• Closed • Dressed in Overalls

[Ashira Ward]

Vhalar 12, Arc 716

Ashira was annoyed. Or at least, that was the emotion that she was comfortable admitting. What she would have been far less comfortable admitting was fear and loneliness. In Oakleigh, anywhere in the Eastern Settlements really, the Thorn name was known. She was known. People would have been courting her favour, coming to her for aid. The Wards were even better known. Since taking that name

being forced into

she would have have been invited to all events. Her presence would have affirmed that it was important, that the people there were important.

But she wasn't in the Eastern Settlements anymore. She was in Andaris. Where she knew no one. Where no one knew her. Where she was no one. The only person she had was Everett. That brought colour into her cheeks. From arousal or anger it as hard to tell, she often found it hard to separate the two when dealing with her Husband. He was all she had, her only connection. Some women would have thrown themselves at their husbands feet in such a situation. Beg for attention and affection. Sit still and pretty, stay silent, see to the domestic side of things and hope to be granted a modicum of their husbands time and worth.

Not her. She might have been a Ward in name now, but she was a Thorn in her soul, and anyone who tried to hold her too tightly would find that out quickly enough.

She was done ghosting around the house, like a mouse or a lost soul. It was time to get to work. Time to express how she really felt. Time to reestablish why she should, no, why she demanded respect. With a nod to herself, Ashira continued her brisk walk through town. She became aware, as she was drawn out of the depths of her own mind that her brows had drawn together and she was very nearly scowling. That wouldn't do. With effort she rearranged her expression, it was fine to look busy or even serious, but one still had to look as though one was going about on good business, rather than as if heading out for a grim task.

Thinking of what was to come, the end point really, for there would be much that was tedious before that, Ashira felt a faint smile begin to play on her lips. She'd been thinking. She had access to so little here. So few plants. So few contacts. So few coins. But necessity was as they said, the mother of invention, and what she had dreamed up.. If it was the sort of thing that one advertised, assuming she could pull it off, her name would not soon be forgotten. As it was, likely no one would know. Well. That wasn't quite true. Her smile took on a decidedly sly cast. One person would know very well what she'd done, and that was enough.

First though to one of the barns where grains were stored before being processed and sent to bakeries within the city. Ashira waited patiently, chin high as men and women bustled about her. She was a rock about which the ants scurried. Eventually, a man approached her.

"Can I help you Miss?"

"Yes, has one of the Order been to check your grains yet?"

"The Order Miss?"

"Adunih of course."

"Ah." He looked somewhat worried by that, large callused hands grasping each other. "No Miss. Should they have? Is something wrong? We got good grains here Miss. Keep cats to clear the vermin out, move it all regularly.."

"It's naught to do with you, don't worry, from what I've seen your people are doing a commendable job." She assured him, trying to look reassuring. Kind and understanding. "No, we're just doing a check to make sure that alls well, a few people out in the country fell ill, but we suspect it's probably just hygiene or a bad well. Still, it pays to check with the city have so little right now!"

"You're with the Order then Miss?"

"Oh no, before I married I was a Thorn, you've likely not heard of us. Healers from the Eastern Settlement. I'm just trying to do my bit while I'm here. I'm afraid I've no skills to help with rebuilding the city, but this I can do. I'm sure if I've heard of it the Order has as well, so that's why I asked to see if they'd been around yet."

"That's mighty kind of you Miss, er, sorry, Missus. Whole Rynmere gotta come together that's what I been sayin'. I suppose the Orders probably busy will all them still recoverin'. It's likely a right good thing you came in when y'did. Did.. What do you need to check to make sure it's safe?"

It was almost hard to keep the triumphant grin of her face and out of her voice as she asked quite seriously, pulling on the gloves she'd carried in the basket over her arm.

"Have you any Rye stored here?"

[Everett Ward]

The trial had begun as any other had since the Wards arrived in Andaris. Without a sound, the two of them woke and bathed, and Everett trimmed his beard. The silence was louder than any screaming the two might do, and it showed a defeat in them both that neither would admit. Everett knew she missed Oakleigh, missed her family. He missed Berwick and his, for sure. He missed Amelia, and Mother... And even Father. But they weren't in the Settlement. Instead, they were in Andaris, and for a reason.

For Everett, that reason was occurring that trial. He dressed in his suit, sharp and impeccable. He knew that he was the visage of the businessman, but for some reason, that did nothing to quell the rebellious taint rising inside him. As he entered the common area of the house, he found it deserted. Ashira had already left for the trial, and he knew not where she was headed. With a grim shake of his head, he followed her example and left the meager abode.

