• Closed • Honeycomb, forgotten.

[Faith Augustin]

75th Vhalar, 716

She had with her all the necessary ingredients and equipment for making honeycomb. It had been so successful when she had brought the same for making chocolate fondants, after all, that Faith was really quite excited about it. So, laden down with bags and wishing that she didn't have to wear these stupid clothes or this ridiculous hair, Faith had arrived at Padraig's door, right on time as always. The young slave was a stickler for timing and she never arrived early or late if she could help it. It was a matter of pride and discipline to her and she could not bring herself to do anything other than arrive right on time if it was within her power. So, she lifted one of her bags on to her shoulder and felt a rush of excitement as she always did when faced with the prospect of spending time learning. As she felt that by-now familiar feeling, she lifted her hand and knocked on Padraig's door.

Which swung open.

That wasn't right, Faith thought and she frowned slightly. He never had his door just sitting open, that was not like him. Sometimes, he called for her to come in and that was when the door was unlocked, but just sitting there open? No, that was quite a new thing. So, she stepped in and she looked around with a frown creasing her brow "Hello? Are you here?" she asked and as she stepped forward her frown deepened. Something was most certainly wrong, she knew. Because there was a chair knocked over, a jug smashed on the floor and there, as her eyes scanned the room in order to see if she could see him, she felt a knot of panic in her throat. "Padraig? Are you here?" Although usually she spoke in quiet tones, she shouted this.

Continuing into the room, she dropped the bags and let out a gasp as she saw the pool of blood.

With more than reasonable haste, Faith ran forward to the puddle of deep crimson red, tripping over her own high heels and stumbling forward, landing on her knees and grazing them against the floor as she did. But she did not notice, all she was interested in was finding out of he was around behind the couch, dead or otherwise injured, but he was not. There was the pool of blood and no one else and she did not know if she was relieved or more worried than before. She shouted his name again, yelling it to see if she got his attention and then turned to the pool of blood. It was fresh, she thought, in so much as it was very liquid. She knew enough about both surgery and medicine to know that blood congealed quickly.

She was completely focused on that pool of blood, a hundred scenarios running through her mind and so, when she heard the bang of the door opening behind her, Faith let out a scream and turned awkwardly, sitting on the floor and looking, wide eyed at who had made the noise. "Oh, thank Famula! What have you been doing!? Are you alright?" she asked, looking up at the man who was probably, she considered, not going to be giving her a lesson on this trial.

[Padraig]

...
Padraig had been out that morning, and had returned home with plenty of time to spare before Faith's lesson was to begin. He'd worked at the apothecary some, then cut through the market to pick up bread, tea and eggs. He'd had no reason to think anything was wrong when he'd unlocked the front door to his small home. But when the young man had stepped inside, that's when everything had gone wrong.

There were three in his home. Two men, a woman, who must have broken in through the back door. They'd been going through his belongings, few as they were, and had strewn them about. And they were as surprised to see him, as him, them. For a split second, time stopped until everyone moved at once. Padraig dropped the sack with his purchases inside, and without thinking or pulling his sword from its sheathe, gave chase. The woman managed to get out the back door, the smaller of the two men after her. The third, larger man had done his best, but Padraig had caught up with him and grabbed him by the shoulder before he was out of the house.

There'd been a scuffle, fists mostly, they'd both taken a few licks, but a lucky left hook meant that Padraig had prevailed, at least when it came to bloodletting, and the amount of blood let. Unfortunately, the force of the blow hadn't been enough to keep the man down, and after a great deal more scuffling, he'd escaped and fled in the direction his associates had gone.

Padraig had given chase. But it wasn't enough, he was only able to judge the direction they'd gone, and not much more. And was left to return inside. Where of course he found Faith, having come for her lessons, in a heap beside the pool of blood. Wearing those shoes, and with that ridiculous, enormous curl on her head. Had it been any other trial, he'd have teased her. He reached down a hand to help her up and she'd find he was more disheveled than his usual, and there was a stream of blood beneath his nose. An injury, but not enough of one to account for that pool on the floor.

