Things to do in Marn when you're Wanted

[Goeffrey Coward]

Samahazai shifted slightly in his bed. Voices normally awoke him but he was too tired to hear them now. Usually his sleep was filled with bizarre dreams, but exhaustion had put him in an inky blackness that would last for 9 hours, barring a determined effort to wake him.


((I don't know how many asleep posts I can really write, so skip over me the next few go-arounds.))

[Chrishton Radu]

Staring blankly at the exchange, Chrishton attempted as much as possible to be an innocent onlooker and not get in the way of the daggers shooting between Dorcas and Udorl. His clever little ruse about just taking a bath was obviously doomed to failure.

Dorcas' continued anger at the affair confused him. Obviously she didn't like Udorl very much. That was a given. The woman was haughty and beautiful enough to get away with it at every turn, while Dorcas was young and awkward. Udorl was irresponsible and quite the slut, and Dorcas was a tough survivor who did what had to be done. But she really didn't want Chrishton to sleep with her.

He blinked as an obvious possibility presented itself as an explanation. Out of Udorl's web and confronted with Dorcas' frustration, he sobered up enough to get some blood back into his head. In the meantime, Dorcas looked like she was ready to explode...

Freak!

Well that wasn't very impressive. Poor girl. She was probably going to beat herself up just as much over her lack of a witty insult as for anything else.

Chrishton allowed himself to be tugged along by Udorl like a puppet, but in the trash-heap of his mind some junkyard dogs were fighting over a decision.

Udorl's upper arm was caught by his hand immediately after she opened the door.

"I k'n take it from 'ere." Came a stern voice with an expression to match.

It was not a feeling of guilt or a desire to do the right thing that won him over. It was loyalty, pure and simple. A sense of loyalty that did not stem from the human part of his mind. Dorcas was the one who took him in.

[Dorcas Tansy]

Udorl looked down at Chrishton's hand on her arm and a smile immediately tugged at one corner of her mouth. She bent her arm at the elbow to reach up and stroke his knuckles with her fingertips. "Big hands . . ." she mused. The puff of her voice dug a tunnel through escaping steam of the bathtub. Her other hand squeezed Chris's shirt more tightly, drawing the fabric close to his skin.

Dorcas's chin bobbed abruptly, a nod of surprise. She took in Chrishton's expression as confirmation she had not misheard. He seemed to be blowing Udorl off for the umpteenth time. Udorl's charms being what they were, and Chrishton's rationality utterly incomprehensibly, it was hard for a bystander to tell which party was playing yo-yo with the other.

"He--he said he wants you to leave him alown," said Dorcas. Again, it was said not as forcefully as she might have wished, but the stiffening of her heavy jaw helped lend potency to her case.

Udorl was still holding that breakfast bun in her hand. She rolled it against Chris's knuckles as she contemplated Dorcas's expression.

As thick as Chrishton's unspoken--perhaps even unconscious--motivations hung in the room, there was no loyalty lost between Dorcas and Udorl. Of course, someone had to have taken Dorcas in at some point, as Dorcas had done for Chris, and it would stand to reason that the woman who seemed to pull the strings of the household had made the decision. And yet, Dorcas displayed no fondness whatsoever for the woman. This fact served to explain, if nothing else, that Dorcas was not a dog in disguise.

Udorl let up her grip on Chris's shirt. The fabric was puckered from her palm, but the ambient steam softened the effect. She met his stern gaze and lifted the plum-sized roll to her mouth. Her lips parted, and her tongue, pillowed on her lower lip, made a contrast of bright, wet pink to the darker burgundy stain applied there. She opened her jaw just wide enough to accommodate the diameter of the roll as she slipped it past her lips with a push of her tongue. Udorl closed her lips around the end of the roll and arched an eyebrow at Chris with a touch of humor. She rolled her eyes and turned on the balls of her feet, her mouth still fully closed around the thing, and headed for the stairs.

