AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 314 - Rock the house
🕑 Added 2023-08-03 23:07:31 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Material Plane - Quil Tris
Amdirlain polished off the roast before she headed off. Though she intended to pick some things up, it wasn’t from any store. Out among the alleyways, new concealments wrapped around her, cloaking her auras, and blocking her presence to sight, hearing, and smell. Creating a few changes of clothing that would fit into her travel pack, Amdirlain placed it in Inventory and moved to the boundary of the retreat.
Down among the tunnels, she could hear law keepers and others investigating. Other teams were combing through the place’s records and had already hauled most of them away. The buzz from the depths and the noxious feeling of the building had her contemplating her decisions about the facility’s former staff.
I should have removed all the staff’s classes. It’s not a genuine fresh start since the decisions and dreams of their last life still bind them.
The law keepers had set up a command post at the start of the driveway where a group clustered about a table embossed with mithril runes. The device presented a display of the tunnels with teams located. Beside the muted blue uniforms of the law keepers were a pair wearing black and purple armour fashioned from a scaled hide. Analysis proclaimed the crafter had made the armour from Basilisk hide, and the pair were a couple of recon captains on loan, along with the gear.
With the ghost caverns and gods’ graves, it’s only sensible to have something to track teams underground.
Not wanting to give away information to anyone that might leak it to the cultists, Amdirlain cut a warning into the fence near the command post. She used Primordial Mana to power bright yellow lights that matched the patrollers' lights.
‘Evacuate the tunnels.
Leave all extracted black stone samples near the building.
Evacuate nearby water vessels at least four kilometres from the retreat’s docks.
In an hour, I’ll be excavating and recreating everything within four kilometres of the retreat’s lift shaft.’
The lights immediately caught nearby attention. A recon captain’s proclamation on the light’s nature and strength shut their immediate reaction to it being a prank down. With the Primordial Mana identified, the command post scrambled to send orders. While they were still issuing orders and contacting officials, Amdirlain set to work.
Identifying the deepest points of contaminated stone, Amdirlain sang a frame of mithril into existence beneath it. Using it as a guidepost, she formed a series of mithril hexagonal pylons ten-centimetre across along its outer edge and extended them upwards.
Topped with gravitational shear extending along the sides, they cut and pushed through the rock and soil above them as if it was open air. The gravitational force leading the advance caused the topsoil to rupture and spray upwards. Nearing the surface, Amdirlain slowed their movement and stopped them a centimetre short. The now churned surface hid her creation while Amdirlain double-checked everything within its limits. Empty boathouses and buildings in the zone got transplanted further along the shoreline.
While the last of them rose, Amdirlain set a crystal spire with linked songs at the centre of the section she planned to destroy.
Though the teams withdrew from the tunnels, a lingering group on the surface prompted Amdirlain to step things up. A low note caused wildlife, and particularly birds, to flee from the area as Amdirlain began preparing for launch. Watching them fleeing, the law keepers drew their ground forces back and escorted others from the site. As soon as they cleared the limits, Amdirlain pushed the mithril upwards, breaching the ground and the lake’s surface.
The shiny line rising a metre above the ground had those still too close regarding it in shock. With the rock and soil sheared through, she emptied the fish life within the markers beyond the boundary and set safeguards in place. With the last stage complete, a growling siren split the air, and the catfolks’ ears perked up at the voice that followed.
“Withdraw. This is your one-minute warning.”
Amdirlain isolated the mass from the world’s gravity and boosted it. With some guidance, the world’s rotation and orbital velocity did the rest. The air displacement dragged those nearby towards it, only for them to impact unpleasantly with an invisible force.
Thunderbirds Are Go.
Amdirlain kept silently singing.
After the mass had lifted entirely clear, those pressed against the barrier could see layers of bedrock created while the golden glow of creation rose. As the landscape returned to normal—water, plants, grass, and even Mana conduits grew to replace what she’d sent into space—the last glow faded.
Though she was tempted to let their minor injuries remain, a regenerative song enfolded those who had hit the outer barrier before she released them. Only once she’d completed everything and restored the buildings to their original positions did another sign appear. As she heard some mutterings, she added a third line.
‘It’s now safe to extract the mithril.
Thank you for your cooperation with this clean-up.’
The extracted mass, far out in space, would head in a decaying orbit towards the sun. Once well clear of the planet and moons, more songs were set to activate. In a flare of light easily visible from the planet, the crystal spire at the heart of the mass would obliterate the lot.