"I came home from the market and found I'd been broken into. Two men, a woman. I don't know yet what they were after or if they've taken anything. They ran, but not before I caught up with one of them," he explained with a nod at the puddle. "I'm alright though. The other guy caught the worst of it."

[Faith Augustin]

She had gasped in surprise, run forward, tripped over her stupid shoes and landed next to the pool of blood and when she saw that Padraig was fine, Faith felt relief flood through her. Taking his hand, she lifted herself up and that relief turned to frustration, anger even and she glared at him and spoke in what could only be described as an accusing tone. "Are you sure? There is blood! Blood!" That word seemed important to her and, as she spoke, the shaking in her voice told a lot of the depth of emotion that she felt. "I thought it was your blood, you know. Are you hurt?" As soon as the question was out of her mouth, though she shook her head, pulling her hand from his and moving towards the bags she had brought with her. As she moved, she looked frankly ridiculous; she had lost one shoe in the tumble and so she walked with a very uneven step as she stepped forward as quickly as she could. Kneeling next to the discarded bag, she slipped the remaining shoe off and then brought a cloth and some water over to him "I know you don't... please let me just look at that?" she asked and her voice shook with the emotion which she felt. Of course, the fact that she was barefoot, rumpled and unnerved really didn't help at all. But still, she figured, it was worth a try.

If he did allow it, she would clean up his face carefully, with a frown on her face and a quiet-spoken "It's not bleeding now. We could put a cold compress on it, though, but it should be fine". Looking up at him, whether he let her clean up his face or not, she sighed "I was very....", pausing, she reconsidered "I am very glad it is not your blood". It was all she said on it, but the meaning, and sincerity, behind her words was clear. "Now then, lets find what they were looking for, shall we? They were looking for something and we need to make sure that they did not take it. Also, I can fix that door, if there are any broken bits. Carpentry, I can do." After all, she had spent an arc working in an undertakers and making coffins. Her only question there was whether he had any tools or whether she would have to improvise. She suspected improvisation might be in order

"Lets get some salt on that. It will stop it staining", she said of the blood and would indeed get about cleaning it, with an automatic assumption that it was hers to clean and a complete lack of thought that he might want to do so himself. "While I take care of this, have a look and see what they took or what they were looking for. Where were they looking? That might give us a clue as to what they were looking for. Also, see if they left anything behind, it might be useful", she added and then looked at him apologetically "Please. If you'd like to" she added with something resembling a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. It wasn't anything like the usual, but she smiled and was genuine in her teasing. But equally, she was unnerved at what she had seen, there was no doubt. "What could you possibly have that any self respecting thief might be interested in?" It was a very genuine area of suprise to her, to think about what could be of interest in a chemistry and maths tutor's home.

Having wondered it aloud she flushed slightly and then shrugged "I simply mean that all your wealth is in your intellect?" she wondered, hopefully. Excellent work, Faith, she inwardly chastised herself but simply busied herself with getting this stain out of the floor.

[Padraig]

"I'm not hurt. Truly," Padraig insisted. A bloody nose, chances were the blow he'd received would result in a black eye. But overall, he'd been lucky. Still, the extent of her concern caught him by surprise. That she'd been unnerved, he could understand completely. But the shaking, the uncertainty, well, he hadn't expected it. Strangely, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, it was nice to have someone worried that way. Nonetheless he accepted her efforts to put him right again, and sat down to make her fussing easier. "The most of that blood isn't mine. I gave better than I got," he added. "He fell like a stone and struck his face on the corner of the table before hitting the floor." An injury to the mouth, the loss of a tooth, a bitten cheek or tongue, any of those might explain all that blood.

