Closed The Lost Boy (Sayana)

[Timothy Mered]

70th of Summer 515AV

Aenysa was a sweet woman. She smelled of soap and was almost always smiling. At first Timothy had been weary of her, barely allowing her to pick up his clothes to wash them. She didn’t seem surprised. One night, when his stomach had lurched with yearning, she’d come to his bed and whispered words of comfort. “I know you won’t believe me, but you’ll settle in. You just need some time, that’s all.” He’d nodded quietly, unconvinced yet comforted by her presence.

The other children respected her too. Everyone except for Dylan. Sixteen, tall, broad-shouldered and irritatingly charming, Dylan had a way of making his blood boil. When Aenysa wasn't looking he strutted around like he owned the place. Occasionally he would bark orders at the younger kids. Timothy doubted Dylan had even once done the chores assigned to him. Almost more irritating was his ability to charm Aenysa whenever he’d overstepped his bounds. Crisp fair hair, startling blue eyes and unblemished skin all worked in his favor and he had the slickest smooth voice when he wanted to. Handsome would be insult. Aenysa could never get angry with him. She was the big-brother figure of her family.

It wasn’t until they were both sent out to fetch some groceries from the Bazaar however that Timothy had to deal with Dylan alone. No sooner than they were but a few blocks removed from the Orphanage Dylan grabbed his shoulders. “Alright Timmy, we’ll meet here again in twenty chimes okay?”

Timothy glanced around the small plaza they found themselves in. Aside from a little waterfountain and some stray city doves there wasn't a soul about. Benches, flogged by rainfall and sunlight flanked both sides of the square. A low, clumsily made arch led back to the main street. “You want me to go alone?”

Timothy said, his voice pitching upward in surprise. They were supposed to get the groceries together. He couldn’t carry food for a dozen or so kids back alone!

“Here’s the money, don’t be late and don’t cause trouble.” Dylan said impatiently, “now shoo!”

Timothy remained. “Can’t we go together?”

“Look,” Dylan lowered himself to his height. “Here’s how it goes, and I’ll only say It because you’re new: when I say you go, you go. When I say you stop, you stop. When I tell you to hold your breath, you do so…”

“Yeah fine, can we go get the groceries now?”

Blue eyes narrowed. He didn’t look half as pretty when his features contorted into anger like that. “You don’t seem to understand. I give the orders here-“
“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do! Do I need to make you feel it?”

That was enough. Timothy tore himself from Dylan’s clutches and swung a fistful of frustration at the older boy’s cheek. To his satisfaction, the punch connected and the mingled look of surprise and pain was worth the risk alone.
“Now,” Timothy said through clenched teeth as Dylan stumbled backwards, “we’re going to get some groceries.”

“You little shit!” Dylan clutched his cheek with one hand. Is he crying? Timothy almost felt bad for the devilish blonde.

“Dyllie?” Timothy spun on his heels. Through the narrow street leading into the small square a girl came. A white dress highlighted her bronze skin and her fiery hair caught the sun in a mesmerizing rays. She didn’t seem to have as much eye for him though. “Oh sweet Sylir Dyllie what’s going on?”

“Don’t call me that Myrella…”

“Shush my sweet Dyllie Billie I’ll take care of you,” she drawled, swinging her long arms around him in embrace.

“Don’t call me that!”

Timothy burst into laughter. Dyllie Billie? He was going to remember that one.

Myrella turned her head around to identify the source of bubbly laughter. “Who’s he?” she inquired innocently. “I thought you’d said you’d come alone?”
“I did,” Dylan said, “but this kid’s been harassing me.”

Myrella sent a condescending look at Timothy. She’s an idiot to believe anything he says. It didn’t take a genius to see the two were a couple though, and with Dylan’s skillset Timothy couldn’t blame the girl entirely for being ignorant.

“It’s not true. Dylan’s just an ass,” he blurted.

Myrella stopped groping her beloved in favor of gasping so dramatically that it almost appeared acted. Dylan had much more trouble restraining himself as he jumped forward and sent a fist flying into his belly. He’d barely recovered when two strong hands grabbed his shoulders and slammed his back into a wall.