Dorcas watched Udorl's back darkly. Why the woman had let up on Chris this time was unexplainable, but then there was the question again of who was playing with whom.

The teenaged girl allowed herself to look back at Chrishton, her eyes narrowed with pleased bewilderment, but also distrust. "Why are you lookin' so . . . special," she said sulkily. She had finally settled on the term to describe that stern look of resolve he had adopted. "You, ye know . . . ye're jus' going t'do that when I'm not here to stop ye agin."

Dorcas took the steps forward to bring her within arm's reach of the bathroom door, which she pushed open another few inches as if to help or indicate hospitality. Her look was still grudging. "That bitch tries t'ruin ivverything for me," she said more quietly. Udorl had reached the foot of the stairs.

[Chrishton Radu]

A firm tug from his hands pulled his shirt taught and removed the crinkles from Udorl's seductive grasp. When she began giving her another show of her tongue and lips on the roll, all he could do was glare at her. Or try to glare at her, after staring at her lips. It wasn't very much of a glare. Certainly it had very little weight behind it.

She lifted her eyebrow and practically smirked, which made him roll his eyes.

"Yeah g'won." His voice trailed after her, barely a mumble. "Bloody succubus..."

Chrishton was careful not to let his eyes wander down to her ass as she walked away. He feigned a complete lack of interest in that backside like a professional. Which was odd, because he almost never tried to look disinterested. In the back of his mind, he was pleased with his ability to do so.

"Why are you lookin' so . . . special" Dorcas asked.

"'Cause I am special." He replied with a wink and a smile.

Good deed for the month accomplished, he moved aside for Dorcas to lead him into the room. He made sure his voice didn't carry far enough for Udorl to hear.

"Nah, if yer gonna be so against me seein' the bitch then I'll just keep tellin' 'er t'piss off. I owe ya that much. Right gir... Dorc?"

Accepting her invitation, he walked into the steamy room, but stopped at the door and turned around to face her and essentially block access on the off chance she was keeping Udorl away for herself.

He pressed his large hands against the door frame and leaned his weight forward, wearing a slightly different smile for Dorcas. This one was more forced, and didn't reach his eyes.

"She ain't gonna ruin nothin' worth ruinin'. Yer the one takin' me in, not 'er. So dun get yer panties all in a ruffle over that shit. I'm old. Lemme play m'old man games without gettin' yer feelins all hurt."

[Dorcas Tansy]

As Dorcas stepped past Chris into the bathroom, her cat blinked in the steamy air and jumped off her shoulders from behind. He trotted over to lie down beside Samahazi's door.

Dorcas swung her gaze around the small room before she turned around to look at Chrishton. "It's Dor, come on. Not 'Dorc.'" Her feet were set shoulder-width apart, her legs looking thick in her woolen stockings. The steam did not agree with her hair, and set the unwashed mess alight with frizz.

The tub was a large thing of pounded copper. She indicated a yellow brick of soap in a bucket on the floor next to the tub with a lazy wave of her hand. "Soap," she said with a forced scowl as he was lecturing her about her attitude and the sacrifices he was making.

The tub was full of steaming, very slightly milky-looking water. A man of Chrishton's size would certainly cause such a quantity to overflow the tub unless he displaced some of it first.

Dorcas cleared her throat. "Water . . ." she said with exaggerated impatience as she flung her hand in the direction of the tub. She sighed. Dorcas looked up at Chris's face where he stood in the doorway, blocking her exit. Her eyebrows were raised gently, her eyes wide yet relaxed, her mouth pitifully without clear emotion.

"She steals. My clothes," she said, and her voice sounded strained with the attempt to be quiet. "Ye know," she started again with a cock of her head and a small scoff as punctuation, "maybe it doesn't bother me whether ye sleep with her one way or another, owld man. Maybe, ye know, bothers me that ye wan' to in the firs' place."

