Jerzy Wira was whittling a pipe, sitting with his back against the warm trunk of an ancient oak tree near some of the Red Crow camps. It was his favorite spot on the island, because for a solid two hours the setting sun cast a warm yellow light across the tree, and his spot had a perfect hollow for sitting. It was the perfect place for a perpetually content man to spend an afternoon.

His knife scratched away carefully at the cherrywood branch. He wasn't sure who the pipe was for; perhaps he'd make it into a flute and give it to one of his musical Red Crow friends, or perhaps he'd carve a little smoking pipe and give it to his friend Badger in the Black Hand tribe. Maybe he'd just make a little statue for someone; Venadi, maybe.

He began to whistle the Ballad of Rosie Rook, which he'd heard earlier that day at the wedding. Its winding, unusual tune carried quite far in the quiet air.

Keiyra sat on the step of her kint, colored pencils in hand, thick board in the other. She was drawing up new tattoo designs for the stall. A big orange koi, like the ones she heard swam in the university garden. Even though she only had her tap needles, there was an invention she was thinking about. A fast moving needle-gun, powered by a peddle like her mother's sewing machine. All she had to do was figure out the schematics. Then these large, colorful tattoo's wouldn't be so hard to do. A song caught her ear, and her heart. She remembered a time she was meant to dance to that song. Looking up, she spotted Jerzy sitting under a tree across the way. Waiting for a pause in the song, she called out.

"Careful Jerzy, whistling like that, some pretty rosh will come and flutter her eyelids and 'fore you know it, you'll be all married."

Jerzy grinned widely, his cheeks turning a bit red. "Well, I'd better whistle louder then!" he called back, winking to her.

He noticed she had her pencils out; drawing had always been a skill that eluded him. Heck, even whittling eluded him; he'd almost cut his thumb off twice now, and most of his creations came out looking like flutes.

"What ye scratchin' there, K?" he called, resting his chin on his hand and setting down his knife and semi-flute. "Drawin' yer future husband, are ye?" He batted his eyelids at her.

Keiyra shook her head with a chuckle, adding the final touches to the drawing.

"Ye are a cheeky kov Jerzy. Ent you found a nice rosh t' settle you down yet? I thought a boemo balach like ye would have chippies falling at your feet." Holding the paper up, she blew off the fine pieces of pencil that had settled.

"And if my future husband is a fish, then I suppose you could say I am." She grinned and gestured to him.

"What about ye? Another flute? Or is it a pipe?" The pink haired witch teased. All this calling back and forth had brought her mothers head out of the kint for a moment.

"Keiyra, stop yelling across the festival and go over to him." She said softly, unable to completely hide the amusement in her voice. Keiyra needed friends now more than ever. She'd been so withdrawn lately, and in utter denial. The young woman rolled her eyes a little and glanced back at her.

"Daoa!" Sighing, she picked herself up and walked over to Jerzy, sitting down crossed legged opposite him, putting her art down in her lap. She shook her head.

"Parents!"

Jerzy grinned, wincing at the comment. "Ehhh," he said, noncommittally, and shrugged to indicate 'what are you gonna do'.



"Wo chet, I do NOT look like a fish," he argued, sticking out his tongue. Internally, his male pride was limping around in circles.



He looked up at her, chuckling, and held out the half-finished flute.

"I'll have you know," he informed her, "this is a magical flute. It attracts rosh." Snickering, he bopped her on the head with it. "It's different from the last one I made. This one's got an aerra on it. See?"

He pointed to an indistinct carving near the mouthpiece. Truthfully, it looked more like a horse and a chicken had mated. Jerzy wasn't the most artistic when it came to handiwork.

Keiyra looked. She tilted her head one way, and then she tilted it the other way. Looking up at Jerzy, she grinned and patted his shoulder.

"Benny, real benny." The carving was like some ungodly abomination, but Jerzy tried, and that mattered. Leaning back on her hands, she shook her head.

"Must be a little magical kov, some how I ended up over here, even with your terrible whistling." The witch laughed then, shaking her head.

"Epaemo balach, it was benny. I'm just speakin' vodundun." Leaning her head on one shoulder, she smiled at him.

"What are you selling this year Jerzy? Or ye not in the festival for the ging this time?"

"Dze, ye seek ging but it don't always come, ye chen?" he said jovially. "But ne, got a mant lot o' osta kits. All white, can ye believe it? Fellow out in Numbrey breeds 'em. Got about seventeen an' lookin' to unload 'em before they grow up an' get all creepily wise. Nanabo little buggers." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Lookin' fer a cuddly companion, K?"

His smile faltered a little as he reminded himself to tread carefully; Keiyra had just lost Lilliah, and it wouldn't do to remind her of it. He couldn't imagine the pain she was going through, so he took the only path he knew how to take: he tried distracting her by balancing the poorly carved flute on the tip of his long nose.

Keiyra twitched a little. It wasn't remarkable, it was just a little shift of the features. Watching Jerzy balance the flute on his nose, she shoved off the slowly creeping thoughts and reached out to snatch the flute. Grinning, she balanced the flute sideways on her index finger and set it spinning, moving her hand gently to keep it balanced. Quietly, she cast Lift and the spinning flute slowly raised into the air, a few inches from her finger. Turning her hand, palm up, she watched the flute as it sank back down, closing her hand over it. Looking up at Jerzy with a smirk, she held out the flute.

"I'll take one of your osta's kov, they sound like nanabo kits."

"Ye'll have to teach me how to do that, one of these days," he teased. Jerzy had never had much interest in magic; he figured it would be another thing that he wouldn't be any good at, and he wasn't much of a showman anyway.