The walk to the meeting chamber was one that he did not relish. In his mind, he encountered all the possible ways that the meeting could go wrong. He could be outmatched. Outwitted. Outbid. He could be outraged and ousted, but he would not admit defeat until his final breath. The meeting was one of relative insignificance, a pity meeting his father had arranged so that he could stay busy and feel important, while the terms of the meeting were already agreed upon. Everett's appearance was merely for show, as they needed a blood Ward to sign the deal in the stead of the great Elliot Ward. Everett's frown felt etched onto his features anymore, and it was precisely for this reason.

Nevertheless, he would show up and sign his name to the deal. The pity would wash off, the ink dried in the form of his name would not. When the deal would be re-evaluated, it would be Everett that would renegotiate, not his father. He was sewing the seeds, and if he had to bury his head to do so, he would at least water it and hope it grew. What did I... He shook his head. He found that sometimes, his idioms formed in a similar fashion to Ashira's. Growing and watering plants was not in his nature, nor his mind. The thought only intensified the frown.

He arrived at the warehouse nearly a break earlier than was scheduled. As a young man, his father had always instructed him to arrive first, so as to put one's opponent on the edge. It gave him an advantage, but one that wasn't exactly necessary in this instance. Still, he would not allow arcs of lessons go to waste because this wasn't a true deal. Isn't a true deal. Bah. He could taste the bile rising in his throat.

As he pushed through the massive doors to the warehouse, he was surprised and dismayed to see that he was not the first to arrive. Jahred Qy'azbar was standing near the corner of the warehouse, surveying some sort of packed crate with a frown. Everett knew it was him, as he wore a high-collared cinnamon-colored robe and had three gold earrings in each ear. He had a broad smile on his face, and the contrast of his white teeth on his dark skin was shocking. Everett approached them, head held high.

"Master Qy'azbar. I am..." He was cut off by the deep and commanding voice of Jahred Qy'azbar. His dark eyes narrowed as the man's jovial tone indicated that he did not consider the interruption a slight.

"Everett Ward, son of the great diamond magnate Elliot Ward. Pleasure to meet you." A massive hand came out, and Everett took it with a firm and practiced handshake. The merchant captain's grip was quite firm, and Everett immediately felt a tinge of jealousy and rivalry.

"Indeed I am. Shall we proceed? I've much to do in the city today." His voice was thin as a razor, cutting straight to the point. Jahred Qy'azbar just smiled a secret smile as he showed Everett to a small office set in the warehouse. In it was a long rectangular table, with three chairs. Qy'azbar, Ward and the owner of the warehouse. Everett was nearly salivating at that point, and when they sat, he made sure that Qy'azbar sat first.

"You've heard the terms of the deal, as negotiated by Elliot Ward on the first of Saun in the Arc 714? In this renegotiation, there is to be no set changes. Agreed?"

And then his blood was surging in his chest. Everett could feel the edge coming on, and he smiled wickedly. He leaned forward on his elbows, his shining silver cuff links catching the light at the perfect angle to reflect a dagger of light into Qy'azbar's black irises.

"Actually, I've a few edits to make to the ledger before signing." With that, Everett grinned mirthlessly, staring holes into the merchant captain's forehead. Qy'azbar raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Apparently, Everett had taken him by surprise. He relished that.

[Ashira Ward]

It was several breaks later, Ashira was hot, sweaty and itchy from the rye she'd been sorting through. They'd actually assigned two people to help her. The best part of this was that it would all hold up. It was lies, but it was lies that were so close to the truth it would make no difference. If she said she'd heard there was an illness in the country who was going to prove her wrong? At worst they'd tell her there hadn't been and she'd act embarrassed to have believed a falsehood. As for the dark little nodules now mostly filling her basket, well they certainly could cause sickness. There hadn't been enough of them for it to be likely that they would. It hadn't been the sort of arc where they would be a major problem, but there were almost always a few, and given the rush to get grain in either before it was ruined by troops of one side or the other or after to make up for the shortages, chances were that some of the grain hadn't been dried properly, hadn't been checked quite as closely. And she'd been right. Her harvest was proof of that.

"All right, I'd say we got most of it. If you happen to see more, you can certainly set it aside, I'll check in every few trials to dispose of it properly."

"What.. What if we've missed any Missus? I buy bread for my fambly from bakers what use this bread." asked one of the middle-aged women who'd been helping her nervously.

"Honestly unless a fair amount gets into a single loaf, it's likely safe, only the very old, very young or very sick would need to worry, the harvest you fine people have here has been well cared for and ought to be largely safe."

"Aaaah, but with all the injured folk from the fightin', they're not as strong so that's why'n you needed to be extra careful right?"

"Exactly! If you're worried, just don't buy rye bread, but as long as everyone in your family is healthy, from what I've seen it will be just fine."

"We'll keep an eye on it Missus, don't you worry, you can count on us!"

"I'm sure I can! Thank you ladies!"

