Life was suddenly much more confusing for one blonde passive as he stalked the camp, dark eyes darting back and forth from canvas covered stall to the next. He was searching for... a gift. For someone. A someone that wasn't Wendy, amazingly. No, it was for someone that he had no idea what to buy or even why he was buying it.

The urge started earlier that week. He had been sitting by Pertra's fire, doing small chores, when the witch had complained about the lack of a good, leather pack. She needed one for somesuch thing, and she was in a proper, silent tizzy about the whole ordeal. Well, swayed by own sense of propriety and debt and chivalry, he'd bought the woman one. She'd been thankful in her own way, without much praise but many gestures. However, the older woman had inspired an urge in Viator, one that he was compelled to follow though he should have had no reason to. He wanted to repay a certain individual for... something?

For the passive was looking for a gift for Jerzy, the redheaded wick that seemed to be keen on Wendy. Viator could only assume it was because he was trying to show he accepted the lad... but it was the oddest feeling, imagining the exchange; Wendy wasn't there at all and it brought warmth to the man's face imagining Jerzy's response to the gift. It made his stomach clench in a strange, unfamiliar way, or one he had forgotten in any case. It had to be that he was worried for Wendy, had to be it.

With a sigh, he continued about the bazaar, lazily eying each booth, pulling at his oddly formal sleeves. He was dressed up in a golden undershirt, a burgundy-and-brown vest, deep chocolate leggings and high boots, many belts and blades put aside for the day. He looked ridiculously overdressed; why had it seemed a good idea to be so decked when getting ready that morning? He was over-warm, jumpy and self conscious of the finery. So much for this being a casual gift. He sighed again, brow furrowed, and with some reluctance bought himself a couple of pears. He would need the energy throughout the day, for he could already tell his search would be a long one.

Slap!

A large hand clapped Viator square between the shoulders in a brotherly gesture, and the very object of his musing appeared behind him, floppy red hair pulled back in a top-knot. Jerzy grinned cheekily at the sailor, peering over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.

"Ahoy," he greeted him. "Oooh, shiny. Lookin' for a Grumble gift for Venadi?"

Situated at a trinket's booth when Jerzy appeared, Viator was looking at the hand knives and the jangly bracelets and the tools, hoping against hope that something would jump out at him and scream 'pick me pick me!" Nothing had. Shopping for a non-sailor, non-soldier was difficult. He had to think, had to keep on his toes. Leaning in to glance at a particularly beautiful pendant, he was engrossed in this thoughts.


Startled, Viator turned on his heel, eyes wide and creases drawn tight about his features. Not normally quite so jumpy, the man had been so lost in his thoughts. Ship-side it was poorly advised, in the real world it was dangerous. However, the look of a cornered Bander faded and with a flash of rose across his cheeks, Viator grinned at the wick.

"Haha, actually--" He paused, hand holding back his ragged bangs. Well, he couldn't admit to buying him something. It would make things awkward and he would have to explain why, and he wasn't even sure himself. He grasped for an answer, however his mouth moved without his guidance. "--Oi am! I ent got the foggiest what t'buy the lassie." He sheepishly placed the pendant down, eyes averted.

He wanted to ask Jerzy to walk with him, to stay awhile and talk and laugh... but that was a little much for his pride. Instead he laughed lightly and ran a nervous hand through his shaggy hair. "Ye wanna help me pick summat out? I ent sure what t'buy a gel like her. She'll likely get mad at me anyway fer th'gift, but... I wanna show I appreciate her, ye know? She'sa part o'me I left behind when I escaped. Now I wanna show her that I was always thinkin' of her." Normally more reticent, Viator was taken by surprise at his admittance. Why on earth had he said so much?

I need my head checked by Petra. I'm going moony.

Jerzy was a Laughing Sky, and the whole tribe appreciated honesty and frankness about emotions. The wick fought the urge to say "aww" and merely nodded. He realized that Viator seemed to have very strong feelings for Wendy; perhaps he was in love with her?