Before those at the scene could start examining the mithril, Amdirlain had already skipped away.
Her next stop had members of an outreach centre drop a knee-jarring distance. Shakily, they rose from where the disappearance of the matte-black stone floor from beneath their feet had sprawled them. With shaky hands, they dusted themselves off and found things missing. Robes, masks, buildings, gravel, and even lop-sided markers. Their vehicles now sat atop a parking lot of hard-packed ground.
When the first turned towards where the front entrance had once been, they found a sign hovering mid-air.
‘Closed for revelations. Please check the state of your mind.’
Before they could move far, Amdirlain added more songs to the hidden crystal block that held it aloft. A tuning fork sounded through their minds, and another linked song followed to dissolve everything off-key. When they came to, days, months, or sometimes years of memories were gone.
Looking at the haze of distortions in parts of the city, Amdirlain tucked the crystal plate away and started to plan her next steps. She teleported closer to Pal’tran’s shop with her latest endeavours complete. Leaving the alleyway that had served as her arrival point, she’d only been walking a minute when two chimes came from an amulet around her neck. It was a sound only audible to Resonance and signalled the crystal block she’d left behind had detected and acted against two eldritch sorcerers. It had already added them to those with purged memories and tagged souls.
Okay, I missed you by that much, but at least I know the alerts work. I’ll clear the other staff of classes tonight, investigate the new finds, and tackle the murder manor.
Now for some socialising and learning the cues of Catfolk body language.
Amdirlain was only half a block from the store when two female auburn-furred Catfolk spotted her and crossed from the campus side. Each mewed excitedly upon seeing her harp case with its broken catch and worn red-leather top.
“It’s Am of Blackcliff Pride, isn’t it?” asked the closest.
At the strangers’ reaction, Amdirlain’s ears stood straight up. Seeing Amdirlain had excited them about whom to tell but didn’t give any immediate clues about how they knew her name. “How do you know my name?”
The first female grabbed the other’s forearm. “It is you! We saw the memorial transmission, and a viewer afterwards said you’d performed at Clearstrike’s. You were amazing! Can we get a trace of the three of us, please?”
Catching it was the equivalent of a photo, Amdirlain shyly nodded.
They both swept in for hugs, and she caught them rubbing against the side of her muzzle. Holding her reaction to their overt friendliness down, she looked between them as one brought out a link unit with a fancy case. Once they were all lined up, Mana flared in the device the female held by her side. Even with it not extended out, Amdirlain heard it record their appearance and scents.
“Are you going to be performing somewhere soon? Do you have hundreds of link notes with prospects?” asked the second. “You were magnificent. I thought you would make the stones cry. Then the strings broke, and without a pause, you turned the themes around, and all the world came alive.”
“I’m glad the music touched you. As for performances, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow, and then I’ll need to work out a few things,” said Amdirlain, trying to keep the shy persona of ‘Am’ in place. “I don’t have a link unit yet. I should get one.”
“We’ll be looking out for performance locations!” the pair gushed, introducing themselves before heading off. They didn’t get more than a few metres before one started calling someone to brag about their encounter.
Amdirlain entered the shop and found an earthen-hued stranger behind the counter. He read a magazine about vehicle customisation with full-colour pictures while untended customers checked out instruments.
It seems some things never change.
“Ahh, is Pal’tran or Jal’krin about?”
“They’re upstairs moving stuff about,” the clerk replied, not looking up. “You looking for anything in particular? Any filled orders I can sort out for you?”
“Not an order. Do you mind if I go through to talk to them?”
The clerk shrugged, and an ear flicked towards the door in the back. “Yeah, whatever, the door’s on the second landing. All the sound booths are full, so don’t mess around with the doors.”
“Okay,” Amdirlain said and slipped past the customers.
The door he mentioned was unlocked, and after Amdirlain pulled it open, she knocked to get their attention. Inside they were shifting through racks of musical equipment. Clouds of dust from some of the older frames wafted as Pal’tran looked her way.
“Having fun?” Amdirlain asked.
Jal’krin came out from behind a rack wearing a multi-hued shirt, close to a tied-dyed t-shirt in appearance, and yet another pair of shorts. “I was looking for some listed stock that wasn’t where it should have been. Don’t know why uncle is lending a hand.”