Slam! A meaty fist knocked his teeth into his lips. The taste of iron was sharp on his tongue and he hardly saw the next strike coming. A piercing sound rang in his ears and the right side of his head felt thick and swollen when Dylan stopped punching him in favor of holding him down.

“Dyllie!”

“Stay out of this Myrella.”

“But-“

Dylan flashed a pocketknife and flicked it open in front of Timothy’s face. Keeping the smaller boy down with one hand he turned his gaze towards Myrella.
“I said: stay. Out. Of. This.”

Wide green eyes settled on the silvery steel in Dylan’s hands. He feared the rapidly pulsing skin near his collarbone would tear and explode. That the blonde-haired prince charming was a prick had been no secret to him, but never once had he thought the older boy would whip out a weapon.

“You don’t get to punch me, Timothy,” he spat.

Dylan’s weight pressed into his ribcage. One hand caught his skin, pressing his cheeks together, the other held the knife.

Timothy cried out as the icy steel sliced his skin. A long, shallow red line marked his left cheek. Dylan brought his thin lips close to his ears. “Now listen closely. When Aenysa asks, you got into a fight with some other kid. You tell anyone it was me and I’ll petching murder you.”

“Dyllie! What in Syli-“

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

Gasping for air, Timothy was discarded and tossed to the ground. Dylan’s rage settled on Myrella now.

“I am going to tell the gua-“

“He deserved it. Stay out of this Myrella.”

Timothy pushed himself up from the cobblestone. The wind cut into his wound but he didn’t care. All he cared for was committing that lying swine as much hurt as possible. Like an arrow he launched himself at Dylan. The knife flew from Dylan’s hand and clattered onto the stone a few feet away. Luck was on his side as he clambered atop the confused Dylan. Filled with rage, he hammered his fists as hard and fast as he could at any inch of the teen he could find. Not even Myrella’s shrieks, telling him to stop, or her long fingernails raking his arms could deter him from wanting to beat the life out of Dyllie.

In the end it was a powerful kick to his tummy that sent him flying backwards, hitting the ground once more. He expected Dylan to tower over him with glee. He prepared to receive kicks to his side. But when he propped himself up, there was no one left. Groaning, he scrambled unto his feet. The cut on his cheek stung terribly, but didn't bleed as much as his lip, nor throb like the right side of his head. Drowsy and confused, Timothy glanced around him and stumbled to the nearest bench. He hadn't a clue what to do next.

[Sayana]

Guilt. Yet if she had the choice she’d do it all over again. And she planned to. It gnawed at her heart, her gut, her being. Yet she had managed to get through almost the whole night not thinking about the loss of her child, her son. Blessed peace, blessed riddance of the grief that plagued her. Yet was it worth the guilt? She didn’t know, yet that promise to lessen her pain kept her going throughout the day. And it had been so petching good.

Even as she longed for more of it, she found herself wandering aimlessly through the streets again. She’d been doing it a fair bit of late, but she had been avoiding the taverns, or at least the Rearing Stallion persistently. She hadn’t danced for two, three, four nights? She was no longer keeping track. But after last night she now wore a black gown. She felt stained and tarnished in the other. And the black suited her thoughts.

The bustling of the Great Bazaar made her look up. Too happy. Too much delight and joy. They don’t understand but nor should they. She was about to turn away when a thought came to her. Might there be something to dull her pain? Something she could purchase? Swiftly she went to the Stormhold Salves and called to Mistress Sahfri. “I need something, anything to dull the pain.” “What pain?” She replied clearly thinking it was physical. “I…” Sayana’s face fell as she struggled to even begin to explain her loss. Yet she kept it simple. “My son died. I’m no longer pregnant.”

Sahfri didn’t say anything but simply nodded in understanding. There was little she could think of to cure that sort of pain but at last she found some dried Connal. “If nothing else, this will help you sleep at night,” she spoke simply as she handed over the pouch of herbs. Sayana handed over a gold miza doubting it cost anything more and not caring if it cost less. The Eypharian left without another word.

