Sing to me

Maea

Oh, when the world is burning

A stillness had settled over the landscape. Cold rain had lashed the barren trees and fallow fields over the better course of the day, but as the afternoon dragged on it had begun to let up. Thirsty soil drank the puddles dry before they barely had time to form and for the first time since Flowerbirth the dust had gone from the wind. There was a bite to the air that spoke of early frost. Leaves scattered all along the road that wound its way out from the old Settlement - now called the Inner Quarter by most, though not all - and narrowed as it climbed the rolling hills. Just out of sight of the city lights, a cottage lay nestled in greenery between two ridges. It was old, and small, built from brick and cut stone so massive it was a wonder anyone had been able to move them at all, and the chimney was a bit crooked. A thin trail of smoke struggled to rise above the treetops but was continually pushed down by the wind, so that a thin haze added to the dreary feel of the early eve.

Within the small kitchen, Maea scowled at the hearth and stacked another piece of firewood onto the embers. She couldn't seem to get a proper draft going no matter what she did; the room smelled of smoke, and while the teapot had been rattling for a while now she couldn't get to it before she had this sorted. Her stomach gnawed with hunger; she had meant to make food a long time ago, but just like with the tea, it was pushed aside - how could she cook if she couldn't even make the fireplace behave?
Sucking in a breath to summon some patience, she fed the embers with a breath of magic one more time. The tinder caught fire and flared up in bright yellow light, that soon began to lick the half-burned wood. For a moment, it seemed that the smoke that hovered around the heavy beams of the ceiling thinned. But the moment she let her control slip, the fire flagged and dimmed again, leaving the corners of the room to brood under unsettling shadows.

A frustrated snarl was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. It was so unexpected that Maea jumped where she sat and spun to stare at it, half expecting someone or something to come bursting through. Ophelia never knocked when she came home, and there had been no visitors to speak of since they first moved in. Yet there it was again. Unmistakably, undeniably, a knock on the door.

Rising to her feet, she approached warily and cracked open the door just enough to peer outside - hardly daring to hope it wouldn't be trouble that came knocking.

Don't walk away

Harper

Come out into the sun and stay awhile
Come meet me at the comedown

Though the rains have passed, the remains cling to his traveling boots and the hem of his pants, leaving him uncomfortably damp and colder than he would prefer. It encourages him to keep a steady pace if nothing else, avoiding the temptation to fly only because he's unwilling to abandon the baggage he carries. Alternatively, he's certain the Grounds residents wouldn't be too happy with giant elephant prints creating massive puddles down their street, so he's unfortunately relegated to two legs regardless.

He tries to kick off as much excess mud as he can before ascending the few short steps to the door, even though he intends to toe them off the moment he's inside. Adjusting the bag slung over one shoulder, he raps his knuckles against the door, heart climbing up his throat. He hadn't written ahead, and he knows they had laid out this agreement with the knowledge that Maea might not be home every time he came knocking, but given it's the first time he can't help but hope -

The door cracks open, and Harper is relieved to find the right pale-haired Ancient on the other side. He grins, waterlogged but undeterred, and turns sideways to reveal his backpack. "Care for some company? I brought dinner," he sing-songs, hoping to entice her with that if his presence isn't enough.

When no one's talkin' about you at all
When there's no more little job you gotta do

Maea

Oh, when the world is burning

It was darker outside than within, and the light from lanterns - and the gasping, sputtering hearth too, she conceded, if grudgingly - fell upon the face of the weary traveler that stood on her doorstep. Pulling the door wide open, Maea's wary expression brightened into delighted surprise, answering his grin with a smile of her own.

"Harper! You really came." Perhaps she should not have doubted it. But somewhere in the back of her mind she must have expected the promised visit to be longer in the coming. To see him twice in the same season must be some kind of record - and definitely a welcome change. "Come in - you're just in time, I was about to burn the place down. Now I might save it for some other day." It wasn't clear if it was a joke or not.