Dorcas dropped her gaze from him as the awkward realization that this was a rather pushy position to take in a relatively new friendship. She blinked in embarrassment at the ground as her words refused to disappear from existence. After a few moments, Dorcas made a step for the door and reached with one hand to push Chrishton's shoulder away. "Well Otter'll bring the linens," she muttered.

[Chrishton Radu]

"Dor, Dorc, whatever. I'll call ya Suzie, girly."

He looked at the soap as indicated. It was soap. Was she hinting at something? Probably. Nothing that needed hinting at anyway. It was weeks since he'd seen soap, and he knew that very well. A fact that was even bothering him, which was remarkable for an animal like himself... not to mention his fox half.

Then she pointed out the water, and he felt less like she was hinting that he was dirty, and more like she was hinting that he was an idiot. A fact that also sat perfectly fine with him.

When she looked at him again, he was nodding in understanding with his mouth twisted in a frown of contemplation regarding the tub of water like a man being explained a complicated mathematical formula. Fascinating, that water stuff.

Her next words surprised him a little. Every once in a while, his young female companion revealed to him that she was not completely ordinary in mind as she was in body. His response was to smile, proud to be attached to someone with some intellect.

"Yeah, yer right. That's what's buggin' ya. An Suzie, ain't nothin' nobody c'n do 'bout that. Best not fuckin' care cause in the long run it dun' mean shit."

He let her get around him and walked over to the tub.

"Trust me, I slept with bitches three times as good lookin' as her, but I married the one with brains."

[Dorcas Tansy]

Dorcas watched Chris move around her to get to the tub; she pressed her lips together and a dark blush graced the edge of her jaw and the lower half of her long cheeks. She turned bodily away from him and inched towards the door. With her hipbone pressed hard against the jamb, she gave a tentative glance over her shoulder to see the form of him beside the tub.

She cringed when he said 'Suzie' in address. She didn't look at his face but heard the smile in his voice. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she tried to decipher what was different about this smile, why the lack of skewed humor.

Then he said something unexpected:
"I slept with bitches three times as good lookin' as her, but I married the one with brains."

The blush blanched from Dorcas's face. "You're married?" she said, and she pivoted at the waist to look at him behind her. Her upper lip twitched with a hint of a smile. " . . . To a bitch?" She snapped back to a position resembling attention, at the door. It seemed she wasn't going to allow Otter to deliver the linens to an unguarded guest, but she also wasn't going to have Chrishton in her field of view if he decided to disrobe before left in privacy.

"Why doesn't anybody stay faithful these days?" said Dorcas in a forced sort of musing tone. She didn't seem particularly stressed by the issue she was lamenting out loud. She had the tone of a child detached from the incomprehensible motivations of adults, a strange thing coming out of a six-foot frame.

Presently, Otter made herself known with a wave of a small white hand towel. She had come up the stairs quietly and was now at the landing of the stairs. "Emm . . ." she fretted into the back of her hand. "Laik, make ep your maind already, wow, Mistarr," Otter said breathlessly as she trotted over to drop a pile of clean towels at Dorcas's feet. She clutched at the front of her thin white dress, made clammy in the steam, as she peered past the doorway to get a look at Chris.

Dorcas looked down at the pile of towels and allowed this.

[Chrishton Radu]

"Was married, 'fore she died."

He tried to hide his emotions and failed for a change. What he felt came out as a subtle, mid-sentence quiver that lowered the volume his abrasive voice. It was not a subject he talked about openly, like most things in his personal life.

As the last word came out of his mouth he noticed an orange spirit from the corner of his eye, on cue to remind him that he was behaving in a manner unbecoming of his faith. He was being too human again.

"An' if y'were a guy I'd kick yer arse fer th'bitch comment so watch it."

The fox spirit was a familiar one. Not the one from his dream that night, but not one of the dozens that came and went like the weather either. Though Chrishton barely got a look at him, he knew who it was. His presence was comforting.

