She had been paid at the end of the day when she asked for an advance. It wasn't very much but it was the first payment Wendy had ever received in exchange for work. Viator had brought food and Wendy was still mad enough that she didn't feel the need to inform him that she'd gotten paid. They had enough money to last them a few days. For now, she needed to take care of her hands.

She'd relocated the bandage the doctor had given her from her wrist to the damaged skin on the palms of her hands. She'd worry about her wrist for later... right now, her hands hurt so badly she couldn't touch anything without wincing. Not to mention her arms were incredibly sore. She'd only been gone from Brunnhold for about a month and all of her muscles seemed to have shrunk. Or maybe it was the nine hours of backwards and forwards motion she'd had to do.

At Brunnhold she could be sneaky about it-- cut corners, sweep dust under the rug. She didn't even feel guilty about it.

To be fair, she probably wouldn't have felt guilty about it at the mill, except that it was incredibly obvious when she did cut corners. Small hills of sawdust gathered at the edges of the room, and Wendy found that she couldn't ignore them. It was dangerous for the other workers. They might slip on the sawdust and--

And Wendy didn't even want to follow that train of thought. She hummed pensively to herself and turned the pouch with her earnings in it over and over in her hands as she walked. The sound of coins clinked pleasingly and Wendy grinned. She decided she quite liked that sound. Her eyes traveled across the row of houses, trying to pick out the one a human woman had pointed out to her earlier.

She found it and headed towards it, smoothing her deep blue skirt nervously. Wendy felt terribly out of place. She knew, in theory, she didn't look so different from the average human woman, but in her mind there was a huge spotlight on her. Were those women laughing at her? Why had that man glanced at her? What was that child telling his mother?

It was an incredibly conceited way to think, and it was rooted in the new insecurity of her position. Wendy raised her hand and paused before she rapped gently on the door.

Half of her was considering turning away very quickly.

The woman who answered the door resembled Fion vaguely. She had black hair and blue eyes, a slightly harassed expression and neatly tailored clothes. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, darker than they had been at the start of the year. Her hair was frizzing from the rain, despite apparent attempts to smooth it back and tie it with a cloth.

Her eyes were flat, dull like a river stone once you took it from the water. She seemed as though she was a million miles away, thinking about everything but what was before her. She yawned and shook her head.

"What time d'you call this?" She asked, a wry smile appearing and bringing some light to her face. "Can I help you?"

She folded her arms and leaned against the door. She didn't seem too concerned with how casual her gestures were.

"Oh." Was the first thing that came out of Wendy's mouth. She had seen this woman just a few days ago, hadn't she? "Hello." She shifted, hiding her injured hands behind her back. She hadn't known that this woman was a seamstress. "I um. Sorry. Maybe I'm at the wrong house-- I was told a seamstress lived here?" Wendy cleared her throat.

"I don't have an exact-- I need some um." Why was it so godsdamned hard to order clothes when she wasn't a servant? It wasn't as if it was any different.

"I wanted to see some prices." She was staring down at Fion's collarbone. Still not brash enough to look her in the eye, but not cowed enough to only stare at the woman's shoes. Wendy was too far from meeting Fion's eyes, though. It just seemed...so disrespectful.

Even if she was a human.

Fion inclined her head towards her sign, then remembered that a lot of people couldn't read it. It was likely the girl before her was one of those. Although, she had mentioned seeing prices, not hearing them.

"Most people wait until they've had a few to stare at the girls." Fion said, raising her hands above her head and stretching, it was too early in the day not to tease. "I can tell you costs, depends on what you want. Come in then, it's ungodly outside."

It was. The rain was still falling the air was still cold and a wind was beginning to rise. The inside of Fion's home felt slightly damp, much less homey than during more clement months. Piran was upstairs, sleeping still and Fion had no plans to wake him yet. The weather was miserable and it wasn't as though he could play outside.

There was a kettle boiling on Fion's stove, so Fion didn't bother showing Wendy to her work room. She kept walking until they were in the kitchen.

