Full Circle

[Faith Augustin]

34th Saun, 718

She woke up on the floor, as she always did. She had dreamed of a pale man with dark hair. It felt like she knew him, but she could not think where from. Whilst it was more than possible that one of the many visitors who came to make purchases would be forgotten by her, somehow she knew that she would remember him. He was intense and had given her a message, but the message didn't make sense, except that now it was time for her to learn a difficult lesson, a hard one but it was important. She had agreed, of course;it had seemed important to him. So, as she always would, she had done what she thought he wanted and given permission.

As she woke she realised that there were people there, kneeling next to her. A man, in fact. He had a deep frown on his face and eyes like deep golden honey. He was well dressed, quite a lot older than her and obviously free. As her eyes fluttered open, she looked up at him in surprise and shock, ignoring the sharp pain in her head and scrabbling quickly up so that she was kneeling....
Of course, she hadn't been sleeping, because Faith no longer slept on floors. What she had been doing was working in the kitchen and she'd slipped on a patch of water. That had happened as she moved quickly to get a cake she'd been baking out of the oven - she'd been trying some new recipes in preparation for the twins birthday on the first Zi'da. Cyrus had come in and he'd had a look on his face which she recognised from her husband, of course. So, she grinned. "Cake is important for birthdays, I remember very clearly the one Padraig made me. I want something that will delight the children just as much." Then, she'd gone back to fussing.

And rushing.

If she hadn't been rushing, she wouldn't have slipped, but she was and she did. She landed in a heap and hit her head on the cabinet on her way down and it knocked her cold. She was out for maybe thirty trill and then, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him in confusion. As her eyes focused, she scrambled to get to kneeling and she kept her gaze lowered to the ground. Of course, he put his hand on her to check that she was alright and for the first time Faith flinched at her father in law's touch. Lifting her head as he spoke to her, she looked at him with a very careful and neutral expression on her face and no recognition in her eyes when she met his gaze. She was afraid and confused but she pushed it all into her hands. He must have bought her while she slept, she reasoned. When she fell asleep, the last memory she had, she had been in one place, now she was in another so she must have been moved. It did not matter, she had no reason or need to be informed and so she accepted that it was.

He spoke to her, asking her if she was alright, if there was any pain and she met his gaze and replied that she was fine.What was she supposed to do now, she really didn't know. Yet he looked at her and he seemed so worried. Oh, by Famula, she thought, as she realised that he had been touching her, his hand on her cheek, on her shoulder and checking her head to make sure sure wasn't bleeding. He was expecting her to do that? Fear gripped her but she could not give in to it. She didn't need to, though, the man there with her told her to stay there, just wait. Someone else was coming in, he was going to fetch them, but that wasn't important, she did as she was instructed.

And someone else came in. A younger man, but related to the first she thought, judging by his eyes. They looked alike. He knelt in front of her and she met his gaze, looking at him for what she believed to be the first time as he knelt there. Her neutral, schooled and restrained expression was carefully kept on her face. She started to speak, but looking at him she saw the look on his face and she stopped. "Are you alright, sir?" The girl who, at that moment, didn't know her name, asked with very obvious, and very genuine, concern. "This slave did not mean to make a fuss," she said, and then said something which she had since he'd met her and was, of course, her way of getting around referring to herself as 'it' wherever she could "My apologies."

[Padraig]

When Cyrus had come for him, Padraig had been alone, up in the tower at the highest point of their new home on the shores of Lake Lovalus. Even though the drought had resulted in an expanded shoreline, the view from the many windows was beautiful. Padraig could see for miles up there. And more importantly, he had a view of the night sky that was beyond spectacular.

But he had a ways to go before the space was just as he wanted it. His telescope was there by one window, the previous trial, he and his grandfather had managed to get a large workbench up several flights of stairs, including a fairly narrow spiral staircase at the end. They'd butted heads plenty, but Padraig's workshop was finally starting to take shape. And it was quiet up there, he'd discovered. With the windows open he was more likely to hear the distant call of seagulls, than ordinary activities in the rest of the house.