To sleep, to be unfeeling. Was it even worth it? She’d just wake up and have to feel it all over. But at least she’d wake up and soon find herself wrapped in some man’s arms. Deaden the pain, send it away. She was half tempted to try it right then and curl up on the streets somewhere but another idea came to her mind. Supposedly there was this magic well called Kova’s well that could grant wishes. Could she dump her fortunes into it for a day or two of peace? Her thoughts seemed to unravel as she made her way towards where it supposedly was. But as she neared the Roshin District a voice rang out.

“Feeling lost? Need guidance? We have gifts from the gods, gifts to the gods, so they might hear your deepest prayers.” With a sullen step she wandered over to the impromptu stall of various religious items. They were either stupid books or items that looked like shyke. Nothing of worth, except… Her eye caught on the glint of crystals in a jar. They were beautiful, much like the stones Aren had given her with the rings. She grabbed a handful and tossed some coins on the table. She cared little for haggling at this point and was already leaving. Something was still satisfying about buying something pretty. Little crystals of different colours that reflected the light.

As she left she passed by a small courtyard that looked soulless except… Sayana frowned. There was a boy. He seemed young and curled up on a bench. Yet not happily. Now there was someone suffering the pains of life as she did. Curiously she approached and could see that his lip was cut and bleeding. He’s hurt and needs someone…

She slowly stepped forwards to take a seat next to him on the bench. “Hello there, you look hurt,” she spoke softly as she tried to be comforting. She brushed a hand lightly upon his arm closest to her and hoped he might turn to face her so she could see the extent of his injury. Young, probably sweet. She suddenly craved to know whether he was as alone in this world as she felt right now. “Have you somewhere to go? Someone I can take you to?” She continued to gently pry even though she began to hope that he had neither. Her dress was fine yet plain black, and her arms perhaps intimidating to some stayed folded in her lap for the most part. The only thing that might immediately be perceived as a threat was the golden cobra hilted dagger attached to the belt around her waist. "I might be able to make your lip feel better," she added as one more attempt to appear friendly and caring.

Receipt :

1gm for 5oz of Connal
10gm for 9 crystals of different colours

[Timothy Mered]

Timothy flinched at the sudden voice and nearly jumped off the rickety bench. It was only the gentle touch on his arm that he hesitated. The woman that had managed to catch him so utterly off guard, largely by benefit of a pounding, swelling headache, was seized up by distrusting grass green eyes. As he turned to face her, Sayana would be able to clearly see the shallow but long cut down his cheek, the skin around it red and swollen.

Timothy scooted away from her, still wary of any armed stranger. Aside from her multiple arms, which he'd long ago learnt to mean one was typical of Eypharians, the tone of her skin and her negligible height stood out to him. He couldn't recall having seen someone with such dark skin in recent season, though he wasn't so ignorant as to think it had been painted on.

"I'm alright," he muttered half-heartedly. "But I should be going home and-" he choked on his next few words, unable to shake the crushing reality that washed over him. He didn't have a home. Not really. He'd hoped to find one with the knights, but they had rejected him and brought him to the Orphanage instead. It wasn't the same. It was just a cozy prison. He sucked in a ragged breath, as if on the verge of tears, and shook his head. "I'm from the Orphanage," he mumbled quietly, "but I can't go back now, Dylan will murder me..."

As if struck by lightning, Timothy jumped up, hands flying into his hair as he paced back and forth, back and forth. Of course! Dylan, whose motives he'd been pondering about before the woman had interrupted his thoughts, wasn't a coward. He wasn't stupid either. Dylan, he now realised, had bolted to spin some story towards Aenysa and make his life hell. Though she tried to split her time equally over all children, Dylan had her trust and he was just a new kid. He couldn't go back, he didn't want to go back either. But whereto then would he go?