With a smile and a wave, Ashira turned to leave and head home. She removed her gloves, setting them on top of her basket, covering most of the contents. Not that most would recognize them. Habit.

A brief look of displeasure crossed her face as she tried to wipe hair wet with sweat and stuck to her forehead back in to its proper place. This part of the job was done. She did not want to be covered in sweat and dust anymore. Her feet moved more quickly as she anticipated being able to wipe herself down, to be clean, once she got home.

She let herself into the silent home. Everett must still be at his business meeting. Good. She brought the basket into a room dug slightly deeper into the earth than the rest of the house. It couldn't be called a basement by any stretch, but it was cooler than the rest of the house, better for working in. It was also stone and if anything even more meticulously clean than the rest of the house. She set the basket down and went to clean herself. Though her sweat likely would make no difference, still instinct told her not to cross contaminate anything. You never knew.

Fifteen bits or so later, cleaned and hair twisted back out of the way, she entered the room once more. Putting the gloves back on, for one could never be too careful, she moved a palmful or so of the dark growths. Reaching for one of her knives, she began chopping them finely. When they'd been reduced to her approval, she measured them by eye and took a glass jar, filling it with a fingerful of the pure alcohol she usually reserved for sterilization, before dumping the chopped plant matter in. Tightening the lid, she shook it vigorously, before setting it in a dark cupboard to steep.

Putting away the remaining growths, for they would keep for a goodly while, she cleaned down her surfaces before removing the gloves and sitting, thinking. Was she missing anything? What were the chances that this would go badly and she would kill without meaning to? If it happened it would likely be from seizing if she left it steeping too long. She could add an anti-convulsant perhaps? She ran through the ones she might be able to find in her head. Most would be imported and she would not be able to afford them. Some had properties that would counter what she wanted to achieve. Finally she settled on either Chamomile or Valerian. Valerian would be best, and it was relatively common. Honestly she might even be able to nab some out of someones garden if she didn't feel like going into the fields. Saints Wort had also been an option, but she didn't want to risk the anti-anxiety. Valerian it was. That wasn't terrible pressing though, it would only really matter for later more concentrated doses.

[Everett Ward]

Everett watched as the vein above Qy'azbar's eyebrows began to throb. His eyebrows, appearing as thick black caterpillars. were raised higher on his bald head than Everett had thought possible. It took nearly all of his self-control to keep his elation in check. Instead, he stared still, watching Qy'azbar's movements and deliberate tics as closely as a hawk might watch a swallow.

Multiple times, Qy'azbar opened his mouth to counter, but could not. Everett had cornered him, and he knew that though it was mostly bluff, he couldn't refute the logic. The civil war in Andaris had made travel unsafe, and there were rumors that the Qe'dreki were still lingering around in small bands. The diamonds, those from the Ward mines, were too precious to allow to fall into rebel hands, and there were even rumors that Qy'azbar himself was supplying the rebel jacadon riders with weapons and wealth. Everett gambled, though, because Qy'azbar could have denied it and he would have had no evidence to suggest otherwise. But it didn't matter. The merchant captain quickly quieted, and Everett knew he'd struck a chord of truth.

"It is not possible, Mr. Ward. The Drunken Mermaiden can't afford to lower our cut of the trade. Especially by that much. You will be crippling my crew. They will starve!"

Everett's eyes caught the light in a malicious glint, and his clenched jaw didn't loosen for nearly a bit. He titled his head and leaned forward on his elbows, eyes penetrating the scrambling merchant captain.

"Perhaps you should take less of a cut of the profits and divide them among your crew more efficiently." Ward grinned slightly, knowing the captain would let his men die before that. Sailors were a copper nel a dozen. Hell, many would work for that little, and Qy'azbar knew he could always staff his ship with criminals or worse. He was proud, though, and Everett knew he could capitalize on it.

"With the rebels in the mountains and woods around the area, I am not comfortable risking that amount of gems for the paltry sums we'd previously agreed upon. The risk is much higher than the reward. And I am sure a consummate businessman such as yourself can understand."

Qy'azbar gritted his teeth, staring hard at Everett. He crossed his burly arms, knotted muscles contracting and relaxing as he tapped his fingers on his forearms. His chocolate-brown eyes studied Everett's features, much the same way Everett was studying him. Neither men broke eye contact as they measured the other, and neither spoke. Bits passed as they did so, each vowing silently not to break first. Finally, though, Everett did.

He stood and walked to the door, looking out it before closing the door completely. He turned back and walked to the table, stiff and obviously angry. He placed both hands on the edge of the table, and leaned in. His eyes found Qy'azbar's again, and the merchant captain was obviously pleased with himself. He thought he'd won.