"How could she have fallen?" Padraig wondered, more to himself than to Cyrus who was leading the way back down the stairs after he'd come for his grandson. "She's not clumsy. Never been clumsy." It was more a case of trying to sort out what he'd been told, which was very little, than trying to get more information than was available. After all, Cyrus might have found Faith on the floor, but he hadn't actually seen her falling. But what the older man did know, and had told him already, was plenty worrisome, all on its own. She'd fallen, had a lump on her head, and seemed confused in the extreme.

"Luna, you and Katie keep the twins occupied will you?" he said as he passed the girl on his way to the kitchen. Luna in turn nodded her head and scurried away. The last thing he wanted was for the children to be upset, which would only upset Faith in turn. In any case, forewarned ought to have been forearmed. It usually was. But in this case, nothing could have quite prepared him for the lack of recognition in Faith's eyes when he dropped to his heels and she looked at him.

It was as if she'd never seen him before. In fact it was more than that. They'd been strangers naturally the first time they'd met, but something in her eyes...It was as if she wasn't even that Faith. And then she said it, confirmed it, and it was clear she didn't know him. Padraig winced, trying to process it while checking her over. Head, shoulders, elbows, all the same places that Cyrus had checked. She didn't know him. That was clear and if it hadn't been already, the this slave comment was enough to drive it home and it hit him like a physical blow.

He paused, trying to collect himself, then whispered to Cyrus, "Go to the Order and bring a healer back with you. Fast as possible." Padraig wasn't a healer. He didn't know how to deal with things like this. Everything in him wanted to tell her that he was not sir, and she was not this slave. But something told him that maybe it wasn't the best thing he could do for her just yet. He wasn't sure, and oh the irony...All those not scientists, but where was a philosopher when you needed one? Surely they'd know.

"You've gotten a nasty knock on the head," he told Faith gently and helped her up off the floor. "That's all. Just a bump on the head but I want you to lean on me, and we're going to get you in bed. Or, even better," he said once she was on her feet...then he scooped her up in his arms in order to carry her upstairs to their bedroom, where he deposited her in their bed. But rather than join her, Padraig pulled over a chair and sat down next to her. "What do you remember, before you fell?" he asked.

[Faith Augustin]

The second man to come into the room was younger and when she spoke he flinched. Not a lot, just a little and the girl wondered if she'd said something wrong. But that could not be because his reaction was not angry or anything like it. As he checked her over, she made sure that she made him doing so as easy as possible, as it was what he was doing. His hands on her must be very gentle, she thought, because normally being touched was painful due to the existing bruises, cuts or burns. Yet, he didn't hurt her at all. There was a pain in her head, but that was a slight one in comparison to what she was used to and so the girl said nothing and simply assisted him the best she could.

The older one left and then the one remaining with her told her that she had bumped her head. Of course, nothing about the marks which bonded them together had stopped and so Padraig knew that she was terrified, yet she kept that careful expression on her face. Confusion flooded through her as his hands were there to help her up but again she said nothing. He wanted her to lean on him? She complied of course, but then he lifted her up in his arms like she was a child. She had never been carried that she could remember and she didn't entirely know what to do. She couldn't make herself lighter, but then a fresh dose of fear gripped her as she realised what he had said and what he was doing. He was carrying her to bed? An actual bed?

It turned out that it was, indeed, an actual bed and as he put her down, she felt her mouth go dry. He'd asked the older man to go and fetch a healer, was this all some game in preparation for something, she wondered. She was about to ask if she should take off her clothes, but then she looked down at them and frowned a deep and confused frown. She was wearing clothes the like of which she'd only seen on owners or those who came to make a purchase, certainly not anything like she had ever worn. Her hand went out, touching the fabric of her skirt in surprise and her expression was one of wonder at the softness of the fabric and the bed he sat her on. But for all that it fascinated her, the feeling of the soft mattress underneath her, her gaze didn't leave him for long.

