ROLEPLAY HQ - lonely-homestead

Mokk stared at the sea below, his legs tucked firm about his horse. It was a comfort beneath him. It's heart thumping against his legs a steady drum beat. The boats in the distance were pretty, even to his own admittance. Bright clouds of white and gray billowing in the wind. Alsira and Pol, the largest two suns, hung low in the sky, casting slices of red and orange to stain like blood across cotton. The crowds had begun to unload from the boats. In the far distance was a small fog strip of another island. This land was cursed. Always had been since the beginning. Allmothers skull and mind was a wild land of blooms and trees, pretty grasslands.... but dangerous. The animals didn't take kindly to men. Colonists had been collected from the rest of the archipelago to colonize the final island. The last wildland. But the first shiploads didn't last long. Humans had forgotten what it was to be prey.... People died. Disappeared. Drowned. Destroyed themselves. And like prey they wanted to reproduce. So they ordered for more people; slaves in chains accompanied by wide eyed hopefuls and rough-skinned farmhands. Women from Allmothers legs were brought forth, dragged and tied and screaming to be distributed like cattle. Horses tied by rope. Swine. Colonists... more strangers to infect holy lands.... He clicked to his horse and walked down to the shoreside, staring down at those who rose their eyes to meet his even for a short time. The shipmaster held the pages for those who ordered deliveries. The old man was fat on others greed, his waistcoat buttons straining.... "Name?" He'd not bothered to raise his eyes. "Mokk." "Ah. A partner from the centres? Lonely on the homestead?" He finally looked up and gently buckled down to sit on a crate. "Y-you...." He hesitantly flipped pages and Mokk left him to fluster. He had no interest in most around him, but if he was to be locked to this land he may as well as live as those around him. Gently tapping his heel against the hors

22:25

es side he looked over the crowds watching for the one sold to him. Mokk was known to those on the island as a Wildman. He held tight to his horses mane, his coat turned up against the wind off the sea. The leather was lined with a wolfs fur, tied about his waist, and simple leather boots were wrapped tight lined with the same. A pale slice cut through his dark skin and black hair, gold eyes looking down like stars. A long curved knife hung from his belt and a short sword by it. His horse was an old warbeast, scars crossing its dark hair. He was a mountain of his own, rough and unyielding. Several pelts traded to gold gave him enough to trade. Several rabbit skins to flour and sugar, some ivory for a wardrobe for her...

The old shipmaster flipped through his delivery pages until he found the buyer’s name, Mokk. After another side-eyed glance at the intimidating Wildman on the horse, the hefty shipmaster pushed himself to his feet. He turned to call the order number to his assistants who were unloading onto the shore the wailing, sobbing, shouting, or half-dead deliveries. “Thirteen!” An assistant pushed through the crowd, grabbing at arms here and there to check the branded marks until he found the number. He pulled forth a silent, barefoot woman dressed in ripped and filthy rags that had once been the loose dress of a peasant. Her bony, chafed wrists were chained like all the others. Beneath the woman’s matted, short, dark umber braids, her dark green eyes seemed lifeless and resigned. Stray hairs drifted across her face in the cool ocean breeze. Her right eye was barely visible, the lid puffy and purple from a bruise. Her parted, chapped lips were cracked, with fine lines of blood. Her freckled olive skin was dry, her face gaunt and emaciated like a skull. She was probably in her early 20s. She shuffled and limped forward as she was pulled by the assistant through the crowd towards the shipmaster. Something was wrong with her left ankle. She ventured a fleeting glance at her buyer and the horse, then averted her eyes back to the sand.

“Ngh...”

“Ah, a good age for making young’uns if you desired. She’s, ah, sustained some damage during transport--nothing vital,” the shipmaster commented, scanning the merchandise. “So that’ll still be 45 gold on delivery, as written.” He didn’t dare scam this particular buyer to earn more of a profit for this transaction, and he stepped closer to Mokk’s war steed to receive payment. Just as the assistant handling the woman was about to unlock her chains, the second assistant dragged forth a snarling man with defiant blue eyes, also barefoot, dressed in nondescript, loose, dirtied clothing that flapped in the wind over the muscular build of a laborer. His tawny, light brown, overgrown hair was whipping into those wild, darting eyes. There was a healing cut on his cheek, and he looked around age 30. He glared around at the assistant and the new island, thrashing to get away. “I got Thirteen,” called the second assistant. The shipmaster’s eyes bulged like his waistcoat. “What in the stars? Check their—” The shipmaster was interrupted. With a burst of strength, the blue-eyed man bolted sideways towards inland, almost yanking the chains out of the second assistant’s hand—only for the first assistant to clock him in the jaw.

“Argh!”

The attempted escapee cried out when his head whipped to the side, his lip split. When the two assistants shoved him onto his knees in the sand, he turned and spat out saliva with blood. He stayed there growling under his breath, fists against his legs, grimacing, eyes flitting towards the wooded inland. Meanwhile, despite being unattended, the woman was still standing behind the three men with wrists still chained, wincing slightly as she watched the altercation. She glanced up a second time at Mokk briefly, then lowered her head. “Check their brands,” the shipmaster demanded, casting another worried look at Mokk, fearing his reaction. The assistants grabbed the chains and pulled them so that two wrists were shown. Both of the numbers had been poorly branded and/or badly healed with disfiguring scars. They were indistinguishable as 13, 16, 18, or 19. It was impossible to tell who Mokk had bought as a partner.

23:23

“Ah, erm...” The shipmaster flustered, his cheeks pink with anxiety and embarrassment. His eyes bulged as they blinked between the two wrists. He shook his head and flipped rapidly through the delivery pages but found no answers. His thoughts raced; what if he had mistakenly sold Thirteen already for a lower price? Had he lost money? What was he to do? Clearly, the shipmaster didn’t want Mokk to choose the male merchandise because everyone knew he was worth less, as he was unruly and unable to bear children. The shipmaster estimated that the blue-eyed man would be worth 30 gold at the most, and that was what he’d have to ask from Mokk. But the shipmaster also wanted to offload all the merchandise, as all the numbers that looked like “13” were now crossed off, so he didn’t want to have another mouth to feed on his return to the center of the archipelago. The shipmaster turned towards Mokk, clearing his throat. “Terribly sorry for this mix-up. Y-you... You can choose. One or the other, or both. They both have their merits, y’see...” He stepped out of the way and gestured helplessly towards the two potential partners.

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OOC: Images are AI-generated approximations of descriptions and may have issues.

"They're both damaged. Sick. I won't pay more than 60 for both." He tsked, glaring the seller down. He'd come for one but having a male to work would help. He slid off the horse, squatting in front of the male. "Lemme see your teeth." He ordered, but kept his voice level. He was cold but seemed more eager to leave than trying to be rude. Mokkan waved the girl forwards well, mimicking the teeth baring to see hers. "What happened to your ankle?" He looked up to meet her eyes, still squatting balanced on his toes. "Unchain her." He ordered to the sellar regardless of her answer, sifting through his coins for the proper weights, "What do you want boy?" He crossed his arms across his barrel chest, looking down at the man on his knees, "If I buy you and you fight me, I will make sure you feel that punishment for the rest of your short life. But I will make sure you are safe if you work with me." His gold eyes seemed sharp enough to cut someone through. His voice was a level rumble of thunder threatening lightning should one stray.

The woman with dark green eyes blinked away from Mokk’s golden ones as though startled, either unaccustomed to or feeling unworthy of looking into something so bright as the stars. While keeping her eyes leveled around Mokk’s coat instead, she showed her mouth obediently, and her gums and teeth were fine, though dirty. Her breath stank, as did her body. The same smell emitted from all the other merchandise who had been unloaded from the ship, because of the week of travel while chained, eating only gruel, with hygiene facilities fit for prisoners, as many were criminals or debtors. “Sprained,” she replied, referring to her ankle, her voice a low monotone barely audible above the crashing of the waves. The woman looked down at her chafed wrists with slight interest when an assistant unchained her, as though she were experiencing everything that had happened to her as an impassive viewer. She kept her head lowered slightly, and her expressionless, tired eyes gazed in the general direction of Mokk and his warbeast, taking in the details little by little.

As for the blue-eyed man, he bared his teeth easily since it wasn’t much different from the snarling he was already doing. His gums were fine, although a couple of his teeth were chipped from blunt force trauma incidents, and his incisors were worn down from grinding against each other, likely out of stress. He huffed indignantly through his nose when Mokk addressed him as “boy.” His fists remained pressed against his thighs as he stared defiantly at Mokk, eyes looking over the Wildman brazenly. He opened his mouth to say something, but a pained expression crossed his face. “Hrngh...” Whatever speech he attempted came out as a throaty grunt. He closed his mouth and swallowed, furrowing his brows. A muscle in his square jaw covered by a short, messy light brown beard twitched as he gritted his teeth.

“This one doesn’t talk,” sneered one of the assistants as he gave a jerk to the chains, making his fists jump. “Bet he wants freedom, but we don’t give that to criminals, now do we?” he mocked.

The man closed his eyes tightly in frustration, breathing hard through his nose.

Meanwhile, the woman kept her gaze in Mokk’s general direction, seemingly apathetic to the current situation because she had just been on a ship with the blue-eyed man and other criminals.

The shipmaster interjected, addressing Mokk, an idea spawning from his greed. “Now, how about this?” He pointed at the man on his knees. “I put that one back on my waiting list, but we lend him to you for the time being. 45 gold for the woman, and you can use that one as labor for two weeks. For free.” He’d return in two weeks with another shipload of deliveries from the center islands and have a buyer for the male lined up by then. The shipmaster didn’t want to sell both the woman and the man for only 60 gold. He wanted to sell the man for a full 30, and not have a mouth to feed or unruliness to deal with while he sailed back and forth. He didn’t want to report the branding mix-up, either, hoping to make back whatever gold he had accidentally lost.

He opened his eyes to glare at the shipmaster, then turned to Mokk and studied him, mistrust and uncertainty clouding his face. He could work as little as he could for two weeks and try not to run off—fine. The land seemed too dangerous for most to live solo, anyway, and he didn't want to be on the run forever. But he was naturally suspicious of everyone and didn’t know whether this mountain of a man’s offer of safety included safety from the man himself, especially if he slacked off as he was wont to do.

"Fine." He tsked, "If he runs or dies I'll pay when you return." He conceded, head tipping lightly. "With an addition." He offered, arms still tucked crossed. He passed the pay for the woman, offering his hand to her. Instead the sellar shoved papers into it to sign. He set it on the table top next to them and took the offered quill. The pen was something new and was held awkwardly clearly unsure and he drew a little squiggly rather than his name. Keeping his half the paperwork folding it carefully into the coat pocket, the sellar motioned the unchained woman forwards. "If I take you outside of the cuffs are you going to give me problems?" He sighed softly to the man while the sellar figured out the paperwork for the man. "Else I'm going to tie you to the horse and it won't be a fun walk." Bending, Mokk laced his fingers into a step so the woman could get on the horse, sitting side saddle. He watched the man for a visual answer, helping the woman sit comfortably and giving a hand hold on the pack tied about the horses shoulders.