"And if we refuse? Should we decide to change our cargo?" Qy'azbar smirked, thinking he'd found a way through Everett's facade. And it almost worked. Everett had never expected him to completely pull his support, and if he did, the family lost a massive source of income. And Qy'azbar knew that he could do so. He would also take a significant hit to his profits, though not nearly as much as the Wards. And it would be much more difficult to move the drugs the Drunken Mermaiden outside of the crates provided by the gemstones. It was not impossible, though, and Everett knew he had to proceed carefully.

"If you decide to change your cargo, Captain, you know you'll lose a significant sum..."

"As would you and yours, Master Ward." There was a smugness in his voice, and Everett inclined his head to concede the point.

"In addition, it seems that it would be much more difficult to move the cargo on the ship that my family doesn't provide. And it would be quite the shame if the port authorities should... accidentally... find some of the more suspicious of the boxes... I would hate to see what would happen to your starving crew and that pretty little ship..." Everett stopped speaking, and tried to read Qy'azbar. To the captain's credit, his face was a mask. After a moment, he leaned back and smiled wide, much as he had when Everett first met him. He set his arms out wide and laughed heartily.

"I believe it would be most beneficial for us to make this agreement, Master Ward. Though not as mutual as the one I struck with your father, I cannot refuse. But I will say this. Rather than the two-arc deal term, we shall set it to one arc and reconvene then to renegotiate."

Everett nodded, containing his joy at forcing the merchant captain to submit. It was quickly stolen, though, by the captain's final words.

"And that deal shall be struck by your father, or not at all." And his smile was gone. He stood, nodding and shaking Everett's hand. It was brief, though, not an accord struck happily. As soon as his ebony hand was extracted, he swept from the room. Everett breathed a sigh of relief and sunk into a chair. His heart was racing and he finally allowed himself a laugh, though it was more in nervous excitement than happiness.

[Ashira Ward]

A hollow ache that had grown slowly enough she'd not noticed it as the trial had progressed and a rumble jolted her attention back to the immediate moment. That was something else she had to watch. She got absorbed in what she was doing and forgot meals. Which was not hugely uncommon in the Thorn household particularly when an illness was making the rounds, but there was usually someone who realized what was happening and pushed food of some sort into busy hands at the proper intervals. The Ward household had servants to prepare and call them to meals of course. Here she or Everett had to remember.

Which was frustrating. She'd forgotten for longer than she should have and now that she remembered she couldn't even eat immediately because first she had to prepare something. Internally she snarled over the lack of a proper garden once more. Many of the tools of her trade could also double as a snack. Some of them would kill you if you prepared them wrong, or ate the wrong part, but that wasn't the point. Window boxes at the very least. How sturdy was the roof, could she take advantage of that space later? She shook her head, focus. See to the task at hand, no one else would.

Taking the extract with her, shaking it as she went for she was impatient for this batch to become useful, she headed for the kitchen. It took longer than she would have liked to admit to start the fire. Fires were things that people less important and busy than she was started and tended. Or they used to be. Still, she wasn't useless, she could light a fire, just not easily. Soup was relatively easy. And cheap. Besides, they'd eaten chicken the night before, and she had the bones and a little meat left. She was no great cook, not even a good cook, but she understood some of the basics. She filled a pot with water from the small hand pump in the nook that laughingly called itself a courtyard. She supposed she should be grateful she didn't need to walk to a common well or river every time she needed water.

Placing the filled pot upon the lighted stove, she tossed in the chicken bones. She then chopped an onion roughly, throwing it in as well. At the very least she'd not cut herself while chopping it, that was something. She dug out other edible odds and ends, cutting them and preparing them. She'd not put them in yet. She'd made that mistake before. Then it was harder to get the bones out and everything was mush. Broth first then broth into soup. Eventually, all was as prepared as it was going to be. There was naught to do but hurry up and wait.

Picking up the extract bottle she began idly turning it back and forth, keeping it moving.

These were the dangerous times. When she wasn't doing anything in particular. When nothing was pulling her attention. Idle was not her natural state, and it could lead to dangerous introspection. In some ways, Ashira was spending her life running. She didn't know how to deal with or repair the now she she focused on the future, ran for that. A wiser woman might have slowed, turned to look at what she was dragging with her, set aside the bricks of resentment, unwind the thorns of misunderstanding and hurt feelings. But in these actions, Ashira saw weakness. So she plowed doggedly ahead. Never stopping.

Her mind drifted back to when she'd been younger. She remembered when she'd idolized Everett. When she'd lived for the Trials her parents brought her with them to the Ward estate, each time hoping to catch a glimpse of the serious, dark boy moving to and from his lessons. He'd never seemed gangly, like most did. Certainly she herself had had an unlovely phase. He had been younger, smaller, but a man all the same. He walked with purpose, head up and shoulders back. And she'd loved him. She'd daydreamed about the day he would pull her aside, tell her he'd been watching her as she tended his sister. That he was impressed with her kindness and dedication, that he needed that sort of woman at his side. And then of course he'd propose with the most impressive diamond the Wards had ever found set into an intricate band. They'd wed, live happily ever after and that was that.