"My son's asleep upstairs, might want to keep our voices down." Fion said quietly. "My name's Fion, what's yours?"

"Had a few what?" Wendy asked, looking up. And for that matter-- girls? What was she-- Oh. Oh. The blood could not have rushed to the passive's face faster. She turned brilliant red and her face showed a kind of horrified expression that one only finds in those who are caught doing something that they didn't.

"No-- I wasn't--" She stopped, too embarrassed to continue. Why Gods? Why? She didn't relax as she followed Fion into her house. The warmer atmosphere made her hands hurt-- the cold had been keeping them mildly numb. She blew on them as she tried not to look around. None of her business.

"Okay." Wendy murmured in reply, hunching her shoulders to make herself even smaller than she already was. She looked like some sort of overgrown, abashed child. Her cheeks were still slightly red from earlier and her nose was running a little. She sniffed.

"I'm Wendy." Was she supposed to bow? To curtsy? She raised her hand to wave and changed her mind-- that was stupid. She was already inside the house. She attempted to smoothly turn it into brushing her hair back.

"I um. Work at the mills." Since yesterday. "Need some new things so I don't...." She held her hands out so Fion could easily pick out the blisters on her fingers. "Might be more for um. A tanner. But I need clothes too..."

"I'm sure you weren't." Fion replied, her voice warm but condescending as she said it.

It was dawn and she was tired, she hadn't been able to speak to Ivan yet. Part of her mood was from missing Stu and the rest was that she didn't favour being back in Vienda. She missed the ocean already. More than ever she wanted to get away from the city, how it made her feel and act. All the mistakes she'd made within its bounds.

"Pleasure to meet you, oh gods!" Fion hissed as she caught sight of Wendy's hands. "Oh, clocks how did you do that to yourself? Sit down, I'm bandaging it."

Fion had taken Wendy's hands in her own for a moment, noting that the woman didn't seem entirely comfortable in Fion's house. Fion wondered if she was new to Vienda, her accent seemed familiar but it wasn't local at all. She let go to pick up the box she kept bandages and rubbing alcohol in, among other elements of every mother's first aid kit.

"Why didn't you wear gloves?" She asked, now sounding concerned and motherly, the bite gone from her tone. "Sit down, this will probably sting a little."

Fion took a seat at the kitchen table and nudged out a chair for Wendy to sit upon.

"It's fine, I really don't--" She started to say, but her feet took her to the chair. Wendy looked intensely uncomfortable. "I mean...I've had worse." She muttered under her breath, looking at her hands and flexing them. They were a swollen from the change in temperature.

"I didn't...think I was going to find a job so quickly, so I wasn't prepared. There was a woman around here-- Miriam? She implied there were no jobs to be had anywhere and sent me away. And then at the factories they just. Gave me a job. Just like that." There still seemed to be a sort of amazement in her voice. "No questions, nothing. And now I have a job." Her tone of voice didn't waver from that strange, dreamlike awed quality. She blinked and snapped out of it, feeling heat rush to her face.

"Um. Sweeping. I sweep at the mill...and I used to be a maid so I thought I could handle it... of course I hadn't swept for more than four hours straight before. And I didn't want to stop because-- well. I didn't want to seem lazy." A fine job it'd be if she lost her job on the first day she'd gotten it. "And there's...machines...and dust so I just thought I should...get better clothes." She spoke hesitantly. Did Fion want to know all this? Probably not. Wendy closed her mouth and concentrated on studying the ridges in her hand.

Fion waited until Wendy had finished, then she started dabbing alcohol onto her hand. The pad of your palm was not the best place to get an infection.

"I see..." Fion replied, wondering at how the woman before her seemed to jump around so when she talked. "Miriam, did you say?"

Fion switched to wrapping Wendy's hands up, her touch was gentle, trying to compensate for how much the alcohol must have hurt. A switch was flicked.

"Miriam, the one on this street?" She asked, eyebrow rising.