Wide silver and ruby eyes watched him as he moved and she pressed her hands together in her lap, pushing them so hard that her fingers turned white. Her frown deepened and her confusion grew exponentially when he simply pulled up a chair and sat. He asked her a question and she answered, immediately and the best she could. She spoke in a quiet voice, quieter than her norm as he knew it. "This slave does not remember falling, sir." Or getting here or being given these clothes. Or who he was. Her hands twisted slightly, everything about her was tense and fearful - her emotions were in turmoil, yet she had no idea that he could feel those, or that he knew her so well that he didn't need the links they shared in order to know. "And my memories are confused. My apologies. The last clear one is laying down, having been permitted to sleep. But it was cold, very cold." She looked out of the window at the twin suns in the sky. "And not Saun."

Looking down at her hands, the girl realised that there were just too many emotions piling in on her. So many of them were unusual, things which she had never felt before. Unknown to her, of course, some of them were his, and yet as much as she had always tried her hardest to be the best slave she could be, for that was her only choice in this world - to be a good slave or bad one, she looked at him and explained more than he had asked. "This slave has no memory of getting here or these clothes or any of this." She was afraid and confused, more than she had ever been and it prompted her to even ask questions. "Did you buy me, sir?" She looked at him calmly as fear boiled inside her at what he might have bought her for, what he wanted to do with her. Then, of all things, she gestured to her legs and asked what seemed, to her, to be a most pertinent question. "Where did the scars and bruises go?" Had he kept her asleep while she healed so that he could hurt her? She had heard a lot of stories from the others and whilst she only half believed half of them, that still added up to a very large level of fear of the unknown and this? This was very unknown indeed.

[Padraig]

It took every bit of self control that Padraig had, to keep his feelings in check. He could sense Faith's confusion, her fear, the unfamiliarity and the uncertainty and it threatened to cut him to the quick. But a knock on the head hadn't diminished the links they shared through their blessings and marks. And if he knew what she was feeling, the same would be true in reverse. For him to give way to that then, would only confuse and frighten her further.

As he carried her up the stairs, Cosmo fell into step behind him. The dog was particularly attached to Faith and was curious about what was going on. Turned out, from there on out until things were sorted, Cosmo would never leave Faith's side. But Padraig put her down on the bed, she tracked his every moment and the air of distrust clung to every surface in the room. He look a deep breath and smiled past it as he sat down by her side. Clearly she didn't know him. But this wasn't the Faith he knew either. He'd never known the one looing back at him now. "The healer won't be long, I'm sure. Especially after Cyrus tells them that it's you," he said.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked suddenly and got up again, pouring from a small silver pitcher beside the bed, then he handed Faith the glass of cool water. The temptation was strong to be more familiar. After all this was his wife, the mother of his children. The only thing stopping him was not wanting to frighten her more than she already was. Surely this was only temporary? When she finally spoke to him, she sounded so meek. This slave, she said. Clearly, what she remembered wasn't the here and now. It appeared in fact that, well, was it Tristan she remembered? "My name is Padraig," he said, hoping that at least might spark something.

"It's alright if you don't remember," he said. But no, he hadn't bought her, Padraig told her. And this was her home. Her bed. Her clothes. He couldn't begin to guess if she'd believe him or not. Or if what he told her would make things better or worse. If Cyrus would hurry up and bring back a damned healer, then they could tell him these things. "No more scars. Not for arcs now," Padraig added then, just as a soft knock sounded on the door. The healer from the Order, finally, and a face that Padraig recognized. Maybe, Faith might know the face as well? Either way, he was quickly hustled back out of the way so that Faith could be seen to.

[Faith Augustin]

The healer, a middle aged human woman named Dot, had that no-nonsense attitude so many healers seemed to have. Once she arrived, she got to work examining the bump on Faith's head and asking questions. Faith answered, immediately and as fully as she could, always in the same quiet voice and she held on to the dog, obviously overwhelmed. It probably wasn't an easy conversation to hear, but it meant Padraig understood what she remembered; she was still in Athart. After about ten bits, Dot motioned Padraig over. "No signs of concussion but she's had a bump to the head, so we should keep an eye. I think, physically, she's fine." She smiled at Faith who was looking between the two of them with utter confusion on her face.

