When this is over, a small passive with black and blue hair thought to herself, I'm going to claw my eyes out so I never have to see this much colour again. The girl was shortish, and wore more muted skirts than the wicks that surrounded her and her companion. She'd finally managed to convince Petra that yes getting her a muted red dress was a good idea because the pink thing that she'd been wearing was going to drive her mad. It was currently stuffed deep into her bag, where she hoped it would remain forever and she'd be able to forget about such a trauma inducing experience.

Wendy Tiebold, now Venadi Tiebold, stared out into the crowd trying to understand what exactly possessed people to dress so gaudily. She still didn't completely blend in, but Wendy had begun to understand what 'the look' was all about. She was wearing all sorts of beads and had adorned her boots with various little feathers she'd found on the road as they traveled. A little pouch was hung at her waste full of pretty pebbles (something Petra had tactfully refrained from mentioning or Wendy might have abandoned the whole 'collecting pretty things' venture for fear of being ridiculed), and grass bracelets that she'd braided clumsily hung at her wrist.

The passive shut her eyes for a moment and found the colours imprinted into the inside of her eye. If this is the colour of freedom maybe I don't want it. It was a silly thing to think, but Wendy was grumpy after so many days of travel.

Freedom, Wendy had begun to realize, mostly consisted of the varying degrees of feeling between fear and boredom. Every time she felt a galdor's field she jumped, tried to look innocent. In between those moments she counted clouds, tried to make herself busy and forget how boring travel was.

Wendy Tiebold, above all things, liked to keep busy and be useful. She hadn't ever really realized this about herself, mostly because she hadn't had time to think about it. She'd been kept busy, at Brunhold. Too busy to complain, or contemplate on her existence, or think anything other than 'I hate the Galdori', and 'I wonder when my next break is.' For the past few days she'd had a a lot of free time and found that she rather didn't like to contemplate her existence, and that she complained much more when she wasn't busy for lack of anything else to do.

Not to mention the horrible churning sensation she got in her stomach whenever she thought about Brunhold. She wasn't sure if Petra had learned to recognize whenever she'd begun to brood about her old home, but it seemed that as soon as she started to think too much Petra sent her out looking for herbs, which helped clear her head (although it mildly irked Wendy that Petra already knew her so well).

And now that they were finally here at the Wick festival, a detour which Wendy protested to in vain, Wendy found that she had to mentally prepare herself not to hide. The prospect was tempting though, and she bit her lip as she looked into the throngs of people, then back at her cart... Her cart?

Wendy's eyes widened momentarily and her mouth opened in a small O of surprise as her eyes scanned the faces looking again and again for Petra. Did I miss something? Was I dozing while she spoke? When did she leave?

"Well shit." She said aloud, her eyebrows coming together in the familiar v shape that indicated her annoyance. I know I'm staring like a country bumpkin when they first see the city, but the /colours/! And now I've gone and lost myself.

Wendy made her feet move forward, weaving through people to try to find her particular red head.

It didn't help at all that Wendy had no memory whatsoever as to what tribe Petra belonged to, or even what her last name was. Well they don't seem like frivolities now, do they?

"Now, as I was saying Venadi, you gotta make sure you check your wheels every town you pass through. Proper like, behind them even, if you don't you could get a crack and the whole damn kint falls apart." Petra cleared her throat. "Are you listenin'?"

There was no reply.

Petra looked around the bustling crowd. She did not see a grumpy looking blue-haired girl.

"Oh Clock." She said, flatly. "My dear Rosie is gonna kill me."

Subdued though they were due to the recent events in Vienda, the festivalgoers around Wendy seemed determined to celebrate every waking second of the day. Well past midnight they had continued dancing and telling stories, drinking their weight in ale and trading small baubles they had come across in their travels. The island was more packed than usual, and it was such that no one bothered to help or even looked around when a tall, lanky wick tumbled into Wendy, knocking her over.

"Oof," he said, "oh, vrunta, epaemo."

He had a shaggy head of red hair - natural red, she noticed - and he stuck out a bony hand to help her up. She noticed he had only three fingers, all of which seemed to be making up for the lost one with an overabundance of twine rings.