(( SFSR ))

The familiar sting of alcohol brought back more memories than Wendy would have liked. She looked away, towards the floor now.

"Hm? Yes. Yes I think she was on this street...she sent me to the Book and Bell, but I think she just wanted to get rid of me." Now there was a very obvious bitter tone to her words.

"...I wouldn't have done well in a bar anyway." She attempted to amend her annoyed tone, with marginal success.

"It does require putting up with a lot more mockery than a usual job, yes." Fion said, still bandaging. "And you've always got someone trying to put their hand on your arse when they've had a few too many."

Fion finished by tying the last ends of the bandage neatly. Wendy's hands now looked like she'd tried to pick up a hot pot and failed.

"I know that woman. Meanest bitch on the gods' green earth. You're lucky she didn't knock you over the head and use you for stew." Fion spat, standing to take the screaming kettle off the stove. "There's sweeter lemons. Tea's up."

Fion spooned some leaves into a small, rustic looking teapot and poured the hot water over it. She left it to steep for a moment.

"Do you like yours with lemon, by the way?" She asked. "I'm out of milk. It didn't come this morning."

She wasn't sure she'd paid the bill.

Wendy's blush returned as Fion spoke. "Oh." She had had some experience with sexual harassment-- enough to say that any more of it was incredibly unwelcome. She tried too hard to keep her distance from people,even people she cared about, to be able to accept behavior like that gracefully.



"Hah! I'd like to see her try." A fierce grin snuck onto Wendy's face. She'd been bullied by bigger, meaner women in her day. Of course-- she hadn't been able to retaliate, then. Come to think of it-- have I ever been in a real fight?

Getting punished was different from fighting. She'd seen Viator fight before...it didn't look very pleasant. And Viator always picked fights with men who were bigger than he was.

"Lemon? Yes... that sounds fine. Good." She didn't know if she liked her tea with lemon or not, but Wendy felt it was prudent not to say anything about that.

"I think she was implying I was loose, by trying to send me to a bar." Wendy murmured, sounding amused. It was so far from her actual state of being it seemed ridiculous. "Or something. I don't know."

Now that she wasn't moving around, the cold was starting to get to her. She was starting to look forward to that cup of tea.

Fion settled the teapot in front of Wendy, leaving it to steep a little longer. She placed down two cups, without saucers. Wendy's was quite finely made, with flowers delicately painted onto it. A guest's cup. Fion's was cruder, with thicker sides and the word "Mum" painted onto it, in purple. Fion's fingers traced the letters as she held the cup in her hands.

"Miriam doesn't think proper women work in bars, it's why she doesn't work at all. Unless you count sitting on your arse all day, making jam when you feel like it and I don't." Fion put her cup down and raised the pot, offering to pour Wendy a cup. "It's not even nice jam."

Fion poured their tea, then sat back. She waved a hand in the air, as if she was dispelling bad feelings.

"Well, that's my tally for the day, what can I do for you?" Fion said, blowing on her tea, the steam rising in a small, swirling eddy.

Wendy picked up her tea with the tips of her fingers and then hastily put it down. The edges of the cup were too hot, still. She blew on the surface of the cup, then withdrew.

"Since I'm working in factories-- I mean. I'm afraid my dresses are going to get caught." Now that the initially nervousness had faded, Wendy tried to be more concise. "In the machines, I mean. I've heard stories..." She shrugged and made a face. Fion probably knew more about that than she did. She was human, after all.

"I thought I'd check prices here before I went to the used clothing store...I was afraid they might not have anything for someone my size..." That, and she had worn hand-me-down's her whole life. It would be nice to get something that wasn't second hand. Even if that was a little unrealistic. And costly. It would probably be costly.

But she was here now, so. "I don't have much, and I was planning on getting some other things... gloves, shoes...goggles. I don't know if you have any of that here, but perhaps you could point me to somewhere that does."

The hot water looked a little cooler. She tried to pick it up and sipped gingerly. The water scalded her tongue, but Wendy didn't mind too much. She blew on the mug again.