"You have amnesia. It means you don't remember the last few arcs. I understand that it is confusing and frightening. For you both," Dot said and smiled slightly. "But the best thing to do is to ignore it." Dot tried to explain as succinctly as possible. "We want her to remember her life. Living it will help that. We are more likely to remember in familiar contexts." Turning to Faith, she spoke simply. "This is your husband, not your owner. No one owns you. I understand that seems impossible, but trust that it is true and I want you to act as though it is." Faith looked at Padraig, and Dot took Faith's hand, without preamble or asking permission and put it in Padraig's. Almost as though it were muscle memory, or an unconscious thing, her fingers wrapped around his as they always did. Dot appeared not to notice, but smiled.

"You both need to live where Padraig is, in terms of memory, it's where you both were until a little while ago. Live your life, quietly for to-trial, I'll come by in the morning." That was what she suggested, she explained. That they did what they would normally do, within reason of course, but so long as they were not terrifying the young woman, then Dot suggested that she ate and slept and they talked, what they would always do where and with who they always did. With a smile, though, she added, "maybe with a companion, but as normal as possible. Don't focus on anything except the life you live. It will help her to remember." She answered any questions Padraig had, but then she stood and looked at Cyrus. "Show me out?"

Which, of course, left the two of them alone. She looked at him, uncertainty evident in everything about her, though she held tightly on to his hand. She had to speak, she knew, had to try and make sense of things. "This slave is called Faith?" she stopped herself and started again. "Is that me? Did you name me?" There were a hundred questions, but she had to focus. "We are married?" Looking down, she saw the ring on her finger and the one on his and she smiled - the first completely genuine expression she'd worn. Her hand in his tightened anew as she regarded him with earnest eyes and she realised something. Not sir, she supposed. "Padraig? Is that how you want me to address you?" How she referred to him was tricky. Referring to herself, this whole "I" situation was a whole new can of worms.

"And this is our room? How long have we been married? Where are we? This is not Athart?" stopping, she shook her head. "My apologies. Too many questions. Always, my greatest weakness." Lapsing back into silence, she looked at their hands, held there together and then, suddenly, looked back up at him. Was this some cruel joke? It wouldn't be the first but if it was it would be the most inventive and well prepared. She wanted to believe it, she realised. Wanted to believe it was true, yet she did not know this man in front of her. Did he love her? Did she love him? Was their life together or separate, happy or miserable? Of course, she didn't ask. "It seems to be a rather complicated situation." Faith said and to anyone who didn't know her, she might sound unemotional. Like she was simply stating facts. Worry, fear and hope bubbled in her like they were being washed together in a tub. About to ask some other practical question, her hand lifted to her shoulder, where the oldest brand had been, the Athart one and a deep frown crossed her face. Mirroring a movement she had made before, in their home in Andaris, Faith twisted to try and see the brands which had not scarred her body for well over an arc. "Where has it gone?" She asked, looking around as though he'd put it in a drawer.

[Padraig]

It made sense that a no nonsense woman would have a no nonsense name like Dot. But Padraig didn't give it a second thought. To her credit she'd arrived very quickly, even though he'd trended to impatience from the moment he'd sent Cyrus off to fetch her. And when the healer entered the room, he was quick to stand and greet her, explain to her the situation and then get out of the way. From the doorway, he spotted Luna looking in with worry before she disappeared again.

Ordinarily, he'd have shooed Cosmo out of the room and barred the door. But looking at Faith now as the healer examined her, the dog seemed to be providing her with some sort of comfortable anchor. Maybe one that only Cosmo could at the moment. And so he'd stay, Padraig resolved. And no, it wasn't a comfortable conversation, or prognosis, to hear. On the one hand, Faith wasn't physically injured. But on the other? "It will pass?" he asked in nearly a whisper. The memory loss, he meant. She had amnesia, and he was to ignore it? How was he supposed to do that? He didn't say it aloud, but he thought it plenty.