"Though, you probably know her better n' I," he said, leaning over the table to pick through the trinkets and pendants. "You knew her well back when, right? Women, they don't change much!" He grinned, not realizing at all the irony of saying that to Viator. "She don't strike me as the kind of chip to turn away a gift from someone she cares about. Don't really matter what you get her. She'll love it."

At that moment, he picked up a particularly revolting woven brooch. It was apparently made of goldish wire and bits of dried sea kelp dyed in bright primary colors.

"Unless you get her this," he added. "Pretty sure she'd hate this."

Viator nodded, eyes never leaving Jerzy's as he spoke, hanging on every word. He was right, Wendy was pretty much the same as she had been. The comment about women never changing make him suppress a giggle. ...A giggle. What in Alioe's name was wrong with him? Sailor's didn't giggle. They guffawed, or scoffed. Giggle indeed. His flush brightened as he grasped for anything masculine to do instead of the damned giggle. He bit his bottom lip, nodding violently to hide his inner turmoil.


He couldn't stop the laugh that erupted then, the burst hitting him before he'd had time to even think. Viator's face split wide with a brilliant grin, stealing years off his face. Grabbing the edge of the stall, Viator wiped at his squinty, watering eyes and tapped his nose with his knuckle, nervousness and happiness conflicting.

"Ha ha, aye, It ent that bad!" He reached out and grabbed the brooch, fingers grazing Jerzy's. It felt... like sunshine had erupted where skin had touched skin. He knew his face was turning even stranger colors than the hideous ornament, and he had to distract both the lad and himself from it. "In th'rioght light, I'm sure it could be pretty. Here!" He looked about, finding a brightly colored garish scarf hanging off the awnings edge, and with a fluid motion wrapped it about Jerzy's shoulders, pinning the brooch into place at the wick's neck. On the lanky man, it looked very, very odd indeed.

"Oi, lookit that! Beautimous, m'friend! You're right 'olio!'" He poked the brooch, eyebrow raised merrily.

If Viator's awkwardness was apparently, Jerzy didn't seem to notice. He laughed.

"Careful," said the redheaded wick, chuckling and taking off the scarf. "I think the policy is 'if ye vomit all over it, ye buy it.'"

He rubbed his chin, where a week's worth of stubble was threatening to become a beard.

"She wears a lot of blue, doesn't she?" he tried to recall. "But that's such a slave color, ent it? All the former Uni servants I've known hated blue." He glanced over at Viator, whom he knew to have also been a Brunnhold servant at some point. "What do you think? Color's mighty important, y'know."

Grinning, almost as widely as he could, Viator took the scarf and folded it, placing it neatly back on the stall. For the first time in a long time he didn't worry about 'the deception,' as he'd called it, and was merely being... himself. Like when he was shipside.


He paused, contemplating color. "Aye, yer onto summat, I'm sure." He looked down at the table again, trying to decide, musing aloud. "She's too prim fer red or orange, though either'd look good on 'er..." Small but calloused hands caressed beaded necklaces, and his eyes were thoughtfully deep.

Finally, he looked up at Jerzy, a smile creasing his face again. "Oi, I got it! Purple, or indigo, perhaps!" He picked up a lovely piece of dark glass carved in the shape of a fox kit, and he held it in the sunlight. It's darkness became brilliance, and each sculpted edge glowed with an intense blue.

"It ent as light as th'colors we 'ad to wear, and she's always been partial to dark colors anyway." He placed the piece down, an idea formulating in his mind. Turning back to Jerzy, he grinned. "Thenkee, lad, I'da been hard put. I'd fergotten all about St. Grumbles! Is that what's brought ye out here? Buyin' gifts?"

"Actually I was sellin' today," he admitted, pointing to an untouched and unvisited merchandise cart near a poplar tree. "All me earthly belongin's. I'm startin' fresh, got a new life ahead o' me. But it's just spitch an' no one wants it."

He eyed Viator levelly. "Listen," he said, with the air of someone breaching a topic that had been hanging unsaid in the air for some time. "I been noticin' yer a bit keen on Venadi. Ye got intentions towards her, kov?"