Dorcas remained at the door while Chrishton slowly, carefully, removed his shirt. There were still many tender spots where Dennison's salve had healed his skin but not what was beneath. His heavy, muscular frame was the same as always. Large biceps and pectorals that belonged to someone who had spent years working hard, but the gut of a man who didn't anymore. His chest and arms had graying dark hair on them, and his skin was far from fair - the fresh scars crisscrossed with older ones. Moryldar's handiwork was going to take days to stop hurting.

Otter arrived and he folded his arms, watching the two of them. He was proud of his scars. Proud that he was still alive. The familiar spirit floated over to his side and perched himself on the edge of the tub looking at the girls as well.

"You have lowered your standards." He said, and Chrishton itched to give him a witty reply.

The familiar messenger's voice was different than the others in that he did not have a voice. While they all spoke directly to Chrishton's mind, this one communicated on a much deeper level. He never laughed, although he had a dry sort of humor.

[Dorcas Tansy]

The pale pink tip of Otter's tongue poked out from between her teeth as she smiled in at Chrishton. Her nearly invisible eyebrows rose to peaks of intrigue as she watched him take off his shirt. She was leaning forward on her tiptoes and stumbled a bit as she lost her balance.

Dorcas reached over and caught Otter by the shoulder as she almost fell into the room. She glanced in as well and caught sight of Chrishton bare-chested, stoking her blush anew. She kept her face pointed in at him but averted her gaze to the wall at the back of the room. "You were th'one said she was a bitch," Dorcas muttered hastily. "A 'good-looking bitch. With brains.'"

She turned her face away again and straightened her back against the door jamb. "But I'm not a guy, so ye won' even try'n' kick my arse." There was almost a little pout to her voice.

Dorcas turned her sullen expression on Otter and cuffed her shoulder. "G'won," she instructed.

The frail girl grinned impishly at Chrishton, biting her lower lip with her unusually small teeth. She produced a quiet squeal of glee as she turned around to flounce down the stairs. She was probably looking forward greatly to the gossip he had promised her earlier in exchange for this bath.

Dorcas swallowed heavily and sighed to herself. "Well," she threw her voice over her shoulder with a jerk of her chin, so as to reach Chris but avoid looking at him undressing. "I guess I've got no choice but t'stay an' protect ye. From you-know-who." She folded her arms on her chest resolutely and made a distinct effort to orient her face exactly 180 degrees from Chrishton's form.

[Chrishton Radu]

Chrishton could not help but wink at Otter when he saw her behavior. She was small and strange, but he liked to play around. He would have done the same for Dorcas, perhaps even flexed for her, had she not averted her eyes.

"Yer right, but dun' push it. There's always exceptions."

Otter ran off but rather than go with her and shut the door, Dorcas stood there with her back turned to him like a bouncer at the local brothel to keep away the riffraff, which very often meant Chris himself. How strange this backward dimension Dorcas lived in was that she was defending his honour.

He exchanged glances with the fox spirit on the edge of the bathtub, after which they both looked back at Dorcas and said in unison: "Close the door."

[Dorcas Tansy]

Dorcas didn't see the wink Chris gave Otter, but she did hear the girl giggle in response when she was off down the stairs. She was a strange enough creature, and Dorcas didn't even turn to see what behavior on Chrishton's part had affected her.

He gave her a command, and even as Dorcas's head turned reflexively at being addressed in such a manner, a scowl darkened her eyes. Her cat peered in over her shoulder and stared at the edge of the steaming bathtub. "Oh great, yeah," Dorcas spat through the doorway, "go an' make me your servant too. I'm thinkin' ye've spent more time with Udorl than ye let on." Given his recent faltering of character when speaking of his late wife, that seemed to come out sounding unnecessarily cruel. Dorcas's chin dropped as she attempted to tuck that comment back into her throat.