When she linked their hands together however, Padraig smiled when Faith's fingers tightened around his own. "Never your owner," he confirmed. "And very happily, your husband." So they were to live their life as usual. He was still skeptical, but he didn't say it. Instead he thanked Dot for coming, vowed to do as she'd asked, and left it to Cyrus to show her out. "You, are called Faith," Padraig told her, once they were alone. "You haven't been a slave for a very long time. I didn't name you, and yes, we are married. See?" he said and smiled, even as she first noticed the rings.

But no, not sir. Padraig was what she should call him. "You were a slave when we first met. A man named Tristan was your owner then. You've told me that he was very kind to you, and he allowed you to come to me to learn about things like mathematics and chemistry. I was your tutor then..." It was probably too much information and concerned that he'd overwhelm her, Padraig merely smiled and trailed off. So many questions, however. "We've been married an arc or so. We married in Desnind and have lived in Scalvoris. But this is our home now, in Rharne. That's Lake Lovalus out the window there, and this is our room. You chose it for us as soon as we moved in," he told her.

"It's not so complicated," he argued then. "You are Faith and I am Padraig. We are married and I am very happy about that. The rest will come back to you," he promised. But where had what gone? It took a trill or two before he realized, and he grinned a little as he offered her his hand, to get her up out of bed. Carefully so she wouldn't topple over, he escorted her to the full length mirror in the room, turned her to face him instead of it, and then gave her a large hand mirror so she could look. "The brands and scars have been gone longer than we've been married. All that's left behind are the dimples." Certainly she'd argued she didn't have dimples. But he hoped a little that it might spark a memory. "And the Immortals have replaced them, see?" he said, pointing out the marks from the many blessings she'd received.

But then they couldn't just spend the trial locked up in their bedroom away from the world. More likely she'd remember, according to the healer, if they just got up and lived their trial as usual. "Would you like to go for a walk by the shore?" he asked. There'd been a drought, he explained, and the water had receded somewhat. But it was still beautiful there and nice to wade along the shore in the heat of Saun.

[Faith Augustin]

As Padraig asked in a near whisper whether this would pass, Dot looked at the two of them and she smiled. "Almost always. But that isn't to worry about. Worry won't help." Dot smiled at Faith and spoke in a kind tone. "You'll have questions. Ask them. But when he tells you something, act as though it is true. Can you do that?" Faith nodded her head, her hand tight in Padraig's and the other arm around the dog. Dot then patted Padraig's arm and spoke more sternly. "She isn't made from china, she won't break. You can do this," and with that she left. On the way out, she spoke to Cyrus, telling him that sometimes this sort of thing went on for bits or breaks, other times trials or seasons. There were some who simply never got their memory back, but when it came it tended to come in a floodgate.

Once Dot had left, Faith looked at him and nodded. He wasn't her owner, had never been, she was called Faith and he was Padraig. Married. They were married. Right. The woman had said she should treat what he said as true and so she did. "Is this our dog?" Our. What a strange word to use in relation to her and a free man. But she'd been a slave when they met? She sat up a little, listening to the background of a life she did not know. "A tutor?" Faith's eyes widened in delight and no small amount of excitement. "With books? Are there books here?" She loved to learn, she always had. It had been a weakness, all her life but it was something which she had never been able to get rid of.

"Rharne?" Faith sounded intrigued at the thought and she looked at him as though he'd told her they lived on the moon. "That's a long way from Athart." Not that she knew that for sure, but no matter the physical distance, it was a long way and that was increasingly obvious. "That does not sound like me," she said when he told her that she had chosen the room. But when she looked for her brand, he took her hand and led her to a mirror. His hands guided her to face him, though and she looked up at him, her gaze locked on him. No one had ever looked at her the way he did and it was compelling. When he handed her the mirror, though, she focused on it for a moment, seeing where there had been scars. But as she looked, her gaze moved and Faith's eyes widened as amazement hit her in the chest. Her hand almost lost grip on the hand mirror as she realized, "Is that... me?"