"Sorry, mungo ol' me, neat hair ye got," he said breathlessly. She could smell ale on him, but he didn't seem drunk, apart from being unsteady on his rather large feet. "What tribe are ye from, then? Ent seen hair like that on none but th' Deep Water in a long time. Good on ye. I like a chip what keeps with...tradition..."

The wick paused, noticing for the first time that Wendy had no field. But, as this was not unheard of among the wicks, he shrugged and grinned.

"Jerzy Wira, at yer service," he said, pulling off his round cap and bowing to her. "Of the Skies."

((I thought it would be funny if every NPC just kept knocking Wendy over. I was right, it is funny..))

Wendy let out a small gasp of air as she was pushed to the ground and would have sworn if she'd been less surprised. She looked up into a head of hair and three fingers, pausing a moment too long for politeness to collect herself before she finally took the three fingered hand rather gingerly and helped herself up. His words were lost on her and she tried to quell the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach when he spoke. Should have payed more attention of course...



Wendy shut her mouth with a snap once she realized it was hanging open in something like awe. She'd never seen so many odd birds in her life! "Tradition. Yes." Was all she managed to reply, trying to keep herself from running then and there. TRIBES?! What were the tribes!? Red crow and yellow hand...and there was a black tribe, and a stone? black stone?...oh nooo...



Wendy tried not to look too entirely lost, and had marginal success with her endeavor. Tribe...tribe tribe tribe... "Oh. yes. I mean! Oes!" The passive let out a small nervous cough, completely unused to people being at her service. She turned a little red, "J-Junta, Jerzy Wira. I'm Wen...I'm Venadi.I'malsoatyourserviceIguess." she said this all in one breath and mumbled towards the end. Why is it that I can stand up to a galdor no problem but when I meet one drunk wick...

Wendy took a breath, "I've...lost...my..." Word for girl word for girl word for girl...mung? No that wasn't it..., "Mung...balash...rosh...?" She winced at her own words, "Well-- what-- I mean...I can't find ..."

The small woman pulled at her pigtails with a frustrated expression, "I'm just lost! I can't find Petra!" she growled petulantly. "So-- I mean-- Ep...amo...epameo..." Don't cry! Do not cry. Do not cry. Or scream. No screaming either.

Wendy gave up trying to sound like a wick, "Her name's Petra. She's got...swirlies around her eyes, and red hair and she was just here but then I was just looking at everything and all the colours and vrunta it's frustrating!" She glared at him, "Okay? Sorry! I mean! Whatever! I mean--" she covered her face, promptly turning red when she realized she'd lost her temper again, "Sorry! Again!"

At this outburst, Jerzy raised one of his eyebrows and grinned.

"Ah, yer not from 'round here, as they say," he observed politely. "No matter. We ent wrong by humans, miss. We got one in my caravan as well. C'mon, let's find yer Petra. Red hair like mine, or foe?"

He stuck out his hand for Wendy to grab - wicks seemed to have little regard for personal space - and motioned for her to follow him.

Wendy blinked and then nodded, feeling heat gather around her face again. "Oh. Well. Okay. But I'm not-- I mean I'm not human." She blurted this out, glancing at his face and then quickly at the ground, almost as if she was ready to get smacked, "It's um. Regular red. Not like orange, but like flowers."



She glanced at the man's hand gingerly and took it awkwardly, "But it's not too red. She's been out in the sun, is what I mean. Rosie-- that's her friend-- her hair is more orange. She's human but Petra's a wick except I don't know what tribe because she only mentioned it in um..." Am I talking to much? "In passing."

Wendy glanced at the hand again and felt as if it were disconnected from her body. "She's the one who did my hair like this. Um."

Completely incapable of intelligent conversation.

"Are...you sure you know...where you're going?" She tried not to sound too doubtful, after all she'd only just gotten here, but trusting strangers wasn't in her nature either.