“I wanted to wait and inform Am of the meeting time. Aren’t I allowed to lend a hand?” questioned Pal’tran.
“Yep, I see how it is,” huffed Jal’krin. “Wanting to make a good impression on Am.”
Pal’tran’s snort in response was a mistake as it set him sneezing on the dust. Jal’krin gave a tight smile as Pal’tran waved more dust away from his face. “Get the cleaning unit charged and clean this place up tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Jal’krin.
“I was going to ask Jal’krin if he could spare some time to compose a few songs. I don’t want to be copying others,” Amdirlain interjected.
“Me?”
“I liked the feel of your composition—it was fun. I want to figure out something fun with words,” explained Amdirlain.
“I’ll get someone else to do the cleaning,” stated Pal’tran.
Jal’krin gave his uncle a surprised look and clapped the dust from his hands.
Setting the box he’d been looking through back on the rack, Pal’tran came out to the stairwell. “Tomorrow morning alright for a meeting?”
“That’s fine with me,” acknowledged Amdirlain. “I might even wear something new if I can finish altering them.”
“A southern female knowing how to stitch? That is rare. I thought most females outside the territories left that to the homebodies,” remarked Pal’tran.
An antique image of a leather-clad female hunting pack running down a kill showed in Pal’tran's thoughts. The exotic feel meant Amdirlain had difficulty keeping her tail and ears from twitching in amusement. “Yeah, but being able to show them up works out.”
“I guess that’s a different hunt altogether,” remarked Pal’tran. “I’ll pick you up at Jal’krin’s at, say, eight?”
“Okay, I guess I can have a late breakfast,” muttered Amdirlain.
“I told you Am fed me at six today,” said Jal’krin.
Amdirlain looked past Jal’krin. “Are you closing up today? We should go food shopping.”
Pal’tran cleared his throat again. “I could take you to grab some dinner.”
“There is nothing at Jal’krin’s place, so we should pick up some food on the way home before everything closes. What’s the closest store to your apartment, Jal’krin?” asked Amdirlain. “Something with fresh food, not just quick eats.”
“There is a mixed-food shop around the corner from the transporter stop. They have fresh stuff in there—hot food, snacks and drinks,” advised Jal’krin. “Eating breakfast in and asking for fresh food as well; what are you, my Mum?”
“Healthy body, healthy mind. Someone told me that it also applies in reverse. In your case, your body needs all the help it can get,” quipped Amdirlain.
“Oh funny, yes, so funny,” Jal’krin groaned, and he slapped a hand to his chest and gripped his t-shirt dramatically. “I’m so wounded. Let’s get out of here before we only have standing room the whole trip.”
Amdirlain waved for him to lead the way. “Yes, oh mighty guide and mentor.”
“I see how it is. You want me around to mock,” Jal’krin laughed drily.
The transporter they caught was a double-decker caterpillar-like vehicle with clusters of legs along its length. There was no internal floor separating the levels that contained plenty of places to perch or sit, but others already controlled the high ground.
Despite Jal’krin’s complaints about standing, he and the others caught in the press emitted rumbling purrs. The proximity triggered a primitive communal comfort; she saw tension easing from more than a few. Though it returned every time a grill near the driver started to repeat news announcements of last night and today’s lakeside events—murmurs and whispers between groups concerned other events, including the half-day congestion in the city.
Though the transporter ride was standing room for half the trip, being mingled with the crowd meant no one looked her way. When passengers up top started to descend, they went out windows or hatches in the roof and bounced down holds along the side.
As Jal’krin eyed a prime seat, Amdirlain got in first. Dumping her harp case on him to keep him busy, she bounced between wall-mounted footholds to ‘fling’ herself high enough. His only reaction was a grumble about having another brat pulling his tail. Later, when he got a spot nearby, Jal’krin pretended to bop her with her case.
The mixed-food place was nearly the size of Jal’krin’s apartment block. Behind the store’s front counter were lines of rotisserie grills awash with options like the stuffed roasts she’d had. As they walked through the shop, the smell of the meat drew grumbles from Jal’krin’s stomach while Amdirlain rubber-necked. She hadn’t seen the spiky-shelled fruit and leathery vegetables on the central displays served yet. A situation that made faking preparing them problematic. Fishing in the clerk’s mind for info on each one gave Amdirlain an excuse, with most of the contents shipped from the north.
