Deep into that darkness peering... :Dorian Drake Samheen 16

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Even after all this time, talking about it was difficult. The memories were mixed up with emotions - pain, fear, dread, loss. "There was a storm," he said, still in the sweet language of the Selkies. "I was very young."

He resumed cutting up fish for the stew, cleaning out the bones. "My mother was a Selkie," he said slowly. "My father walked on land. I had my skin when the ship I was on sank......my father died......but then I was knocked out. I lost all my memories, and they are coming back slowly. A fisherman rescued me and raised me as his son, and I married a land girl. I love her and am not trapped." He paused, thinking. That was a lot for Dorian to say, at any rate. He had only had the dim feeling that he was missing something.....until recently. Storms still worried him, reminded him of the helplessness, the hurt and the fear.

"I have been on land for.....15 years ?" Maybe more. Maybe less. He wasn't sure how old he was, when he was lost, and didn't recall exactly how many winters had passed since then. Old Drake had not kept track of such things. He tilted his head, measuring the wind by ear, to learn what the storm was bringing.

Still, he knew, in his heart of hearts, if he ever found his skin, there was nothing that could keep him from the water. He listened to the wind. "You're far from the rocks," he said, which was what he considered to be the bulk of where he had been born....rocks in the water.
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Listening intently while she nibbled at the rest of the fish, a visible shudder went through her as Dorian explained being landlocked 15 yahren. That was a long time, longer than she had been. Looking down, she nodded at his comment about being far from the rocks.

"Indeed," she looked back up, sorrow in her eyes. "I was captive of Samuel Sotherbourn, a merchant. Caught by him some four yahren ago in a trip to World's Mouth, he held my skin locked in a box with the key around his neck... until recently. He was killed, murdered they think. Eventually, his belongings were returned to me, his wife, which included the key. Overjoyed to be free once again, I thought to return to my people in the warmer rockier lands of the south, but I'd not swam long when a ship of ruffians noticed me, a seal and began to throw things at me. As you can see, one of their throws found its target before I was far enough away to be out of range."

"I realize now that it was foolish to try and slip by anything populated by humans and expect to remain safe. The ship seemed to be anchored and I assumed no one would be watching the waters near the shores," she sighed.

"I miss the rocks. I miss my home," she said quietly, lowering her head.

"I left my clothing on a shore some distance from here, expecting not to ever need them again and here I am," she added even more quietly.

"How do you manage?" she looked up at the fisherman.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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"Manage what ?" Dorian's brow crinkled up in confusion. He put the finely chopped lakeweed into the cookpot, then wiped his hands on a rag, and set to starting the fire. Drakes didn't 'manage'... Drakes DID. Or they DIDN'T. He had been raised up to have an entirely settled mind on such matters. You worked hard, and you didn't want for anything. Old Nate Drake might not have lived like a Lord in a fine house, but he and Dorian never went hungry. "If you want to go home, I think I can row that far. When you're ready. Let that cut heal up first."

He paused to consider. "Maranda's clothes won't fit you; we'll have to find you something to wear besides your sealskin, if you want to be on two legs. Land people are fussy about that sort of thing."

He had, he realised, an opportunity to go talk to more Selkies. One might remember him...tell him where his mother was, if his sister was around. He settled the cookpot on the grating, and listened to the storm brewing up. He might have to go fetch Maranda out of it.

A ship.....anchored. That was odd. They usually anchored to the docks, didn't they ? Hmm. Was it important ? How was it important ? He mulled these concepts over, wishing Maranda was home so she could explain it to him.
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"Row home? It is a very long way across and down the mer," she replied softly, the tone of wonder in her voice as she watched him prepare the food and toss it into the pot.

What will your mate think? To be gone so long," she queried, then looked down at herself in reference to his comment about clothing.

"Indeed, they are most attached to their clothing but as they don't have a skin, I suppose it is the best they can hope..." and she yelped and jerked backwards in surprise as the door opened and the smiling blonde darted in out of breath, arms full of a bundle of work, her wet clothing clinging to her form.