Fion nodded along as Wendy spoke, blowing on her own tea before taking a sip. It was a nice blend. She'd bought it a few weeks ago and was still quite fond of it. It wasn't one of Dem's, she didn't have the heart to drink those anymore.

"I can't help you with shoes or goggles but the rest I can do. I'll admit I might not be the best person to go to for heavy gloves. Not my usual work." Fion took another sip of her tea and decided to add more honey to it. "You're right about switching to pants, I've heard stories. I don't know anyone who works down there in a dress."

Fion tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and tried to run through her prices. She had some sturdy, cheap cloth that she couldn't find a use for. It was dark and probably suited to Wendy's purposes.

"You're probably looking at a few shill, for all that. If you only want one outfit or buy it all at once, I might be able to do it for less." She said. "I don't think you will have much luck at the used places, you're much smaller than most."

Fion did not mean it as an insult. It was true, Wendy was thinner and shorter than most human women in Vienda. Fion wondered if she had hoxian blood in her.

"Mmm." Wendy knew exactly how much money she had in her bag. It wasn't enough...not even with what Viator was contributing. "I can't pay for a whole outfit now...but maybe some pants? I've got a shill and two tallies..."

She had been hoping to get some gloves, but the bandages would probably serve well enough. It'd hurt like a bitch though. Wendy wasn't looking forward to it. A small part of her was complaining about how in Brunnhold she could have gotten medical treatment and hand me downs her size for free.

Not for free. Wendy had to remind herself. "Just something so I don't...get caught in the machines."

Fion looked at Wendy's hands and reminded herself that this girl was clearly from out of town and not used to the kind of work she was doing. Fion had been new once, and scared. She put her cup down. It wasn't going to hurt Fion any to give her a bit of a hand up.

"I have some old gloves, they'd be large for you but they're sturdy. They were never picked up by the man that ordered them." Fion did not feel it would be comforting to specify why. "I can give them to you for cheap. Give me a shill for down payment. I can get you a shirt and a pair of pants quickly enough. The rest you can pay me for later."

Fion knew what it was like to be an outsider and to be unsure of what you were doing. She felt blessed, to have avoided the factories. They were a harsh place that made people old before their time.

"You may want to consider bar work after all, love." Fion offered. "It's almost safer than working the factories, usual hazards aside."

You needed to be quick on your feet. Having a decent kick also helped.

Wendy nodded, slowly. It seemed fair. She didn't know how much of a leg up Fion was giving her. Gloves might cost a shill or they might cost three-- but she wasn't about to let her pride get in the way. Not this time. Besides, she'd be able to pay the woman back. Of that, she was sure.

"I think sweeping is more in my field, actually." Her voice was mildly bleak as she said this. It was as if she'd been preparing all of her life for this job. All of those hours of work at Brunnhold just so that she could arrive here. To work at the wood factory. Sweeping. The idea was mildly horrifying.

"Sad as that may sound." She couldn't help adding with an awkward smile. Wendy took a sip of her tea so that her traitorous mouth wouldn't open again. The tea really was good with lemon. "This is nice. Thank you." She murmured hesitantly, still not entirely comfortable around Fion's presence.

"No problems." Fion replied.

She sipped her tea and looked out the window for a moment. It was so cold and miserable in the mornings. She wondered if Ivan was doing well and if Stu was safe.

"Well, we better measure you." She said, shaking her head and moving her thoughts back to the present. "You can take the gloves with you today but the rest will take a little longer."

Fion was a quick hand with a needle but her time away had given her a backlog. She had a lot of work to do. She was going to need to take some of it to Ivan's, so long as he still wanted her around. Perhaps things had changed and he'd sorted himself out. She wondered if he'd seen Khy and then pushed the thought from her mind.

"That sounds um. Good. Fine."

I've never been measured before.

" Do you want to ... Should I... stand up?" Wendy felt incredibly stupid. She hated not knowing what she should be doing. She hated not being able to do simple tasks that others were probably used to. She put her teacup, then picked it back up, then put it down.