Stepping back to let him inside, she cast a quick glance over the room to make sure it wasn't too dreadfully messy. The foyer was little more than a narrow corridor from where a flight of steps led up to the loft - and the guest room - and spilled rather abruptly into the kitchen, arguably the largest room of the house. Fresh lime-washed plaster and dark wooden beams in the low ceiling gave the room a rustic and careworn character, made a touch eccentric by the mismatched table and chairs that stood before the open fireplace. Built in cupboards and a large pantry swallowed up the majority of the space, and while it wasn't pristine - someone had left some cups beside the wash basin, and the floor could use a good sweeping - it was homely enough, and passed her inspection. As good as two restless souls could make it in less than a full season.

Sans the light haze of smoke that stung the eyes, of course, and left a sooty taste in the back of the throat. She still had to do something about that.

On a hook over the fireplace, the teapot was about to boil itself dry. Hurrying over, Maea lifted it off with her bare hands, heedless of the scalding metal, and set it aside to deal with later. Looking unexpectedly comfortable in a simple white dress, her battle with the fire had left sooty fingerprints around the knees, and a smudge of black on her cheek from impatiently pushing her hair from the face.

Don't walk away

Harper

Come out into the sun and stay awhile
Come meet me at the comedown

It's not unfair wording given the long stretches of time that often fill the spaces between their visits, but it lends a mischievous tilt to his grin. "Such a tone of doubt! I can always leave and come back after more time has passed," he offers, feigning turning back to descend the front steps until she opens the door wider.

He has to stop for a moment to hang his damp coat and toe off his boots, but it's a pleasant feeling to know he's preparing to stay longer than a brief moment. It also allows him time to look around the house which he has previously only seen from the outside. It's homey in a lived-in, repurposed way that makes his chest fill with warmth and nostalgia. Since falling into Caido and landing straight in Phoebe's lap, he's never lived in anything less than quarters befitting a respected midwife, demigod, or council member. This? He envies her this, and it's apparent in the softness of his wistful express as he looks around the main room.

"It's beautiful. I love it." Spoken as sincerely as he can muster to ensure she doesn't think he's teasing or lying. Eyes finally returning to her, he laughs and reaches out a hand, fingertips just barely brushing beneath the ashy smudges on her cheek to point them out to her in perhaps a little too intimate of a way. "Got a little ash there. From your fight with the hearth I assume?" He would recommend opening a window if it wouldn't threaten to chill her, so he breathes in the hazy air without complaint. "I can try to help, or we can warm up on dinner first? I packed it away hot in a cooler so it shouldn't need to be reheated." He'd brought along some chilled rare steaks in case she was craving something bloodier too, but there was no sense in ruining the surprise early by mentioning them.

When no one's talkin' about you at all
When there's no more little job you gotta do

Maea

Oh, when the world is burning

"Don't you dare!" she blurted, perhaps a touch too quickly, and slapped on a quick laugh to take the edge off. "It's good to see you again. And you brought food." It was a coin toss as to which reason was more weighty, but the message was clear all the same. Stay.

With the kettle saved, she was caught between hovering nervously near Harper while he took in the space, and returning to the battle for warmth and breathable air. She still hadn't made up her mind when he reached out, the gesture so simple yet sweet that it blanked out her thoughts entirely. Had she been about to say something? Probably. Something along the lines of him being welcome to stay however long he liked... Alas, it got lost in the ether, and Maea rubbed at the spot on her face with the back of her hand with a laugh that sounded more than a little nervous.

It was just Harper, the same person she had talked to so many times before. But this situation... having him in her space like this... it was entirely new. And she wasn't used to hosting anyone at all.

"Yeah. I can't get the smoke to clear properly..." Obviously. "So if you want to... You must be cold, though? And you've got wet clothes. Let's fix the fire first, and get you settled properly." Then they could eat, without the need to worry about anything.