He'd never noticed her then. And eventually the daydreaming girl-child had grown into a young woman who decided she should have her own purpose rather than mooning after other peoples. She'd dedicated herself to her craft. Which was around the same time puberty and youth got done doing terrible things and she evened out into the woman she would remain until age started to set in. And of course when she moved on, then, then Everett had noticed her.

It was almost like her daydreams, but she'd had no time for such frivolity and turned him down, expecting that to be that. It wasn't though, and the truth was that as much as her new image for herself didn't include him, the younger, more naive part of her that had loved him still existed, though it was mostly buried and drowned out. Still, when he persisted, she gave in. And oh it had been everything she dreamed of and more. He hadn't asked her to stand beside him forever of course. No, he only wanted to steal breaks when no one was looking. Part of her hadn't wanted to be with someone who would not be with her openly, but the rest loved this intense man. The first man she'd ever kissed, the first man she'd ever loved, the first man she'd ever touched in lust. He woke in her a fire and a hunger that she'd never known, not in even her most secret daydreams. And it was not ideal, but it had been sweet. Oh it had been sweet.

And then they'd been discovered and he'd been forced to marry her. It should have been the culmination of her dreams. But it wasn't. It was the beginning of the end. Because there'd been no choice. Not for either of them. When she railed, it was at the fact that she hadn't chosen him. But in these silent moments.. It was that he hadn't chosen her.

A tear began to roll from her eye. And she sniffed, cursing her own weakness. At least there was no one to see. She raised the hand holding the extract to wipe her eye with the back of her hand, the other she moved, intending to set it on the counter behind her and lean back. But she was not yet entirely accustomed to this house, to this kitchen. Her palm came down on the stove top. With a yelp, she whirled, pulling her hand away, and at the same time dropping the bottle she clutched in her shock and surprise.

It fell, almost unnoticed, until it hit the stove top, shattering. A hiss rose immediately as the liquid inside hit the hot stove.

[Everett Ward]

"Whisky. Straight." The merchant captain's words echoed around his head, and the only thing that he could think to do was drown them in whisky. There were trials where he had so much whisky that his own words barely ricocheted around his head, let alone someone else's. The tavern was mildly empty, which was even better for the surly businessman, but every small fidget of the people around him fueled his irritation more.

Within trills, the whisky was gone and the glass slammed on the bartop. With a tap of his finger, the glass was refilled by the barkeep and he grabbed it covetously. He held it close to him, the caramel-colored liquid sloshing around in the glass with the velocity. The bartender had no hair, but his eyebrows were bushy and high enough to seem as hair. Everett's glare withered his surprise like acid on the stem of a rose.

The stem of a rose. A thorn. His Thorn. Bile rose in his throat as he recalled her disappearance at the beginning of the trial. He clenched his jaw to keep from vomiting, then slammed the whisky again. Another tap, another shot. He nodded at the barkeep, who sauntered down the bar.

Next to him, a buxom woman with a low-cut top leaned on the bar, casting him sidelong glances from pretty blue eyes. Everett shook his head imperceptibly, turning his body a fraction of an inch away from her. It was the universal sign for "Leave me alone", but she couldn't take the hint. She came around him, sitting in front of him and pressing her breasts together with her shoulders.

She was pretty. He couldn't care less.

"Hello." Her voice was high and clear, like a bell. Her lips, painted a rose pink, puckered ever so slightly. In another light, Everett may have found her worthy of his attention. Another trial in another dimension, perhaps. Here, though, she was a nuisance, and one that with which he did not wish to cloud his foul mood.

"Goodbye." His tone was deep and assertive, one that was undeniable in its intent. She scoffed and glared at him, but he was unwavering in his rudeness. He slammed the whisky and looked back at the barkeep, who was already on his way to refill the glass. At least someone is good for something.

And over the next few breaks, the whisky flowed, and his vitriol drove away every patron that made contact with him. Even the barkeep shunned him, and finally, 10 gold nels later, Everett was drowning in his liquor. He stood, and swayed, and fell. He vomited and swore, swung and was flung. But he dragged himself home, drunker than ever, barreling through the door like a bull.

"Ashira?" His voice was slurred and loud, louder than it should have been. It was a question, it was a plea... It was something, familiar and cloying.

[Ashira Ward]

"Tss!"