He only stopped pacing when the woman mentioned tending to his lip. "It's not the lip that hurts the most," he said darkly, "but thanks anyway." Pressing the back of his hand against his lips still yielded fresh, red stains, but he wasn't bleeding as profusely anymore. The biggest pain was the loneliness rearing it's ugly head inside. "It's nothing too serious," he said, his voice soft and considerate, "I just need to figure a few things out first, then everything will be alright."

He sat down again, still keeping a space between them and stared at his feet. "It'll be alright..." He breathed quietly.

[Sayana]

When the boy turned, she could see the ugly cut down his cheek. Yet when she looked harder there was something else marring his face. Was it some sort of tool? A hammer design? She chose not to press the issue especially once he confirmed that he was fine, even if it was in a half-hearted tone. He seemed scared though, or at least wary, since he had definitely put some distance between them on the bench. Perhaps it had something to do with the manner which he had obtained such injuries on his face.

From the Orphanage… A smile lit upon her face but immediately she tried to subdue it. He didn’t seem to have a family and he also didn’t seem well liked at the Orphanage. However, the moment he jumped up, she straightened up sharply and was poised to leap up and dash after him should he suddenly run off. Yet he did not, and simply paced instead. He was an odd one. As he paced he seemed filled with concern and worry, not something she would usually expect from a child. But how much of a child was he? He was certainly not five, and he stood about at her own height. But what stood out about him was he seemed to be his own person, especially when he spoke of simply sorting things out so that everything would be alright.

Sayana visibly relaxed when he finally sat back down even though he kept a large gap between them. As much as she longed to close the space, she stayed where she was and simply draped her arms along the back of the bench. “You know… I was thinking about visiting the Orphanage. And maybe take someone home with me.” She spoke slowly, watching for his reaction. It was a lie, but at the same time as soon as she had uttered the words she felt that she might actually try to go there if she was still childless. In the midst of her sorrow and grief she hadn’t even thought of such an option.

“Someone who’s nice and sweet,” she continued. “Someone who doesn’t get into trouble… or at least not too much trouble.” She gave a soft chuckle as she nodded at his face. “Someone who’s willing to let me tend to their face when they do get a little battered up.” She paused for a couple moments to let it sink in, all the while she watched him like a hawk. And then a thought came to her in which she couldn’t help but grin. “And, he’d have to like honey candies. I’ve got a dozen or so at home that I simply don’t know what to do with.” This last statement was very much the truth. She had bought them more than two seasons ago and they hadn’t left the cupboard she had put them in.

The Eypharian beckoned him to come closer with one of her high hands as if she had a secret to tell. Ideally he’d move inwards, but regardless she kept her whisper loud enough for him to hear. “But… he’d have to earn his keep.” As much as she’d willingly house him, cloth him, and tend to him without a miza in return, the boy seemed smart. He’d know if what she offered sounded too good to be true. And perhaps it was. But maybe his mere presence would be enough to let her finally forget her loss and focus on making another boy’s life better. And have a son she could nourish and look after.

“Is there anything you’re good at? Are you a hard worker? I have nice things for hard workers.” She opened her mid hand to reveal the crystals she had bought only half a bell prior. Syna’s light danced across the different colours and she held them within the boy’s reach. “What is your name?”

OOCI couldn’t find a nice place to put it in, but Sayana has three rings. Two on her mid hands, one with a red stone and one with a blue one (not sparkly). And a diamond ring on her left high hand.

[Timothy Mered]

For the longest while, Timothy remained frozen. Narrow shoulders hugged together as if cold and lips only parting to suck in a breath. Like snow thawing under a bright sun he warmed to her suggestions when he realised she meant him. He scrunched up his nose, "dunno if I'm nice. I try to be."

The worn bench creaked as he shifted his weight, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "Trouble follows me around it seems," he sighed. "Maybe you're trouble too..." He'd noticed her intense stare, as if in expectance. White teeth bit down on his lower lip as he glanced around, hoping that the desolate square or perhaps the statue on the fountain could impart some wisdom on him. His heart swelled and the same aching yearning he'd felt for nights on end punctured his ribs. She was offering him a home, a place to stay. As much as he was thankful for being allowed at The Welcome Home, it had been everything but a home to him. No longer could he wander off when he wanted to. When Aenysa wasn't looking, heads would drop and Timothy could tell all children secretly longed for a parent to show up. It could never be a home, not to anyone, just a safe haven until things got better.