Don't walk away

Harper

Come out into the sun and stay awhile
Come meet me at the comedown

Harper grins, pleased to have made a good impression as a first time house guest despite the clearly frustrating task that had been occupying Maea before he knocked. "Hopefully the food lives up to the excitement," he jests, feeling a touch regretful for the way he'd clearly surprised her with his touch and hoping to give her an excuse to move past it if she needed.

"Let me tackle the fire while you unpack the food, and then I can change into the extra pair I carry." Accustomed to taking frustrations and burdens into his own hands, Harper smiles encouragingly, hoping his decisiveness will be a relief. He only knows modern terms and treatments for anxiety, but if that's what he reads in her then certainty and direction is what he's trained to provide. Kneeling in front of the hearth, Harper investigates the current state of affairs, humming little notes of consideration as he pokes and prods.

"I think this main log in the middle isn't fully dry, which is why it's smoking out the house and not catching. Is it willow? Or maybe just green?" There's no need to do it really but it's nice to talk out loud and have someone around to actually hear it and be included by it. Using the sparse tools by the fireside - understandable given two Ancients live here and likely have little need for them - Harper wiggles the split log out and sets it in the ash bucket so it could sputter out or be set outside. Perusing the available wood to replace it with, he inspects each with a critical eye before deciding on one he finds suitable and carefully inserting it back into the smoking hearth. A bit of tinder and some careful, measured breaths and the embers catch and crackle, producing more flames than smoke this time. It would take a few minutes to catch onto the larger logs, but Harper sits back on his knees and cranes his head around to grin at Maea. "One problem down! What do you think of dinner options?" Inside the hot section she would have found paella with local seafood from King's End, fresh rosemary bread, and the crown jewel of homemade brownies. In the cooler beneath were the rare steaks, ready to be cooked to each of their desires (or perhaps not at all in her case).

And if his eyes hang on her expression, hopeful and nervous in equal measure with the desire to impress her, it's only because there's a subtle art to the gift selection of a first visit to someone's home. Or maybe that's just his mentor's training still rattling around in his brain, sophisticated and high-class in ways Caido doesn't reflect.

When no one's talkin' about you at all
When there's no more little job you gotta do

Maea

Oh, when the world is burning

For all her intelligence, Maea had never learned to hide her emotions. Suppress them, yes, but that was not the same thing. To someone who knew what they were doing she was an open book, easy to read and just as easy to manipulate, if they so desired. She knew herself well enough to understand that, but without the experience that built defenses against that sort of thing, all she knew to do was keep a distance to anyone who might try, to the point that everyone became a potential danger. She trusted Harper. If she didn't he wouldn't have been invited. It was just... hard, to actually let her guard down and not be overwhelmed by things most people could write off as a friendly gesture, or camaraderie.

Especially when she couldn't convince herself entirely that it was all it was meant to be.

"Alright. Thank you," she said, predictably glad for the simple task to distract herself with. Unpacking the containers, she pried open lids and peeked inside, eyes widening at the bounty she found within. It just kept giving too, until she wondered if there was a bottom at all to Harper's bag. Maybe it was one of those infinite ones that some mages could make, and somewhere deep within he had hired a chef that took orders once a day? If that was the case, she would pretend she didn't know.

"Oh, yeah, it might be... There was no wood left in the shed when we moved in, so all of it was cut fresh this summer." No wonder it wouldn't burn. "I thought it was the weather... the chimney stack isn't in the best condition, but it was too much work to get it fixed. Would have had to undo half the roof." It had been a cheap buy, this place. Affordable, if inconvenient; the seller would still be running cattle on the fields all around, and while they were guaranteed all the produce they could want, there had been a lot of work needed to make the place habitable.

As she went to fetch plates and set the table, Maea realized that she was smiling to herself. Humming under breath, pleased with having someone to talk to about such mundane things. Ophelia was lovely, but didn't care much for chimneys or the color of limewash on the walls. She came and went just like Maea, but the times they spent together in the house were wrapped in comfortable silence more often than not. This? This was nice in a different way.