Was the explosive noise that escaped from between Ashiras teeth, as she clutched her wounded hand to her chest. Like most, her first thought was for her wound. For the immediate pain. Hesitantly she moved her hand away from her heart, slowly opening it, wincing at the pain. In truth it hurt but she was still in too much shock for it to be terrible yet. The burn wasn't too large, perhaps a quarter of her palm but oh it hurt. One side of it was starting to blister all ready.

For a moment she thought of what she should do. Gently clean the wound with water, perhaps soap if she could bear it. Not in cold water, that was a mistake that many made. Cool or lukewarm. Then wrap it in something clean and let it be for a day. It was no use treating it sooner. Once the day was up, then she could truly treat it. Aloe vera and lavender would be best. She didn't have either. Lavender she could likely find or scavenge from someone's garden. Aloe vera she'd likely have to do without. It wasn't native after all, and so wasn't common or cheap.

A bitter, burning smell pulled her back into the moment.

"No!"

Frozen in indecision she looked at the stove. She had to get the extract, or what was left of it off the stove top, but the stove was too hot to touch. The continued hissing of the little liquid that remained seemed to be laughing at her. In fact, now that she was paying attention to it... It was laughing. A small distressed noise escaped her, eyes widening. The small trail of black smoke moved and pulsed, breathing as it laughed at her, a living, malevolent force.

No. She squeezed her eyes shut. No. It was just the extract, this was what it was supposed to do. That thought was hard to hold on to. Moving with certainty she didn't feel on limbs that didn't feel like her own over a floor that she didn't trust to support her, she fetched the broom. It was all she could think off. Using the stiff bristles swiftly, praying that they too didn't ignite, she brushed the remaining, blackening ergot and glass shards off the stove top and onto the floor. Had she gotten it all? Was she quick enough? She eyed the stove, and then jerked back when she realized how close her face had gotten to the still hot stove top. Close enough that the hand she raised to her cheek felt residual warmth.

"I-I almost.."

How long had she been staring at the stove top? Getting closer? She thought it had been trills but now that she tried to think back, to pin the moment in her mind.. She couldn't be sure. The memory of the way the smoke had laughed at her came back and she could feel her heart rising in her chest, choking her, blocking out all the air in the room. With a soft cry she backed away from the stove, stopping only when she hit the opposite wall and sliding down it to sit on the floor. Watching the stove in horror, waiting for it to find a way to hurt her again.

"M-my fault.."

She whispered, burnt hand curling into a fist and sending a jolt of pain through her that made the entire room lurch. Now a sense of nausea was rising as well. At least there was no more smoke, at least she was farther away from the danger. Eyes widened once more and a whimper escaped her as she realized the wall behind the stove was pulsing, moving, breathing, just as the smoke had been. It was too late, the poison that she had created was infecting the house, soon it would finish her.

"M-my poison.."

It was fair wasn't it? Didn't she deserve it? She'd made this poison. Poured her hatred, her sense of indignity and entitlement into it. She'd been going to inflict it on others, to make them suffer, take away their control. But it was hers. Her poison. Hers to bear. Hers to be crushed by. Burned. Devoured. Alone.

Her breathing quickened as she began to panic, to hyperventilate. Taking in more of the poison smoke that lingered still upon the air. She didn't want to die, but more than that she didn't want to die alone. And oh she was alone. This kitchen, once small was now infinity. All that was and all that could ever be was within it, and there was no one else. Just her. Just her waiting for the death she'd brewed herself. Poisoned by her own thorns. It was in the air. It was on her. Entering not only through her nose, her mouth each time she dragged in an increasingly reluctant, shallow breath, it was entering through the very pores of her skin. She could feel it, she knew she could. Worming it's way inside of her. Trembling hands rubbed desperately at her arms as though she could wipe it away, oblivious to the pain in her hand.

Something tugged at the back of her mind. A change. Something different. The breathing, the pulsing, the twisting, unnatural wrongness had spread, it covered at least half of the room now. Getting closer to her with each breath it took.

Finally, her mind caught up to what her ears had heard. Her name. Someone had said her name. For a moment her terror redoubled. If it was calling her by name.. What hope did she have against something like this? No one could fight it, no one could beat it, she would be devoured. But.. it hadn't been the poison had it? It hadn't sounded like what she knew the poison would sound like. The poison would be knowing and coated in black honey. If it called her name it would tear out her soul. That would surely be the last thing she heard. This then had been...

Everett!

Despair and hope struck her simultaneously. Oh how she wanted him, how she wanted to not be alone. But she had to protect him, keep him safe from her poison so that he wasn't devoured too. She could do that couldn't she? She was strong enough for that surely? Could she not have this one moment, this one act, this one last time to show her love to him? It was so hard to breathe. She was afraid to move. It would bring its terrible focus back onto her, and the floor swam with each of its breaths. Breath whistling out through her nose, Ashira squeezed shut eyes from which tears flowed steadily, eyes with pupils wider than they should have been.