Blue eyes met gold and the man jerked his head firmly to convey that he wouldn’t cause trouble. He had no good reason to try to run. He hoped he could get some food and shelter in these new lands by working for the gold-eyed man. When he had been pulled off the ship by the assistant, he'd been angry and excitable, but now he seemed calmer. The man stood and jerked his chin towards the assistants, holding out his wrists to be unchained, and one of them did so. He stepped on light feet cautiously towards the mountain of a man and studied the scarred steed as though he were either admiring it, wanting to steal it along with its shoulder pack, or both. After licking his split lip, he twitched his head almost imperceptibly as though there were a fly around him. Then he looked away curiously towards the forested inland, stretching his arms and legs, getting ready to walk and follow the gold-eyed man.

The shipmaster clapped his hands together triumphantly without even questioning why the buyer would offer to pay an addition if the merchandise was lost. He drafted up a quick agreement and its copy on the spot: “No. 13 loaned to buyer Mokk for two weeks” with today’s date. The seller tapped the parchment onto the side table for Mokk to sign as well, and then tucked away his copy.

As the woman saw her buyer—or new partner—offer his large hands as a step onto the horse, and then helped her to sit comfortably while minding her injured ankle, she looked at him more curiously. She still seemed hesitant to look directly at his eyes, but her tired, dark green ones now wandered higher than his barrel chest, around the upturned coat collar, glancing at his cheekbones and hair every so often. “Thanks,” she mumbled quietly when she was securely seated on the warbeast, her voice barely audible over the waves and wind.

Able to get away from the shipmaster he motioned the man to get on the horse. "Make sure she don't fall. You grope her and I break your fingers." He offered a step up should he need it, clicked to the horse to follow, and headed up the dirt packed road. He walked heavy on his left side, favoring his right hip, tucking a hand about the horses face. The animal knickered happily at his touch. The walk was long and he moved somewhat slow to pace himself, eventually slipping off the coat once they hit the field behind the tiny port village. The coat got set over the horses shoulders in front of them both. Putting fingers to his lips and whistling loud, two large hounds bursting from the tree line to run to their side. Both animals were tall as the womans waist, broad heads large as Mokkans hands. Collars pierced with nails were laced about their necks, the nails giving them protection against a predator going for their throats. "Never walk far without a dog. They'll keep you safer than being alone." Mokkan grumbled softly, motioning the dogs on to lead the way of their little procession. The grass field turned to trees, thickening the further they went. Mokkan used his shortsword to cut away the undergrowth for himself and the horse. "Can either of you write or read?" He called back lightly, turning to see either of their responses. Hoping they both could, considering he couldn't get the males name without, Mokkan sighed softly. He'd never learned to do either skill. "My name is Mokkan. Or Mok. The horse is Tower. The dogs are Maggi and Moggi." He patted the horses broad cheek when it leaned against his head as they walked. He seemed to be talking to fill the air which was partially true. Loneliness had not been on his radar but as the animals brought no comfort nor did sleep, he assumed others might. Humans flocked together after all....

04:55

<Maggi- Black, Moggi- tan, Example of Towers look>

The blue-eyed man raised his eyebrows in confusion because he’d been assuming he’d continue to receive similar treatment as he had since being kidnapped—or as he’d received for half of his life since becoming a transient. But this giant of a man was being unexpectedly decent to both strangers. However, as soon as he was about to accept Mokkan’s assistance to get on the horse, he heard the older man say something about breaking his fingers. His eyes widened and he jerked away stumbling backwards, fists opening and closing restlessly, wringing his fingers together as he made a short noise of alarm. "Hrn!" He glared with a mix of fear and defiance at Mokkan. Then he looked away and shoved his fists into his ragged pockets, hunching over. He walked on the other side of the horse so that he could watch and intervene if the woman started slipping. In truth, he could not care less about her, but he didn't want to cause trouble. As he watched the woman, the man's mistrustful blue eyes peered at Mokkan from around the horse every so often as Mokkan spoke. Soon his glare was replaced by an appalled, disgusted expression. Besides the fact that both kidnappees stank of body odor, urine, salt water, and vomit, he considered the woman too skinny and ugly with her bruised eye. He thought she had no willpower, so he looked down on her. On the weeklong ship journey, she had seemed dull and listless. In addition, intimacy was somewhat of a foreign concept, as focusing on surviving day-to-day took priority, especially in recent months before he'd been caught and sold.

23:42

Eventually, as Mokkan continued to speak casually to the two kidnappees, the blue-eyed man's expression changed to his default neutral and guarded. He hunched a little less as he watched the woman and the wilderness alertly, and listened to both the sounds of nature around them and Mokkan's dialog. He hoped that there would be food ready to eat wherever they were going. He thought he saw a couple of small critters in the dense tropical woods, and there were definitely a variety of birds as well. He licked the split on his lip again as he wondered how they'd all taste, his stomach growling in anticipation.

The woman startled a little when Mokkan whistled loudly and the two large hounds burst forth. But seeing Mokkan and the horse interacting, and listening to him monologuing, the woman tentatively reached forward and lightly grasped the horse's mane, leaning forward into its warmth. Even though she was still dizzy and dazed from being dehydrated, exhausted, and hungry–having been seasick for a week–a part of her mind still vaguely cared about what happened to her, and didn't want things to get worse. She had been expecting a cruel buyer, but Mokkan seemed kind. So she didn't want to fall off and cause trouble for her supposed partner, or for the man from the ship who was walking on her other side. She gazed at the steed, the dogs, and the environment, her typically expressionless face moving in different directions slightly. She studied Mokkan as well when he was not facing her, observing the way he walked, and looking at his torso when he removed the coat to drape in front of her. She seemed slightly refreshed by the new, tropical forested island and stimuli around her after a week of endless sea. A small glint of hope for a better life returned to her dark eyes as she listened to Mokkan monologuing. The woman was trying to get used to the idea that this man would be her partner, which meant that certain duties would be expected of her. She figured she had no choice, but she thanked the Allmother–the first time in several weeks she had done so–because she'd been sold to a man who seemed considerate and strong enough to protect them.

23:43

"I can read and write," she offered quietly to her new partner, over the whacking sounds of his short sword against the underbrush, the dogs' panting, and the muffled clopping of the steed's hooves on the grass underfoot. "I'm Ualani... Mokkan." She tested the shape of his name on her parched tongue. (edited)

"Venas," grunted the man, his hoarse voice a low rumble. He could say and write at least his name after the many times he had to exchange his strength as a laborer for food and shelter, but his policy was to not offer more information than necessary to strangers.

After Mokkan paused speaking and seemed to be lost in thought, the woman hesitated, then asked him, "Ah... Is there something you need written or read?"

"Yes. I have books. And some carvings. I cannot do either." He advised, ignoring the man deciding against the horse. I was being rather cruel... He rubbed the back of his neck idly. About half an hour into the trees he paused, looking about nearby for something after motioning both to stay and returned quickly with fruit. They were about the same as peaches, though a hardy variety to survive the lowlight of the forest undergrowth. Soft flesh and sweet nectar in what he hoped was a treat after the ship trip. He held them out to both people. "Here. Until we can get home." He offered, having one himself to eat to prove they weren't a danger. He dug out the pit with his teeth in his second bite and spit it off to the side. The homestead was a far enough walk it started to make his hip ache, eventually holding Tower' neck to keep himself going. The canopy blocked most of the sun dappling it green and holding the humidity to the ground. The sound of the river made him sigh in relief, the slow ripple of water a comforting noise of familiarity. The forest path that seemed to only exist to Mokkan opened to a small clearing, a yurt tucked into the trees. His home half seemed a camp crossed with a farm, some of the dirt sectioned out with stick fencing and plants growing inside. Some flightless birds and small pigs were cordoned off with mudbricked walls with clay dredged from the river. Rough benches were cut from trees and set about the firepit which was dug into the ground and surrounded by river stones. Mokkan led Tower to a bench so Uelani could get down and heavily sunk to sit, setting his foot in front of him to stretch his leg. His home was rough and handmade and alone, but safe. Secluded from people, just as he liked. Part of him felt odd to have people here.... Food, he pushed up from the bench to his farming area and tugged out a semi-large melon. At his bench and with his knife he cracked the rind, breaking apart pieces to make them easier to eat. "Here. M

01:25

ore food." Mokkan gave some small pieces to the dogs who trotted off to munch them down.

Venas didn't even bother to check whether Mokkan swallowed the stone fruits to make sure that they were safe; he was too hungry to care. And, unlike the woman, he had a strong stomach and was used to eating foraged or stolen foods or other people's scraps. He selfishly grabbed one fruit in each hand from Mokkan, quickly nodding his thanks. He opened his mouth wide and jammed the fruit in, chomping it ravenously with juice dribbling down his short beard. "Hrngh..." It was tasty. Venas ate the second one even faster than the first. He even tried to suck on the peach-like pits to see if they had any flavor before spitting them out. He licked his lips and wiped his hands on his worn loose trousers afterwards, then kept an eye out for more of the sweet fruit as they walked, trying to remember the tree locations.

"Thank you..." Ualani ate quickly with one hand still grasping onto Tower's mane, closing her eyes briefly at the taste and sensation. The sweet nectar was wonderful in her dry mouth after a week of tasting gruel and seasickness. As the small procession continued the long walk to Mokkan's homestead, Ualani felt more concerned about the man's increasingly visible limp. She wondered whether he had a sprain like her, or if it was a permanent injury. She almost wanted to tell him that he should ride on Tower, especially as Venas was preferring to stretch his legs, but she was nervous about potentially offending Mokkan. She knew that some men could be prickly about a woman pointing out any vulnerability or offering any help, and she had only observed him for about an hour. As Ualani took in the sights of the homestead, her first thought was, "It's pretty nice for one person to have built on his own..." It was very different from the busy, populated community in which she used to live, but it seemed Mokkan had made a cozy and sustainable place for himself in this densely wooded part of the tropical island. Was this to be her new home? Ualani was still trying to picture herself living here. Plus, he had mentioned books and carvings. Collecting pastime objects implied to Ualani that Mokkan may have been settled here for a while and had coin to spend. She herself had to sell such objects before to try to pay off debts. "How long...?" Ualani turned to Mokkan, not meeting his golden eyes, asking him quietly about when the homestead had been established, as she gently pet one of the dogs whose name she had already forgotten, being somewhat dazed earlier, unsure whether it was Maggi or Moggi.

Venas grunted in appreciation as he surveyed the homestead area, already looking for a sheltered place outside where he could sleep. Then he walked in the direction of the river, tilting his head. "Hrng..." Venas made eye contact with Mokkan, pointed in that direction, and mimed drinking and bathing, eyebrows raised in a question. On the populated center island, the water usually needed boiling first because of contamination from people and livestock. He gestured as well to the pack that was around the horse's shoulders, checking whether help was needed to unload anything.

Ualani saw Venas gesturing, and she looked around the homestead again to see if there was already a rain barrel or bathtub on site. Alsira and Pol were now quite low in the sky, and it would likely be cool and dark soon. All she wanted was to drink water, bathe, and sleep for the night, so that she could start to process everything that had happened in the past couple of hours since the ship had landed in these new lands.