Turning, she looked at herself in amazement. Her body shape had changed, her skin had no scars or bruises and she lifted a trembling hand to her face. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them back, her eyes lifting to his, standing there behind her. They were married, had been married for arcs, it sounded like. Faith turned back around and looked at him, then she took a deliberate step towards him. He was her husband, he very obviously was used to physical contact from and with her and she put her arm around his waist. She was nervous, there was no doubting it, but even she realised that nervous was not terrified. "Dimples?" The gaze she looked up at him with held a glint of amusement. Well hidden, mostly held down, but still there. "Dimples do not sound likely." With a slight frown, though, just a brief one, she realised something. "But they're important, aren't they? Significant?" She couldn't remember anything about them, but yet, she knew. That was most odd.

A walk on the shore? Her expression told him the truth of her words before she spoke. "Really? You aren't too busy? That would be lovely." What did they do when they walked on shores, she wondered. Was she supposed to get his shoes, or bring something with them? She didn't ask because she couldn't work out a way of asking it without using I, so she said nothing about it. "Please, may the dog come?" Cosmo let out a deep wuff as if to agree.

Once they got outside, a few things became obvious. She looked around like a child in amazement at this place. "This house, it's hard to believe that.. " how did she manage this one?It was tricky to explain. "it feels more likely that this is a cruel joke at a slave's expense. That is more likely to be true than this." She looked around the house, walking with him as they made their way out, but no one came near them and she remained close to him. Outside, her nerves built at the open space and the people. They would look at her and know, she was sure. Know what she was, that she was a fake, an imposter. Feeling like a slave in a free woman's clothing, she stepped closer to him and took his hand. It was hard, this, but she felt better when she was nestled between him and the dog.

"Padraig?" Faith asked - he knew her well enough to know that she worked hard to call him that. Serious eyes gazed up at him. "Please, not if it's an inconvenience but would you consider telling me about us?" Keeping herself close to him, she tried to explain, but it wasn't clear, she knew. "Not what others see, but the life we live. How did you go from tutoring a slave to marrying an ex-slave?" Her gaze was on him and a sudden thought flickered across her face. "And.. what are these? You pointed to them earlier." Lifting her hand to show her Zuuda and Bellinos marks, Faith's expression was thoughtful. "You seemed to suggest that they were important, earlier?" The hand she had lifted to show those marks moved and she pinched the bridge of her nose. It was overwhelming, truly. "If you don't mind, hearing it would be nice. It's all a little overwhelming." And to-trial, she thought, his understatement would be served by his amnesiac ex-slave wife. "For both of us, would be my understanding."

[Padraig]

Almost always, and worry wouldn't help. Not exactly the answer Padraig was looking for, that first part and as for the second, true was could be but easier said than done. Nonetheless, Dot got no argument from Padraig when he thanked her and sent her off on her way with Cyrus. Still, Faith wasn't made from china and she wouldn't break. He hadn't needed Dot to tell him that. He knew it. He'd always known it.

"Yes," he said, turning back to Faith with a smile, as he sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to run a hand over the top of the dog's head. "His name is Cosmo. We've had him since he was young and small enough to fit in an egg basket, and we got him from an old woman at market. Out of a box of pups," he said, hoping that whatever he couldn't help her remember, maybe Cosmo could. But yes, he'd been her tutor. And what was more, their home was filled with books of all kinds. "And why wouldn't they be?" he said and smiled again.

"You're not just a free woman and a wife. You're a healer, a member of an Order of Healers. You're a business owner, a professor...And, you were instrumental in helping to end the practice of slavery on Scalvoris." That was an awful lot to process however, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far too quickly, and opted to wait just a little bit more before revealing that she was also a mother of twins.