The girl took a hold of the door handle and looked in at Chris with a tilt of her head both sympathetic and pathetic at once. She avoided staring at his half-bare body by diverting her gaze to the bucket with the soap. With her foot she scooted the pile of new towels into the room. "Sorry . . . your wife died." It sounded forced but sufficiently sincere. She pulled the door handle and slammed it shut.

A final roll of steam billowed up with the slam of the door, and then the sitting room was cut off from the steam shut into the bathroom. Dorcas's cat jumped off her shoulders and landed with a loud thump on the wooden floor. She gave the feline a long look, and then the bathroom door. The cat sat facing the door, his nose a mere inch from the wood. He seemed content to stare at the grain while Chrishton bathed.

Dorcas turned for the stairs and began to stalk towards them. Her shoulders slumped. Her hair hung lank. Her boots thudded with muted authority.

[Chrishton Radu]

He made a wafting gesture with his hand, both to suggest that she hurry up and close the door already, and to indicate that he was not upset by her comment. He wasn't smiling anymore. Indeed he almost looked serious, but he wasn't upset or hurt. She'd have to try harder for that.

With the door closed he was alone to remove his pants. Or mostly alone, with the exception of another solitary creature who didn't obey doors and had no concept of privacy. Chrishton kept his voice to a murmur at first.

"So what brings ya 'ere, Useless? Just wanna see m'doodle?"

Useless was the name he'd given to the fox spirit. It was a comment on the nature of their relationship and the inescapable fact that the fox spirits were rarely able to offer him any direct assistance in times of trial. The very nature of their existance forced them to obey some strange laws governing who they could talk to and what information they could offer.

It would be a strain to see from so far away.

"Oh please. Ya know it's huge 'n yer jealous."

Jealous of those who do not have to be in this room.

Now out of his clothes, Chrishton lifted one foot - his injured foot - and dipped a toe in the water while holding the side of the tub with his hands. He immediately jerked the foot back and glared at the fox.

"Be nice or I'll give ya a better view."

Some offenses are inexcusable, Chrishton.

"Yeah shut up."

He slowly dipped his foot into the water again and had a little faith that it wasn't as hot as it felt. It had been ages since he'd felt the touch of such hot water, and for some reason it felt like it was scalding. This time he didn't jerk his foot out, but sunk it to the bottom of the tub and slowly got in.

The orange spirit turned around on its perch and looked at him. Chrishton was too engrossed in the experience to care. He was leaning back slowly with his eyes closed while the water worked its earthly magic. His arms slung over the sides of the tub with elbows pointing to the floor, and he let his head fall back away from the rising steam which had already turned his long dark hair into glistening strands.

After a few seconds of this, he let out a heavy sigh and opened his eyes again to stare at the ceiling through mists of white fog. The fox spirit was patient and sat there watching quietly. Several ethereal tails swayed back and forth behind him without disturbing the steam at all.

Chrishton dipped a hand into the water and brought it up to his face where he rubbed it a few times, and then held a thumb and forefinger against his eyes around the bridge of his nose. Effectively alone, he let himself slip. Something was bothering him and he didn't care to hide it from the fox who already knew.

Useless continued to stare.

"So what is it?" He asked finally, and lowered the hand. Whatever emotions overcame him passed like a falling tide.

I have been in discussion with the others.

"Shakko?"

Her and all the others.

All the others? Did he mean all of the spirits? There were too many to count. There had to be a million of them.

"Yer joking. Two visits in two days. What's goin' on?"

Your purpose here is extremely important.

"I'm th'best ya got? Ya'd think ya'd gimme another fuckin' tail or somethin'."

Not important enough to make us look desperate.

There was that dry humor again. Years of service and Chrishton still only had two tails. He wasn't sure what laws governed new tails sprouting out of his ass, but it had something to do with his mind, not his deeds. Still, he blamed the fox spirits for his low standing. He was effectively a child. A servant of servants.

