“Well that had all the diplomacy of a tidal wave,” Selene laughed, making an apologetic face at the men. She was grateful to see that none of them seemed irked by Pelly’s demands and in traditional Skya fashion were happy to recline somewhere else. However, they had fewer reservations about staring at the Symenestra.
“Shyke, this baby leaves my feet so sore – if only I could beg a foot rub from one of these fine men,” She groaned, raising her wooden leg in offering. Selene guessed that it was neither her missing limb, nor her pregnancy that had caught their stares, but her whimsy cut the uneasiness their presence had fermented and several men at the bar chuckled.
“Well aren’t you lovely ladies both aglow,” The bartender complimented gazing at Pellys wildflower-like beauty, “What brings you to Syka?” He switched his gaze to Selene. Dark brown eyes looked out from under a heavy brow. Although she didn’t understand what ladies and aglow meant, Selene understood the latter question and balked at the inquisition, interpreting the informal ease of the Sykan with a probing interrogation.
“Pelly Oceangem,” Selene gestured to the beaming mother, “Is here with in trade with her pod,” she explained, stumbling over the common words, her Sym accent giving her words a sharp “z” sounding edge.
“…and I, Selene…” she hesitated.
“Oceangem,” Pelly completed, touching the Syms shoulder affectionately. The bartenders wide broad face expanded in surprise, the wiry brown moustache and beard masking the surprised “O” his mouth had formed. Selene didn’t notice the bartender’s surprise, too consumed with horror and gratitude.
Curare, her families last name was given for their historical use of paralytics during The Harvest, and Selene feared that using it might leave a trail for her childs father to follow, or be a painful memory for anyone personally affected by a Curare. The use of a fake would have been better. Better a fake than accepting inclusion into another community… Selene lamented fearing that accepting the last name would be a nail in the coffin of her fragile familial ties, and worrying that declining would offend Pelly or draw suspicion from the Sykans.
“Yes, Selene Oceangem, am here to settle in Syka,” She finished, unable to meet Pellys eyes and instead using the man as a distraction for her gaze.
Stu flicked the loose ponytail of brunette hair off his shoulder as he grabbed two mugs for the ladies. What could have happened between a Svefra and a Symenestra that a Svefra would offer her name to the creature? He considered carefully. The answer was not complex, Pelly was a simple sunshine girl, a lover of love, and was more than happy to hold an umbrella over another’s head. Simply put, she had no idea the events this seemingly innocuous gesture would unlock and how a gesture of good-will would add fuel to the fire of resentment that would follow her death. A year…two years…one day Selene would look back on this moment and wish she had hurt her friend’s feelings.
“Welcome Selene and, Pelly, is it? My name is Stu Alkamar, I’m The Tidepool Bar’s owner and local unofficial party planner. What can I get you two to drink?” His accent was unrecognizable to either women. In fact, the whole bar was a murmur with a variety of accents and languages. Pelly was used to the saponaceous lather of the accents and languages, but Selene found it slippery and difficult to hold onto the bartenders words.
words: 584