"There must not have been a lock pick in the bunch. They broke the latch loose instead." Which struck him as strange, truth told. Seemed to him, if he was going to earn a living taking other's belongings, he'd take the time to learn. But in spite of Faith's efforts to soften the blow regarding his social status, it did make him wonder what they could have been looking for. "I don't really have anything of value...Except," he added, realizing that he had in fact made a recent purchase. He stood up, began looking around the small home. There were clothes out of the wardrobe, a cooking pan out of the cupboard. But there in the corner was a large chest she probably hadn't seen before. Its wooden lid was akimbo on its top. "Chemist's equipment. I bought it recently," Padraig said and walked over, crouched down and began to go through the contents.

Many of them were out of their place and it took some time to decide that all of it was still there. Which left him more confused than ever. What could they have been looking for? "They spent an awful lot of time going through this equipment, for them not to take anything." It was worth something after all. Probably the only thing of worth he had. "Maybe they were looking for ingredients and compounds? Except I haven't gotten any yet." Padraig frowned, watching her salt the floor. And while he pondered it, he picked up a cup from the floor and opened the cabinet in the kitchen to put it back.

Instead, he paused, and pulled out a small shallow dish. It was empty, but his expression implied that it hadn't been before. He took a moment to search the cabinet, then the floor and the counter. Nothing. "Strange. There were two things in this dish. A small pouch of oregano for cooking. And an old key. Not my house or shop key. I've got those in my pocket," he said. "It was a useless old key that had once opened my grandfather's door, before he moved us to another house. I don't know why I kept it. It was rusty and useless, but I cleaned it up and carried it with me. But why would they want a pouch of oregano and a key that doesn't open anything?" he wondered. Well, he knew it didn't open anything at least.

[Faith Augustin]

The extent of her reaction caught her by surprise, but he didn't seem to notice and that was good. It wasn't really something that she wanted to explore in this moment, she was much more concerned with making sure that he was not injured in any serious manner which, thank Famula, he was not. She smiled in gratitude as he sat and she kicked away her offending shoe as she dropped down onto her heels in front of him, examining his face carefully. "I'd say you are going to have a beautiful black eye tomorrow. I have some salve that will bring the bruise out quicker and help your body deal with it in a more efficient manner. Hold on." It was a straightforward task to reach into her bag and get the arnica salve, which should make bruising a much less painful thing. "Just put a little of this on the tip of your finger and then dab it around your cheek. You are a much better judge of the amount of pressure that you can deal with." Content that he was not quietly sporting a broken cheek (which had involved some poking and prodding, but she had kept it to a minimum), Faith leant back and smiled at him, relief evident on her face. "You are not dead and nothing is broken. Both of these are good." She gave an almost business-like pat pat to his leg and she looked at him with an expression of earnest truthfulness "I have no where else to hide should I run away. And whilst I am most fortunate to not have to say that you are my only friend, you are a rare enough breed that I have a strong urge to protect all those who are in that elite group. Please don't bleed and then disappear again, I might over react next time", her expression softened and she smiled the unspoken apology for having obviously over reacted this time.

However, once he was taken care of, Faith turned her attention to the stain and the salt and things that she knew. Things that she understood and could control. Things that made sense. She was on her knees scrubbing at the stain whilst he rummaged around and she nodded her head "Seems to me that if I was going to be someone who broke into others houses for a living, I would learn to pick a lock", she unconciously echoed his thoughts on the matter, but then he looked around and went off in search of something. Something he had that was worth something and the young slave could not help but wonder as she scrubbed more salt into the bloodstain. Was it a piece of jewelry from an ancient relative? A book of ancient texts, telling stories of heroes and daring? Perhaps it was a weapon or a strange and beautifully carved ornament which had massive importance which he did not yet recognise. Hiding her disappointment, and rather large sense of self-amusement, with a smile, she looked at the kit that he returned with and voiced what her mind was wondering "A chemistry kit?"

Why would someone want that, but then, there was something else and Faith frowned in thought, the stain on the floor (which was pretty much gone anyway) forgotten. They had taken time to go through a chemist's kit, and had taken an old and rusty key? She looked at the kit and considered, thinking aloud "There were three of them, you said? No more than two could examine that kit easily, so the third must have searched the rest of the house." That made sense, certainly, but it equally did not give them any answers.

