Aboard the Beauty
76 Spring 218
Sav
The ship is largely quiet, the ever-present creaking of the timbers and the slapping of water against the hull forming a gentle background susurrus beneath the footsteps of the passengers and crew and the occasional muffled conversation on deck. Sav’s left the settling of Talith’s unconscious body to those with a more obvious bond with him - too many cooks in the kitchen as it is - but once a place for him has been found and a watch rotation set, she finds a space between her own self-appointed tasks to duck into the room.
Finding Astarael there, she hesitates, not wanting to intrude. A moment of careful observation tells her that she doesn’t appear to be interrupting anything, so she knocks on the edge of the doorframe. “‘Star?” She pulls out one of her tool belts, removing a pair of shears from its loop on the belt, and brandishes it reversed. “Would ye do me a favor an’ give me hair a clip? It’s gettin’ a wee bit too long for me eyes these days.”
Astarael
Astarael is seated on a small crate, next to the sleeping form of Talith. She’s sitting facing him, her hand holding his. Her posture is one of someone ill-at-ease, and she has an expression of worry. Astarael startles when Sav knocks on the doorframe, and in a moment she drops his hand and whirls around, to see who is intruding.
Her face relaxes at the sight of Sav, holding the shears.
She speaks softly in answer. “Oh. Hi Sav. Of course.” She looks to Talith. He’s still, except for his breathing. “I’d rather not leave him now though, if that’s ok with you.”
The room is tiny, but Astarael motions for her to come in. She stands and moves the crate away from the bed a bit, and gestures for Sav to sit.
Sav
“Good turn then that hair clippin doesnae involve stridin and springin all over,” Sav says wryly, offering a small smile at her attempt at a joke. She settles on the floor in front of Astarael, handing her the shears handle-first over her shoulder. The space being what it is, this places her directly at eye level with Talith, almost uncomfortably close were he not asleep. “The front can go just short enough so it doesnae get in me eyes, if ye would. The back’s finally got long enough to tie into a tail so best to keep it that way, I reckon, maybe just a wee trim.”
Astarael
Astarael smiles at Sav’s jest, and accepts the scissors. She quietly begins to cut her hair.
Sav
Sav seems content to let the process go in silence, at least for a good handful of minutes. Head bowed slightly, knees up and ankles crossed, her arms linked around her knees, she doesn’t seem to be thinking much of anything - at least, until she finally breaks the quiet rasping of the shears through hair with a, “How’re ye holdin up, then?”
Astarael
Astarael does not answer at first. She frowns a little in thought, and gestures for Sav to rise and turn. Astarael nods in approval of her work and hands the shears back to Sav. She sits back down on the crate and looks over to Talith.
“He’s really here, right? I…I am so afraid that I’m just dreaming. And that he’ll disappear in a moment. Or worse, he IS here, and something will take him away again anyways.” She turns towards Sav. There are tears in her eyes. “We both saw the same thing, right? We saw the Suffering leave him and go into Vivian, before she disappeared again?”
Sav
Sav presses a fingertip lightly against the skin of Talith’s arm, and offers a wry quirk of a smile over her shoulder. “Never had a dream this solid.” She sniffs a little, and adds, “Nor one to reek so.” Perhaps they’d cleaned him up some, but there was probably only so much one could do with an unconscious body that had passed out immediately after a fierce battle, with all the blood and sweat that brought. “As for somethin takin him awae…” She takes Astarael’s hand, pressing it in a slightly panicked reassurance against the tears that she sees gathering in the woman’s eyes. “I saw the same thing, first. And second, we’ll fight to keep him all the harder for having known the loss, aye? What’s top is that we’ve got another chance wi’ him. Most ne’er get tae say that.” She frowns slightly. “Though it does fash me a bit that it happened so sudden, an’ so easy.” She says this thoughtlessly, it being one of the foremost concerns on her mind, and immediately regrets this when she glances up at Astarael and realizes that bringing up her qualms right now in this moment might not have been the most sensitive.
Covering her embarrassment, she puts away the shears and pulls out a little hand-broom and a brazier, sweeping up the hair clippings and depositing them into the brazier. “Was figurin’ I might cite a wee rite over him tae see if I can spot aught awry on him. Perhaps shed a bit more light on that question.” She begins to pull out a magnifying glass and a few of her stranger tools, humming a word that sets one of them to glowing with a soft, steady light.
Astarael
Astarael nods. “I’m glad you saw that too. I hope it means he is indeed free of his connection to it.”
She steps out of the way a bit, to let Sav get to work.
Sav
Sav traces glyphs and sings words above Talith’s form, one hand laid on his wrist while she tweaks the Stuff with her tools in the other. It’s a deliberate process, each gesture made with unhurried precision, glyphs appearing on the magnifying glass and disappearing as she scans the length of his body through the circular lens.
Finally, the glows fade and she tucks away her tools, shaking her head a little. “Naught to see on him,” she says. “But to be full true, something as powerful as the Sufferin’ isnae likely to make itself seen in him wi’ my little look-see works. At the least, though, currently there’s naught obvious there but Talith himself.”
Astarael
Astarael lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding in with a quiet “Ohhh.” She smiles a bit and wraps her arms around Sav, ignorant of whatever the girl is doing in that moment. “I’m glad you thought to do this. It’s a comfort to know you didn’t see anything.”
She continues to hug Sav, perhaps just a little too tight.
Sav
Sav squeaks a little at the unexpected hug, but a moment later a real smile crosses her lips and she returns the embrace, wrapping her arms around Astarael’s shoulders for a long moment. ”… huh. I just realized that I’m taller’n ye now. Feels queer,” she quips, releasing her and stepping back. She looks down at Talith and adds wryly, “How annoyed d’ye think he’ll be that he’s gone and come back and we still havenae rescued Danica?”
Astarael
Astarael looks at Sav and realizes that she is indeed the shorter one now. She smiles, then sighs.
“I think he’ll understand. At least, I hope so. We did our best to rescue both of them. I don’t know what we could have done any differently to have a better outcome.” She rubs her face, and sits back down on the crate. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what he says, anyways. There’s so much we need to catch him up on.”
Sav
Sav looks a little startled, then regretful at her attempt at a jest being answered seriously, before she just nods. Having nothing more to say and feeling a bit intrusive in the silence between the two - even if one is unconscious - she straightens the blanket over him (rearranged over the course of her ritual), tucks it in, and slips quietly out of the room.
Astarael
Astarael returns her attention back to the sleeping form of Talith, and picks his hand back up in hers. She thinks to herself:
I do hope you understand, once you know everything. Wake up soon, ok?
And she sits, and waits.
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