Viator smiled at that, his eyes jerking from the younger man to his cart of wares. Ah! He filed away the information, relieved he hadn't bought Jerzy a gift yet. Woulda just been addin' t'the mess of stuff he needs t'get rid of. He made a note to buy a few things from the wick; he would be helping out, far more than buying a gift would, and he would get rid of the strange need to repay the taller man. He could even fix some of the nicer pieces up and gift them to Petra. A labor of love, and one that would get his mind away from stupid grins and green eyes.


Viator blinked, once, twice, three times, his big indogo eyes going wide with surprise. Truth be told, he was taken aback. He, interested in Wendy in that way? It seemed foolish to the out of sorts sailor.

"Intentions? I ent got a one." He sighed, realizing very suddenly why Tristaan and Petra and now Jerzy were looking at him with protective eyes. They think I'm... well, I ent gonna complain, it helpd wit th'deception, but in th'name o'th'circle this ent what I thought... he averted his eyes, hands sinking deep into his pockets. "I also ent... keen on her. Nah loike that."

Nervously tossing his hair from his eyes, Viator shifted, the move half shrug and have resigned slouch. "Venadi an' I... we go way back. Back to Brunnhold. It might not mean tha' much t'ye, but t'passives it means alot. Specially Venadi an' me." He withdrew his constant compainion, a violet pendant, from his pocket. Running his thumb over the crest etched into the soft stone, he sucked his bottom lip. He hated thinking about it, but Jerzy had to understand, at least the relationship between the passives.

"Some pretty awful things 'appen t'passives there sometimes. Ye get beat an'..." the pause with pregnant with meaning. "Well. I protected 'er as best I could an' she was m'anchor when I got broked. We're more family than... well, family. She's all I got, all I want, from tha' old world." He turned a bit away from Jerzy, hiding the shimmering tears he felt gathering on his lashes. Wendy always brought up the most uncalled for reactions... "She's m'sister, or m'daughter. Closer than kin, cuz we ent got blood t'call on." Blood spilled perhaps, but thats it.

Suddenly tired of memory, he turned back to the wares. Jerzy would either accept the explanation or he wouldn't. At this point, if the redheaded man chose to press the point, Viator was fairly certain he could disappear faster than the wick could follow.

"Course it means somethin'," said Jerzy, sounding mock-offended. "What's a tribe but a collection o' folk who got pushed into the same walk of life? Don't need to be blood to be family. Sorry I asked, though." He shrugged. "Just figured...y'chen. Guess I was bein' a bit protective too. An' clocks, only just met her."

He laughed. "Maybe there's just somethin' about her makes a kov want to protect her."

Viator nodded, weathered face loosing the tightness of memory, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. He was going to have to reattach the broken bits of himself, and soon; Jerzy shouldn’t have heard that tirade, nor should the sailor have thought it at all. He nodded and looked back to the table, willing the grin he was forcing to fill with the warmth the younger man deserved.

However, things still bothered the passive. Brunnhold wasn’t in the simplistically elaborate back-story Viator had created for himself, nor was his own lineage. Yet Wendy was here, and she was lady and he was vassal. He played to her tune, the path she laid out. It would always be that way. Sighing, he shrugged, attempting to hold his tongue closer. Why was it so hard around Jerzy?

"Yeh, seems like that." Pulling at his forelock in a nervous way, he glanced at the tall wick. Why? It was exasperating, there was absolutely no presadence for the irksome flutteriness. I should be 'appy he's showin interest in m'inky lil'flower. Instead, he was... itchy. In his heart region. "But... oi, I dunno. She deserves it, th'protection a'least. Fer all 'er sharpness... she's still soft on th'inside. An' I want her to stay that way."

He began to drift to another stall, having picked over the previous one, and found his eyes drawn to more to the dark colors he associated with his friend; scarves with the likeness of midnight-and-ocean ostas, smooth stone barrettes of onyx and sapphire. Yet, as his similarly hued eyes scanned the wares, his chest ached with anticipation for something so small as Jerzy's continued company.

And slowly the gears began turning in his mind.