He shrugged at the mention of candy. His tongue had rarely tasted any candy and he didn't hunger for it like she might think he would. She motioned for him to come closer. Muscles tensed like rubber bands, but he scooted over regardless, quietly wondering what secret she was about to whisper into his ear.

It wasn't much really. Eyes shot towards the ground in disappointment before he scooted away again. He didn't know what he'd hoped to hear instead, but he'd been earning his keep since Kenash. The thought that he'd be allowed into someone's home for free was laughable. Resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees, he didn't immediately answer her next few questions. A crow, fat and ugly, soared down from the skies, claws digging into the once-upon-a-time stone of the fountain. He could've sworn the black bird winked at him before pecking its gleaming beak into the water basin at the foot of the fountain. Eyes shifted into soft focus as the dull, mute walls lining the square sucked up his soul. It had to be one of the few desolate places in all of Syliras. Clouds veiled the sun and his neck almost instantly grew cold.

Again the Eypharian's voice made him flinch. Her outstretched hand promised amore immediate reward. For a tick he contemplated taking it and go with the woman to start anew. But the memory of Kenash would never slip his mind. With a shock he understood what the young woman had been playing at. It wouldn't be the first time he'd encountered an ill-intending Eypharian. Perhaps they had so many hands because they were so greedy.

She thinks she can lure me away. the thought cut deeper than Dylan's pocketknife ever had. He'd caught a glimpse of the ruby ring on her outstretched hand. She was well-off then, he assumed. Why would a well-off person bother with the likes of him? Mizas had gnawed at the moral carcasses that ruled Kenash, and as the woman held out the Crystals he knew instantly she was one of them. A rich snob, always hungry for more, thinking pretty things could buy her anything, even people.

A million thoughts soared through his mind. Maybe she was a slaver, maybe she wanted to know how hard he could work and how much of a price she could fetch for him. Had she just offered to tend to his wounds, he would not have suspected anything, but now she seemed quite desperate for him to come along with her. It couldn't end well. The moment he'd follow her would be the moment he'd be seized and driven back into slavery. Now that he gave her another look over, he noticed the dagger on her belt. His teeth chattered as he shivered involuntarily, the pang of betrayal slicing his heartstrings. She'd seemed so nice at first...

He'd have to get away, but he doubted he'd be able to escape her clutches if he jumped up. No, he'd have to remain polite and distant, or perhaps convince her he wasn't worth any effort. "Oh, uh...my name's Timothy," he replied absent-mindedly. His voice was not that of brazen, energetic boy, coarse from shouting and playing. Rather it was soft and meek as if from a faraway place, coloured with a tinge of desperation.

"I should go now, Aenysa will be expecting me. If I don't go back they'll go looking for me." Hopefully she would believe him and not think him worth the effort. There wasn't much else he could do, and every tick he lingered in her presence only doubled the risk. He stood up, muttered a thanks and began to walk away with a slight tremble in his legs. please let me go, please let me go....

[Sayana]

“Maybe you're trouble too...”

His skepticism hurt. She had known he was smart, but what had she done to deserve his wariness? She was trying to help. Had he simply had bad experiences with other adults? However he did come in closer when she beckoned him and her face relaxed into a gentler smile.

And then he scooted back just quickly and decisively after she had spoken. He looked sad… or even disappointed. She bit her lip waiting for him to reply with something, anything. Was she really such an awful mother to try her utmost to propose a loving home yet only make the orphan sad and withdrawn? Maybe the gods had done what they thought was right in preventing her from having a child.

And then he spoke his name. “Timothy,” she repeated softly to herself. But then he had to go. Why the petch did he have to go? Didn’t he say he couldn’t go back to that place? Or that he didn’t want to? A tirade of emotions flashed upon her face. Confusion, anger, and then settling on sadness. He was already getting up to leave.