"It looks amazing," she hummed dreamily, when Harper asked. Brightening as the rising flames began to warm the chimney and improved the draft, subsequently clearing the air within the room, the last remnants of her scowl vanished entirely. "Smells amazing too. I hope you are hungry because I'm not sure I can keep from drooling much longer. Where did you get all of this?" Even steak was on the menu, so rare she could smell the faint metallic odor of blood. That was beyond thoughtful, and far better than the toast and scrambled eggs she'd had planned for herself.

Don't walk away

Harper

Come out into the sun and stay awhile
Come meet me at the comedown

Harper is unfortunately quite the opposite; physical contact is his touchstone, how he expresses and centers himself, feels connected to the world around him. It's no coincidence that after leaving Torchline he'd fallen down an endless pit of courtesans and brothels so that he might still be touched in the way he needs, even if it could never fill the empty spaces aching for those touches to mean something more than business. But he wants to make this work, to push their boundaries enough to learn and grow without overwhelming either of them. So he doesn't draw attention to it, but doesn't apologize for it either. Not until she makes it clear he needs to.

"That makes sense. If you bring in logs a night or two beforehand, you can line them up on the stones here so the fire can dry them out, and then cycle the dried logs in when you're down to ashes." He doesn't want to mansplain to her given she had lived this way her entire life, but if any of it is helpful advice he'd rather take the risk to ensure her life is a little easier. Especially as an Ancient who relies on heat and fire. And if he eyes the chimney while he's in front of it, considering...well, she's not privy to the Attuned bond and can't skim his schemes off the top of his thoughts.

Grinning sheepishly as he joins her, willing to wait to change until after they'd eaten if it meant they could continue talking a little longer, Harper settles into his chair quickly. "I made it, actually. Except the bread - I always over-knead it when I try, I get too into my head." Harper is admittedly a great cook, had been even before he'd been thrust into the life of a single parent where it would have become a necessity. He'd been happy to cook dinner for Maeve when she was ruling, and it's the first time he's cooked for someone other than himself since he left Torchline. It's a vulnerable thing, but if he just keeps his mouth shut she won't know that it is. Even if he's over-eager in the way he reaches for the paella dish so he can serve them both, neatly scooping it onto her plate and tearing a piece of bread off to place beside it. Perhaps a shade too attentive in hopes of catching her reactions all while never reaching for his own utensils. "We can cook the steaks over the flames once they're a little larger, if you'd like them cooked at all." He'll cook his own, though he prefers his rare anyway, even before his gore crow shift made him far more inclined to blood and viscera.

When no one's talkin' about you at all
When there's no more little job you gotta do

Maea

Oh, when the world is burning

"I should know that," she admitted sheepishly, "but I keep forgetting. Fetching water and splitting wood was children's work at home, and it's been a long time since I was the youngest. It's been an experience, re-learning things I thought I knew after only watching it be done."

Settling in by the table, she poured them drinks from a pitcher - only water, alas - and offered Harper the first glass. Her mouth fell open at his confession, thoroughly and unabashedly impressed. "Really? And you carried it all the way out here too - thank you!"

Almost reverently she tried a bite of the paella. Flavors leapt at her palate, some new while others were familiar and comforting. It was warm. It was succulent and delicious; her stomach cinched itself tight around her spine and demanded more; it wasn't easy to put her fork down instead of just wolfing it down. "It's so good," she all but chirped, eagerly reaching for the container that held the steaks. "Just warming it up will be enough; let me just - "  

A thought was all it took for the flames to suddenly rise with a crackling roar. Heat rolled out from the hearth, chasing off the slightly chill draft along the floor and turned it into something refreshing and pleasant instead. "Tell me how you want the fire," she offered; happy to help him however she could. Being it moral support, a place to crash or as a private portable stove. She was willing and able.

Don't walk away