Mokkan pointed to several troughs high in the air, a small spout available to open to drink. "Drink there. Rivers not the cleanest 'less you like grit. Fine to bathe in. Get sandles from by the door the rocks are sharp." He didn't answer the question about time alone but his shoulders sunk slightly as he unwrapped his boots. His tools were worn. His table cracking from the sunshine. He had paths long tamped down from using them again and again. "Drink, bathe. I'll make you food and set clothes to the river bank." He waved them both off, unloading Tower on his own and carrying the supplies inside. The only clothes he had in Venas' size were quite old, but well maintained. Both a dress and shirt and trousers were left for Ualani to decide on. Boots for both would have to be made another day. He lit off a fire and cooked several sausages and eggs. Mokkan remembered ships and how little food there was along with the limited variety. And he'd been a guest nevermind a slave. The remaining half of the melon got split between the two plates. He ducked inside the yurt, flipping open a trunk. He was accustomed to the dim light, knowing where everything was even in the pitch dark. Extra mats were unrolled and covered in furs, one being a wolf and the other a big cats. Once the suns sank it could become bitter cold.... He sighed fussing with blankets and resigning to 'it'd have to do,' ducking back outside to check on them both from a distance. As the suns slipped below the horizon he'd checked his animals and sat by the fireside, nursing a bottle of wine and leaning back heavy on his left, his bare feet set close to the fire to keep warm. A few mats made of reeds kept him out of the dirt. Maggi had laid close to his back and Moggi was off prowling the dark, Tower bedded down in the field standing just inside the reach of the firelight. "Eat. Before it's cold." He'd advise as the two returned, gesturing to where their plates sat, and downing a mouthful of wine. Throug

06:15

h the opening in the trees above Mokkan watched Ometa rise, the large moon circled by a bright star; Easa. He smiled softly seeing their comforting light. Neither were ever alone and for some reason, that'd always gave him comfort. These unknowable celestial bodies, they didn't care of companionship but Mokkan always liked to pretend they did. Hells, if the locals were to be believed the suns and moons were once people birthed from the Allmother. Queen Lendnai was too.... Mokkan drank to that thought and stretched his feet back to the fire, chastising his foolishness. Had he become so alone he pretended the denizens of the sky were his people? Thumping his head to his arm he watched the flickering fire, waiting for the wine to set in on his pain.

Both of them drank hungrily from the spout, Venas striding past Mokkan and Ualani to gulp down the water. Ualani shuffled over and drank for longer, feeling her dehydration headache start to recede after a few minutes. Then they slipped their feet into the woven reed sandals, too large for them as they were made in Mokkan's size, and headed off to the river. Venas walked a little behind and to the left of Ualani, assuming that Mokkan would want him to help in case she slipped and worsened her injury. The water was cool, coming from uphill, the source probably a mountain spring. The two went in clothed and scrubbed their skin and their scalps as best they could with their hands. Ualani untied her braids and let the water flow through them, shivering. She was the only one unused to bathing regularly in cold water, having had a wooden bathtub before in which she used to pour boiled lukewarm water over herself. When the two stepped out of the river, they turned away from each other and stripped their wet rags quickly, drying bodies with clean, old pieces of cloth set out on the riverbank next to the clothes.

Venas hesitated when he saw the secondhand clothes from Mokkan. He grumbled to himself as he covered his crotch with a drying cloth and stood in the grass frowning down at them, conflicted, not wanting to be beholden to someone he hadn't even done work for yet. As the humid air grew colder, he put them on instead of his own ragged clothes, figuring that it was fine since they seemed too small for Mokkan anyway, but fit his 5'10" frame.

Ualani chose the dress, unused to wearing trousers. At 5'3" tall and skinny, the dress was a little loose and baggy just as she preferred it, with skirts wide enough to hike up to her knees and straddle a horse. She was surprised that it was new and unworn. Had Mokkan bought or traded for this just for her? Wanting the dress to last a long time, she wrung out her old rags. Those could be sewn into an apron to protect her new dress. The dress would have to be hemmed. She pulled up the last few inches of the skirt and tied it up with the leather cords for her braids, so that it wouldn't drag on the grass and dirt as she shuffled back to the fire in the sandals.

Back at the fire pit, he removed the sandals and sat cross-legged on another rush mat opposite Mokkan and took a plate of food. He grunted his thanks and scarfed it down loudly, enjoying the warm supper. After he finished, he leaned back against the hewn wooden bench behind him and put up a knee. Across the fire, his blue eyes watched the woman's plate of food as well as Mokkan's bottle of wine, then looked around the darkness, getting a feel for what the shadowy shapes were at the edge of the firelight. He wondered where the closest homestead to this place was, and what was out in the wilderness...

She ate slowly and gratefully, savoring the food, sitting on the bench near where Mokkan lay. She pushed away the egg, ate a bite of sausage, and most of the melon, her stomach not used to solid food after the week of gruel. She glanced down at Mokkan, unable to see his face. He now seemed weary like her, maybe even sad. She set her plate on the bench and scooted closer to where his head was. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped, ran her fingers through her damp, drying hair and thought. Then she hesitantly leaned down to touch his shoulder to get his attention before speaking, dark green eyes looking near his face but not meeting his eyes. Her soft voice was a low alto, monotone as usual. "Did you already eat while preparing our supper? Sorry... I can't finish... Do you want this?"

He shifted enough to see what she offered, tiredness visible in his eyes. "If Venas doesn't want it give it to the dogs." He decided, smiling softly at her. "Theres mats inside to sleep. Leave the curtain open for air if you'd like." He advised lightly, half rolled enough to see her in the flickering firelight. "I'm in no mood to eat." It wasn't much a lie. Food felt too daunting to think about and he was afraid to put too much weight on his hip should his leg buckle. Rolling onto his back he eventually pushed up enough to sit upright, groaning under his breath. "Ualani. Inside the house just on the right is a cane. Will you fetch it for me?" He asked her carefully waiting for her to return with it. The cane was an old thing, made from bone and wood, the handle wrapped in a thin fabric stitched with stars in gold. He carefully pushed up with the stick in hand, bare feet quiet in the soil, disappearing into the dark. He had a path in mind but felt he must return to it again alone. Having charges in his care again felt strange. He was responsible for lives again. Leaning heavy on his cane he settled into his walk, soreness slowing him down. He barely kept his eyes open trying to keep his thoughts level. He quickly forgot where he was and where he was going until he settled in the grass of field once his hip failed him. Ometa above him shined so brightly and her brother watched him lay pitiful in the field. Towers heavy thumping footsteps echoed hollow in his ears like a tin drumbeat. Her broad body laid heavy by him, and he rolled hiding his face in her mane. It'd always been them. Lost in a world that hadn't wanted him. He fell asleep out there, tucked close to Towers side. The dogs stayed at the homestead.

After obediently fetching the cane for Mokkan as quickly as she could, and watching him walk away slowly into the dark, Ualani sat by the fire as Venas quickly ate the rest of her food. She was waiting for the other man to return, looking out towards the edges of the firelight where he'd walked off. She had caught his soft, tired smile out of the corner of her vision. Was he really fine with having someone like her for a partner? After a while when Mokkan didn't return, she started to wonder about what he had to attend to in the night. When the humid night air felt too cold for her thin body, she went into the yurt and laid down on a mat as Mokkan had suggested, shuffling and feeling around in the dark, being careful not to re-injure her sprained ankle by tripping in the unfamiliar space. Ualani curled up on her side under the wolf's pelt on a mat, her bruised eye up. Finally, a bed to sleep in again–not the cold, hard deck of a swaying, sickening ship. The sound of crashing ocean waves and creaky planks were replaced here by sounds of a crackling fire, the faint rippling of the river, the chirp and buzz of many night insects in the undergrowth, the occasional call of a bird or a strange animal echoing in the canopy of trees beyond the homestead. This strange new land was to be her home, Ualani repeated to herself. It was a soothing thought. It was warm inside with the curtain closed trapping the heat of the day. She silently gave her thanks to the stars for a safe place to live.

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She forced herself to stay awake to wait for Mokkan. Left alone, her thoughts rushed at her. She felt some anxiety and confusion about why the man who'd ordered a partner wasn't taking her body on the night of purchase. She wondered whether he was all right going off into the cold dark with a cane. Did he want to be away from her? Did he dislike her and regret the purchase? No, he could have simply refused to take her. Did he have neighbors, other women, he wanted to bed and the intent was for her to only do labor and bear children? Maybe. Or perhaps she was too ugly and skinny and useless? She ought to try meeting his gaze to understand him better, if she could even please him. It could be overwhelming to look into strangers' eyes, especially his stunning golden ones. With strangers, it was better to pretend she didn't notice anyone, to attract as little attention as possible, sometimes even better to not exist. The scent of this pelt–was the man's scent on it as well? It was somewhat comforting. This was her home now, right? Somewhere safe, no longer alone, despite the current situation curled up alone in the yurt. Maybe life wouldn't be bad anymore... Her thoughts faded to nothingness when the exhaustion of the week overtook her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Venas gulped down the rest of Ualani's food. When Mokkan left, he also picked up the wine bottle and tried to sip any last drops. He then got up and peered around the homestead in the firelight. He rifled through Mokkan's tools until he found something small for cutting reeds and rush grasses. He then grunted and gestured at one of the dogs, hoping that it would follow him to the river for protection. As he plodded towards the river in the borrowed overlarge sandals, he looked around for any path through the grass to see where Mokkan might have gone, but it was difficult for him to make out anything unusual in the soft light of the moons and stars, as he wasn't used to this island. He still stayed alert for any danger in the dark, not sure if any tamped-down grass he saw were animal tracks or human tracks. In the river, he washed the simple wooden plates. The water was quite chilly now. After he shook them off, he quickly cut some grasses and reeds that he could use to weave his own sandals or other small items. When he made his way back to the fire, he laid them out on one of the hewn benches along with the plates to dry, and put the tool back in its place. He had also grabbed some dead branches and grasses along the way, which he fed to the fire to keep it going strong. Some of them refused to burn; he'd have to figure out which were best for kindling in this humid new land. (edited)

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Ualani seemed to be waiting for Mokkan to return even though she was shivering, still sitting on the bench. Her dark green eyes met Venas's blue ones in a question, but he shrugged to indicate that he hadn't run into the other man. When Ualani went into the yurt, Venas followed, stepping carefully in the dark, something that he was accustomed to. Assuming that Mokkan might return to sleep inside, he grabbed a pelt and returned to the fire, moving all the mats together to make himself a bed. He stretched out with his back facing the fire, head next to one of the benches, hoping that it wouldn't get too cold or rain that night. He was pretty satisfied: his stomach was full, he didn't have to hide, it was relatively safe, and there was an island to explore, many different foods to try, and unknown possibilities. If he were bought by someone good in two weeks, maybe he could make something of himself, finally live his life like that person had wanted him to. Venas stretched his fingers, then tucked his hands into his armpits to keep them warm. He took a deep breath and let out a loud sigh to relax. Then he drifted off to sleep, the sound of his light snoring audible amongst the sounds of nature.