“Timothy wait,” she spoke in a meek voice. She hadn’t left the bench but her arms were now curled up in her lap and her highs cupped her cheeks as if holding up her head. “Do you know of another boy at the orphanage who could use a mother? Maybe younger who needs more looking after than you do?”

She wasn’t sure of his reasons in rejecting her offer but she remembered when she was younger fiercely wanting to live her own life and earn coin her own way. She had disliked her parents’ constant badgering about things she felt were unimportant and perhaps Timothy had little need of a mother or guardian.

“I just… I want someone I can look after.” The Eypharian continued weakly. “I could cook for him, give him nice clothes, tell him bedtime stories. Someone I can love and cherish. Someone I could call my own…” And then the cursed tears sprouted and broke her voice as she thought of her own son. She shouldn’t be a bubbling mess in front of a child. She turned her face away.

“Go. You shouldn’t see me like this. I don’t even know if I can be a good mother.” Timothy had certainly shown her that with his smooth rejection. Maybe he didn’t want a mother but maybe he just didn’t want her.

OOCFeel free to either stay or go. If he goes we can always pick up the story elsewhere (like the Orphanage for example).

[Timothy Mered]

The voice that had now twice startled him, managed to do so a third time. He almost regretted having given the woman his name, for if he hadn’t she wouldn’t have called for him to wait, he wouldn’t have turned around, and none of what followed would’ve happened.

Her questions were dead-simple, and already names entered the forefront of his mind. Arthur, a boy of eight with wild blonde curls and even wilder behavior, or perhaps Fabian the dark-haired, quiet six year old whose only trouble was being forgotten simply because of how shy and self-reliant he was. With a good dozen paces between them, Timothy was about to call back some answers before scurrying away, instead he froze completely and turned to face the dark-skinned Eypharian.

Maybe he had misjudged her. She sounded sincere. But there was something else to her questions. Imagining either Fabian or Arthur in the woman’s arms, happy to have found a mother and a home, made his chest ache and his throat tighten.

What the Eypharian said next disarmed him even further. Perhaps she’d just been so desperate to see this wish fulfilled that she’d been prepared to bribe him into accepting. Sighing, he returned one step. “I am sorry bu-“

She was crying.

Crying.

For a few ticks he was utterly clueless. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d seen an adult cry. She seemed embarrassed by it too as she tried to hide her face, then beckoned for him to leave. A few ticks later, he stood next to her and gently patted her on her back. “It’ll be alright,” he said, because that was the only set of comforting words in his arsenal.

He didn’t even know why she was crying, nor could he in anyway guarantee things would be alright. Nevertheless, the show of emotion had melted his distrust away. Anyone who could cry was not likely a slaver.

“I suppose,” Timothy breathed, “I suppose we could try something.” His heart skipped a beat as the words rolled off his tongue. “Maybe I can get you home for starters,” a skewed grin revealed itself. “I’ll let you tend to my wounds, if you let me tend to yours.”

He wasn’t exactly planning on staying more than a bell, or maybe two. But already his curiosity was growing and whatever limits he set himself now might be entirely forgotten and discarded before sunset.

[Sayana]

He was leaving. Maybe it was for the better. At least he had given her the idea. But what if she couldn’t even prove her worth to another child? Or the ones at the orphanage who cared for them? But even as her emotions got the better of her and she told the boy to go, she felt a soft pat on her back and his quiet voice. But… she wasn’t what a mother should be. She was supposed to be strong and fierce for her son and yet she had failed him. “It’s not going to be alright,” she spoke in a stubborn and almost juvenile tone.

Her face was still turned away from him but she spared a couple of glances. Why did he suddenly want to comfort her? She didn’t deserve it. He already seemed to not like her. Yet then he started speaking with a sense of hope to his voice, hesitant mind you, but he still spoke. It was almost as though he wanted to look after her.