"Not one bit, but there ent too many places to go on the island," replied Jerzy, seemingly unphased by Wendy's confession. "Let's guess - yer from Brunnhold, right? Aye, we get lots of ex-crimps 'round this time of year. Gollies treat ye somethin' horrible. We got passives of our own, ye know, lotsa people don't know that..."

Spying a nearby wick who was surrounded by friends, Jerzy slipped into a more advanced form of colloquial Tek. "Hes, kov, ye spy a Petra o' Rosie? Foe reds, kinna t' chip." He gestured to Wendy.

"We'll spread it," replied the man, nodding to his friends, who immediately began to spread out to look for Petra and/or Rosie without question.

"Won't be long now, eh?" he said cheerfully, gesturing to a nearby log, which was draped with a woven blanket to provide public seating. The wick sat down, his long legs splayed on the ground. "Kippa here, they'll find us no problem."

"Oh. Well. Yes..." The passive struggled with herself for a moment, "That's...nice." She didn't want to think about Brunhold. Her stomach clenched and she bit the inside of her cheek to get rid of the sensation.

Do you mark them with tattoos? She wondered silently, her hand going up to her right shoulder to graze the key tattoo that was somewhat marred by a dark shadow beneath it.

"They treat us...like children. Stupid, backwards children that need the lash to mind their elders." Wendy clenched her teeth, "But we managed. I didn't run because I was afraid."



Wendy tried not to make a face, and tried to look like she fit instead when he nodded in her general direction. But here...here is probably one of the last places I would ever fit. I don't belong here. Wendy glanced around at the bright colours and winced internally yet again.



Wendy sat next to him quietly, looking at the ground. "Um. Thank you. Er. Mujo...ma...?" Her voice trailed off and she shrugged, half smiling in a helpless manner. "I mean. I'm not um. Trying to be a problem."

Jerzy's face turned serious for a moment. "S'no problem, Venadi," he said. "We take care o' our own. If a tekaa took kindly to you, that makes you family for as long as ye decide to stay with us. We got enough problems without bein' jerks to each other."

Wendy got the impression he was struggling not to speak Tek.

Rubbing his large and triangular nose on his sleeve, he chuckled. "An' it's not fear that makes folks drift, not hardly ever. Fact, usually the opposite. Who'd wanna stay where they ent respected? Here, we all equal. But it ent for everyone, this life, so I expect ye'll figure out yer own way."

The wick sat up suddenly, pointing at a cluster of people nearby. "There, I think they found yer Petra."


------






"That's a...nice philosophy," She said in a voice that seemed to confess her disbelief. Although, she reasoned quietly with herself, We were the same at Brunhold. We take care of our own.

"It must create quite a sense of unity." Wendy murmured.



"Well-- I don't mean to be rude but people are so... different. I just need to get used to it." Wendy stared down at the quilted bench and traced some of the thread that went up and down the fabric. "And I will." Her mouth set itself in a grim line, "Or else."



"Oh! That was-- okay!" Her demeanor brightened considerably and she got up, approaching the bundle of wicks carefully. "Um. Excuse me-- ?" she asked timidly, and when she was jostled aside by one of the wicks her eyebrows snapped down.

"Yes, Hello! Do you have Petra?" Her hands were on her hips and she was the very image of authority-- or would have been if she had been taller. "I know I'm small but you shouldn't step on me." Wendy added with a raised eyebrow, "I might be damaged."



------




The kint Sarinah had traveled with had taken a fairly sedate pace on their way to Surwood, and much to the dancers relief, they finally pulled into the Festival four days later. Jumping down off the caravan, she straightened and looked around. It was just as garish and colorful as she remembered. Walking to the back of the kint, she pulled out her roll and waved her farewells to the driver and wicks she'd traveled with. Slinging it over her back, she walked between the people, looking around for familiar faces.



The taller woman walked over to the cluster of wicks, poking the cluster of people in their backs, making them aware of the girl behind them.

"Hesta! I think this chip is talking to you lot." She smiled down at the blue haired wick.

"Junta! My name is Sarinah!"