He had noticed the slight change in expression on her face, and it bothered him. Everyone seemed to have lost someone in the riot; his sister's husband had perished of an infection not two weeks before, and he'd been rubbish at comforting her, too. The festival had that effect on a lot of people, it seemed - although the celebration helped to take their minds off the pain, it had the unwarranted effect of silencing those who most needed to talk about it. He didn't want to do that to Keiyra, but he imagined she'd already talked about it, to closer friends, to her family. His job was to be entertaining and light-hearted, he reminded himself. That's not your territory.

Still, he felt the urge to say something.

"K, ye chen there's a Fotamos ceremony on the twentieth," he said tentatively. Not having a follow-up, he awaited her reply.

The witch's face became an almost defensive mask. She avoided looking at the wick, eyes hard.

"So? Silly thing it is. Its just lingering. No need to linger. Ye move on. Life moves on." Her voice was flat, void of emotion. She hadn't talked to anyone about Lilliah, in fact, she'd completely closed off any talk about her since the little blonde had died. The young woman didn't have the capacity to deal with that, and to save her heart from breaking, she'd built herself a vicious wall of denial. She knew the child had died, but she didn't need to talk about it. People talked to much about things like that.

"I'm not going. I don't need to go."

Jerzy winced uncomfortably at her harsh reply. Without really meaning to, he reached out and placed one of his freckled hands on her shoulder.

"Boemo, beata," he said softly. "I understand. If you're not mournin' anymore, if ye've really moved on, then there's no need to go."

He bit his lip. "But me, I'll be goin'. I lost a brother. If he's watchin', I'd want him to know I still think of him. Never got a chance to say goodbye, I didn't, so that's a good chance, I guess. An' I'll sleep better for it, knowin' he's settled in the afterlife."

Sighing, Jerzy set down his flute and knife and leaned back against the tree.

"I know I don't know your mind too well, K. It's a jungle in there. But I can see ye ent happy, an' I'd live to help, if there's a way to do that."

Keiyra sat foward, hands resting in her lap. She was quiet for a long time. Finally, she looked at him.

"Ye already are kov. I ent spoken t' anyone apart from my daoa since the Riot. It's been to hard, I get worried they'll wanna talk to me about it all." The pink haired witch offered a smile to Jerzy.

"For a skirt chaser, your quite the balach kov. Mujo ma." The seriousness of the conversation felt awkward, and with a grin, she reached out and shoved him on the shoulder lightly.

"Psh," said Jerzy dismissively, blowing a chunk of red hair up out of his eyebrows. He wasn't given to sentimentality, but he had a soft spot in his heart for Keiyra, and he hated seeing her so sad. Her little daughter had been her whole life.

"Well, if ye need to talk about it, y'know, I promise not to try to bed ye," he said with a glimmer of mischief in his eye, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Keiyra chuckled, clapping her hands once on her knees.

"Thanks Jerz. Good t' know I'm in safe hands." From across the way, Delphis stood in the doorway of the kint, drying her hands on her apron. A small smile danced on her lips and she felt an overwhelming gratitude to the red haired lad. He'd always been a nice boy. The pink haired witch looked down at her koi again, musing over little details, before looking up at Jerzy.

"Ye interested in getting any ink kov? I reckon you'd look boemo. I'll trade ye one for an osta." She wore a sly grin, wondering how the red head would go under the needles.

Jerzy looked over at the doorway of the kint as well, noticing Delphis and giving her a friendly wave.

"Sure, why not?" he answered, grinning and blushing a little - she'd never offered to tattoo him before. "I figure I got some space...somewhere. Ye might have to go lookin' for it."

Keiyra raised an eyebrow at him with a small chuckle, as if contemplating his invitation. She turned and lay on her side, up on her tattooed elbow, head propped on one hand.

"Ent it customary t' take a chip t' dinner before ye offer tumbling?" The witch said half jokingly, pulling out little blades of grass as she spoke. Smiling to herself, she continued.

"What sort of tattoo ye think ye might like, kov?"

"I dunno," he said honestly. "Me drunk brother did most of mine, an' he ent no artist." Jerzy turned and lifted his tunic up to reveal his freckly back, which had a series of scrawling, jittery tribal markings. "Ye could literally draw a kenser's erse on my back and it'd class it up."

Eyeing her sideways, he decided that that was the best segue he was going to get.

"An' I'd take ye to dinner," he said warily, "if ye like."

The tattooist winced looking at Jerzy's back. She could fix that right up. It would take time, and pain, but it would look much better.



Keiyra stopped pulling out the grass, waiting for the joke line. Jerzy always had a joke. Usually. Mostly? The witch felt a little color rise to her cheeks.

"I might like that." She said, glancing up at him finally. It had been a long time, four years, since that other had said things like that to her. But then, he'd only been a child. They both had. Taegan and Jerzy were two different people, different races even. Maybe this time, it could go slower. Much slower.

For about half a second, Jerzy remained cool and collected, but a smile broke free and spread across his face. "Woohoo!" he said, quietly, to himself, but it was clearly audible. To his mind, it was a fair trade - dinner with Keiyra for hours of painful torture with a tattoo needle. He hadn't told her he hated getting tattoos, but something about the thought of her holding him still for that amount of time had its appeal.

"Right," he said, feeling positive. "Before the festival's over, then."

Keiyra restrained a giggle watching Jerzy's reaction. She didn't know if dinner with herself was such a big deal, but it was nice to think someone did.



She nodded.

"Oes, before its over. Ye pick a date kov. I ent going anywhere." Her hazel eyes fell back on the grass, a smile on her lips. In the doorway of the kint, Delphis nodded smiling to herself and went back inside.