Hand hit the floor, and she pushed off of it, sending herself up, the pain as the developing blister on her palm was ripped open helped her stay on her feet, though she swayed, breath coming in great whimpering gasps, too fast, which still somehow didn't bring enough oxygen to her, to clear her head. With one last look at the stove, at the pulsing wall, she turned and fled. Ran for the door, for Everett. She had to warn him, had to get him out.

She must have been a sight as she rounded the corner, eyes wild, tears flowing, a small smudge of soot on one cheek, hair in disarray. She flung herself onto him, drunk as he was they very nearly went tumbling onto the floor, but somehow he managed to keep them both up. She'd flung her arms around his neck and was holding him as though she expected him to be torn away, which part of her did. She sobbed into his neck, inconsolable and incoherent for several seconds before she remembered.

"Y-you have to go! Get out! It will get you too. My fault. My fault, I made it. I made it and now it's loose. A-all the darkness. I set it free. But not you. Not you. It can't have you, I won't let it. Oh Everett, I love you, I love you, I can't. How did it go so wrong? How did it grow so big? I did it. I did it. Go! GO, GET OUT! Don't breath it in, don't let it inside you. It wasn't supposed to. It wasn't supposed to, I didn't make it to, but it will. It will."

Attention turned inwards for a moment, before her eyes flicked back to his face, traveling over it as though memorizing it. Hardly giving him a moment to reply she pressed a kiss on his lips, and if her words made very little sense, the emotions of the kiss were clear at least. Regret.

"It's okay. It's okay. Y-you go. It will just.. it will just take me, and then you'll be okay, okay? Just go. It's okay."

With some effort she removed herself from him, lowering herself back to the floor, knees under her chin and arms wrapped about them, eyes glued on the door to the kitchen as she shivered in terror, waiting for it to come and claim her.

In truth, Everett was largely safe. At worst if he went into the kitchen he might have unpleasant dreams. Most of the smoke had already cleared, and the extract had hardly had enough time to become potent. It should have sat for weeks, not hours. The first immediate dose of smoke had been enough to affect someone strongly, but after that..

[Everett Ward]

It was as if he had somehow fallen asleep standing there. Everything moved so slowly, it was as if he'd had a whole lifetime to process the events as they were happening. In the doorframe, Everett heard Ashira's shuffle as she came from the kitchen, and he processed each distinct feature with the clarity of a perfect diamond. Her hair, her soot-stained cheek, her frazzled behavior... Something had happened.

And just as it was nearly frozen, the whole world exploded. She crashed into him and he braced himself on legs unsteadied by confusion and alcohol. Though he remained upright, she knocked the breath from him. He squeezed her close to him, inhaling deeply into her hair to regain his composure. It wasn't long until his breathing returned to normal, and he enveloped her. His eyes darted around the room, peripherals fuzzy, looking for the source of her distress. Every muscle in his body felt as if they were being hit by individual bolts of lightning, and he was more than ready to end the threat with force.

It dawned on him, though, that the only sound in the house was her sobbing and his breathing. He steadied himself and held her out to arms' length, observing her pupils. The soot on her cheek was dark and smeared, and he wiped it off with his sleeve. A frown lined his face as he realized what he'd done, but he was more concerned for Ashira than his clothing.

"Ashira... Whatever you took, whatever you've done... It's not real. What you're feeling is in your head. You of all people should know that." It wasn't the first time Ashira'd accidentally poisoned herself, and at least this time, she wasn't vomiting blood on his brand new leather shoes. Instead, he picked her up in his powerful arms and carried her to their bedroom, making sure to secure her head to his chest. As he laid her gently on the bed, he pulled a thick wool blanket over her and sighed.

"Rest there. I will draw you some water. Just breath, and listen for my voice, okay?" Everett was not a particularly good singer, but he knew that if he gave her something else to focus on, she may be able to ignore whatever effects she was experiencing. So as he exited the room, his powerful voiced carried through the walls.

"I've left my home in Berwick / To start my life anew / I've carried with me troubles / And treasures such as you." The song was familiar to her, he'd sung it many times since leaving Berwick. The original lyrics did not contain Berwick, but Everett amended them to fit their situation. He moved outside to the well, but his voice was still distinguishable.

"But the nights grew cold and dreary / And the shadows darker still / You've come to light my way / In every shaded trill." He drew the water up from the well, and it was naturally cool. The bucket was heavy in his whisky-weighted arms, but he held it steady as he walked back to the home.

"You've chased away the spirits / And left me in the light / And now I've got you always here / To get me through the night." His voice drew to a warbling close, not in tune but softly carrying to her anyway. The cup of water shook slightly in his hands as he set it on the table next to her. He kissed her forehead and tucked her in.

"Sleep sweet, my Thorn."