-----




Wendy spared a moment to look the woman over. She was very pretty. But that wasn't really it. She was...something else. She'd seen it in some of the galdor women in Brunhold-- university students that carried themselves with a certain something that always attracted men to them. They were the big cats in the group-- tigers, panthers, leopards. They were predators.

Sarinah seemed that-- but without the certain aspect of superiority that most women in Brunhold carried. Sweeter temperament, then. As have all of these wicks, I suppose.

Wendy smiled at the woman, although there was a trace of suspicion in her eyes. "Mine is Venadi." She glanced at the group of wicks that had almost run her over, "I thought they might have Petra. She has red hair." Her hands cascaded down her head, miming the length of the hair. "And she's taller than me."

Her mouth twisted for a moment, "I'm lost. Jerzy's having his friends help me." She half turned and waved hesitantly before putting her hand down awkwardly. "Um. Nice to meet you."


----




Wendy may have heard the sound of boots stomping behind her but before she had time to act she found herself lodged in a headlock.

"Oh, Venadi!" Petra said, oscillating between sounding angry, scared and elated over the few syllables. "You scared the hell out of me, don't go wandering off! I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

The headlock became a violent sort of hug.

"I mean I don't know what Rosie would do if I lost you." She corrected after a moment, in a vain attempt at disguising the warmer aspect of her nature.

She looked up at Sarinah, her braids flipping about in the breeze. In her younger days she would have thought the witch worthy of pursuit but she was getting on now and no one other than Rosie turned her eye.

"Junta. My name is Petra, of the Hand." She was often fairly casual when introducing herself. "This here is a pain in my ass, she's a Hand too."

Petra pointed proudly at Wendy.


-----





"WUAgh!" Most closely described the sound that came out of Wendy's mouth when she was surprised into a headlock and attacked by Petra. "Petra!" she snapped, and then her mouth widened when she began to hear Petra's complaints, "ME?! You're the one who left me in the middle of this crowd of people! I wasn't even moving and then I just turned--"

For a moment all that could be heard was incoherent babble from the two as they scolded each other in a way that made them sound more relieved than angry.



Wendy grumbled, "I hope she beats you. Leaving me all by my lonesome like that. Very irresponsible." But she didn't mean it, and even let her be pulled into the hug for a moment or two before shrugging away and trying to look dignified. Internally, though, she was pleased. It was nice to have people who cared about you.



The passive had been about to open hour mouth and say something along the lines of 'I'm not a hand I'm a person', before she snapped it shut. Ohhhhh the triiiiiibe!

"The only pain you'll have on your ass is when my boot collides with it." Wendy growled, pleased that Petra had introduced her as if she were part of the family.


-----





"WUAgh!" Most closely described the sound that came out of Wendy's mouth when she was surprised into a headlock and attacked by Petra. "Petra!" she snapped, and then her mouth widened when she began to hear Petra's complaints, "ME?! You're the one who left me in the middle of this crowd of people! I wasn't even moving and then I just turned--"

For a moment all that could be heard was incoherent babble from the two as they scolded each other in a way that made them sound more relieved than angry.



Wendy grumbled, "I hope she beats you. Leaving me all by my lonesome like that. Very irresponsible." But she didn't mean it, and even let her be pulled into the hug for a moment or two before shrugging away and trying to look dignified. Internally, though, she was pleased. It was nice to have people who cared about you.



The passive had been about to open hour mouth and say something along the lines of 'I'm not a hand I'm a person', before she snapped it shut. Ohhhhh the triiiiiibe!

"The only pain you'll have on your ass is when my boot collides with it." Wendy growled, pleased that Petra had introduced her as if she were part of the family.



-------




"A Hand, eh?" said Jerzy, grinning. He had appeared behind them, concerned that Wendy would become a victim of what is known in the wick tribes as "foot-to-head disease." "Ye must be the lady in question," he added, sticking out his hand to shake Petra's and bowing his head respectfully. "Junta, sister."

He did a tiny double take when he saw Sarinah. "Bless me sights, who's this, Venadi?" he asked, impishly rocking back and forth on his feet. "Least ye can do is introduce a kov."