"I thought I'd make it back before th..." she stopped mid sentence as her eyes fell on the naked woman sitting on her bed. Realizing her mouth was hanging open, she closed it and looked at Dorian quizzically. In sharp contrast to the female on her bed clutching something to her chest in her own state of shock or surprise, Dorian was calmly fixing dinner as if he wasn't aware of the other person in the room.

"Dorian?" was all she could think to say, some small part of her mind wondering where the seal went to, knowing that the connection here was somehow important but her shock was over-riding that as unimportant just now.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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"Hullo Maranda," Dorian said cheerfully, poking at the fire with a spare stick, which he then added to the blaze. He switched to the common tongue, finding it clunky after the musical Selkie language. "I was worried you'd get stuck in the storm when it got bad. This is Fínscothach. She's a Selkie. Fínscothach, this is my wife, Maranda."

As if naked women were ordinary (for him, they were, more or less), he went on. "I find clothes have pockets, and pockets are useful." he said. "It took a while to get used to them, I remember." He rose, took the bundle from Maranda and set it carefully aside - the shack was very small and everything had to be placed carefully, those were the rules drummed into him from childhood. Being in wet clothes didn't bother him - he usually could not remember to take his clothes off when he jumped into the lake, or fell in. But Maranda was different. "You're all wet," he said. "Fínscothach has had some fish, but dinner for us is still cooking. We'd better get you dry and warm."
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Maranda stood watching the dark haired female cower back away from her, clearly afraid of her for some reason. At her husband's explanation, she blinked and looked at him then back at the woman.

"She's a seal t..." she began wide eyed in amazement before realizing she was being rude, her cheeks turning rose colored.

"I am sorry," she offered a smile to their guest. "Hello Fínscothach," she struggled getting her tongue around the sounds, sounding awkward and flat compared to Dorian's lilting tone.

"Welcome to our home," she added not exactly what to say to a Selkie and willing to let Dorian run the show this time. Nodding in response to his comment on her clothes, although she was warming up some in the shack, she moved to the chest to pull out two fresh chemises, one which she handed to the other female. Feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, she turned her back to the seal-woman and began to unfasten the wet clothing, peeling it off layer by layer until dried, she slipped into a fresh mid thigh length chemise.

"Something warm and filling sounds good love," she smiled and kissed Dorian on the cheek as she sat down beside him, turning her attention back to the Selkie who had drawn on the typically oversized chemise.

"Thank you," Fínscothach returned softly, her human touched with only the lightest of accents that reflected her native tongue.

"I was tyring to swim home," she offered with a shrug "and some humans on a boat saw me and thought it fun to use me for target practice. Thank you both for your help. I would have died," she wrapped her arms around herself as if cold at the thought of lying on the beach, wounded and exposed in the coming storm.

"I am glad my husband found you then," Maranda replied sincerely, offering a warm friendly smile to this stranger who had been thrown into their midst, a part of her husband's life that she knew very little about.

"
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian nodded amiably, and grinned at Maranda's kiss. He gave the cookpot a stir, and poked the fire a bit. "The storm might turn up some good salvage," he added cheerfully, for that was like getting money and goods for nothing, scavenging what debris the storm put up. Maranda getting dressed was interesting; Fínscothach was ordinary. It was all a matter of perspective. "I'll hunt for things in the morning."

That put in his mind that ship. "There was something I wanted to ask you about, wife," he said, in a more serious tone. "There was a ship up the shoreline, in a cove. It was a strange place to have a ship. Do you think it's important ?"
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"Hmmmm," the blonde replied to her husband's question, brow wrinkled in thought.

"I'd think anyone legal'd come to the docks where it'd be much easier ta load and unload. Only reason I can think of for bein' elsewhere'd be if ya don't want the locals ta know yer here fer some reason? Smugglers? Or Pirates? Don't know much about Orc but never heard that they were fond o' water or ships.

"Can't be very wholesome type folks ta be throwin' weapons at a seal swimmin' along though. D'ya see anything that'd make ya think they were pirates Fínscothach?" she addressed the Selkie female, once again struggling with her name.