“It seems two things I need on my list are local music and local cookbooks. The only food in here I recognise are the roasts behind the counter,” said Amdirlain, pointing at a northern fruit. “What sort of vegetable is that?”
“It’s a fruit, not a vegetable. Ahh, southern cuisine, more meat on the hoof. Fruit of the mountain only comes in the ridge hopping variety,” grinned Jal’krin. “Or do you need to conquer a box of grain cakes?”
Amdirlain stuck her nose in the air at his tone. “Whatever.”
“Oh, I’m in trouble. I’ve evoked a dread word,” gasped Jal’krin, his attempt at humour frail.
“See if you can find dread words for songs then, and I’ll howl them out,” quipped Amdirlain. “Roast?”
“You wanted fresh stuff, so we’re not just buying pre-cooked roast; otherwise, I’ll tell uncle you’re big on boasting and low on delivery,” retorted Jal’krin.
Amdirlain perked her ears dramatically, and a finger stabbed towards different sections. “Wait, I recognise the eggs and the roast cold cuts in the cooler section.”
“Go you,” cheered Jal’krin. “Though maybe get something else to cook; I’ve been told it is cheaper to eat at home.”
“You grab some of the fresh stuff you know how to prepare. I shall tend the hunt,” proclaimed Amdirlain as she headed for a row of waist-high cabinets radiating Ice Mana.
Over Jal’krin’s protests, she paid with her surplus coins and quickly covered the cost of what could be four days’ meals. Stuffing some supplies in her travel pack atop her clothing, they split the rest between them and returned to his place. The closer they got, the more tension Amdirlain picked up from Jal’krin as he walked beside her, careful never to lag.
“What’s wrong?” asked Amdirlain after she handed him the last of the ice to put in his ice chest.
Jal’krin settled on the chair at the kitchen table and sighed. “I’m not sure you should give me your pity jobs.”
“How do you figure composing is a pity job?”
“I already said I prefer instrumental work, and longer ones at that, where the theme has time to play and build,” replied Jal’krin. “You need a proper lyrical composer.”
“First, I’m happy to sing instrumental pieces. You will see how much you can challenge my voice. Second, songs with words don’t have to be short. Words are sounds, just the same as music. And don’t forget that whole ‘you can pronounce words differently to give them completely different meanings and emotions’.”
Jal’krin huffed in dissatisfaction. “Music speaks deeper than words.”
Amdirlain eyed his sceptical reaction. Putting up a sound barrier along the walls, she sighed briefly, emitting placid heartbreak. “I hate him.”
“What?” grunted Jal’krin.
As Amdirlain considered tearing Moloch apart, with the demon lord’s face squeezed between her fingers, rage flared. For less than a heartbeat, she let the fury build and let out a snarl of words. ”I HATE HIM.”
The intensity clawed and ripped its way up Jal’krin’s spine, his fur stood on end, and fear squeezed blood through his veins. With his back pressed against the wall, Jal’krin blinked at her carefully, not wanting to take his gaze from her.
His eyes bulged when Amdirlain clapped her hands and gave him a merry smile. “The same words, completely different emotions. Consider words not a liability but a way to accent the message with passion and meaning.”
“How did you do that? I thought I was going to piss myself. How did you get so angry?” breathed Jal’krin from where he was still pressed tight against the wall. Trembling, he pressed a hand on his chest like he needed to stop his heart from leaping out of his ribs.
“Anger, that’s one emotion I’ve got lots of stored up, though I’m trying to get better at letting it out in healthy ways. Sometimes letting it out helps me think, and other times it just makes me remember the pain,” said Amdirlain, concerned that her minor demonstration might have gone too far. “Don’t worry, I’ve never… I’m not going to hit you.”
I did hurt innocents.
His fur still standing on end, Jal’krin licked his lips. “That scared the living daylights out of me.”
“Sorry, it was more intense than I had intended,” admitted Amdirlain ruefully. “So, about composing-”
Panting, Jal’krin waved her off. “Give me a minute; I need to check my heart won’t give out.”
Eventually, after some long and slow breaths, Jal’krin exhaled. “What sort of song did you want?”
“Giving into anger or rage is easy. If I want something that challenges me, it needs to be joyful,” advised Amdirlain. “Heck, given how you reacted, I’ll need joyous songs to prevent the audience from needing to bring a change of pants.”