So, yes, she'd chosen their room. And yes, that was her, Padraig confirmed when she studied herself in the mirror. She looked at her reflection as if she was looking at a stranger and in spite of the worry it caused him, none of it showed from the outside. In fact he grinned when she asked about dimples. "From nose to toes, to all the dimples in between. Yes, it's important." But he wasn't too busy. Never too busy and yes, they'd walk along the shore and the dog could accompany them. Padraig wasn't sure how they'd managed it, but when he escorted Faith down the stairs and out of the house, the rest of the family had made themselves scarce. At least for now.

It wasn't a joke, a lie or an illusion, he told her as they stepped outside. It was real, and with five acres of their own private land surrounding them, they had a great deal of privacy with which to enjoy their walk. "You are never an inconvenience," he assured her when she asked to hear about them. They'd come about, from meeting to marrying for one simple reason. He'd known he'd loved her, the first time she'd shown up at his door. And he'd only grown to love her more with each passing trial. "You belonged to a man named Tristan then. You were still a slave, so it was impossible." She'd told him, Padraig said, that Tristan was very good to her, but that he'd never liked the man. But as slave owners went, he hadn't been anywhere near the worst of them.

"You're free now and have been for some time. We're married, you teach and conduct business and heal others. You study medicine, and me physics...The stars," he explained with a smile. And because she'd asked and there was no way to know how much was too much, he added that they had two beautiful children together. "Twins. A boy and a girl. Just getting up on their feet. Madison and Noah." Then of course there were the marks. One by one, he told her where they'd come from, which Immortal had granted their blessings to her, and his understanding of why that had happened. He told her then about his own and then lastly, about those they shared in a sense. Pointing out the glowing bands on their arms, he added, "This is how I know how you're feeling, and the same is true for you."

And then it happened. Just as he was about to elaborate about the marks, where they stood facing each other, hands clasped on the shoreline, the patch of ground they were standing in suddenly gave way and it was as if the world had dropped away beneath their feet. It wasn't exactly a sinkhole. Turned out, there was a series of underground tunnels beneath the property, and here, right next to the shore, the receding water due to drought had weakened the structure where one of the tunnels wandered too close to the surface. There was only time for a look of surprise as they dropped through together, and landed in a heap on the floor of a long and sloping underground tunnel.

For a trill there was mostly silence. Sunlight shined through from the hole that had opened up, and Cosmo was there barking furiously, whining, wanting to get to them. Dust sifted in on them from up top and Padraig groaned a little but immediately took Faith's hands and worriedly looked her over. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Clearly, they weren't getting out the way they'd come in and he shushed Cosmo then called up. "Go get help Cosmo. Go." Whether or not that would work, was anyone's guess. But in spite of it all, he grinned a little as he stood and pulled Faith up with him. "Reminds me a little of Treid's armpit," he said.

[Faith Augustin]

A wife, medic and freedom fighter? Someone with such a list of accolades really should not find it hard to refer to herself as a person, she thought. The more he told her, the more unlikely this whole situation seemed to her, but there it was. He looked worried and she didn't like to think that he might be concerned about her in any way. Dimples were important, he confirmed, although he didn't tell her why and so she didn't ask. Faith put her hand in his and smiled slightly. "This must be very confusing for you," she said, softly. More than anything, she was doing as she had always done and trying to make sure that his needs were met. "Would there be anything you'd like me to do to make it easier?" Her question was earnest and honest. The last thing she wanted to be was an inconvenience and for all that he said she was not and could not be, the reality seemed somewhat different to her.

Once they were outside, Faith stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him, wide eyed, all concerns for him temporarily forgotten. "Children? But. That is. Surely. Well." Lapsing into silence her mind reeled. It took a few bits until she looked back up at him and asked, "Really? Are you quite sure?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she blushed deeply. "My apologies. That was a stupid question, of course you are." How could she have children? She couldn't remember ever meeting any, let alone parenting one. Still, the marks on her skin were a much safer topic and she listened as he told of each one. They stood there, her hands in his and she looked up at him, at his eyes and the flecks of darker colour in them. "No one has ever looked at me the way you do," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

