering their height difference and Orin was a firm believer in retreating to leave and fight another day. After all, something he’d picked up in his travels was that appearances were often deceiving. So, although he was coming to trust Dr. Lefting, he kept his wits about him nevertheless.

He couldn’t help but laugh, though in pure amusement and not in mockery, at her bewilderment and took pity on her. After all, he knew better than most how difficult losing the thread of a discussion could be. Even though he almost never took charge of any situation that took place outside of his kitchen where he strove to maintain total authority, Dr. Lefting seemed scatterbrained. So the burden of making sure they got somewhere fell squarely on his shoulders. ”I’ll tell you what Dr. Lefting. We can discuss all this over supper. Why don’t we grab some supplies and then take this back to your lodgings.” While waiting for her response, his ears caught up to his brain and he flushed. His phrasing, amongst certain ladies of his acquaintance, could be taken as a proposition. That had been so far from his actual meaning that his mind actually shut down from potential embarrassment.

Unfortunately, as always, when he stopped thinking he started speaking, and started to dig himself an even deeper hole. This time, he was the one stumbling over his words. ”I didn’t mean, well, it’s not, nothing like that I assure you….I meant no offense, of course, not that I’m sure you aren’t lovely… a beautiful woman, but that’s besides the point…what I’m trying to say is that my intentions, well…I didn’t have any intentions! All honorable! Again, not in a bad way just don’t read too much into my words, please, there was no…” Mortified and completely unable to look at her, Orin clamped his mouth shut and pressed his hands to his flaming cheeks. He was sure that he was a particularly vivid shade of crimson. Hopefully she’d find his antics amusing and not disgusting.

Taking refuge in the familiar, and fleeing from the incident he probably just created, not even checking to see if she was still with him, he whirled and ducked into the building they’d stopped at. He hoped it was a warehouse or storehouse of some kind, where he could make his purchases and he was not disappointed. He was indeed surrounded by everything he’d missed while out at sea. While Orin’s knowledge of people was severely limited, he hopefully more than made up for it with his mastery of all related to the preparation and presentation of food. Or, at least, he was working on getting to that point. Remembering the fish Dr. Lefting had produced for their supper, he scanned the items around them. Having spent quite a bit of time on a ship, and before that, a tavern, he knew numerous ways to cook a fish. Seeing as his companion didn’t seem to voice any preferences for dishes, Orin took over the meal without asking. It was his area of expertise, so he felt that a meal in exchange for whatever Dr. Lefting was going to teach him was the best trade he could make. There was one specific technique he’d been itching to try since he’d seen one of the other sailors at his current residence eating it. Apparently it was some concoction with sticky rice and raw fish in the middle, all wrapped in seaweed. It didn’t look difficult to make and Orin felt it would do a good job whetting their appetites while the rest of the fish cooked.

The rest of it he’d prepare with the cedar and lemon that she’d referred to as ‘high cookery,’ although he could only find a plank, not chips. A secret smile passed across his lips, at the idea of anything cooking related being seen as elevated. Orin felt that eating was, or it should be, a basic pleasure, a visceral experience, as basic to human life as breathing. Sharing a meal brought people together, and it should most definitely not keep people apart. Although he wouldn’t turn down money, he hoped one day to bring people of all stations of life together to taste his dishes. It was, perhaps, a foolish dream but he clung to it like a child with their favorite toy. Regardless, the recipe seemed simple enough, which was good considering Orin didn’t know what cooking implements he would have. Once he had retrieved a lemon, some cedar chips, which after much searching he found in the corner with firewood, seaweed, rice, and salt which was never bad to have on hand, he went to the fruits and vegetables. Perusing them, he felt a sharp sting of disappointment at his options. He probably shouldn’t be surprised at the slim pickings, since Akvatari lacked interest in agriculture or cooking and they lived on the desert. Sailors at the end of voyages probably brought in most of these items and perishables simply didn’t last. Sighing with regret, Orin took up a clump of kelp, half-remembering someone, perhaps Dr. Lefting or a sailor, mentioning it could be made edible. He’d have to see what he could do with it. Pulling the appropriate mizas out of his pocket, Orin handed them over to the distracted looking Akvatari, his wings and tail the cerulean of the sea and his eyes distant and distracted, and the cook made his escape.

Receipt2 oz of salt = 4cm
1 lb of lemons = 2 gm (taken from dried goods)
1 lb of rice = 5gm

I got nothing from the price list for kelp, seaweed, or a cedar plank so I'll let the grader decide. Thanks!

by **Philomena** on September 2nd, 2015, 1:58 pm

The suggestion that this young, muddle-tongued fellow was propositioning her was so preposterous to Minnie, that it did not even present itself as a possibility until the poor fellow started tripping over an apology for it. She looked at him with a mixture of her own embarrassment and a sympathetic smile for his, blushing hard all the while. Unfortunately, she was so tongue-tied herself at the whole mess that she could hardly attain an appropriate response.

Realizing that he seemed a bit humiliated, now, Minnie regretted her unresponsiveness to the apology and began following him around with an awkward doggedness, half opening her mouth several times. But, then, how does one say, "It's quite alright, I did not think you meant to subtly invite me to fornicate," in a delicate way, to someone one has only just met? No mistress of etiquette, she was capable of rolling the problem around in her head, but not of applying any logical conclusion to her considerations.

