What had meant to be a single day turned out to be more like five. He had been right after all—eat any of the food on Surwood and you were doomed to stay until it rained. Of course it didn’t help much that no one else was leaving either; you couldn’t really, not this close to the end. At least—that’s what Harlin had decided to tell himself after missing the ferry for the second time in a row.

He couldn’t help it. After his chance encounter with the two lovies, he had gone out into the heart of the caoja and gotten woefully, miserably drunk. It was beautiful, really—that is, until the part when he blacked out behind someone’s kint and misplaced several hours of his life, but the wick had always been of the mind that what you can’t remember never counts against you. But whatever had happened in those wee hours of the morning left him unconscious for the larger portion of the day, so by the time he could finally stand to open his eyes against the blinding sun and make it to the docks, the last ferry had long since gone.

His plans to make the Isle regret keeping him there had fallen rather flat as well. Wreaking undue havoc on a place with a lot of dancing and food and rosh when there were other riffraff afoot wasn’t as easy as he had thought it would be. So Harlin had decided to just flow with it, like he always tended to do, see where the current would take him. It had never failed him before.

Except for today.

The undertow that controlled every aspect of his being seemed to have decided that 27th was a splendid date to take a break, and so deposited him nicely against the bank of a colorful tent that smelled vaguely of hingle. Harlin’s braided head rolled against the canvas listlessly, basking in the afternoon sun. He was full (amazingly) and perhaps a little sleepy, though the urge to crash swam about his conscious rather contentedly. It was more of a pleasure-drunk stupor than anything. He had forgotten how leisurely the country could be when it wanted to—so very unlike Old Rose, where he would probably be passed out in some smelly gutter were he there instead. Benny place, really, but despite past grievances, he would rather be in Surwood. A distant part of him wondered how long it would be before he changed his mind.

How far could it have gone? It doesn't have legs. Nobody will have stolen the thing...

The necklace Wendy had recieved from a nice man seemed to have disappeared. She wasn't really surprised-- the wooden thing had fallen off her before, and she'd only managed to keep it with her because other people had spotted it when she was leaving whatever she was doing. She was beginning to wonder if she'd finally lost it for good. She'd spent that last hour retracing her steps as well as she could.

Our saying she was, anyway. She kept getting distracted by people she knew, and shop talk, and silly wicks. After being so down yesterday Wendy was determined to turn her mood around. She took another step backwards (having decided that the best way to retrace her step was to walk backwards-- it gained her a few odd looks but it gave her something to do, anyway), and found herself at a tent that smelled like...stale, greasy hingle.

Ew...Wendy would have offered her services to the people inside if she could-- no wait...she had offered her services to the people inside...which meant she had been here... Wendy looked around wildly, passing over the body of a sleeping wick, to the left--

...wait a second...

She stared hard at the wick and more importantly, at what he was laying on. She could see a corner of her necklace.

Her shadow landed on his face and she cleared her throat. "Excuse me." She said in a pointed voice.

Harlin’s eyes rolled open at the sound. The girl’s voice had caught him in one of those intermediate states between daydreaming and sleep, the kind where your body drags with comfort and all surrounding noise turns white. A rather pleasant place to be, really, but less than pleasant to be drawn out of. The wick stared at Wendy languidly once his eyes had finally focused in on her silhouette.

“Yer excused,” he said in a disinterested voice before shutting his eyes again. She was cute, but he was sleepy, and the benefits of staying that way outweighed whatever she had to offer. However, after a moment or so, he couldn’t help but note a distinct lack of warmth radiating over his freckles.

Harlin cautiously lifted an eyelid and looked the girl up and down. The light stopped at her back. He sighed, making a mental note to never excuse someone before they deserve it, “Yer also in my sun.”

Wendy glowered at the man on the ground, shooting mental daggers his way for his casual dismissal. The sun comment didn't help. She took to steps closer to him, making sure she was blocking his light completely, and gave him a half shove half kick to the ribs. He must have been half stone because he didn't budge.

"Fair trade. You're on my necklace." She snapped, folding her arms and planting her feet. Her resolute expression told him she didn't plan to move until he did something about this dilemma.

Harlin furrowed his eyebrows slightly when Wendy took her step forward, but didn’t think to pay her any mind until her foot connected neatly with his ribs. While her slight form didn’t do much to move him, the surprise of the action certainly did, making the wick start and shove his shoulders back deeper into the fabric of the kint. His eyes went round as saucers. He had never typically been one for formalities, but they were certainly preferable to a swift punt to the side, that was for sure. This chip was clockin’ whack’d!