Maggi got up to trot after him, laying on the riverbank until he returned. Mokkan was there in the morning, gutting a fish clean on a mat. The day was already hot and he'd taken off his shirt leaving his scars apparent. His back had a large symbol carved or burned deep in the skin, leaving large thick raised lines. Circles intersected on circles crossed through with lines making an endless loop that spanned his spine. He tossed the guts into the fire, easily fileting the fish with his thin knife. He was sore and exhausted but felt better his dreams those of comfort. A bit of fat got tossed into the pan to melt and the fish filets dropped in to cook. Once both had woke, he collected both to sit on the bench like children. "I have no desire to keep servants or slaves." He explained gently, holding out the small pages of paperwork to them both. "If you wish to stay, you may. If you wish to leave, I will give you enough food to get to the bay to the south. They take anyone to the center islands." He left them to sort out which papers was who's. He'd debated it all morning.... he knew the man wasn't likely to stay but the woman he wasn't sure. He tugged free the fish filets from the pan and put in the next two thumping to sit back on his mat with a gourd splitting it with his knife. The morning chores still needed to be done. His dogs had wandered down to the river chasing a large lizard a while ago and had yet to return. His thoughts were scattered beyond belief this morning.... The fish filets got split between his small wood plates, slices of the gourd still filled with their soft insides set nearby them. "Come eat at least... before you decide." <Photo is example of Mokkans scar, far right is at the top of his back and the left, the bottom>

Ualani looked at the scars on Mokkan's broad back, the designs reminding her of celestial bodies in orbit. Her fingers twitched, automatically wanting to feel the raised scars, a slightly different color on the man's dark skin, wondering why the designs hadn't instead been tattooed. As she sat obediently on the bench in front of Mokkan during his announcement, she stared in surprise between the lower half of his face and at the papers, her breath catching. Why was he doing this? She knew she was disposable, anyone could take or leave her. But it still hurt a little... And why in the stars would he buy someone just to let them go? That was a waste of precious gold. She felt somewhat appalled that a person could throw away gold so easily–something that she'd struggled for almost her whole life, and gotten into this situation because of it. She thought about her decision while eating the fish slowly, using her tongue to work the flesh off the small bones, trying not to feel.

He didn't like to sit too close to anyone or directly obey anyone, valuing his agency even in the small things, so he chose to sit cross-legged on a mat again. He was more used to the ground, anyway. When Mokkan spoke, Venas's eyes widened and brows furrowed as though the speaking man had gone crazy. His expression said, What's wrong with you? By the nine, this man knew that he'd been a criminal–the seller's assistant had said as much–and neither of them knew anything about the woman. Both of them could be murderers, for all they knew. Wasn't it foolish to just let both of them go? Now that he thought about it, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion at Mokkan. Was he, too, someone deemed harmful to society? Living so remotely in the tropical forest away from the little port town... Whatever–it was none of Venas's business. Venas jerked his head in the negative and tossed the papers lightly onto the bench. He couldn't read most of the words, anyway. It was safest here on this homestead. He'd work for Mokkan and be returned to the shipmaster in two weeks, sticking to the original plan. A part of him didn't want Mokkan to lose gold to the shipmaster because Mokkan had been decent. A subconscious part of him (that he ignored and didn't like to acknowledge) was hoping for a good buyer, maybe even someone similar to that person. He did want to be free, but for the moment, staying here was safest if he was to become familiar with these lands. And he could try to run from his future owner if it didn't work out. He was satisfied for now. But now he also thought Mokkan might not be all there in the head. He was the only normal person here, wasn't he?

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He sucked and chewed on the fish, loudly spitting out bones–pretty tasty, he thought. After he drank from the spout again, he stood just outside of the benches crossing his arms and waited to listen to what the woman had to say as he looked around the homestead in the morning light. He didn't care what she chose to do, but she might ask something useful.

She didn't pick up the papers after she ate some of the fish and all of the gourd, again passing the leftovers to Venas, who quickly ate them and spit the fish bones back onto the plate. She saw that he'd shaken his head no and set his papers down. She went to drink water as well, then returned to where Mokkan was. "What chores can we do?" was all she asked of him. Even though her tone was polite and her face still expressionless, her voice seemed a little firmer, or maybe colder, than before. "Other than the chores, I'd like to hem this dress and make an apron from my old one. Would you show me where things are, please?"

"Will you collect eggs please." He offered a basket to do so, talking soft. His wrists had similar scars to her own though faded now and old. "I will have to make you a needle. I don't have any anymore." When he caught her eye he had to stop her, the supressed pain making his stomach twist. Mokkan's hold was soft and careful cradling her arm. "I can see it in your eyes that you're cross of me..." His jaw clenched. He'd never been good at reading people. Aggression or violence was one thing but softness was foreign to him. "I value freedom. Above all. To tie you to me with a piece of paper and ink disgusts me. I have no interest in holding a leash made by others and forced around your throat." He let go of her arm, rough fingers gently lifting her chin to meet his eye. He knew it caused her discomfort potentially considering she avoided looking directly anywhere. "I am not telling you to leave, nor trying to get rid of you. But I cannot follow my creed while holding your life papers." His eyes were tarnished gold embers, heavy with exhaustion and worry. He'd never worried so much for someone's thoughts.... "Venas. If you wish me to, I will make sure you're 'lost' to the shipmaster when you're due. Money be damned." He advised as he passed, picking up a long wooden swatch stick and heading for the mud walled pens. One held chickens and the other native pigs. Both were smaller scavenger species native to the islands, fed mostly by fruit falling from trees around them. With his swatch stick he scratched several of the pigs simply out of the amusement to do so and watch them roll about, then set to clean some of the mess from the pens and laying out reeds and grass. Collected eggs were stored in the cellar of the yurt. His home was made in those of nomads from the farthest south island but more permanent. He was on the wrong end of the archipelago.... he had her collect fruit nearby if she was still eager to work, Venas cutting down and sharpening branches for sta

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kes, and Mokkan pulling out books from the trunk inside. He'd had the books for a long time most of them seeming to be history and stories from the maps inside. He also found a small bit of ink, curious of something. He knew he was scarred, but had no idea how it looked....

She saw the scars on his wrists from the cuffs or chains. So he'd somehow been in captivity before, too. That helped explain his motivations a bit, she thought. She met his eyes briefly and blinked away, looking at a spot between his brows instead, which from afar made most people think she was making eye contact. She'd been okay meeting Venas's eyes a couple of times because he'd been trapped on the same ship for a week without reacting, but she'd only known this man for less than a day. Plus, maybe he wanted her to stay... His fingers were calloused, but gentle on her arm and chin. When he let go, she stood in place for a second, a little dazed. She followed Mokkan to collect eggs, kneeling near him as he scratched the pigs. "Wait, Mokkan... Then why did you buy a partner, if you have no interest in a forced partnership?" It was probably a difficult question, she thought. She glanced up briefly to look around his tired golden eyes, not quite meeting them but at least not completely avoiding them anymore. She wanted to ask, too, where he'd been last night, but it wasn't her business. She'd been confused. Now she realized he trusted her to not run off last night–or maybe he hadn't cared much. But even if he'd been in another man or woman's bed, she wouldn't be jealous. He was kind. She wanted to be useful to him. Later, after she put the eggs into the yurt cellar, she obediently collected fruit, the fallen ripe ones on the ground that hadn't been bruised or already fed on by animals. She thanked the Allmother for providing such a bountiful land.

He gathered the ripe fruits hanging from the branches so that Ualani wouldn't have to tiptoe to reach them on her sprained ankle. After he prepared the branches into stakes and secured them where Mokkan wanted, he took a drink of water and plopped down cross-legged in the shade just inside the clearing of the homestead to weave himself some sandals from the rush grasses and reeds he'd gathered last night. He thought about Mokkan's words. What to do...? He, too, valued freedom above all else, but to have it alone in this land...?

She also drank water after gathering fruit in the humid heat, and then looked around the homestead for things she could help with, deciding to weed and get familiar with the farming area, something she was used to. It was a pity that her new dress was already getting dirty, she thought, tying it up around her knees to crouch down. Her second leather cord kept her single short braid in place. She looked up at Mokkan as he emerged from the yurt...

"I don't know." was all he said in answer, and it was truth, "Suppose out of... I don't know, envious pining." His dogs seemed overly clingy to his side, even nipping at his pants which received them quiet chastisations. When she returned to the fire he paused her with a soft word. "Ualani. Can you draw?" He offered the small paper book and charcoal pencil, "I want to know what's on my back." He said lightly, trying to sound like it wasn't something dreadfully important. He'd always been curious of his scars, able to feel them if he reached back, but it'd always felt too strange to decode. "Just sometime. Not saying right now." He smiled softly. He noted her seeming worry over her dress, "You do know trousers are easier than the skirts right?" He chuckled teasing softly. He'd sat to make needles for her, taking his knife and chisel to a bit of bone and a whetstone to the point. The afternoon was going to be hot, considering it was already rising, and the shade and gentle breeze brought much needed relief. He hoped it would rain, if even for a few minutes to refill their water. He'd have to make another trough.... "Towards the evening I'm going out to the farther orchards for food." He announced, chisel shaving away a piece of bone. "After lunch I mean." Lunch was fish he cleaned of bones wrapped in thin bread made from flour and water, corn and peas inside with it. Mokkan liked pumpkins and gourds it seemed from, baking slices of it in his metal pot nestled into the coals. Mokkan wasn't sure where Venas had gone, but he'd done enough that it wasn't something to worry on. The stakes were secured on the edge of the river, locked in place by thick bricks dug down into the bank and buried to stay put. He knew the preparations weren't enough, and were likely foolish, but it was better than nothing.... "Venas! Food!" He barked loud, unsure exactly where the man had squirreled off too. The fish bread pockets were separated out to plates as well as the baked pumpkin,

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now soft and crusted with spices that had been dried in the cellar. He was starving downing his portion quickly, eyes lingering on the fire and the river beyond sparkling in the sunshine.

"I'll try." She took the paper and charcoal and then shuffled behind Mokkan to sketch as he created the bone needles. She handed him her sketch. Her drawing was terrible in proportions and the number of lines and shapes. It didn't look at all like what was on Mokkan's back. She didn't see this, however. Her drawing seemed pretty good to her. She thought his design looked like a detailed conch shell, and she was satisfied with her sketch of a conch shell with some artistic liberties taken. "May I ask how you got this?" She asked him gently.

When he heard the call for food, he returned, wearing sandals that fit, carrying more branches under one arm, and a pheasant-like bird with its neck bloodied and broken in his other hand. There was an overripe stone fruit stuffed in his mouth and several more in his pockets. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he seemed a little tired. He dropped the branches on the ground. More stakes couldn't hurt, though he didn't know what for, and the branches that were too small could be used for firewood. He tossed the pheasant onto the bench, wiped his hands on his trousers, then ate the fruits leisurely as he looked at what Ualani was showing Mokkan. By the nine, her drawing was awful. He almost spat out his fruit in a laugh of disbelief. He grunted, reaching out for the book, and when Ualani handed it over, he ripped out an empty page and grabbed the charcoal from her as well. Then he walked around behind Mokkan, reached up and tapped the paper against his upper back, and lightly brushed it over with charcoal. Because the scars were large, thick, raised lines, the charcoal caught on them and left a shaded impression of the design on the paper. Venas pushed the paper and charcoal at Ualani, grabbed his plate of fish sandwiches and roasted spiced pumpkin while nodding his thanks to Mokkan, and went to sit elsewhere in the shade to enjoy his meal. He'd sharpen the branches into stakes, set them in place, and prepare the bird afterwards, curious how it'd taste.