She did, however, take a quiet interest in his purchases. The rice, in particular, she found intriguing - she had had a congee once with coconut shaved into it at a party, but at the time being unfamiliar with either rice or coconut (both foods being pricy imports from warmer climes in her mind), she'd been unable to really determine which flavors originated with what food.

"The rice," she timidly offered, trying to bring the subject back to food, where the gentleman seemed to find firmer footing for converse, "It is for a sauce? Is it sweet?"

Then as they headed out she considered the exigencies of a return to the House.

"Do you swim? Or we could take a chair flight. I'm afraid I canny fly on my own," she half-smiled with a full knowledge of the weak nature of her joke.

x

by **Orin Fenix** on September 6th, 2015, 2:14 am

Dr. Lefting’s response to Orin’s complete lack of manners and stammering buffoonery was not to respond. And for that Orin was eternally grateful. Priskil preserve me and prevent me from making another such idiotic blunder! Although he didn’t think the goddess really would listen to such an inane prayer, he clung to the hope that he could maybe, just maybe, get through the rest of the evening without looking too much a fool. Still, he didn’t exactly have the most stellar track record in that regard, so it was probably good that Philomena seemed willing to overlook and ignore his more blatant slips. It was too much to believe that she’d actually forgive him. Short of divine intervention, the best outcome was that Dr. Lefting wouldn’t be so put off by Orin’s lack of social graces that she might consider befriending him. Or at least spending time with him as one of the few other humans on the isle. While it was too late to recover from what had already slipped out of his mouth, Orin was determined to keep a tight leash on his tongue. It got him in trouble so often he should know to be more careful, but growing up he’d never interacted with people enough to have learned proper speech. And he’d been scolded so many times for speaking out of turn or making innocent observations that turned out to offend someone that he often found himself cross-examining his words and finding fault in them. Whether or not he had actually been in error often got lost in his instinctive self-defensive response. Sometimes an apology was enough to stave off the lecture or the beating.

Still, the shopping did exactly what he’d planned and calmed down his unsettled nerves. His mind got lost in planning the meal. In fact, he was so lost in his work that he barely registered that Dr. Lefting was trailing along behind him, watching him closely. When she spoke, it took a chime for his distracted brain to catch up. ”The rice?” He turned to look at her, although kept walking. He frowned, as he tried to remember the name of the dish, but it eluded him. To stall for time he explained the meal to her. ”Sorry, no it’s not for a sauce or sweet. At least, I don’t think so. I’m planning to prepare this really interesting roll, it’s seaweed wrapped around rice and some fish, either raw or lightly cooked.” His thoughts raced furiously as he tried to put together his few memories of the first and only time he’d seen it. Something to do with women. Something she. And then another female thing, a, a woman’s name. Something also with an S. Susan, no Sue! Sue-she! Smiling at finally getting it right, he turned triumphantly to his companion. ”I believe it is called sue-she.” Inordinately proud of himself, Orin picked up his pace as he made his last selections and walked out of the building.

Of course, then they encountered the problem of transportation. Orin tried to juggle the food with the fishing poles, not an easy task, as he considered the best way to return. And although Dr. Lefting didn’t know it, mentioning swimming brought up a rather embarrassing recollection for Orin, one that hurt and humiliated in equal measures. Sure that his cheeks were flushed again, though he couldn't say if it was embarassment or anger or a combination of both, he turned away from her. For a moment, he glanced out to the water that was never far away hear, and recalled his promise. I think of you still, Crest. Doubt you think much of me though.

It was a bittersweet thought, as thoughts young and confusing and passionate and forbidden love always were. Whatever had been between him and the Svefra it had burned hot and fast, but, like all emotions too close to Orin’s heart, he’d ruined it. He knew he was damaged goods, that affection only brought pain and suffering, and had run away from it. As he tried to escape from all that got too close. Orin refused to open himself up to the pain of a broken heart and a betrayed trust again. If his own father couldn't love him, then no one could. Such thoughts were never far from him these days, despite his best efforts to lose himself in either the world or his travels or in other people. Crest, and, because it was unfair to place all the blame on the sailor, along with Sylvette whose bond was a constant strain and Isolde and Sayana and all his other from Syliras, had broken a dam within him. All Orin wanted was to at least be able to put on a cheerful front but it got harder every day.

Realizing he'd never actually answered the woman beside him, he whispered his reply. I can swim, but not very well." Orin shrugged, unwilling to elaborate more on the subject. Still, he felt that he should point out the issues with them swimming home. "We should probably take a chair, since I don't want the food getting soggy." The words didn't come out easily. Orin had refrained from taking a chair, and for good reason. Every time he considered leaving his life in the hands of the Akvatari, he got a sick feeling in his stomach. There weren't a lot of heights in Syliras or its surroundings, so Orin had never realized before coming to Abura that he didn't have the best head for them. Even just considering getting into one of the chairs filled him with a quiet, but potent, terror. It appeared that Orin didn't have much of a choice in the matter this time around, and so he gulped and set about trying to keep a firm grip on his fear. He could just see himself throwing up all over Dr. Lefting, and was willing to do just about anything to prevent that occurrence.

by **J'Ak** on August 19th, 2017, 7:38 am

G R A D E

P H I L O M E N A

Click :

O R I N

Click :

notes Most entertaining social meet thread I have ever read; it's refreshing to see two PCs be their beautifully awkward selves together!

If you feel I missed anything shoot me a PM.
Don't forget to edit your grade request here -

PM to join [The Docks] One Clover, and a Bee, and Revery