“You didn’t have to use my admission against me,” complained Jal’krin. “I’m not sure I can compose a joyful song.”
Amdirlain pouted. “You composed that instrumental piece, which was plenty joyful.”
“That song predates my screw-up,” clarified Jal’krin.
Amdirlain tapped her chin and paced restlessly before the bench, considering how to motivate and not break him. As Amdirlain swayed in her pacing, a more robust projection of calm radiated from her, and Jal’krin’s heart finally stopped racing.
“Please stop moving that way,” grumbled Jal’krin when his pulse had eventually slowed, but his ears were still twitching nervously.
“What?” asked Amdirlain, wondering if she should have kept a mental ear out.
“I’ve no idea what is wrong with me. You keep drawing my eyes, and you’re sixteen. Why couldn’t I have met you two years from now? Then I wouldn’t feel like such a creep,” confessed Ja’krin. “I’d still be a creep to want you to watch you so much, but not this klaxon level creep. You move like a stream flows, feeling calm and serene, and I can’t take my eyes off you. We should likely find you somewhere else to stay so you don’t have to endure me.”
With my Charisma and Quickness, what he says is fair; if I were a typical female, I’d be pissed at getting constantly ogled by a guy I wasn’t into. Yet, in my situation, being annoyed at him is victim blaming. He’s the victim of my lack of self-control over my attributes. Should I even be around mortals at all? Other beings manage it. I need to practice my Charisma, and they need the Eldritch cleared up, but is that an even trade for those where I mess up?
Amdirlain had halted even as her thoughts kept going. “I’m sorry, that was bad of me.”
“How? It’s weird, and I’m likely sick in the head. You can’t control what I think or feel. Your body language is like a cub’s, and it’s just wrong for me to be watching you.”
Amdirlain hummed. “I’m sorry because Bard improves Charisma, so don’t be so hard on yourself. How about you help me fix my body language? Please tell me what I’m doing wrong. I’ve not been around many Catfolk, I had a small pride. Maybe it has oddities that aren’t normal elsewhere.”
“If you need a performance coach, then that’s not me. I’m a composer,” rebuffed Jal’krin.
Huffing, Amdirlain’s tail tapped the air in her frustration. “Pretend it’s a composition, and my movements are part of the expression.”
“It doesn’t work that way; that’s choreography. I’ve never studied that,” protested Jal’krin.
“Dial it back a notch on the formality. You know when someone’s being childish in their body language, yes?” asked Amdirlain.
Jal’krin’s whiskers curled in tightly. “Yes.”
Catching his wariness, Amdirlain nodded reassuringly and pointed both hands at herself. “I just need you to monitor me and tell me what signals I’m sending with my tail, ears, whiskers, or whatever.”
Jal’krin grumbled. “And I just told you I feel like a creep watching you so much. Now you want me to watch you more?”
“Asking you to critique me, not creep on me. If someone calls you out, tell them I asked for your advice to fit in properly with the locals. You need a fresh start, and I know what it’s like to need a fresh start. You’re barely an adult yourself. I want to meet her, by the way,” said Amdirlain, skipping about to distract his thoughts from her.
“You’re younger than me,” pointed out Jal’krin.
Amdirlain huffed in frustration, and Jal’krin raised his hands protectively. “That’s all you picked up from what I just said?”
“It’s still true,” protested Jal’krin.
“Pretend I’ve had a different life experience, and it multiplies my effective age even if my body language is a cub’s,” retorted Amdirlain. “But fine, I’ll drop it. Let’s change the subject, and I’m sorry if this is a sore point. How much do you need to replace the study funds you lost? I’ve no idea what things cost and will have to get campus fees myself.”
Jal’krin mumbled a figure, and Amdirlain had seen enough prices to give a low whistle.
Here I thought my university fees had sucked. And he wants to be a composer, not a doctor, for crying out loud.
“Many people would look at me like a money train they could follow, taking their share and more. You’re not focused on profiteering. You’re trying to shoo me on my way because you’re worried you’re behaving like a creep. So why shouldn't I give you a chance?” questioned Amdirlain.
“Did you slip on a mountainside and hit your head too hard?” asked Jal’krin, rolling his eyes in disbelief.
Amdirlain nodded happily, and her tail swished about. “That could well be true. Since you raised the point earlier, do you know someone studying choreography? I want to work on improving my dancing.”