Or did it?

"Whoever looked in here did not find anything. Or perhaps more likely, they did not find the thing that they were looking for?" When she spoke it, it was obviously a question, rather than a statement. "But then, they took a key. So, they must have thought they knew where that key was for." Her mind worked, her thought processes speeding and Faith felt the usual 'itch' in her brain as she tried to keep up with the thoughts she had "They know you are a chemist, they were looking for your chemicals. They don't know that because you teach, otherwise they would know when your lessons are. I come at the same time every time, after all. So they must know it because of where you work." She stood, then, looking at him with concern as she came to what seemed to be a most logical conclusion "So, when they could not find what they wanted here, they took a key because they hoped it might open a door to a more secured location. Where you work"

Looking around she grabbed her shoes and started to pull them on. That done, she lifted her head to see what he thought of what they should do next.

[Padraig]

"I'm not made of glass you know," Padraig said when she worried about too much pressure applied. But nonetheless, he indulged her by taking the stuff and dabbing it around his eye. "Besides, a shiner might add a little character. And I'll do my best." Bleeding. Disappearing. "And I doubt I'm your only friend. I think you're only flattering me." Curious though. He remained surprised by the extent of her reaction. "You always have somewhere to go. You know that." Though she didn't strike him as the type to run, truth told.

As for locks, he tended to agree. But it was more than that. "I'm not sure they're clever in general. Or, they were desperate," he considered. "It would only have taken one of them to search the house, small as it is. And while they might not have intended violence and so broke in while I was out, they did it in broad daylight. People around here tend to mind their own business, but it was pretty brazen all told." The young man could only predict that the trio's bid to live the life of burglars, would be very short lived.

She wasn't wrong, he suspected. They'd shown a keen interest in his chemistry equipment, judging by the disorganized state of it. And, it was possible, maybe even probably that..."They may have followed me on a previous trial after I left the shop, to find out the location of my home. Then waited for me to be out. I can't imagine any other reason for them to take the key, than to try it there."

"But," he added, "Mister Smekkle is there, and light or dark I can see them trying to break in during the trial. They'd be more likely to wait till nightfall to try it." No need to rush over then, he thought. "We might catch them at it though, once mister Smekkle's gone home and the shop's shut down for the night."

[Faith Augustin]

"No, you aren't. My apologies", she said, demurely, of him being made of glass. But she knew better and, if it wasn't sore now, she considered, it soon would be. If he touched it in the morning when he woke he could whisper an apology to her and take those words back then. But right now, she just watched him put the salve on and she grinned in amusemnt, shaking her head in disagreement that a black eye would give him more character. "I was allowed out to meet people for the first time less that two hundred trials ago. Most people go no further than the collar and the brands. You are not my only friend, but I do not need all the fingers of one hand to count you. You are in very good company though. But so are they", she moved towards the sink to wash out the rag she was using and he spoke again.

She stopped, looked down at the rag and wondered just why her hands had started to shake a little and why tears threatened behind her eyes. But she had her back to him and so she just concentrated on what she had to do, not responding for a few trill until she was sure that there was nothing in her voice which gave away her response to what he had said. "Perhaps I have simply been unfortunate. Or perhaps I am the exact opposite of that, but no one has ever said anything more kind. Thank you." She smiled, wringing out the rag and turned back, having given herself time there was a challenging look on her face, tinged with amusement "If you are a religious man, pray that you never get the opportunity to regret those words", she quipped, moving past anything resembling emotion which might just put them both in a situation they would rather not be in.

Besides, there were these people to find and Faith nodded her head as they discussed them. "That is an interesting idea", she considered "But if they are not too bright or, actually come to that even and, they are desperate, they might well do something they are not usually prone to doing. Like breaking into somewhere in the middle of the trial. Besides, one of them is injured. There is a trail to follow. Blood", she motioned to the place where the stain had been. "Also, I would say that people turning up with minor injuries is something that both you and Mister Spekkle are used to, are you not?". She thought that he was falling into the trap of thinking of these people as either sane or logical. She was of the opinion that, for some reason, they were neither.