“My wounds?” She asked sounding a little surprised as she did a quick look over of her arms and hands and… “Oh.” After a long pause she seemed to relinquish. “I suppose.” Yet she still didn’t get up from the bench. “I don’t even know if you can…” But he could. In so many ways he could, but now she was too scared to ask. Scared of having him run off again. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. He still had those wounds on his face. The one on his cheek looked particularly nasty. It should really be tended to. Her own face had only dried tears now, yet her eyes were still a bit red. She craved… no it would have to wait. She could be strong. Maybe if he felt comfortable at her home.

With effort she got to her feet and then realized she was still holding a handful of crystals. “I guess you didn’t want these,” she said simply and placed them in a pile on the bench she was sitting on. “Maybe they’ll answer someone’s prayer or help whoever finds them next.” She turned her back on the crystals and looked about the courtyard. “Yes, home… I should take you there.” Her voice sounded distant and it took her a chime or two to regain her bearings and remember where she was in the city. Where had she even been going? She hardly ever came up this way.

At last she seemed to jolt herself into action. She attempted a smile, though a little forced, and glanced at Timothy. “This way.” She started heading in the direction of the Maiden District towards her home. She held out a tentative mid hand, should he wish to take it, but she tried not to get her hopes up. If he was coming with her, that should be enough. With another glance towards him she said, “And my name is Sayana.”

As they walked, thoughts churned about in her head and most of them had the same theme. Inadequacy. Despite having such an intense desire to be a mother it only took a few chimes with Timothy to realize how much she was lacking. Sure she could attend to various physical needs. She had plenty of coin, she knew how to cook, she could tend to basic cuts and whatnot. But he hadn’t trusted her and she didn’t know how to comfort him or even if he needed it.

“So um, how long have you been at the orphanage?” Sayana asked tentatively. “I have a friend who grew up there. It probably wasn’t the nicest but he got by. He’s a squire now, and doing pretty well. He might be becoming a knight soon. His name is Garland and he sometimes still drops in to see how the kids are doing.” Her words were spoken hesitantly with long pauses and she realized she was having trouble making small talk. In most situations she’d happily babble away so it was odd to find it so difficult.

Soon they entered the thick stone walls of the Maiden District and Sayana led him through the winding corridors to her apartment. When they reached it, at first she was cautious and opened the door slowly to see if anyone was inside. Then when it was clear it was empty, she opened the door wide and gestured for Timothy to come in. There was a lavish array of brightly coloured cotton cloth hanging from the walls and ceilings. There were no windows but soon she had some candles lit and a fire in the hearth. Quite a number of pieces of furniture gave it a cozy feel including a couple of couches, a kitchen area with a table and chairs, and a large double bed.

“This is my home,” Sayana said simply. “I’ll go get some water boiling.” With that she went to get the kettle and filled it with water from the washbasin before hanging it in the hearth.

OOCHope you don’t mind me doing a quick scene change instead of roleplaying out the walking. There’s a diagram of her apartment in my CS with further descriptions. There are a couple updates I haven’t yet added. The bed is a large double bed and there is a target board against one wall and also a punching bag.

[Timothy Mered]

Timothy glanced at the crystals. True, he hadn’t wanted them, but to leave them laying around seemed a waste. While she voiced her thoughts aloud, he stuffed the glimmering crystals in his pocket. Apparently she was so rich she could afford to lose them. Besides, she’d offered them to him not a chime ago. He felt no shame then in claiming ownership over the precious little things.

Whatever had made her cry in the first place still seemed to haunt her, even though she flashed a smile at him. Once more Timothy glanced over his shoulder, towards the narrow alley from which he had come. Aenysa would have to wait, for now he was going on an adventure. His lips turned into a frown at the hand extended to him, he hesitated to seize it, but in the end interlaced his warm fingers with hers. It felt a bit strange, for he was nearly as tall as Sayana. At the same time, the contact made his heart flutter, and every time his side bumped into hers, he felt a little happier, a little more comfortable.

It was only when Sayana started to ask questions that he stopped soaking in the environment. After all, should she still prove to be up to no good, he would need to know the way back. “A while, twenty days or so, I haven’t kept count.” The information about Garland was stored and acknowledged with a slight nod. “I don’t think I’ve met him yet,” Timothy said. The rest of the way there was spent in silence.