"So yer here t'tell me where I'm s'posed ta find this bard girl right?"

No.

"Useless."

I am here.

Sometimes it was difficult to tell when he was joking. His mental communication had no voice, but it always seemed serious to Chrishton. Chris figured that Useless must be some kind of official emissary for the foxes. He was excellent at deception. There was no way to read him.

It made Chrishton smirk, but the spirit continued to sit and stare with a straight face. Two ghostly white eyes blinked once.

"Fine. So what is it?"

Something has come up. We have decided that you should know. It will not be pleasant for you...

"Just fuckin' tell me."

It is about Cervantes.

Chrishton's heart sank like a stone. He hadn't heard his son's name spoken in nearly a decade. For it to be brought up meant something bad. Something really bad. Like he was dead...

He is alive.

Chris closed his eyes again. The sudden upswell of emotion affected him deeply. He was close to shaking.

Compose yourself young fox.

And he did compose himself. The spirit's words comforted him in a way no others could. Somehow it made him feel protected from whatever was going to happen. He nodded slightly but stayed quiet to listen to his professor.

He has placed himself in dangers' way and if you do not go to him, he may not escape.

Wonderful. After all the effort and pains of getting to Marn and staying in reach of some of the most cruel and powerful enemies he's ever had, after being starved and tortured without a clue about why he was in this hell hole to begin with, he was being told to leave it all behind to go confront the one man on Pal Tahrenor he feared more than any other. Chrishton did not want to go. He did not want to have to see his son.

"What 'bout this all important mission 'n this motherfuckin' shit hole ya've fuckin had m'wading through fer fuckin' weeks?"

Your purpose here will be here when you return. As time passes, it will become more difficult, but we believe you have earned the right to know about your son.

Earned the right to know. That was a great compliment, especially considering the gravity of the situation in Marn. For Useless to convene with all the spirits - all of them - and then come to personally give Chrishton untwisted and direct information that interfered with his actions... was unheard of. It defied everything.

Chrishton stared into the fox's milky white eyes and the fox stared back.

It is that important.

The man looked down at the water he was sitting in, and then grinned wryly. It was a forced grin that once again did not reach his eyes. It was as forced as the joke that followed.

"Ya mean I'm that important."

Whatever comforts you.

Sliding down lower into the water, so that it reached his collar and so his knees poked up from the other side of the tub, Chrishton closed his eyes once more and tried to relax.

"What comferts me's this water."

You will find him in Keltaris.

"Right."

The spirit twisted around on his perch and glanced at the door. A second later it was gone.

[Dorcas Tansy]

Dorcas gave one look back as the toes of her boots hung over the edge of the top step. A yellow-eyed gaze from her cat seemed to give her the signal to go ahead. She went slowly.

Downstairs Dorcas was met with the moderately friendly faces of Flosmarra and Davrib. They were not so open about their thoughts as Otter, and said nothing. Davrib gazed on the still, solid figure of Dorcas from narrowed eyes, tarnished copper coins between wrinkles of flesh. Her shadowed upper lip arched over her teeth in the type of sneer that resembled a smile. Flossie hid the humor in her eyes with a hasty downward glance.

Dorcas lifted her chin to put her line of sight above the women's heads and stalked towards the table. She could almost be mistaken, if only by her bearing, for a woman above their stature. Her fingers were already curled into a possessive claw as she reached for the basket of rolls.

No sooner than her grimy fingernail grazed the soft crust of the uppermost roll on the pile, did the shabby front door creak open. A figure like a scrawny troll loomed on the steps--but the troll was just Mydjeken.

Flossie and Davrib gawked. Dorcas stared with round eyes, her mouth set into a hateful, tight line. The young man's lips were caked with flakes of dark dried blood. A sick bruise stained his face from the bridge of his nose to the indistinct line of his upper jaw. His nose was purple and large and uneven in shape. His eyelids drooped over red-rimmed eyes that appeared to weep. His brow was screwed into an odd expression that made even his crown appear crooked.