Ualani studied the partial design on the paper. Why hadn't she thought of doing that? "I'll do the rest of your back while you eat," she mumbled, embarrassed. It would take a few pages, for Mokkan's back was broad. As he quickly downed his food, she set shaded page after page on the bench beside him until she was done and the charcoal piece had been blunted and shortened in length. She then picked up her own food to eat on a bench that was in the shade of a tree, so she wouldn't get more freckles. "Do you know what it is?" She asked quietly of the design. (edited)

He paused, aligning the pages, fingertips skimming over it. "This is all the celestial bodies." His finger went to the one that was highest near his neck and went down, "Moon Ometa. Sun Alsira. Sun Pol. Sun Easa. Queen Lendnai. The Allmother in the center. Asaris and Gorasis when they are apart. Then when they travel the sky together.... The lines are how they travel the sky." He listed the names with gentle awe and reverence. Soft and gentle. He touched the last circle, but didn't talk of it. "Thank you both." Mokkan murmured, carefully gathering the pages together with reverence. He knew what was permanent in his skin now..... He took Ualani's drawing carefully as well with a smile setting it with all his papers safely in his trunk. Seeing Venas fighting with the birds feathers he set on water to scald and giving a cloth to protect his arm from any steam. He set out a mat in the shade to lay out on and nap Maggi laying by his side. The island didn't have many small dangers that'd attack men, especially himself. Many animals would prefer to avoid them, and biting insect populations were low despite the heat. Further into the island it became more dangerous as one entered into the valley. Both Alsira and Pol shined brightly, upping the heat of the day, but Ometa would shine full tonight. The large moon could shine bright as her sibling suns.... Mokkan planned silently to travel further inland with her light and cooler temperatures. Mokkan fell asleep stretched on the mat. Maggi and Moggi acted odd, even to the two who barely knew them. The followed the two about and would settle facing their master, as if attempting to protect Ualani and Venas from the sleeping man.

Time passed as it does, Mokkan suddenly aware of every moment. A sudden lack of daily work left him to do longer tasks. Feeding animals, collecting eggs, farming and foraging within a mile of the homestead. Fishing and trapping, digging the mud for hardshelled crabs. Mokkan could hunt again, returning from day long trips with enough meat to salt to keep excess.... The time without small tasks gave him time for larger. Repairing the beams of the yurt with bamboo from farther down the valley. The entire island lead down to a lake in the center. He could dig down a support for a new water trough. A smaller tree got downed and he hacked down the trunk to a usable length, enoigh to make two troughs. The inside was hacked down by hand with an axehead and put on a stand of branches whittled into place. It was low enough to be used as a sink and to wash clothes not in the slightly dirty river. He'd talk, but not of himself. Mostly of where to get food, where he was going, what he was doing, what to cook or find. Mostly he talked to himself; humming and muttering about as he worked. It tended to rain every other day for a short time; enough to fill the troughs and he often set out his pot to catch extra water. The rain would patter off the trees and at night rise the mist into mostly transparent swirls. He only slept inside when it rained or he had throuroughly exhausted himself, wrapping up on his mat tight as if a blanket could keep out anything and only long after the other two retired for the night.... On the fourth day the dogs had found a snake that Mokkan caught with a hastily made forked spear, beheading and tossing the body to the pigs which tore it apart. He spent a good hour watching the head moving in the dirt. Any trips a long way out he'd take them with if they wished, but largely avoided anywhere men might go. About a mile out into the jungle, they stepped over a path that had been worn in maybe over years. Trees bore gouges in the wood, and in a small

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area there was broken structures vaguely resembled Mokkan's yurt. He walked past it without mention. He didn't force conversation or touch, just offered food, a place to sleep, and knowledge. What could be eaten and how to prepare it. Animals to avoid and what they looked like. Useful plants for medicine and sleep. How to make snares and kindling. He spent the two weeks catching up on supplies and preparing for something, based on his seeming worry about spiking the river bank and the animals. But first came returning Venas.... Mokkan was still seeming cross, packing Tower with supplies. His main hobby seemed to be carving. The spare wood from the tree was kept to be made into tools, and a few finished things were to be packed and traded out in town. He bent offering the step again for Ualani to get on the horse, holding Venas' paperwork. "What I offered still stands. You don't need to return." Mokkan tugged on his coat, tieing it with his sword belt and sheathing the weapon. "I will still pay to leave you go wherever you wish."

In the two weeks that passed, the two new newcomers helped with the daily chores as they got accustomed to the land with Mokkan's shared knowledge.

Venas preferred to go out and do fishing, trapping, foraging, digging for crabs and root vegetables, and other work such as gathering firewood and building up more spikes, though he didn't know why, as he never saw any animal scat, prints, or carcasses indicating a threat. He shrugged as he put in the spikes, and figured that maybe Mokkan was just protective of his property and that was where his homestead ended. He also helped with the butchering and preserving of meat. He made more sandals and hats from reeds and rush grasses for himself and Ualani, and some capes too for the rain. He made some rudimentary clay jars or containers when Ualani asked, seeing him digging by the riverbank. He remembered some basic techniques he'd seen from a potter while living in town, and experimented with drying and baking the clay near the fire pit until he was able to make a couple of large jars. He only slept inside the yurt tight against the wall facing it when it rained, preferring to sleep with his back to the fire and his face to a bench most nights. Part of him felt awkward at potentially interrupting intimacy between Mokkan and Ualani–if there was any. He was clueless about these things and didn't care anyway, but wanted to give them space.

Ualani preferred to farm, forage, take care of the animals, and prepare foods, beverages, and medicines. She washed all their clothing, swept, and kept things tidy. With the salt and spices that Mokkan had, she made some pickled and fermented foods such as kimchi and raw marinated crabs. She stored them in Venas's clay jars in the cooler ground closer to the river. She didn't know what the other seasons would be like in terms of food, and she wanted some variety in textures and flavors. Venas was out when the dogs found the snake. Near the end of the hour when Mokkan had been watching the snake head moving in the dirt, with Ualani working in the garden and passing by him every so often to drink water or gather supplies, she suddenly stopped in front of Mokkan and crushed the snake's skull with one of the tools she'd been using to dig and transplant root vegetables, making sure to keep her sandaled feet away from the fangs. She frowned a little as she scooped up the snake head with the brim of her hat and tossed it out to their trash area. She shook off her hat and resumed her chores without a word. Ualani would pull her mat closer to Mokkan's if she woke during the night and discovered him sleeping inside. She would watch his exhausted, sleeping face with the Ometa's light coming in through a sliver of curtain, and feel a little lonely. She tried to talk sometimes to ask how he was doing, even though she disliked being asked that and small talk in general. When she saw Mokkan spending free time carving, she'd ask whether he wanted something from his books read to him. (edited)

The two weeks passed and it was now the day that the shipmaster, or human merchandise seller, would return to Allmother's Skull and Mind.

Ualani shook her head gently at Mokkan's offer to get onto Tower. "Someone should stay and handle the chores since your journey will take a couple of hours." She didn't say the following, but she realized she had no desire to see the ocean and that sickening ship full of screaming or half-dead humans so soon. She might visit the tiny port village another time if she needed to buy something they lacked.

Venas got onto the back of Tower so that Mokkan could sit in the front. For some reason, Venas had chosen to wear his hat and rain cape, as though he wanted to be disguised, and he also hunched down so that his body could be hidden better behind Mokkan if the other man chose to ride. His plan was to stealthily watch what kind of buyer came forth that would make the seller call number 13. He'd try to judge that buyer and see whether they seemed good. If not, he'd return and settle down somewhere near Mokkan and Ualani, not wanting to intrude any longer on what he thought was a romantic couple. He wasn't sure how to communicate his plan to Mokkan, but he looked literally and figuratively shady with his woven hat pressed low covering his face and rush grass rain poncho unnecessarily covering his body in the humid sunlight after breakfast.

"Stay safe." He smiled softly, bowing his head gently in acknowledgement of her plan to stay. When the dogs got up to follow Mokkan ordered them to remain with a sharp sound that hardly could be called a word. Both immediately laid back down with happy wiggles to them, excited to do well. "Hold on Venas. We're going fast." He advised, clicking to Tower. He'd made a more comfortable seat for guest riders, with proper stirrups. He'd never had issue keeping on his horse but it was also his and he'd never had it otherwise. When he'd been making it he'd procured a saddle. One night they didn't have it and the next he had one, though it was old and not maintained. He'd not answer where he got it or where it went to when he was finished. Towers hooves pounded through the thin trail. She was large enough undergrowth wasn't much a problem. Mokkan kept low, blocking off anything that might hit Venas behind him. At the path marred by animal signs, which Mokkan had described as 'the end of his territory' Tower stopped nickering and trying to walk in the wrong direction, forcing Mokkan to get down and force her the other way. She seemed conflicted and it was the first time one of his animals disobeyed him. Mokkan tsked keeping her moving until he was sure Tower was on the correct path. Swinging onto her back he patted her shoulder, clicking her back to movement. "We can leave her at the forest edge so you can hide better. Since you're insistent on this." He offered, annoyed slightly by it, sighing.

He'd been looking around alertly, wondering whether Tower had sensed danger, when she'd refused to continue walking towards the little port village. He'd never seen Tower and Mokkan not get along before and wondered whether she'd been like this the time Mokkan had come to the port two weeks ago to pick up him and Ualani. He wondered whether he'd be all right tonight if he stayed away from the two... After Mokkan spoke, he gave a shrug of apology and a grunt of thanks, seeing that the other man was cross. He firmly patted Mokkan on his coat shoulder in solidarity before slipping off the horse at the treeline. He spotted the ship and the round shipmaster where they should be, so he looked for a spot nearby in the shadow behind a merchant's stall to loiter, sitting on the ground half hidden behind a barrel. He could have passed for a servant or slave taking a break from doing chores in the marketplace if he hadn't been so strangely dressed for the weather. Since it was midmorning, it appeared as though the seller hadn't been calling orders for long yet as the ship was just starting to be unloaded, so Venas didn't think he'd missed the number being called. A half hour passed. The suns were hot, and sweat trickled down his back under the humidity of his rain poncho, since the cooler ocean breeze couldn't reach him.

21:02

"Thirteen!" He finally heard the seller looking through the pages call the number. The seller looked up expectantly at his assistants on the ship who pushed through the crowd looking at their brands, waiting. After two weeks, he'd probably forgotten that the number wouldn't be found on the ship. Venas stood up and sneaked closer through the patchy shadows of small buildings, patches of trees, and stalls to get a better look at the people waiting in front of the shipmaster–his potential buyers. There was a woman dressed in fine, light-colored clothing, including embroidered trousers wide enough to be mistaken for a dress, and a matching niqab for the sun. She was gazing up at the ship, so Venas couldn't see her face. Beside her was a man with a grass-and-linen hat protecting his face and neck. He loosely held the reins of two animals that looked like crosses between mules and waterbuck, loaded with light packs. The man was dressed in clean, unadorned clothes, and his arm holding the reins had the telltale scars of a former captive and a dark tattoo over the old brand on his wrist. When he turned to say something to the woman that couldn't be heard over the sound of the waves and bustle of the crowds in the marketplace, Venas saw that the man had a handsome, swarthy face with slanted eyes and a casual half-smile on his lips. The woman nodded and replied, but her niqab with intricate embroidery and swaying beads hid her face. They seemed to be unaffected by the distressed or raucous noises coming from the ship.