***

The hand that’d been holding Sayana’s fell to his side as he watched her unlock the door. It was a nice place from the outside. Nice as nice could be in Syliras, it was all still very cramped. Crossing his arms over his chest, Timothy let out a slight chuckle. “Are you breaking in? Don’t worry, you’ve got me to save you.”

What lay beyond was hard to see at first. Blinking, Timothy edged towards the entrance, allowing his eyes to adapt to the relative dark. First to catch his eye were the cloths draped from the ceiling. It made the room feel smaller than it was, but also less bland. Second, and earning a much stronger reaction, were the couches. They lured him in more than any crystals ever could. Sayana had hardly made her way to the hearth before he flopped down, made himself comfortable and kicked up his legs. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind.

“Nice place you got,” he said. “I approve.”

From his relaxed position amidst pillows, he let his eyes slide through the room once more. Truthfully, there wasn’t much to it, but it was clear some serious thought had gone into the decoration. It looked and felt homely. For just a tick he closed his eyes and listened as Sayana rummaged about. The air smelled a bit of flowers and herbs. There was a certain warmth to it that he recognized from home.

A light sigh escaped him. His injuries were nearly forgotten as he relished the heart-warming sense of being at home on a rainy day and having nothing to worry about. Flipping around so he lay belly-down on the couched he asked, “what’s the water for?”

[Sayana]

His presence was nice, even with just the simple hand hold. Granted, he wasn’t some little child who might get lost in a crowd but it still felt good to hold his hand and that he had been willing to accept it. She was surprised that he had only been there for twenty odd days. She had expected at least a year. But perhaps orphans came and went faster than she had thought. Did that mean his parents had just…? She couldn’t be sure and thus refrained from asking, but he didn’t look like a child who had just lost his parents. He looked like he was doing quite alright even with the cuts he had obtained.

When he commented about her breaking in she smiled slightly. She wasn’t entirely sure how Aren would react to her bringing home some child and she was relieved that he wasn’t home. How would he react? Should she even truly consider the idea? Should she find some place new so it could just be her and Timothy?

But the young boy interrupted her thoughts with his ‘approval’. “You approve, do you?” She teased gently. “So it’s going to be your call what happens in and around this house?” Though when she glanced over at the boy a smile came to her face to see him flopped so comfortably on the couch.

Sayana pulled out her collection of herbs and placed the box with several jars onto the kitchen table. “The water is for vyfox leaves. It helps with the healing if you make a tea out of it.” The Eypharian explained as she took out several dried leaves of the plant she had just named and put them in an empty cup. She also found her jar of krolar paste that would also help with the cuts. She still had the connal she had bought earlier and she tucked the pouch into the box.

It helped to be focusing on something useful and she found herself less overwhelmed by her grief. The water would still take some time but she still would have to clean his wounds. She took a couple of small pieces of cloth that she would normally use as bandages and hefted her bucket of clean water along with a jar of krolar paste to the couches. “Move over,” she spoke with a smile and a gesture of one of her free hands. Then she plopped herself down at the end of the couch.

Sayana wet a small piece of cloth with the water and then glanced over at the boy. “If you could sit next to me and keep still, then I can wash the cut. It’ll hurt, but it’s important that it gets cleaned.” She’d also need him turned towards her while she worked. She’d easily be able to keep him still and steady with a high hand or two gently holding his head while she dabbed at his cuts with her mid hand.

As she worked she couldn’t help but wonder what Aren would think. Would he like the boy? Would he see him as some sort of replacement? What would he think of her? Perhaps she couldn’t stay in Syliras. Not if this was what she wanted.

“Timothy, what if I told you I couldn’t stay in Syliras? That things just weren’t right here for me anymore. That if I stayed, I’d be sad.” When she spoke she wasn’t sure of the truthfulness of her words and yet when she was finished it seemed to describe at least some of her dilemma. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to reveal all the details of her grief to the boy but perhaps she could offer something.