----






Wendy resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Sarinah, though I'm sure she'd rather introduce herself." The passive said, glancing at Sarinah with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. Her expression seemed to say, After all, it looks like you can handle yourself.

"This is Jerzy." she told the pair of women. "He knocked me over."



-------




"Excuse me, I also helped ye find yer kin," protested Jerzy indignantly, before turning to bow to Sarinah.


------







Sarinah giggled and nodded to the red haired woman. They were quiet obviously part of the same tribe.



The dancer turned around at the voice, smiling broadly. She was happy Venadi seemed to have her friend now, and it was nice to have others approach her without that accusing recognition.



Her eyebrow arched a bit, and her hand turned into a smirk. That was certainly a strange way to introduce someone.



The brunette grinned at the man, delighted by the bow. Resting her hands on her hips, she nodded.

"As she said, my name is Sarinah. Sarinah Lissden actually." She wondered if the last name would fire any bells for anyone. Now she was here, the black haired woman hoped she could track down the Eye and her family. Part of her was terrified of what her mother would say.


------




Petra released Wendy with a friendly, though exuberant, shove.

"Jerzy, thankee kindly for bringing back my young Venadi. Hopefully I can teach her some manners eventually." Petra pinched Wendy's nose. "Thank the man, my dear."

Petra turned to Sarinah.

"A pleasure to meet you, chip." She slapped her fist down on her open palm, as though having just had a thought. "Lissden... Lissden... That name sounds familiar. Oh, I'm terrible with names. Thanks for being kind to my girl, she has all my worst qualities."

Petra wiped a sudden tear from her eye.

"She makes me so proud." She added at a whisper.



------






"Thank you Jerzy," Wendy said in a petulant voice, rubbing her nose and mock glaring at Petra.



"Worst qualities?! You? I always thought the sun shone out of your ass!" The passive said in a cheerful voice, not hearing or perhaps ignoring the last thing Petra said.


-----




Jerzy answered Wendy's thanks by sticking out his tongue and grinning. He liked her very much, despite her bemused attitude towards him, and wondered if she'd be sticking around. However, something Sarinah said caught his ear, and he struggled to track down the thought.

"Lissden," he repeated, "o' the Eyes, oes? Got a fifth cousin by that name, Alfred. Bit of a mungo, but benny enough. Oh, vrunta, ye didn't see the riot, did ye?"

His face became concerned; though Laughing Sky had very little to do with the other wick tribes, his Durg had given a very grave speech about the subject recently, and he understood that many Crows and Eyes had been hurt. "Breaks me heart that happened," he said sorrowfully. "It ent right for us to be bickerin', 'specially this close to Bethas."


----






Sarinah shook her head slowly. She infact, hadn't. But it was talk of the town so to speak. A frown creased her features.



The dancer looked and him and nodded.

"Oes, ye ent wrong there. It ent right. You don't know where the Eye's are camped at the moment do you kov? It's been many maw since I saw them, and I'd like to find my family."



------




"North end, far as they can get 'way from the Crows," he replied gravely. "If ye...need someone to escort ye there safely..." Jerzy waggled his eyebrows; today was turning out to be better than expected.


-----






Sarinah looked towards the direction, trying to see any sign of them from here. She chewed her lip thoughtfully.



The dancer turned her eyes back to him and grinned, not sparing the cheeky fellow a sly wink.

"Your to kind balach, offering escort to a poor defenseless chip. But I think I might be able to manage getting from here to there without a problem." Reaching out, she placed a hand on his arm.

"However, any sign of trouble and you'll be the first kov I come and find." Nodding to the group, she took her leave and headed towards the north, keeping an eye out for the Yellow Eye. Everything was so bright and lovely, but so far, she didn't spot anyone familar. After a fair walk, she began coming across what looked like a camp. Stopping and looking around, she called out.

"Hesta! Is this the Yellow Eye?"


----




Sarinah heard a small gasp from behind her. Had she turned she would have seen a small looking woman, not in terms of stature, mind. The cant of her shoulders and the curve of her lips, tilted downward, made her seem somewhat diminished. Her hair had greyed, no longer coloured with the same vibrant purples of her younger days, and her face was now more lined. Still, there was no mistaking her.