Her what? Harlin gawked at her stupidly, not sure if he should wonder what kind of euphemism that was supposed to be or if she was simply moony as a bander. Unless he’d fallen into her bed on one of those nights he couldn’t remember—that might explain it, because his near memory didn’t recall lifting any necklaces…

He frowned, more intimidated by the horrible expression on her pointed face than he would ever care to disclose, and carefully peeked around the side of his leg.

Oh.

Instead of pulling the wooden beads out from under him like a decent (or terrified) person would have done, Harlin merely lowered his buttock back to where it belonged and gave the girl a stolid glare. “Yer still in my sun.”

Although Wendy had only been mildly irritated before, the way he calmly stated that she was still, in fact, in his sun raised the level from mild irritation to a high level of indignation. How dare he!!! He was sitting on her necklace! And he wasn't moving! Her face reddened slightly with fury and she paused for a moment, gathering the necessary restraint it took not to kick him again.

"I'll step on you! I will! Don't even think for a moment I'm not capable of it." She snarled heatedly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her sudden rage. "Unless you give me my necklace. Then I'll be out of your sun and out of your way. You won't have to deal with me again. It'll be splendid." She paused for a moment, "For both of us." She added finally, beaming as if the very thought put her in a good mood again.

A vacant expression crossed his face. Were Harlin being assaulted by anyone else, the threat of being stepped on would¬ have provoked a nasty snark. The thing was, though---this girl looked like she meant it. He realized that he should not have been so concerned; after all, the girl was small and—well, a girl, but…she was also perfectly frightening.

He practically threw the necklace back at her.

“There!” he yelled, sounding more than a little exasperated, “Take it! Geez, you are one bossy chip, y’know tha?”

((SFSR))

Wendy barely caught the thing, having flinched and closed her eyes when he threw it. "Rude." She muttered under her breath, but there was no feeling behind it. She was too happy that she was the victor in this little battle. She clasped it on herself with a genuine smile and sighed happily. Harlin's words threw a damper on her reverie and she sighed, almost patiently.

"I wouldn't have to be if everyone just listened when I asked them to do things the first time." Her eyebrows rose pointedly and she folded her arms for a moment. A hand strayed to the necklace again. "I really should get the clasp fixed, though...do you happen to know where they might do that?" Her voice was sickeningly sweet and she batted her eyelashes at the man. Oh yes, her mood had quite improved.

Harlin groaned and dropped his head back against the canvas. Women.



The wick stared numbly down his nose at the girl, not bothering to move from his slumped state. They were always doing this to him, waltzing in out of nowhere, making a ruckus, bothering him. Couldn’t they ever see that he was busy? That he had better things to be doing? What did he look like, anyway, some kind of clocking guide?

And she was still in his sun.

“Oes…” he finally scowled at her question as he made a motion to get up. His voice sounded etched with resignation. Truth be told, he didn’t have the wispiest idea of what she was talking about. People actually repaired jewelry? “If it’ll get yeh outta my hair…”

He glowered at her. “And yeh are bossy.”

"You said that already." Wendy told him sweetly, awarding him another ridiculously saccharine smile. As they started off in what felt like a random direction Wendy messed with the necklace some more. She swore a few times and finally just pulled it off. It really was broken. A pity, because she had really liked it. Hopefully this wick knew where he was...going...

"I'm W--Venadi, by the way. Are you sure you're going in the right direction?" Since they were surrounded by butcher stands, Wendy could say with fair certainty that they were not.

Harlin couldn’t help but cast continuous side-long glances at the girl as she fumbled and swore. That piece of junk she was holding hardly seemed to be worth enough to buy him a sip of rum. He never did understand why people were so intent on harboring silly things like that—especially when they didn’t work.

At the expression of doubt behind him, the wick stopped rather suddenly and whipped around, knocking the girl back a step or two. His pouted lips looked perfectly indignant. “Excuse me,” he huffed, “are yeh insinuatin’ that I doan know whar ahm goin? Are yeh the leader here? Are ye the one oo’s walkin’ front o’ me? I doan’ think so. Unless ye’d like tae be findin’ yer little bead repair wotsit by yerself, cos ah’ve got better things tae be doin’, ye chen?” He paused a moment before throwing up his arms. “Yeh doan’ go wakin’ people up like that only tae tell ‘em that they’re doin’ it wrong. S’rude.”