Fion finished her tea, tipping the cup back slowly as Wendy started to trip lightly over her words again. Fion had thought she'd calmed down, from the tea. She decided that perhaps she was one of those people that didn't like to be touched. She didn't really understand it, as she was fairly tactile, at least with people she knew. Perhaps it was just that Wendy didn't know her yet.

"Standing would be best, yes. I need to look at your waist and inseam." She said, picking her cup up and putting it on the sink. "It's quick and painless."

She felt less like teasing her now that they'd spoken for a while. Fion pulled a rolled up tape measure from her pocket.

"I'll measure your arms first." She said, moving through the process quickly, chatting about nothing much as she went. She was trying to keep herself occupied.

Wendy didn't know why she was feeling so incredibly humiliated. She tried not to concentrate on anything but Fion's talk, nodding when it was required of her and making a noise or two when it wasn't. She didn't know why she hated this so much. As a child she'd enjoyed getting fitted into clothes, although she would have much rather been outside playing. She was usually rewarded by beautiful dresses that outshone those of her playmates, and that had been worth it.

So just what in Vita was wrong? As Fion moved around Wendy's face turned a darker red. She stared at the ground and it was awhile until she realized she was trying very hard not to cry. Realizing it only made it harder to control her emotions. For a moment, she wondered how she'd managed so long in Brunnhold without falling apart.

Wendy took a deep breath through her mouth and stared fixedly at a spot, trying to concentrate even harder on what Fion was saying. She couldn't get her face as glacially smooth as it had been in Brunnhold, though, and it was clear that something was bothering the passive. No matter how much she tried to tell herself that nothing was upsetting her.

I'm fine. Probably just tired.

Fion was a parent. She could almost sense when tears were imminent. It was like being psychic or at least like cold reading. Fion placed her hand on Wendy's shoulder.

"I'm done..." She said, "Are you alright?"

Her brows were drawn up, slightly confused but also concerned. She wasn't sure quite what was happening.

(( sfsr ))

Wendy was clearly not fine.

"I'm fine." Her throat closed up and her mouth shook. The hand on her shoulder did her in and she let out a small crying noise. She covered her face, "I'm sorry I just-- sometimes--" Her voice was shaking so she stopped trying to speak. She stood very still, trying to control herself. If she had already paid Wendy would have been out of there very quickly so she could hide in a doorway and make herself not cry.

"I miss Pascual." And as she said it she realized it was true and covered her face with her bandaged hands. Her frame was shaking with badly suppressed sobs. She hated the lack of restraint she was showing. Ironically, it was a very open, human emotion. Maybe she was more like them than she had originally though.

Wendy wiped her face on her sleeve, trying to breath deeply. After failing at that she resorted to quiet, hiccuping sobs.

Matters of the heart, well. Fion was familiar with those. Perhaps not adept at handling her own but that was what motherhood was for. Learning how to sort out everyone's troubles but your own. Fion spread out her arms and placed them around Wendy's shoulders, arranging them both so that Wendy's head was beneath hers. Her right hand rested against Wendy's damp hair.

"Oh, love, I'm sorry." Fion said, thoughts flowing back to Stu, then returning.

She wondered if Pascual had been Wendy's husband, if he had died. Fion had run away because of a lover. It had made things easier, in some ways. Not as easy as she'd hoped, though. She sighed deeply, carding her fingers through Wendy's hair. She didn't know what had happened to the other woman but she imagined it must have been awful.

Wendy hadn't mentioned children, Fion wondered if she was alone.

"I'm s-s-sorry, d-don't know what's come over me." She said between tears as she leaned into Fion, as any girl was wont to do when she was sad. Even Wendy, who usually tried to make herself look as if she could stand on her own. Sometimes standing on your own was too hard.

After it was over, Wendy pulled away and wiped at her face shakily.

"Everything is so..." Hard. "Different, here. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just-- I don't know..." She felt better, but the shame that she'd just bawled in front of a complete stranger was threatening to engulf her.