"Sarinah?" She said. "Is that you?"

Her Daoa.


-----






Sarinah turned very slowly, recognizing the woman immediately.

"Daoa?" She said softly, almost unsure of herself. Smiling slightly, she swallowed the lump in her throat. The woman had aged somewhat in four years, but she was still her mother. The dancer didn't know what to do. Should she hug her, should she stand and act like the adult she was supposed to be. Very suddenly she felt embarrassed and exposed.

"I looked for you at Dorhaven, but you were gone." The brunette said hesitantly.



--------




Sarinah's mother swallowed visibly.

"We left straight away. It was too awful to stay. We were running out of food." Her hands shook and her eyes watered. "Oh Gods, I thought I'd lost you forever!"

Her arms raised slowly, reaching out to her daughter but her shaking had moved to her legs and she could move no closer.


------




Sarinah closed the space between them in a run, hugging her mother tightly and finding herself in tears. Crying hard, she spoke as best she could.

"I was lost! I am a terrible traveler! And then I got there and I couldn't get away. I wanted to come home, but I couldn't. And daoa, oh the things..." She stopped talking and pulled back.

"I can't even enter Vienda anymore, the blackbacks kicked all the tekka out!" Smiling and laughing through tears, she kissed the woman soundly on her cheek.

"Oh daoa, I missed you so much."

Sarinah's mother was crying as well now, tears falling like fat drops of rain.

"Oh my boch! My little girl! I missed you so too, I'm sorry things have been so hard for you. I'm glad you're back." She sobbed through a few of the words, hands grasping at her daughter's back. "Don't stay away so long again, I thought of you every day, every day."

There was the sound of something like a pot hitting the ground. A man was standing behind them, mouth gaping open slightly.

"Sarinah? nanaboch?" He said, forgetting his manly pride momentarily.

Sarinah let go of her mother and turned around, grinning.

"Da!" She exclaimed, dashing over to engulf the man in a hug and cheek kisses. Her mother was her best friend, but her father was her buddy, playmate, teacher and disciplinarian. She'd missed them both sorely. Pulling away from him, she wiped her eyes.

"Oh, its been a long time since someone called me that."

Her father's strong jaw wobbled slightly as he hugged Sarinah. Sarinah truthfully got most of her good looks from him. They both had striking cheekbones and jawlines, though her expressive eyes were partly from her mother.

"Nanaboch, it is good to have you home." He said with a wide grin, crinkling the skin about his eyes. "With all those tsuter Crows causing trouble in Vienda I was worried for your safety."

Sarinah's smile faltered a little and she tucked her hair back behind her ears.

"Oes, its...its been a bit strained in Vienda. The seventen kicked us wicks out. All of us. And it ent just the Crows da. Its a mutual thing." She spoke softly, feeling very small talking to her father. She hadn't expected him to say such a thing. Yes, the Crows and the Eyes had always disagreed, but she hadn't thought her father was that caught up in it.

Her Da let go, patting her shoulders absent mindedly.

"Pshaw!" He said, spitting into the dirt. "If it weren't for them you wouldn't have been thrown out wi' the rubbish at all... They're bad news, all of them."

He frowned bitterly. Sarinah's mother looked between the two of them as if fearing some sort of blood match between them.

"Maybe we can all sit down 'n eat, oes?" Smiling gamely at Sarinah. "You can tell us all about what you've been up to while you've been away."

Sarinah looked at her mother with a frown, unsure of how to handle her father like this.



The dancer smiled, but inside her stomach suddenly rolled. This, was going to be interesting.

"Oes, lets do that. Do you maybe have any wraps at the moment? I've had them in Vienda, but they aren't as good as daoa's." She loved her mothers cooking.

Sarinah's mother smiled, eyes watery. Her da walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Oes, that sounds nice." The older witch said, sniffling into a scrap of linen. "You'll have to tell us all about what you've been up to, where you've been working, all the people you've met..."