"Not that I noticed, but most I was just swimming," the dark haired woman answered, hands busy pulling through her matted hair. Reaching into her small chest, Maranda pulled out her wooden comb and handed it to their guest with a smile.

"Long as they don't come park on our beach, I don't figure it's our problem," the blonde shrugged. "I'm sure both smugglers and pirates've been round a lot longer than me. The city's got guards ta handle that sort of thing," she added as she leaned over to smell dinner.

"There is still lots a talk in town Dorian," she said, tone full of concern. "Folks sayin' the king's been killed and a fight now over who'll take over. Some think the church is tryin' ta take over but some how that doesn't seem right. Talk of help comin' from World's Mouth from across the lake. Marta says she heard tell that they might send airships here ta help out and she said they are big ships that float in the sky, not on the lake!" the girl explained, eyes wide with wonder at how such a thing could be accomplished.

"Some newfangled something they've come up with," she paused for a moment, chuckled and shook her head. "Wonder what the birds think of that.... and the Mer... what d'ya think the Mer would say ta that? Course, they're lookin' for dark gods type stuff. Don't know this would be that but seems pretty creepy and unnatural ta me. How d'ya get a ship to float in the air?"
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian was not a great thinker. He listened to them speak, and mulled it over very slowly when he was asked what he thought. The King was someone very remote to his life; he paid the King's taxes, but he didn't really think much more of it than that. Certainly the King had very little to do with his life. He also had little use for Churches. Who was in charge was not something that Dorian had much truck with. He was a fisherman. But ships in the air, that sounded interesting.

"I hope they'll let me aboard one a'them ships in the air," he said, musing with a slow smile. Then he pushed that thought aside, and spoke, for him, at length, in his slow methodical way. "I think that ship I saw, they were up to no good. Just a feeling, that's all I have. As far as the Mer, it's time I went to talk to them and told them all of these things. Fínscothach needs to heal up. I'll salvage in the morning, and if the weather is good enough I'll set my traps and row out to the Mer, and go visit them. Then I'll see about throwing my nets and bring in some fish. That means I won't be back until late, though, but maybe there will be crabs on the shoreline for a meal, for all of us." Dorian preferred to eat his seafood fresh, even if he was getting used to it being cooked. He was loath to touch the winter reserves of smoked leviathan meat. That was for the winter, when the lake froze over and they needed to eat. He always planned ahead so that he would not go hungry, something Old Drake had taught him.
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Nodding in agreement with Dorian's plans for the next day, the sun touched the horizon and Maranda chattered on about events in town, who she'd seen and talked to, the sewing work she'd picked up from Marta and her brief stop by the Laughing King to talk to her aunt. As they finished dinner and began to clean up, she reached into her chest and pulled out the box of herbs she had pulling out a tin with a grayish thin paste in it.

"We should put some of this on your wound," she commented to the Selkie who nodded and allowed the blonde's touch. Guest tended to, she pulled a cloak around her shoulders, went outside to the lake to fill her teakettle for the morning, brought it back and set it near the fire. As the evening wore on, the sun well below the horizon, the rain continued to patter on the roof softly lulling those inside into a soft lethargy that made sleep inviting.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian had enough sense not to suggest they all slept on the mattress. "You women can sleep on the mattress," he said, "I'll sleep on my nets." Nets were plenty good enough for him to sleep on. They were even dry, not that he really cared if they were wet or not. He settled in to sleep after giving Maranda a kiss, and slept. The sun was down, it was time to sleep, that was what he knew. It was a bit rough not having Maranda to snuggle up against, but he'd had years of sleeping without her next to him, so he could manage one night.