"There's no thirteen!" An assistant shouted down from the ship. "What? Ah, that unruly one..." The seller remembered, muttering to himself. He flipped to the back of his transaction pages and found the agreement with Mokkan's squiggle of a signature: No. 13 loaned to buyer Mokk for two weeks. "Damn, he hasn't shown up..." The seller's face flushed red with embarrassment and frustration as he glanced at the buyer. "Ah, apologies. One minute, ma'am." He stepped around her and looked through the crowds in the little port village, wondering whether he'd been conned by this 'Mokk' who hadn't even used a legitimate-looking signature.

Venas took a deep breath and let out an audible exhale. He removed his rain poncho, tucking it under his arm. He pushed his hat up so that his eyes could be seen. Then he looked nervously towards Mokkan and then tilted his head towards the shipmaster to request that they go forward. As he went, his fists were shoved into his pockets and his shoulders were hunched.

He tsked moving forwards, standing in view but arms crossed, barely within the edge of the crowd. He wasn't foolish enough to make a debt to slavers. His fingers lingered on the hilt of his sword, shifting his weight ready to move. If Venas needed him, he'd move to cover him. Keep control... He let out a breath, steam between his teeth curling in the air. Gold eyes followed where Venas walked ahead of him. "I very much have." He barked hearing the Sellars comments. He kept staring him down with a pointed glare at even the insinuation he'd break a deal. He sighed softly watching Venas in what he realized was disappointment. Mokkan didn't mind the man.... Part of him hoped he'd turn back and come home.

The seller heard Mokkan's irate callout and exhaled in relief when he saw the Wildman crossing his arms at the edge of the crowd. Then he spotted his lent property walking towards the ship. The seller upsold the value of the merchandise so that he could ask for more payment, pointing at Venas. "There's your order. Good vigor for a partner. Healthy enough that we loaned him for labor for a couple of weeks." The woman turned around and watched as Venas stopped in front of her. The lean man holding the reins of the bovids turned and stepped forward, looking Venas up and down with his slanted, reddish-brown eyes. Under the hat, he appeared around mid-30s. There was an ivory-handled dagger in an embossed sheath tied to his lithe waist by a cloth belt, partially covered by his loose, tied-up sleeves. "Hey there. Why don't you take off your hat and show us your mouth," he said to Venas with a relaxed grin. "Say 'ah.'"

Venas tucked his hat under the same arm holding the rain cape and opened his mouth to let the man check his teeth and gums. The man was an inch or two taller than him.

"Seems fine," he reported with a satisfied tone over his shoulder to the woman, then stepped to the side of Venas that had his free hand in his pocket. "The ma'am ordered a partner, not a servant, so she's going to have to inspect you. Everything in working order 'round here?" He motioned nonchalantly between his own legs.

Venas blinked and looked a little taken aback, but jerked his head once in a nod. He swallowed as the woman stepped forward, his arm tight around his items, the other fisted in his pocket, staring at her. Only the woman's eyes could be seen beneath the ornate niqab. They were so dark as to appear black, with just a hint of eggplant color around the pupils.

The woman appeared a couple of inches taller than Ualani. She checked Venas's scalp as though looking for skin ailments or ticks, quickly brushing his hair away from a spot behind his ear with two fingers. Venas stood frozen in place, holding his breath. The woman then leaned in and sniffed at his neck through the material of her niqab. Her eyes seemed to curve up from the bottom in a smile, though the rest of her face couldn't be seen. Then she reached down her hand and smoothly cupped him between the legs.

"Hrrngh!" Eyes wide with shock, Venas immediately shoved her forearm away with the hand that had been in his pocket. The chestnut-eyed man pressed Venas's arm back with an easy athleticism.

"Easy there. We don't mean any harm. Told you the ma'am needs to make sure you're a suitable partner," he said, patting Venas on the shoulder. "Or do you prefer men?" In that case, he'd have to ask the seller for a swap.

Venas growled, disconcerted, not really answering. He stood still again, averting his eyes. He put his fist back into his trousers and stood with a wider stance, clenching his teeth and steeling himself.

The buyer stepped forward and more slowly cupped Venas between the legs again, watching his face carefully. She shifted her hand around and moved her fingers gently as though inspecting both his assets and his reaction. Venas flushed pink, and he looked like he was trying to not squirm away. The muscles in his face moved restlessly even though he was trying to stay expressionless, staring at the sand. The buyer then slipped her other hand into the waistband to take a brief look inside. Venas's muscles were tight with tension. The seller was watching the buyer, arms crossed as he waited for yet another routine inspection of his goods. Meanwhile, the man with mahogany eyes scanned the crowd, and his eyes lingered on Mokkan. He raised his eyebrows in interest and then looked Mokkan up and down appreciatively as though imagining him without the coat. The side of his lips pulled up in a friendly smile. He winked at Mokkan before turning his attention back to the others. "Diseases?" The question had come from the buyer to Venas. She withdrew her hand and stepped back.

He instantly covered his crotch with both hands, almost dropping his woven rush grass items in haste. He put his hat on tilted low to hide the ruddiness in his cheeks. Still covering his crotch with the rolled-up rain cape, he shook his head no.

"You're a suitable partner?" she asked.

He hesitated, then gave a tiny, uncertain nod.

"That'll be 35 gold, then," the seller informed the buyer pleasantly, subtly increasing the price. "Your signature here, please." He handed her the paper. "I recall, sir, that you quoted 30 when we put in the order." An eyebrow above a chestnut eye raised. "Ah, but–" "Thanks again," the woman said, cutting him off. She was holding the parchment with coins on top of it in front of the seller. As soon as he reached to accept them, the buyer pushed everything into his hands and started walking away. The mahogany-eyed man scanned the 30 coins visually. "Come on." He whispered, rushing Venas. The two strode away from the shore towards the treeline, following the woman.

Venas nodded at Mokkan gratefully as he came out of the crowds.

The chestnut-eyed man said something to the woman, handed her the reins for the ungulates, and then strolled towards Mokkan, stopping about seven feet away from him, a little behind Venas. "You're the good-looking fellow this one was working with, right? Sorry to take him away," he told Mokkan sincerely.

Venas nodded as though he were apologizing, too.

The second meeting of their eyes came with a hallucination that Mokkan did nothing to hide. Chesnut eyes plucked out and his blood soaking the dirt, feeding butterflies with its iron. A private sharing between the man and Mokkan which neither expected. He blinked it away, letting out a breath between his teeth one could mistake for steam, not breaking the stare from the other. Mokkan waved away the flattery, growling under his breath. "He can't talk." He pushed up from where he leaned, walking to him, clasping Venas' wrist as he did. "Be well, Venas. Much as I hate your choice." Much as I don't understand it. Mokkan's fingers gently crossed Venas' and in the hidden space between their palms, several coins thumped into the man's hand. "Live well." He murmured and passed leaving Venas sitting holding several heavy gold coins. They'd be enough to buy whatever he liked, well over his initial cost. Mokkan passed them without additional words nor looks, hands in his pockets and shoulders tense. The market in the distance brought a thought to the front of his mind, walking the stalls to find a tailor. Several dresses and clothes, using one of her old ones for sizing, were to be tailored for her. He'd pick them up in a few hours.... He found a place to sit in the shade, leaning back, eyes closed. Guilt at just letting Venas leave clouded his head. Would he be okay....

When Mokkan told the other parties that Venas couldn't talk, Venas's expression changed from an apologetic one to a hurt glare, feeling outed. He watched Mokkan's eyes with a scowl of betrayal as the other man dropped something into his palm. Then he felt the weight and quantity of the coins. He looked down to confirm that it was indeed an astonishing pile of gold. He felt Mokkan pass by and turned to look at the man's tensed shoulders as he left, frowning. He had his reasons for his choice, but they were too difficult to elucidate to himself, let alone others. Who was Mokkan to judge him?

"What in the stars was that?" muttered the chestnut-eyed man, also watching Mokkan. He peered at the gold in Venas's palm. "Where'd that come from? I didn't see him take it out of his pocket," he commented with suspicion. He picked up a coin to examine it in the sunlight, and then set it back into Venas's hand.

03:24

The buyer walked up to him and visually estimated the amount of currency in his hand. It had to be at least 45 or 50 gold, which was an outrageous amount, and fishy, in her opinion. Then she looked up at his troubled face. "How much do you think you're worth?" She asked Venas lightly. (edited)

His face clouded even more, eyebrows furrowed as he stared up at her in turmoil.

She handed her original companion the reins for the bovids, and then she said to Venas, "Come, my new friend. Let's buy some refreshments." The chestnut-eyed man took the rain cape from Venas and packed it into one of the animals' bags.

Venas distributed the coins in his pockets and followed the woman into the crowd.

After a few moments, the man holding the two animals found Mokkan sitting in the shade near a tailor's stall. He stood a few feet in front of Mokkan. "Excuse me. The name's Azar," he said, gesturing informally to himself.

"What was that vision you gave me? A threat? Or an invitation?" He raised an eyebrow, and his eyes had a mixture of intrigue, unease, and desire within them. Even though he wouldn't be surprised if Mokkan were a violent warrior, based on his appearance and the magical image that had appeared in his mind, he'd gotten the idea that Mokkan took pleasure in inflicting harmless pain as well. This mountain of a man was into some wild stuff, wasn't he? Thinking that, the corner of Azar's mouth crooked up into a mischievous grin, showing a sharp canine. "Are you jealous about your worker?" He teased. "It's not like you'll never see him again. We're a 20-minute walk from this village. You should visit." He waited for Mokkan's replies, admiring the man's eyes from up close. He held out his hand to shake.

"Bugger off and suck mud." He looked up lazily, holding a flask of wine in hand he'd bought. "I have no interest in him if he desires a yoke about his neck. Nor in you for holding it." He grit his teeth annoyed that his sulking was being disturbed. He knew he was being petty and foolish, somewhere in the back of his mind, but his personal foolishness tainted his thoughts. "And I gave no visions. Apparently you're ill." He grinned lazily, head back, not bothering with shaking the others hand, liking the insinuation the other was losing it. He wanted to hit the other... very hard... but more out of just. Pent energy, Mokkan supposed. "Perhaps. Now leave me to drink." He looked up as the tailor across the way waved to him. "I have people to return to. If you'll excuse me."

He snorted and shook his head at the jerk who hadn't even shaken his hand or given a name. Having nothing else to do because he had to wait for Ma'am and her new partner to go on a marketplace lunch date, Azar followed Mokkan like a graceful, hovering, yet annoying insect, dancing around the larger man on quick feet. He grinned and winked at someone richly dressed who was passing by as he spoke. His voice was suave, velvety, and rich, like a fine wine, yet animated and lilting like a storyteller's. "You've got the wrong idea. Me, a yoke-holder? I'm merely a servant." He waved his chains-scarred wrist with a tattoo in front of Mokkan's face with a flourish of his hand. "I was supposed to be Ma'am's partner, but as it turns out, I only have a taste for men. Yet she didn't return me to the ship." He laughed shortly at Mokkan's comment about the vision. "You're lying, silly. You did that on purpose, I bet. Tell me, what do you really desire?" He flashed a smile at the tailor and then leaned against the tailor's counter, standing in Mokkan's way, staring into his eyes in a challenging, yet smug and playful way.