In the silence that followed, Harlin shifted a little uncomfortably and glanced over his shoulder at the rows of meat that lay before them. He really needed to stop digging such large holes for himself… “An’ now yeh’ve got me all---discombobulated…” his voice trailed off, eyes searching the surrounding area for a different direction to go in. There. “C’mon, Bossy. An’ no more gettin’ me lost. Doan’ need tae be wastin’ time jus’ denkin’ around aimlessly.”

“And the name’s Harlin, mujo ma fer askin.”

Wendy might have been more upset except she only understood about half of what he was saying. But he looked distressed. She winced, closing his eyes while he shouted. She was halfway between wanting to shout back and giggling madly. It's rude to scream at people you're trying to help. She wanted to say, but for the moment she thought she wouldn't aggravate the situation any further. Alioe knew she wanted to, though. Instead she let a small giggle bubble out of her lips.



She didn't say anything, instead gave him one of her mmHMMMmm looks that seemed to radiate sarcastic agreement.



"My name isn't Bossy." Was all she said, in a tone of voice that said she had decided to be the bigger person while also implying she thought him a child.



"I didn't ask you, Harlin." She said, making it a point to use his name. "Anyway if it's really that much trouble you can go and do whatever you were doing. I didn't mean to disturb his Highness. I just thought since you weren't doing anything important-- but no, what was I thinking. Of course laying in the sun is incredibly high priority. "

He ignored her, for the most part.

“Oh ne, it’s fine. Fine! Benny, even.” He rolled his eyes and started down a narrower lane, one lined with cramped stalls that looked to lean towards the fruitier side of things. It smelled nicer, anyway.

“So what’s so special about, uh, that, anyway?” His eyes stared pointedly at the beaded object in her hands. “Can’ ye jus—I dunnae, knot it or somefin’?”

"It's wood. You can't knot wood." Wendy replied with an eye roll. "The clasp rusted and now it's falling off...which is why I keep losing it." She ran her fingers over the object. "It's not very valuable, but it's mine and I like it."

Her eyes roved over to the fruit stands and she barely resisted the urge to point out that it didn't look like they were going in the right direction again. "A man gave it to me here awhile back. It was a very nice thing to do. Has anyone ever done something like that for you?" Wendy had liked that it hadn't meant anything. That he had simply given it to her because he wanted to be nice.

When she almost stepped on a rotten apple she paused, "There's um. Lots of fruit here." She said, hoping he would understand she was trying to point out their location again without offending him this time.

“Oh…” Harlin eyed the necklace suspiciously. Something in his limited experience with necklaces (he wore two, that was enough) told him that most were held together by some sort of chord or string, but Venadi’s certainty certainly sounded…certain. He decided it was better not to ask.



The man looked thoughtful for a moment, staring up at the strip of blue sky above. His mind wound casually around all the past encounters he had experienced within his lifetime, the squabbles, the pub runs, the pirate ships—his proclivity to lie inhibited by the fact that he had actually never considered any of this before. He found that what should have been a simple “yes” was not, and the surprise in that made him smile. “Nope,” he said definitively (and truthfully, for once), eyes snapping back to hers. “Can’ say they e’er have.” Pathetic, maybe, but it made sense; the likes of him were often denied the niceties of others.



“Yes,” he continued to smile, but directed his attention back to the alley, “thar is.”

When they came to a fork in the stalls, the wick reared left without hesitation and sauntered his way down through a new line. The fruit had given way to a multitude of sweetbreads, stacks of cakes and loaves of sticky delights. A small hum passed through his nose. Didn’t this place have anything other than food?

He stopped again, looked around, and quickly nodded before starting off again. “Ne, this is right,” he told the blue-haired girl assuredly while making a mental note that if they ended up hitting the edge of the wood, he’d have to make a run for it. “S’past all this.”

"Mmm that's too bad."



"If you say so." Wendy said doubtfully. She was staring at all the sweet breads. How long had it been since she'd eaten?!

I really need to learn some control.

Soon after they meandered their way through the bakers section they found themselves in the right place. All sorts of trinkets adorned the little area, shining when the sun hit them, glowing if they were precious stones. The craftsmanship on most was gorgeous.

Wendy tried to remember where she'd gotten the necklace and failed. Instead she approached one of the more artistic vendors who was using cogs and wheels to create beautifully ornate necklaces and earrings.

"Getting a lot of customers?" Wendy asked the man with a smile, looking over his wares. A particularly pretty one-- a cogwheel with a metal bird melted into the center of it-- caught her attention. "These are breathtaking!" She exclaimed, touching the piece with the tip of her finger.