Nobody moved for him when he staggered forward into the room. "Dwor," he slurred as he thrust his chin forward imploringly. He had the powerful smell of used-up alcohol about his whole body. Everything else about Mydjeken was unchanged from the night previous--his clothing was intact, except for a missing button at the collar of his shirt, and he had evidently not sought medical service for his broken nose.

" . . . No . . ." She shook her head slowly and emphatically, but her voice faltered with a squeak and an upturn of pitch, and she threw down the roll she had just picked up. "No-o!" she cried. It was a whine of protest, a cry against an unfair predicament. It was the sound of a tired child faced with a choice deemed unfit for consideration.

Dorcas turned heel and tore past the curtain, stormed up the stairs. Without hesitation, she stepped over her reclining cat and shoved open the door to the bathroom where Chrishton bathed.

Seconds passed as Dorcas clung to the door handle, suspended in action as she realized she had barged in on a fully grown naked man. Her face was frozen in a cringe. There was a brief silence in the household.

A confusion of voices broke from downstairs and broke the spell of shock. Dorcas lurched forward, swung her body around to the opposite side of the door, and slammed it shut to close out the sounds from below. Her cat swished his tail against the door from outside and yawned.

Dorcas forced herself to look at Chrishton's face, keeping her eyes trained distinctly away from the patch of bathwater that transparently covered what he would call his "doodle." She dropped clumsily to her knees by the tub and squeezed her eyes shut. A hand groped forward blindly and landed wetly on his half-submerged chest before sliding to his shoulder. The heel of her hand briefly crossed the path of a fresh scar. Her fingers clung tightly around his shoulder and weren't to be displaced by any modest force.

"I don't wanna be here," she said hoarsely, and she sounded as if she sincerely meant it, and meant for him to believe her.

[Chrishton Radu]

Not particularly worried about someone seeing him in the nude, and quite expecting Udorl to be the first one to barge in on him, he wasn't even looking directly at the door when it opened.

"Can't e'en take a goddam..." Upon seeing it was Dorcas, and the condition she was in, he stopped himself. She would not have barged in on him if she didn't have a good reason. "What..."

He wasn't going anywhere and he wasn't sure what to do, but his eyebrows shot right up when she reached over and touched him. Yet again she surprised him with the sudden and arguably brave move. Even though it hurt him when she touched the fresh scar, she was clearly hurting a lot more.

Water dropped into the tub and echoed around the room as he brought his own hand over hers and held it there. She needed help from him and he didn't have to think about the answer.

"Alright." He said, and looked at her to gauge how committed she was, or whether it was an emotional fit of some kind. His voice was deep, and entirely serious. "Then we'll leave."

[Dorcas Tansy]

Dorcas hiccuped harshly with the effort of holding back dry sobs. The skin from her jaw to her collarbone was flushed deep red. She bowed her head, ventured to open her eyes very slightly to stare at the side of the nearly overflowing tub, and jerked her head in a small, fervent nod.

She loosened her grip on Chrishton's shoulder. The metal of the tub amplified the sound of bathwater dripping gently from her fingers. The watery sounds of the bathroom were sufficient to drown out the commotion downstairs.

Dorcas curled her hands around the edge of the tub and pushed her weight up. She seemed bolstered by the decisiveness of Chris's decision, at least enough to pull herself together. As she stood, her gaze fell on the patch of water she'd been avoiding, and she quickly glanced away, at the wall. It was only a dark, blurred mass she'd seen--more hair than flesh--but her jaw was frozen, her cheeks stiff with the embarrassment of having seen anything at all.

She hesitantly turned herself ninety degrees from Chris and nodded again. She looked down at her wet hands as she wiped them on her loose shirttail. They left diluted streaks of dirt.

"Do you nee--" Dorcas hiccuped--"finish with yer bath?"