Her daoa turned away, her father close behind, moving towards a communal rest area. Her da kept looking backwards, as though checking his daughter was still there and hadn't vanished like morning dew in the sun. The years apart had been hard on them but they were like steel. They endured.

Sarinah walked behind them, thinking. How was she going to broach this, should she hide it from them? Looking down at her black dancing outfit she shook her head. Looking up, she saw the familiar red kint and in front of it, a small cooking fire. She sat down beside the fire and threw a stick into it.

"Well...where do I start? I got into Vienda and found work with a local entertainer. Doing tarot reading and some juggling. Acrobatics. Dancing. Ye chen? The people there really like that sort of stuff." She smiled wanly, looking at the twisting flames.

"I've met more people then I can say, all sorts. Wicks, galdori, humans. Good, bad. Crows..." Looking up at her da, she took a breath.

"One of them helped save me, not just my life, but my soul. I..I've been working at a tumblehut. As a dancer. But I ent a tumble, just a dancer. And this one kov...this Crow. He found me when I was in my darkest despair, and he saved me." It was almost blurted out, like her mouth wanted to expell what she had to say before her da objected.

Sarinah's mother closed her eyes and mouthed an expletive.

"You did what?" Her Da said, voice dangerously low and quiet. "After all they've done you... At a tumblehut?"

He turned quickly, eyes storming, marching away to avoid causing a scene. Sarinah's Daoa gave her a look.

"You always had the best timing, bochi." She said with dry sarcasm. "Now be sure to tell him how many men you've lain with as soon as he comes back."

She put a plate of wraps down between the two of them and sat down.

Sarinah felt her fathers cold stab of anger and rejection like a knife. She watched him go, eyes welling up with tears. He didn't even give her a chance to explain.



"Daoa!" The black haired woman exclaimed tearfully.

"I ent a tumble! You really want to know. It was two. One who used me and one who saved me." She sniffed, trying to pull herself back together.

"I didn't have a choice. Cook was going to throw me out or whore me out, and then Caterina showed me how to dance. It saved me from being a dead street urchin somewhere, or someones tumble. And I couldn't go. I didn't have enough money to go." Her lip trembled and she looked away, breath hitching as she tried to calm down.

"Tristaan is a Red Crow. And he doesn't judge me for what I do for ging." The witch was getting angry now.

"If Da cared, he wouldn't...I mean..." Her reasoning and anger fizzled off and she stared at her hands, swallowing back the tears. Some how, she thought it would have gone a bit differently. Sighing, she looked at her mother.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't go. No one who works at Cooks ever leaves. But since the wicks got kicked out, I had no choice. I'm free now. But I ent ashamed of my life. I ent a tumble." The last phrase came out firmly, trying to make sure her mother understood.

The older woman sighed.

"I ent... pleased about what you've been doing to make rent, boch." She said honestly, her surprise and pain apparent only then as her voice wobbled. "I'm trying to understand. You and your father have a history though of winding eachother up and you've always known he gets involved in tribal conflict. He thinks it's loyalty and I don't entirely disagree with his sentiments, no matter how nice this boy is."

She picked up a wrap and bit into it, slightly hurt that her daughter hadn't even tried one.

"You could have waited more than ten minutes into seeing him for the first time in years before dropping all that on him." She said, chewing angrily. "You always act before you've thought things through, just like he does. You drive me both mad with your hysterics. Now eat your wrap and tell me it tastes benny before I cry."

Sarinah listened to her mother quietly, knowing she was right, but feeling hurt all the same. Why did parents always make you feel like this?



The dancer frowned.

"You don't even know him."



Sullenly, she picked up a wrap and bit into it, not really tasting it but still eating it.

"It tastes benny. Really." Eating quietly, she couldn't bare it. Leaning over, she kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Fotamos. I'll be back later when he's had time to cool off." Standing, she brushed off her skirt and walked off, angry, hurt and upset. The brunette wished Tristaan were here now, so she had someone to lean on.

Sarinah's daoa continued to eat while sniffling into her wrap.

It was her own fault, really. She'd married one and given birth to the other. She should have known what would happen the moment they were in the same general vicinity again.