"Mister Spekkle is a chemist, is he not? They make drugs, don't they? Drugs which might mean that someone experinces side effects. Hallucinations. Feelings of being able to do things which are outside their skill set. Maybe even profuse bleeding or a lack of clotting which means that a slight cut leads to a large bleed?"

Gesturing to the place where the pool of blood on the floor had been, Faith looked at him and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I just think it might be worth to go and be with Mister Spekkle, just in case. It will do no harm and might mean that we do not regret not going. It is up to you, of course, but that would be my suggestion", she watched him and then her face lit in a very genuine beaming smile. "Actually, I am going to spend the afternoon with Mister Spekkle. He will stand too close to me, make me nervous, talk to my cleavage and disturb my sense of hygiene with his halitosis, but I have no wish to regret that he was hurt or injured because I did not act when I thought it was probably alright. Would you like to come?" She was pushing it in terms of her station, she knew, but equally, she felt that somewhere, somehow, when they were together and having a lesson, there was no aspect of her slavery there. Mostly.

"Please? I would feel bad if I abandoned you with a black eye on the way" . Apparently, in terms of the whole slavery thing, she still had quite a way to go. Oh well, she decided, movement forward was movement forward.

[Padraig]

Truth was, Padraig no longer saw the collar and brands. He'd stopped seeing them in fact, not long after she'd knocked on his front door. But then she knew that already. But he was a scholar whose focus was science. Theory, facts, those were things he was completely at ease with. Emotions and the sharing of them, not so much. Especially those of women. Foreign stuff, that. But what she'd said, demanded an answer, whether she expected one or not. "You seem to have no trouble in that regard. Give you enough time, you'll have more friends than you can keep track of."

But then there was the drawn out silence that in itself, was an indication of something she wasn't quite ready to say. Padraig could relate, but chances were, he wouldn't say it at all. The circumstances weren't amenable to it, and complications weren't what either of them needed. But it was a shame, if his own words were kinder than any she'd heard before. "I'm not, particularly," he said, standing back up from the chair again. Religious, he meant, nor was he in the habit of praying. He did, on occasion, use one Immortal or another's in vain. But he was sure it wasn't what she meant. "I won't regret them. The offer remains." Though she didn't strike him as the type who would run, but would rather confront any given problem head on.

She'd prove him right about that, after all. "I'm not sure how much blood there'll be to follow," he said. "Much of it must have gone down his shirt once he got upright and went running." But as for the rest she had a point. If he was to assume they'd only attempt to enter after nightfall, when the shop was empty, then those assumptions could easily put mister Spekkle in danger. And if it was the case, the man had no idea what was coming. "You shouldn't worry so much about me. I'll be fine. But I'll go with you, and we'll spend the trial keeping him company." Close talker, mister Spekkle. But he couldn't leave the man unaware.

So, off they'd go then, after Padraig barred the back door and locked the front one. And it wasn't a long walk to the apothecary. Only a very curious employer that glanced up in surprise to see his assistant back so soon after leaving for the trial.

[Faith Augustin]

"Well, I'm not sure that I want a lot of them, really." Friends, that was. Her voice carried the smile her face wore as she spoke her explanation "I have very limited ability to give anything back to anyone and I believe that friendship must be reciprocal. So, by necessity, I am limited to those people who are prepared to put up with what limited reciprocity I can give them", or something like that. In truth, Faith did not really know how to explain any further than to say what she had but she was discovering a lot of things, like friendships, which she simply had not understood before. The feeling of knowing that there was someone she could rely on to be there for her was new and a little frightening to her, in truth. But in a good way and she was grateful for it. "I think friends are like chocolate cake", she explained, with a slight teasing smile "good to have, a real rare treat and a delicacy too. But too many is not good", and there it was, she thought with a smile. A slave's descriptions of friendships.