“My sister studies dance; she or mum might know people. Mum hasn’t performed in a while, so I don’t know who she keeps in touch with,” answered Jal’krin, and his tone turned tight. “Not that either want to talk to me right now.”
“Your sister and mum are dancers?” asked Amdirlain.
“Yeah, the whole pride is involved in entertainment in some way,” explained Jal’krin.
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Jul’iane,” replied Jal’krin.
Amdirlain blinked.
Yeah, maybe an aspect of Luck is playing games with me. That sounded too much like it started with Julia. I wish I could remember the aspects’ names so we could chat. Either that or learning my True Name leads me to people who need to turn their lives around.
“What’s that face for?” muttered Jal’krin.
“Just her name sounded similar to someone I once knew,” explained Amdirlain. “Why doesn’t your mum perform? Your tone didn’t make it sound like a planned retirement.”
“She shattered her leg in an accident. Healers did what they could, and mum can sort of walk, but she can’t dance, and it hurts if she stands too long,” explained Jal’krin, his voice still tight. “It cut her performing years way short.”
“That’s terrible,” murmured Amdirlain sympathetically.
Jal’krin was silent, and Amdirlain moved to the door plate to send a trickle of Mana into the grid.
“You don’t have to do that,” protested Jal’krin.
“I kinda killed the conversation again, so I thought I’d do something useful with my time,” replied Amdirlain. “This afternoon, you started to talk about how I sang today and yesterday, and then the customer interrupted.”
“Never mind,” muttered Jal’krin.
Walking over, Amdirlain delicately tapped the tip of his nose and made Jal’krin sit back. “Come on, I’m listening. I’m not the best at it, but I’m here. It sounded like I’ve brought you pain twice now.”
“Today, you sounded like you’d been hollowed out by pain,” observed Jal’krin softly.
“Yeah, I pretty much was letting my pain out,” admitted Amdirlain, hoping no one unreported had come to harm.
“I destroyed everything that started going right with that stupid bet—trying for more ruined things for my sister and me. I hollowed out our opportunities and the joy I find in composing music. That’s why you’re better off finding someone else to compose. You’re right; I am an idiot. Sometimes the thought of never making things right for her makes me sick. It’s been over half a year, and I can’t let myself think of it. When I do, it grabs me by the throat and drags me under, the way your singing did, like a river’s undertow,” whispered Jal’krin.
Amdirlain almost backed off, but she considered the reactions of the Catfolk on the transporter to physical proximity. With them in mind, she tried to set her awkward feelings aside and stepped close to hug him. The low chair put his head against her stomach, and Amdirlain patted his ears as the law keeper had hers. “It’s okay to cry.”
Jal’krin’s shoulders started trembling, and he scratched at his thighs, his claws catching in the cloth.
“I know about bottling things up, hiding the pain from others with humour, or pretending it doesn’t exist, even to myself. It’s better to let it out, Jal’krin,” whispered Amdirlain, and she gently stroked his ears and hair. “You can learn from your mistakes and work to improve things. Goodness knows, I screwed things up and misjudged you. Can I get a do-over on that?”
The first tears sounded like a grunt of pain, but Amdirlain heard the whirl of emotions in his mind. All the doubts, self-recrimination, and misery he hadn't let suffer the other day came through, but still, he held them in.
Amdirlain gave him a little nudge. “Cry.”
The tears came forth as snarls and howls while Jal’krin’s shoulders shook, and Amdirlain cushioned him while he cried. The care that Amdirlain had used to drive home a point with Mor’lmes, for this youngster wasn’t a mockery. After a while, instead of clawing at himself, Jal’krin clung to her and let out body-wracking sobs.
A long time later, he released her, sat up to scrub at his face, and gave an exhausted exhalation, not lifting his gaze from the ground. “That was embarrassing.”
Amdirlain clasped his shoulder gently. “I won’t tell anyone. Sometimes It’s easier to admit pain to a stranger than to friends or family. Wash; you’ll feel better. Then we can try to figure out how to avoid ruining dinner.”
Her words earned a low chuff of tired amusement, and Amdirlain stepped out of the way to allow him to stagger to the washroom.
Digging around in his cupboards, she found the utensils his exhausted mind told her they’d need for the preparations.
I judged him and didn’t listen that first day. Too caught up in my pain, I ignored that of others.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Luboš Hemala
Very nice chapter :-) thank you