"I desire to hit you. Very fuckin' hard. If you don't move." He said it but he also laughed, shaking his head. The tailor passed his packages past Azar's shoulder for the large man to pack away. "I have someone to return to before night fall so you'll have to entertain yourself." He put the wine bottle to Azar's chest talking over him to the tailor and paying. Mokkan talked as if words were rocks between his teeth, unsure and hesitant. Ualani's new clothes in hand he stepped away, heading for home. "Ask your mistress if she'd have clothing to spare. Finding her variation has been a struggle. Do that and perhaps I will visit, mm?" He called over his shoulder, tucking the wrapped packages under his arm and heading up the hill. His ride home was uneventful, eager to get back to Ualani. Part of him worried after having left her all day. At the homestead he let Tower loose, his worry compounding by not immediately seeing her. "Ualani?!" He tried to keep his voice light, but it was edged all the same.

Ualani stood up from tending to the farming area, and looked out at the woods beyond the clearing of the homestead, stretching her arms and back. It was humid today; the clouds were gathering into large clumps now, even though the sunlight had been bright when Mokkan and Venas had left for the port village. She tilted her hat that Venas had weaved and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She wondered whether that strange guy who had been like a surly yet childish farmhand or laborer would be coming back with Mokkan. Alsira and Pol would descend below the horizon in another couple of hours, so she hoped that Mokkan would be home before nightfall. It looked like he had loaded the horse's pack with clothes that she didn't wear, probably to have them tailored, because she didn't enjoy sewing. She had only hemmed the skirt and sleeves of the original dress that Mokkan had given her, and another that she wore when the current one was being laundered. She hoped that Mokkan wasn't spending too much money on her behalf. She wanted to earn her keep as a partner somehow, and become a person who was useful to others rather than someone who just got by and used other people's resources and gold. She wanted to break the cycle of debt. This was the first day that Ualani had been alone for an extended time since three weeks ago when she was first captured to be sold. Today had reminded her a little bit of the past year of being alone after her remaining family had passed. It'd been only her and a few animals, then and today.

10:30

She shook her head at the memory. She then went to the fire pit and crouched down, removing the whole pumpkin she'd set there to bake. She lifted the lid of the pot over the fire to stir and sample the flavor of the stew. It was made with salted red meat, coconut milk, sweet root vegetables, and sour, fibrous fruits that tasted like a cross between lemongrass and pomegranate, as well as a few fresh spices for a slight zing. The stew had been simmering for the past couple of hours to soften the tough preserved meat. Ualani liked to experiment with cooking, and she had created a strange yet intriguing flavor combination. Too bad there was no Venas around anymore to test it; his reactions had usually been amusing. Something like this probably might have sold well at the inn she used to work at a few years ago. She missed that: being around friendly locals and neighbors, serving them, the comfort of a warm and quiet inn set away from the bustle of a village... The clouds now partially blocked out the suns' rays. Ualani felt a few drops of warm, tropical rain drizzle onto her face. She quickly covered the stew pot so that it wouldn't be diluted with rain, and fed another piece of wood to the fire to keep it going through the quick shower. She grabbed a large bowl and a cleaver for the pumpkin and sat in a dry spot under the canopy of trees near the clearing that blocked most of the rain, hidden behind a tree. She was going to try to make some sort of pumpkin bread for Mokkan, though they didn't have a leavening agent, so it'd probably turn out to be a thin, fried flatbread. As she hacked the pumpkin into pieces, she wondered what the other seasons would be like on this island and whether they should build more protection over the fire pit and bench area. She'd bring it up to Mokkan later...

10:31

She was startled when she heard his voice calling her name. With relief, she set down the cleaver and stepped out from behind the tree. She saw that Mokkan had returned alone, carrying wrapped packages under his arm. She brightened a little and waved to him from under the trees with her small smile. "I'm here," she called. She thought his posture looked slightly tense and there had been something like urgency in his voice. "Are you all right? What happened today?"

He sighed in relief as he saw her, waving and smiling to him. He held out the package to her with a soft word of greeting. "These should fit you better. And skirt garters." He'd explained lightly, passing the wrapped packages into her hands. "Venas chose to leave. His buyers are close to town." His voice was flat but his soft smile was twinged with sadness. The brief rain had tamped down his hair, beading on his beard. "I'm going to bathe." Mokkan advised with a quiet bow of his head. From inside he fetched thinner nightclothes, leather trousers soft from age and a loose shirt that fit big even on him. The cold of the river made him hiss in surprise, the rain dropping the temperature, and he rushed to wash. Mokkan was beyond grateful she'd kept a fire going, and he eagerly thumped down by it after the wash. "Were you alright today? The dogs kept near you I hope." He looked to her as he kept on the mat, Moggi happily flopping by his master. Mokk badly raked his fingers through his hair trying to lessen the knots, too lazy to get uo to fetch a comb, "Whatever you cooked smells good." He realized he was babbling slightly and he cleared his throat, warming his hands to the heat of the fire. The evening was passed and the dark had gone deeper, closing them both into the ring of light of the firepit. Crickets crackled beyond, fireflies blinking amongst the jungle. "I am glad you're alright." He repeated, giving another honest small smile her way. "Thank you for doing the chores. Doing them I'm the dark is never much fun." He chuckled softly shaking his head, long waves of black hair to the tops of his shoulders shot through with silver and gray underneath. He dug knuckles into his hip, massaging out a knot in the muscle. "Tomorrow, should we go on a ride? There's a lovely place to swim deeper in the valley if you'd like to visit." He offered, gold tinted amber eyes following her face to gauge her thoughts. "I'd like to make a bamboo flooring about the fire to keep clea

21:10

n." Was another explanation to go, in case she was too put on the spot to go strictly for herself.

"Yes, I was all right today, and the dogs stayed near." She wouldn't complain and tell Mokkan about her longing to be around a community of friendly locals again. She was grateful for her lifestyle now and felt healthier than she'd felt in the past year of often going hungry to pay her deceased family's debts. There was probably a reason why Mokkan chose to live remotely away from the port village or other communities that might be on this island, and she knew he'd been here a long time. She ladled out and handed him a bowl of the stew, along with a stacked plate of the flatbreads. She had kneaded the dough together from mashed pumpkin, flour, spices, salt, melted fat, and water and pan-fried them while Mokkan had been washing. She wasn't sure whether Mokkan would like it as much as spiced roasted pumpkin, but bread seemed more absorbent for sopping up stew.

01:14

After they ate and Mokkan spoke, she scooted closer on a bench sitting behind him, and tentatively reached towards his damp hair that was drying as he laid near the fire. After some hesitation, she gently took the ends into her hands and started to unravel the knots slowly, starting from the bottom. "I'd like to see the valley, even though I cannot swim. It'd be nice to take a dip on a hot day." She felt pleased that Mokkan wanted to spend time with her, and her lips curved up in her small smile. It might be like courting again... She'd look through the dresses that he'd so kindly gotten tailored to wear something new. "The bamboo we need–does that mostly grow in the valley?" She thought it might be too personal to ask about his hip or leg problem, even though she'd noticed it on the very first day and didn't think he would get annoyed at her for asking. Sometimes when she'd asked personal questions he'd chosen to not answer, and she didn't want to draw attention to something uncomfortable. So she continued her train of thought instead while her fingers worked through the knots in his hair and combed through it, getting closer to stroking his scalp. She watched his facial expression for his reaction, dark green eyes flickering past his golden ones, meeting them occasionally. "Should we build more shelter as well around the fire pit and these benches, if storms will later come?" Having been raised to be polite, she asked it like a suggestion and not a request. The homestead had been here for a long time, but on first impression it had seemed like a camp crossed with a farm. More structures might give the ambiance of long-term stability and coziness.

"It is low enough to touch the bottom, you would be free to stand." He spooned food into his mouth, "Thank you for food. It's very good." He turned enough Ualani could easily reach his hair. The texture wasn't necessarily soft, coarse from the harsh soap. He had given her a different kind that was far kinder for the skin, something he'd bought long ago and didn't like. His skin and hair smelt of it; a bitter spice close to smoke in scent. The dresses were blue, tailored better to her size and thinner for the heat of the sunshine. There was skirt hitches as well, leather straps with metal clips meant for holding the skirt out of the way while one worked. "The bamboo there is older and larger. Makes it much easier to work with." Mokkan explained when asked of the groves, pausing talking in order to shovel more food in his mouth. He was starving, not having eaten since the morning. "There is a structure to the west I've used in the rainy season. Perhaps we may make a permanent home of it. It's within walk of town as well." He debated, rolling and stacking what was left of his bread to mop out his bowl. "Either way bamboo would be of use in either place." He popped the bread in his mouth. He leaned back into her hands as she went higher through his hair, eyes closed. He'd never had someone do this for him. He quite liked the feeling. "Whatever you're doing I like it." He chuckled softly, waiting until she decided to stop to get up.

She looked a little surprised upon Mokkan's mention that there was another structure that he stayed at during the rainy season. "Was it the place we once passed in the jungle, with the broken-down structures that looked similar to our yurt?" she guessed. 'Our,' not 'your,' she'd said to refer to the yurt, she realized. After two weeks and a day, and with how Mokkan treated her well, she was truly starting to think of this place like home, and not just a place she was intruding on and borrowing from someone, like a renter. "Thank you for the dresses and useful accessories," she had told him sincerely, too. It seemed the clothing styles for women were limited because few of them wanted to be pioneers and homestead settlers dealing with the dan, but the population ratio was slowly changing with each fortnightly shipment from the center islands. She was glad to hear that Mokkan enjoyed the food, too. She unnecessarily stroked his scalp a few times when she was done untangling the knots, as though she were petting one of the animals. Then she leaned back to let him stand.

"No. It's a stone structure. Been here before the island was opened to settlers. Back when it was heresy to walk here." He scooped some clean water with the ladle into his bowl to clean it, ready to bring inside. "The place has many... sad memories. It could use a rebirth." He decided finally on the structure, pushing aside thoughts of it. It could be good for them both.... A place she could make her own, and to remake it in his mind. "Shall we bed? It's beyond late." He tamped down the fire largely to keep the danger down, leaving it to smolder out in the night. A bit of water around the edge of the fire kept it from jumping. He ducked inside with or without her, tucking Venas' mat under hers so she had a double layer of mattresses to keep off the floor. His blankets got split between their beds. He moved the curtains aside for her to enter, then ordered the dogs to guard before dropping the curtain casting them into dim darkness. He settled himself into his own bed, having noticed Ualani had moved her mat closer. How should he ask.... Rubbing the back of his neck he simply hooked the edges of her mat and dragged it close by his, about an inch between them, then thumped to lay down.

Ualani preferred to bathe sometime after midday when the air was warmest, and she usually used water in a cloth to clean the sweat off her face and neck after supper. After washing off briefly, she entered the yurt after Mokkan. She changed into a plain and loose beige dress for nightclothes as usual, hanging her apron and day dress on a wooden hook in the wall to air as she slept. She undid her short braids as well. When she turned back around, she saw vaguely in the darkness that her bed seemed to be slightly taller and closer to Mokkan's bed now. Without thinking, she automatically pushed her mats all the way against his so that the long edge was flush with Mokkan's mat. Then she curled up under the pelts facing him. She felt a little grateful that Venas was now living elsewhere and not sleeping by the fire where she could hear him snoring lightly sometimes. She was now alone with the man who'd accepted her as his partner. Facing Mokkan, she tried to see his expression in the dark. "By the way... Regarding a partner... Who were you envious of?" She asked quietly, unsure whether she'd get an answer. On the second day here, she'd asked him why he wanted a partner. She blinked slowly, comfortable under the blankets.