One look at Harlin reminded her of her mission. "Oh, right." She showed the vendor her necklace, "Do you know who made this? I need to get the clasp fixed."

The vendor gave Wendy a wide, wonderful grin. He wore his bleached hair in a high topknot and the rest was shaved clean. His scalp was tattooed with all sorts of tribal designs and his torso was bare to the waist. Taking the necklace, he examined the clasp with his brown, almost black eyes.

"Hrmm....this looks like Deep Water work, old but. Really old. If you want, I can replace it. Take me all of two seconds." He bounced the necklace in his hand, still grinning.

"Will it cost me?" Wendy asked with a slightly embarrassed smile. She glanced at Harlin apologetically and shrugged. "I'm poor."

The topknot man rolled his eyes, still grinning.

"Well...it usually would, but I tell ye what. Coz ye were so nice about my stuff, I'll do it for free." Winking, he turned to sort through various boxes of jewelery items, picking up tools and claps, examining some, dropping some back. Finding what he needed, he moved to a seat, concentrating on the clasp. He was silent whilst he worked.

Harlin’s jaw slacked upon seeing the jeweler’s aisle—not from the opulence of it all, but from the mere fact that he had actually gotten them there. Quite frankly, he had not been so sure such a place even existed, and to suddenly see rows of it stretched out before them practically struck him dumb.

Damn was he good.

The wick’s features beamed with undue pride. “Toldja I knew whar I was about,” he nudged Venadi cheekily.



Harlin sidled up beside the girl and peered at the assortment curiously. A loud voice inside him wondered how much he could sell these for if he nicked them, but a quick glance at Venadi told the voice to can it. If he was going to go stealing things from Surwood, he’d have to go about it right before he left so as to avoid getting cott’d—and that was not today.



He shrugged back. “Doan’ lookit me. I ent got no ging neither.”



Now why didn’t he ever get that?

Mood improving, Harlin pushed his arm up against Venadi’s shoulder and whispered, “Wo chet, ye really got a knack fer this ‘nice’ stuff, eh?”

"Thank you so much!" Wendy beamed at the man, entirely pleased.



She shoved him off absentmindedly, "That's the first I've heard of it." She said dismissively-- or an attempt at dismissively, anyway. Her cheeks had turned a little pink at the compliment.

"Besides, weren't you just saying about how bossy I was?" She gave him a look. I'm on to you...Weirdo.

Needless to say, Wendy was thrown off her kilter for a moment. She shifted, wondering when the other man would be done.

"Done!" The vendor exclaimed, jumping up and throwing the tools in his assortment of boxes. Turning back to Wendy, he held it up, clasp resting in the palm of his hand. The new one was bronze in color, and very obviously new. It didn't do up quite the same way as the prior one. Instead, it was an envelope clasp, requiring a little more fiddling, but a better hold.

"There ye go rosh, don't say Markas never does anything for anyone." He grinned broadly again.

Wendy positively shone. She gave the vendor a quick over the counter hug, "Thank you! I thought I'd have to throw it out!" She fiddled with the necklace for awhile and then frowned.

"Here," She handed it to Harlin, "Can you get it on me?"

“Ne, yeh still are,” the wick teased back, grin growing wider at the sight of her pink cheeks. “But thar’s something tae be said fer knowin’ when and where it works, ye chen?”

But when she held the repaired trinket out to him for placement, all his suavity came crashing down. “Oh…er…” he fumbled, suddenly finding the thing in his hands, “Yeah—boemo…” He stared at the little bronze clasp, up at Venadi, and back down at the clasp again. A slight inclination of his head told her to turn around, but as she did so, he pulled the ends of the necklace closer to his eyes and gawked at them. But how did it work?!

Making a slight grimace behind her back, Harlin cautiously draped the beads around her neck and brought the clasp together. A pause. How anything so clocking tiny could make a wick so flummoxed, he had no idea. After a longer time than necessary, and with a considerable amount of frustrating failures, he did finally manage to get the lock to secure and immediately drew his hands away from it, afraid that it would undo itself just to spite him.

No. I don't "chen". Wendy thought stubbornly, turning around when he told her to and waiting patiently for him to finish clasping it. Very patiently. After what seemed like an age (during which Wendy probably could have gotten it on by herself, thank you), Harlin finished clasping the thing.

"You're not very good at that you know." She told with with a teasing smile.