Tomorrow - like all the days of his life, save a few when he was travelling to be wed, with Maranda - he would work. Maybe the Mer had some ideas of what to do next, it seemed there was trouble afoot. He disliked trouble, it made life difficult.
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For her part, Maranda wasn't wild about not snuggling up with her husband either and kept her distance from the dark haired female who had been a seal when she first saw her. Though Dorian had told her that this was true about himself, it hadn't been as real. After all, she'd never seen him in his animal form, only his human one. It was a bit weird realizing that this woman we the same one they stitched up as a seal, that as a seal she looked and acted like an animal. Or had she? Maranda pushed the thoughts away. She loved Dorian and it wouldn't matter if he turned into a frog sometimes. This woman she didn't know. Rolled over on her side, the blonde watched her husband sleep until eventually the sandman claimed her as well.

Fínscothach wasn't new to the routines of humans. She'd lived a good many yahren now on land. However, the idea of trusting a human was new. Though the man who had taken her skin was kind to her, still he had held her captive, held her against her will and that canceled out all the nice things he'd ever done. Sleep came fitfully for the Selkie, periods of light sleep broken up by cautious wakefulness at some unusual noise or sound she didn't recognize and the aching in her side from the wound and the pulling of the stitches.

Outside, light rain came and went through the night, the pattering of the drops hypnotic and tranquil against the sides of the shack. By the time dawn arrived, the rains had stopped leaving plenty of puddles in their wake and a gray low cloud deck that would shortly begin to lighten and break up.

Samheen 17th

Cat had not come inside with the seal but greeted the morning sitting outside the shack, cleaning herself. Overhead, gulls noisily searched for breakfast in the shallow waters lapping up on the beach. The storm had been less severe than it threatened when it finally came ashore, the rains and winds gentle and so there was little flotsam washed ashore this time.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian awoke early, as was his way, and gathered up his gaff and bucket. There might be something worth looking at, on the shoreline, and that was enough for him. He greeted the cat cheerfully, in a low tone, and left the women to sleep on if they wished.

He did not mind the rain at all.

Even if it did not clear up, he could still go out and throw his nets, and swim to the Mer. First though, a brisk trot around the shoreline looking for salvage.
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Though the skies were still gray, the cloud base low, the rain had stopped. The morning had dawned cool and the beaches held no treasure this time, only shells, a bit of small driftwood and of course the ever present lake weed. Long gentle swells rolled in off the lake, lapping at the sand and pulling things out rather than in. In fact, the only thing of any interest was the ship, anchored out in the lake well away from the docks. This time there were no jetties coming or going, just the ship with sails donwn bobbing gently on the waves.

Back at the shack, Maranda had awakened when Dorian closed the door. Quietly, she rose and dressed herself, started a fire and put the tea kettle on. Fínscothach tossed fitfully, drawing the blonde's attention. The Selkie's face was pink and touching her gently, felt like fire. Drawing the blanket down, the wound was very red along the edges, a sign that things were not well with the seal woman. Setting the kettle to the side of the fire to keep warm but not boil, Maranda pulled on her cloak and went out to find Dorian. When she finally spotted him, she ran to catch him.

"Dorian," she called his name. "I need ta talk to ya," she called as she ran and finally caught up with him.

"It's Fínscothach. She's afire with the fever and the cut looks pretty bad. I don't know what ta do Dorian. Do Selkies respond ta medicines like humans? If we call a healer, what'll we say about how she got hurt like that? I'm real worried about her husband," she bit her lip, eyebrows creased into a frown of worry.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian paused in his picking over a heap of lakeweed for hidden treasures. "A fever." he said. "I don't know, Maranda. I know I don't feel the cold like old Nate did. There may be other differences. We should try to cool her down."

He fetched a bucket of lake water and carried it to the shack. The Selkie woman did indeed look very ill. "We could carry her to the healers," he said softly, "I could say she was found on the shore, it is the truth after all. She's not well enough to go far. The Mer know healing too, but she can't breathe water."

He soaked a few rags in the cold water and laid them on the poor Selkie's hot head.
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"Yes, her washin' upon the shore is true enough. What'll we do with her skin? I think she'll be upset when she finds it missin', but we don't dare take it with her," she bit her bottom lip, thinking as she pulled the blanket away to look at the wound they had stitched up, an ugly violent red spreading from the injury into the rest of the skin around the wound. Frowning, the blonde covered her back up and nodded.