There were a hundred thoughts, fears and other things which she did not recognize flying through her at the moment, but Faith's focus was on his eyes. Until, of course, the ground simply gave way beneath them. A gasp of surprise was all they had time for as they fell and she landed with an 'oof' Immediately, though, she was up and moved to him, her hands checking him. "Are you injured?" Her words and his echoed together and she smiled at him as they spoke simultaneously. Shaking her head, she assured him. "Bumps and bruises, nothing serious." Her hands stayed on his chest, where a moment ago she had been worriedly checking him, but now her gaze turned into a thoughtful frown. The sensation was well-known, comforting and new all at once. "You feel familiar," she spoke in her usual soft tone and her voice illustrated her uncertainty.

Cosmo, meanwhile, turned and ran off. Faith looked at the hole in the ceiling and then let out an audible sigh as Cosmo's head reappeared and a stick dropped from his mouth and landed on the ground at their feet. With another wuff, he was off again and, soon enough, another stick joined the first. Help would not be coming from Cosmo, it seemed. bending down to pick up one of the sticks, Faith sighed. "Well, this appears to be the answer to 'what's brown and sticky' finally sorted., she muttered drily. Glancing around, she came to a few conclusions. He helped her up and she raised an eyebrow. "Treid's armpit?" Faith asked and glanced at him. "Since there's a precedent, it seems appropriate to ask. Does this sort of thing happen to us often?" Falling down holes, that was, she explained. But then, there was no getting around it. "My instinct is that you should wait here where it might be safer and allow me to find a way out. On a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to think that's a good idea?"

[Padraig]

Padraig was worried. He worried that in an effort to help Faith remember, he was telling her too much. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her any upset, or inadvertently do more harm than good. He could see that she was already having trouble processing everything that she was now. As a result, though he'd told her she was a mother, he resolved to wait just a little while longer before introducing her to the twins. If she didn't recognize them, they'd know it, they'd cry and it would upset her and round and round they'd all go. He smiled a little when Faith slipped her hand in into his, and he squeezed it gently. 'It's just like you to worry about others. I'm fine. We're all fine. This will just take time, is all, and we've got all the time in the world."

As long as it took, he meant. Though Padraig didn't want to acknowledge even to himself and certainly not to her, that it was possible she might never remember. Certainly Dot had taken care not to say it to him, but he was no fool and wasn't ignorant of the possibilities. "I'm quite sure," he'd said, and even grinned when she wanted to clarify that she was, in fact, a mother. "The two most beautiful and cleverest children on Idalos. Just like their mother." And why wouldn't he look at her the way that he did? From the first moment he'd met her, he'd been in love with her. That feeling hadn't diminished any since then, but had only grown stronger. Even now when she looked at him as if he was a stranger. He had to be honest. That bit smarted though he was careful not to show it.

But then they'd fallen down a hole. No, he wasn't hurt, he told her. And apparently neither was she. And apparently, Padraig thought as he looked around them both, there was a series of tunnels or caverns beneath their land. "I should hope so," he teased Faith quietly and smiled, while placing his hands over hers. That feeling of familiarity, that was. And Cosmo unfortunately was no help at all. He frowned as one of the retrieved sticks dropped on the ground at his feet. "You know the woman who sold him to us swore his breed was the smartest on Idalos. I think we've been had."

"It's been something of a trend," he said, and grinned when she asked if this falling down holes was a habit of theirs. "But we've always managed a way out, you and I. And while I'm tempted to think that Cosmo is genuinely trying to help, I can't see us building a ladder out of these sticks he's brought us." Which mean of course that they were going to have to explore and find another way out. "And you without your spelunking kit," Padraig teased her. But as for the chances of him waiting while she found a way out? Zero, absolutely zero, he told her, and turning, he realized that there were two ways they could go.

One of course seemed to stretch out farther from the shoreline, presumably leading downwards below the lake bed unless it took a sharp turn or about face somewhere along the way. The other direction also sloped down a little, but at least it was leading away from the shore. "That way, I suppose," he suggested, and began leading the way slowly through the tunnel.