He'd shifted his blanket slightly higher over his shoulder, having tied his hair atop his head to be out of his way. "When people first came, they were criminals. And there was a man and a woman that stayed alive together on the shore." He said softly. "I think they hated each other honestly but. They weren't alone." He'd shut his eyes to talk. "I'd never seen others before." He sighed softly as he'd settled into his blankets hands set beside him, assuming the questions to be over.

"When people first came?" Ualani repeated in confusion. "I heard people started to colonize Allmother's Skull and Mind a generation ago. If you witnessed the first arrivals, you must have been a child... Or the child of a criminal." She guessed. That must have been difficult... In sympathy for Mokkan who had been alone decades ago, she reached under the blankets to touch the top of his wrist where scars remained. "My parents were debtors," she offered. "Their debt was passed to me when one, then the other, passed. I couldn't pay them by myself, so in that sense, I, too, was a criminal..." "Is it so important to not be alone, even if you dislike someone? Well, I guess it might be easier to survive that way..." She fell into silence. (edited)

"I only had my brother." He said gently, "just for a little while." He smiled at the memory, adjusting so she could easily see his wrists and hands, spreading his large fingers. "You're no criminal..." He reassured skimming his fingertips amongst her fingers. Learning what her hands felt like.... "I was alone. I didn't know there was others on other islands. I didnt know there was other islands and when I saw the first boats, I thought it was my family. I'm tired and.... I didn't want to be alone anymore." He tucked an arm around her waist and pulled her close, shifting the blankets so there was nothing between. He did nothing else, just held her close with a strong arm about her back. "I wish you could see my brother. He'd like you."

"I see," she replied, matching his tone. So he'd been here from the beginning, but how had he gotten the scars if he hadn't arrived on the ships? And what had happened to his brother? She abandoned her train of thought, however, not wanting to bring up bad memories. She focused on the good ones instead. "What was your brother like?" She was distracted by the warmth and solidity of his body holding hers. It had been five years since she'd laid with someone and been embraced, and that had only lasted a couple of months. The arranged marriage to another peasant had ended when he'd met someone he preferred and decided to annul theirs. Back then, she'd thanked the stars that nothing had come of their coupling for her alone to deal with. Ualani felt a little self-conscious, wondering why Mokkan liked her or thought that his brother would. Regardless, her heart was warmed at being held close to someone who seemed to care about her. It was nice to feel valued, regardless of the reason. It wasn't really about her, she thought. Probably everyone just didn't want to be alone. Everyone was searching for something, someone, or a purpose. Was this where she belonged? She tucked her head under Mokkan's chin, cheek against his chest, listening to the rumble of his voice as he spoke. She slid her arm around his waist to rub the side of his back.

"He was... everything to me. He liked intelligence, which I didn't have considering my age. He tried teaching me to read and write but all I learned was my name before he had to go." He pet her hair gently, voice faltering as he got tired and slowed down. "He carved on the walls to teach me, showing where to hide." He smiled softly burying his face into her hair, cradling her close. As soon as he stopped talking he fell asleep, head set back, going out asleep like a light. Deep breaths made her rise and fall, quiet and subdued even in his sleep. Midway through the night, a loud crack outside woke them both. Maggi and Moggi growled backing against the curtain. Mokkan gently shifted her off, tucking a palm over her mouth in a sign to be quiet. He carefully got to his feet, unsheathing his sword as he went. Outside something had set onto the pigs, one of the animals squealing ear shatteringly loud. It was a dark shape, hauling the swine over the small wall. The noise that had woke them was one of the spikes in the wall breaking free. Its fur was dark apart from a white chest and underbelly, and end of its wide fluffy tail. Pale stripes crossed its legs at random. Large tusk like teeth kept its grip on the animal as it turned seeing Mokkan move the curtain slightly. If he didn't have to, he'd prefer to let it walk off. Could he deal with it, perhaps, but he'd rather let it wander off. It'd dropped the pig and walked their way cutting out any chance of a peaceful resolve. Mokkan slipped out onto the field standing and puffing out to make himself larger, snarling in his throat, and hitting the sword flat on the ground to make it rattle loud. The animal puffed up back, hackles raising, and Mokkan slammed the sword again to drive it back. The animal grabbed the dead pig and ran off with it into the trees, Mokkan cussing, coming back inside. His hands were shaking as he settled down back into the beds.

Ualani was backed up against the side of the yurt standing beside a trunk with her eyes wide, her hand covering her mouth to muffle her breathing. She had in her dominant hand Mokkan's cane, which she'd grabbed as a dubious measure of self-defense from the side of the entranceway as soon as she had gotten up. She had no experience wielding swords, and any sword Mokkan owned was probably too heavy for her to swing. When Mokkan returned and settled back down into the bed, she sat beside him and pulled the blankets up over them both. She felt his trembling hands and tense body, and leaned over him in a hug, pressing herself to him to try to soothe him with her warm weight, clutching his shirt. "Are you and the dogs all right? Something made off with a pig?" she asked, her voice tense and quick. "Should we build up the walls tomorrow? Should we keep the fire bigger at night?" She was wondering why Mokkan hadn't killed the animal to at least keep their pig's meat and to prevent the animal from returning for other pigs. Maybe it had been too fast. She hadn't been able to see much because the curtain had slipped open and closed. "What was it? A wolf?" She paused to take a deep inhale and exhale, and grounded herself, looking at Mokkan's vague face shape in the darkness of the curtained yurt. "Sorry. We can talk tomorrow, unless you can't sleep."

"Bush cats. They're dangerous to touch. Hair gets stuck in your skin like a shit rash and their bites are so dirty you'll get sick more likely than not. I've been lazy on making a territory." He let out a breath to calm himself, flexing his hands. As she leaned close he pulled her back into their hugged embrace. "You just gotta yell and be louder than them. They avoid a fight if they can. The dogs are fine. They know what fights to take." He pet her hair back gently, settling so if he needed to get up he could without disturbing her sleep. In the morning he woke before her, carefully separated himself from where she slept, heading outside. What death was dealt in the night was taken care of to buried into the compost pile. He folded over the rotting material, sighing softly. What a waste. He was happy to keep the sight away from Ualani. He washed his hands and arms clean to start on breakfast, making a fire and deciding breakfast before Ualani woke.

She woke to the sound of Mokkan cooking breakfast. After she dressed and tied her braids, she spoke to him as she washed her face and hands. "You didn't get much sleep. I think you ought to rest more... Maybe we should reinforce the homestead today, and go to bed early tonight. We could go down into the valley for a swim tomorrow instead..." She felt nervous about leaving the place alone now, and wanted to mark the territory better, or whatever Mokkan had meant by that. She also wondered what sort of self-defense item she could carry to help scare off bush cats if she were out alone. She saw with dismay how one of the spikes in the wall had broken. They'd have to repair that and make it stronger. Thankfully, the more tender vegetables in the farm area hadn't been trampled over, and no eggs were crushed. As she collected eggs and fed the animals, she looked over the chickens and pigs and counted how many were now missing.

They had no pigs left. It killed them all, she assumed by the empty pit he'd scraped clean. They'd not lost any birds, seeing the small poultry too little to care. The birds were only about a meal in size after all, small as new pumpkins. Mokkan sliced vegetables and tomatoes into the pot, sighing, "Perhaps. Little reason to reinforce if we move home. The other structure would be safer against animals likely. Closer to town." He was focusing on his knife work, ignoring the mention of sleep. He'd not expected to be so worried all night. His dreams lingered on Ualani being dragged off into the dark. When she'd looked back to Mokkan, he'd been watching her work while he made soup. Soup was easy. Filling and good. "I need to find you a sword as well. Some kind of blade. Are you able to protect yourself?" He wasn't sure of her squeamishness, but he hoped she could keep herself safe if it must come to it. "Come eat. It's basic, but it's something, mm?" He chuckled softly filling bowls.

She went and accepted the simple bowl of vegetable soup from Mokkan's hand. She'd make something with protein for him for the midday meal, she thought, looking him over. Even though he was trying to keep his expression light, the chuckle didn't seem to reach his eyes and she could see a bit of underlying anxiety in his movements. "I don't know how to wield a sword," she replied hesitantly, thinking about the weight of the ones she'd held. Unless there were children's non-wooden swords sold at the marketplace in the port village, most were made for men and not realistic for a 5'3" woman of just over 100 lbs to wield. Besides, she was clumsy with poor proprioception and low hand-eye coordination, as hinted by her lack of drawing skills (which she thought were great, but she knew she was clumsy in other ways). "What do you think of a spear?" It might be lighter, it could double as a walking stick, and it might help keep more distance than a sword from a danger she encountered in the underbrush. "Regardless of the weapon, I think you'd need to show me how to defend with it." After she ate, she looked at his eye bags from the lack of sleep and reached out to brush the back of her fingers across his cheekbone area briefly, meeting his eyes with a gentle demand: "Let's take a nap later, Mokkan, once we've taken action to make us feel safer."

"You'll want something to hack things down. When we go for bamboo we'll find a spear haft." He nodded to her idea and in his own thoughts. As she touched his face he smiled softly, leaning against her fingers. "I am alright. I will later." He reassured her. After eating he pushed up to wash and put away all the dishes, taking Ualani's with his own. He didn't bother to fix the swine pen and only took out broken stakes from the other. "Would you like to come with me to see the other structure? Decide if you'd like to live there?" He offered clapping dirt off his hands, tossing the busted stakes into the firepit. Moggi had trotted to Ualani's side, snuffling happy at the woman, knowing they'd be going somewhere considering Mokkan was belting on his short sword. "It's a bit of a walk." He added, though he knew she was light enough to be carried should he need. A bag tied about his waist carried a few tools and bandages. "Else I'll do the territory edge and return." Mokkan advised with a soft smile to her.

"Yes, I'd like to come," she replied, nodding. She could survey what needed to be fixed there and decide whether she preferred it to the remote homestead here. When Mokkan said that the walk would be far, she assumed they weren't taking Tower. She automatically went to fetch his cane just in case he needed it. If he didn't, she could still use it herself as a walking stick. She also wore a woven oblong basket on her back for collecting fruits and medicinal or edible herbs along the way. "I'm ready," she said, a little tired from the night's events, but eager to see the other dwelling.

He led amongst the trees and when she had to detangle from the undergrowth, offered his hand to her. He'd help cut the undergrowth aside if he could knowing the travel wasn't the easiest. After a while they'd come out onto the thin worn trail marking the end of his land. With his machete he'd cut gouges into trees like a big cat would use it to sharpen claws. He'd collected trimmings from his hair from over seasons leaving it amongst the trees. Anything that had his scent. The structure was about the same distance from the shore as the homestead, slightly uphill into drier land. Tucked amongst the jungle was a stone building clung into by moss and vines. One wall was crumbled down but the roof was still intact. It looked old, likely older than the island had been inhabited. Mokkan smiled softly seeing it. The pyramid had doorways running up the sides, dark arches open to the sunshine. "Welcome to my brothers temple."