"I don't know enough ta help her and if we don't take her ta a healer, I'm afraid she'll die but she's got no clothes and ya can't carry her through the streets only in that chemise," Maranda looked at her husband wondering what the Selkie woman would do when she woke in the hospice without her skin.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian thought, which took a while. "We'll wrap her in a blanket, to carry her to the hospice." He said. "The skin we'll have to hide here. It might be taken from her there, sealskins are worth money. I'll carry her. When she wakes up, we'll tell her it's safe and she can have it back."

He draped their blanket over the poor Selkie and lifted her up, almost effortlessly. He would never consider stealing another Selkie's skin - it was like stealing their soul. He also knew the value of such an item, for whomever held the skin, had power over the Selkie.

He would walk carefully, to carry her to the hospice.
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The trip to the hospice was without incident though they did draw a few looks as Dorian trudged through the damp streets with the blanket shrouded body in hand, his wife following alongside. Most folks were too intent upon their own business to pay him much heed however. They were met at the door by an older woman, gray hair pulled back into a severe bun that only a few short tendrils escaped from.


"Ohhhh my," she clucked as the fisherman approached. "What tis it you've got here?" as she pulled the blanket back to see the dark haired, fever ridden woman.

"Burnin' up she is! Bring'er this way," the old woman turned and quickly made her way down a hallway to a room full of beds, pulling back the blanket on one of the beds.

"I'll be back straightway with a healer," she offered softly and hurried away leaving Dorian to deposit the sick Selkie into the bed. The beds around them were occupied by various assortments of injuries, many of them wounds incurred during the recent onslaught of the orcs.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian set her down, and then reached out for Maranda's hand, to try to comfort his wife. The Selkie was terribly feverish, and he was worried; this could well be kin to him.

He waited, for fishermen were very good at that, and watched the poor woman suffering. There was no skill he had at this, to help her.
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Responding to her husband's hand reaching for her, instead the blonde moved close to him and wrapped an arm around his waist as she moved into the curve of his arm as she glanced around the room at the other wounded. Times had been hard, but the assortment of burns and serious wounds that were housed here made it all the more apparent to her, the results of the war they'd had the good fortune or blessing of the gods to miss because of their trip home and the wedding.

A small lump formed in her throat at that thought. The last time she'd been here was when her mother died. At the time it had seemed the worst thing in the world, but the forced trip back home had been a life saver for she and her aunt. Many of those who worked in the Laughing King had died during the blaze that ensued from that battle. Hugging Dorian, she looked back down at the fevered Selkie and within flickers, a healer strode in quickly and nodded at the couple.

"I am Master Ishtar," the tall gangly man introduced himself, his brown hair laced with silver and pulled back into a pony tail at the base of his neck. His green robes were crumpled and looked as if he'd slept in them.

"What happened to the woman?" he asked as he bent over feeling the heat of her skin, checking her pulse and lifting her eyelids to see her eyes. "Has she had a cough or other symptoms?" he asked feeling of her neck.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian was not big on sartorial splendour, so he failed to notice the man's state of dress. He was also a miserable liar, so he told the truth. "I'm Dorian Drake, fisherman, and this is my wife," He said, in response to the healer's introduction. Maranda was in his arms, so it was no mystery about which one the wife was.

"I found this lady on the shore, yesterday, hurt," he said. "We sewed up her wound and fed her, but this morning she had this terrible fever. She wasn't coughing that I saw, just - like this." He patted Maranda's shoulder gently, to try to soothe her. This must be a terrible place for her to be in, her mother died here after all. He had no idea if the ways of Selkies and Men were different....but they couldn't be that terribly different, could they, if the two races could interbreed.

"Is there anything we can do, to help nurse her ?" he asked. He had no knowledge of such things. The little cuts, abrasions and similar were about all the ills he had ever suffered, for being in the water never bothered him, nor did any chill. Old Drake, he could remember taking ill now and then, but the old fisherman had been tough as nails his whole life. Until that last year, when he saw the frailty in the old man, and had gone out fishing alone. Wondering if Old Drake would be there when he got back.