And with that, Everett left the bedroom. He sat down at the table and stared at the wood, stained as it was. He undid the buttons on his shirt and put his head on his arms, drifting quietly to sleep so as to not disturb Ashira. She needed to sleep off whatever it was... He'd have to ask in the morning...

[Ashira Ward]

'It's not real.' She did know that. She did. It was just.. It was hard to hold on to. Hard to remember. Hard to believe. Because the things she was experiencing, they were real too, they were just a different sort of real. It was easier now that Everett was home though. Because while she had been sure that she would die, sure that she couldn't stop it, what had terrified her so was that she was dying alone, and it was all her fault. That if she'd just acted differently stayed silent in some cases and spoken in others, she would not have been alone. She would have been with the man she loved more than anything, and if she was with him then she was safe. Even though she'd tried to send him away to save him. It was hard to keep things straight, to think linearly, logically, with the poison still pulsing through her.

Still, as he lifted her from the floor, and oh how many of all her best memories revolved around being wrapped in those strong arms, a bit of her anxiety faded. The memory of the way the smoke and wall had breathed, pulsed, started to fade, replaced by the steady beat of Everetts heart. She was still afraid, anxious, but it wasn't quite so crushing as it had been. Before there had been no hope. There had been nothing anyone could do. It was the sort of fear and despair that saw a person wrap a noose around their own neck, or not dodge out of the way of a killing blow because what was the point? There could never be any resolution.

Now though, now as he tucked her into their bed, the bed that smelled of him, now perhaps there was hope. Perhaps the night would end eventually and the sun would rise again. This was reinforced as his voice rose in song. He would never be famous for it, never sing upon a stage, but to her it was the most precious thing in the world. At first, overcome by emotion, and reminded, stuck in the negative as she was, of all the wrong they had done each other, all the hurt she'd done to him, and all the spiteful thoughts she'd had, she cried. She was his treasure, and what had she done to deserve it? She'd been more one of the troubles than the treasures, but still he named her as his.

The next verse calmed her, he was singing it, but it was her verse all the same. The nights had grown cold and dreary, dark and full of terror, malicious and hungry, the shadows waiting to rip themselves free and devour her, lost and alone. It wasn't even all drug fuelled fantasies, hadn't shadows attacked recently? But Everett was there, he would keep her safe, drive away the darkness, show her the way. Her breathing, evened out, eyes sore from smoke, tears and terror, slowly eased closed.

..chased away the spirits, and left me in the light, now I've got you always here, to get me through the night.

He had. He'd chased away the fear. He would stay and keep it away, it would be okay. Everything was going to be okay. They would be okay.

As she felt his lips on her forehead, and the blankets tightening around her as he tucked them in, cocooning her from the outside world and all the fear it might contain, she truly drifted into sleep. Her features weren't entirely peaceful, there was still slight anxiety, like a child afraid of the dark, but she trusted. She trusted that he would get her through the night.

Dark dreams troubled her sleep, but never quite woke her, the faint tune of his song surfacing whenever she got too worked up, too close to wakefulness, lulling her back down into the ocean of sleep, where her body could rid itself of the toxin in peace.

[Golem]

Rewards

Name:

Ashira

Knowledge:

Poison: Ergot Extract
Poison: How to create an Extract
Poison: Distilling requires Time
Poison: Sterile is Safe
Poison: Inhaling Poisons can Lead to Hallucinations
Medicine: Instant Blisters mean Serious Burn
Medicine: Cold Water over Burns
Everette: Mediocre Singing Voice
Everette: Cared for You

Loot:

None

Injuries:

1 Burnt Hand- Ten trials with healing

Fame:

+2 General Good Deeds

Story:

5/5

Collaboration:

5/5

Structure:

5/5

- - -

Name:

Everette

Knowledge:

Business Management: Surprise can act on Your Side
Business Management: Not showing Reactions
Etiquette: Proper Greeting
Negotiation: Use any Advantage
Negotiation: Blank Face gives Nothing Away
Detection: Eyebrows show Emotions
Detection: Noticing Signs of Surprise
Singing: Replacing Words on the Go
Singing: Simple Songs are Easy
Ashira: Frail
Ashira: Pulls out a Protective Urge

Loot:

-10GN for the drinks

Injuries:

None

Fame:

+3 Fame for reworking the Deal

Story:

5/5

Collaboration:

5/5

Structure:

5/5

- - -

Comments:

Sorry this one took me so long guys. Router broke on the weekend, and I just got internets back today.

I enjoyed reading it. You tied it together well at the end, and it was nice seeing the crazy couple actually act like a couple.

One thing I'd add is just include the name of the poison in the grading request. I had no problems looking it up, and enjoyed learning more about it, but other graders might skim over it.

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM. Thank you!