The sight of the wounded in the hospital was also not lost on him. While his time in the city proper was ever limited to business, he also knew that the people who bought his fish had taken some losses, heavy losses. It was some measure of Nate Drake's business thought that made him concerned about that.
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Examining the woman while Dorian talked, the healer made soft mmms and hmmms, muttering under his breath until he pulled back the blanket and found the red rimmed wound.

"Nice stitches," he affirmed without looking up as he probed the flesh around the edges and barked an order to a woman in a green dress standing nearby who hustled off.

"It appears that whatever the lass was cut with was poisoned. See here how the flesh is not joining together but staying separate?" he motioned to the edges fo the would that still looked raw and open.

"Hate to take out the stitches," he mttered more to himself than anyone. Wrapped in his arm, he felt Maranda shudder at the sight of the injury and she looked away. The woman who'd showed them in came back and bobbed a quick curtsey before Dorian and his wife.

"Sirrah, if I could get some information from ya? Bout the young lady?" she asked as she motioned them to follow her down the hall a bit to a desk where a young woman with stratight raven black hair sat. She looked up with a smile.

"Mavis says ya brought in a woman, injured? D'ya know her name? Does she have any kin that ya know of? Does she live here in the city? D'ya know anything about her details and particulars?" the young girl ran through a list of questions that were standard by the tone of her voice.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian nodded quietly, at the comment on his stitches. He had sewn sailcloth, because Old Nate Drake was too cheap to pay for it to be sewn, and had picked up a few coins for the task as others hired him. A poisoned wound ? Who would poison a seal, what purpose was that ? If those men who had attacked Fínscothach were after her pelt, they had made a mistake in slashing at her. If they were after her meat, to poison it was foolish. Maybe there was more to this, that they wanted to kill her. But why kill a merchant's wife ? It was something too puzzling for him to work out in one go, so he shelved it.

"Her name is Fínscothach." Dorian said. "She didn't mention kin, or where she lives." That bothered him slightly, for he knew where she lived....or at least, what it looked like. A place of rocks, sunshine and blue water full of fish. And seals, some of whom could walk on land. "I guess I'm responsible for her, if that is what you need to know." He was, for he was Selkie. She might be a relative, and she was certainly kith.

He gently stroked Maranda's shoulder and held her hand, to offer her some comfort. This had to be tough on her, to be back in this place, which must hold frightening memories for her. Just as storms made him shiver, at times, when the wind was roaring as on the fateful day of his past.
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Making quick notes while the fisherman talked, the woman nodded and mumbled. Maranda stayed huddled next to Dorian, the smells of the place evoking unhappy memories. She'd run out and left without talking to her mother, run off and left her mother to die without her. Shaking off the depressing thought, she swallowed a lump and focused her attention back on the Selkie they'd found.

"So she's not from the city then?" she mused and made more notes, then blotted the paper, signifying her completion.

"She'll be fine I'm sure," the woman smiled pleasantly. "The healer is a master. She couldn't be in finer hands. It'll be awhile b'fore she shows much improvement though. Your welcome ta stay here but I'd suggest ya go home and come back later," she patted the blonde on the arm.

"Nothin' much ya can do for now. Like as not, the lady won't come awake til tomorrow if all goes well. But doubtful she'll wake b'fore that."
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
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Dorian nodded. "There's work to be done," he said simply, because there was. "We'll come back tomorrow, then."

He gently held Maranda's arm as they walked out, and did not speak, for he did not know what to say to her. Finally, once they were out on the cobblestones, which he always found tricky, he did speak.

"That's the best we could have done, Maranda." He meant it about other things, too. "Wind and Tide is nae of our kenning." That was from Nate Drake. He offered up a lopsided smile, knowing she was upset but uncertain how to make things better, looking down at her with the eyes like the deep water.

Then he gathered her softly into his arms, to hold her close, as if by that action he could make all the bad things in the world stay back, away from her, that her soul would again be at peace.
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