She kept her focus on what she was doing when he said that the offer was meant, just nodding her head to show that she had heard him. No more than that, because she could't do more than that. But it was fine, and she did not have to consider just what it was that made her get all flustered as they discussed what they were doing and where they were going. It was a wry expression that Faith wore when she realised "So I just argued us both into spending the afternoon having Mister Spekkle talk, standing too close, to the cleavage, with the halitosis? Oh, not that you have a cleavage, I just meant..." She sighed slightly and gave him a brief smile "My apologies. I did not mean to suggest any such thing. I just find him uncomfortably unaware of personal space. I should not speak such, it is most rude", she considered the simple truth of that. She had developed something of a tendency towards simply speaking and not keeping her opinions, especially should they be negative ones, to herself.

When he said he'd go with her, though, Faith grinned "So I'm told, but I am finding it hard to follow that directive, I am afraid." It was a quip she spoke when she responded to him telling her that she worried too much, specifically about him, but it had a grain of truth to it that she could not deny. But still, she reasoned, that was what friends did. So off they went together and it was a short walk to the apothecary where he worked. And where, of course, Mister Spekkle was. Faith unconciously lifted a hand to do up the top button of her blouse, not really realising that she had done so.

On the way there, she had been sure to check for blood, or for some other kind of trail. "You chased. Did they go this way?" she wondered, realising that she should have asked that first. As they made their way, she checked for droplets of blood, but also to see if there were signs of movement or of disturbance. That was what she wanted to make absolutely sure of, that they knew what they were walking into. However, as Padraig opened the door of the shop she shook her head "I can't see anything. Maybe it's nothing to do with this place?"

But she'd put money (if she was allowed to own any, that was) on it being just that. "If it means we end up sitting awake overnight after Mister Spekkle has gone to bed, do you know how to play chess?" Although, she considered, they'd have to jury rig a chess board out of bottles or something.

[Padraig]

Friends and chocolate cake? It was a strange analogy, Padraig thought. Still, he considered it and shrugged. "You've got me at a disadvantage there," he admitted. "I was a solitary child for the most part, raised by my grandfather. And it's a habit I've carried on with since leaving home, with just a few exceptions." Her being primary among them, he seemed to imply. "And, because I was more interested in books and the way things work, than the things the other boys were interested in, most anyone I associated with were adults who didn't mind sharing what they knew with me."

"But I've never quite heard friends compared to chocolate cake," he added with a curious smile. "The best of the first ought not expect anything in return. In the last case, too many slices are bound to leave you with a bellyache."

In the meantime they'd headed out towards the apothecary. "He is what he is." Mr. Spekkles, he meant. "He means well, and I've noticed a widow has been coming in more frequently lately, and seeming disappointed when he's not there. She's taken to slathering herself with some sort of floral scent that makes my eyes burn. But he appears to favor it." Someone for everyone out there? Well it seemed so, if what he'd observed was an indication.

"They started out running in this direction, or at least the larger one did after he got away from me. But I lost him after he, well, he must have ducked into an alley or something." But traces of blood or other upset along the way? He didn't see any either. "I don't," Padraig said when she asked if he knew chess. "But I'm happy to learn."

As for Mr. Spekkles, at a glance he looked surprised to see the pair of them there. But he also appeared unnerved. In fact, he hardly waited for an explanation before launching into one of his own. Apparently, while the three that had broken into Padraig's home might not be clever, they were in fact desperate. Or so it would seem. They'd been there already under the guise of needing something to help with a toothache. The larger one, Spekkle's said, had displayed a gap where a tooth had recently been knocked out. Well then, Padraig thought, that explained all the blood. But they'd unnerved the man right away, and had ultimately threatened hi, demanding things that he simply didn't trade in. They hadn't believed him though and when one had reached across the counter and grabbed his collar, he'd raised such a fuss that a neighboring shop owner had gone for the guard.

Alas though, the ruckus had already attracted attention and the trio had fled before the guard arrived. Naturally though it alarmed the poor man even more to learn that before they'd come to him, they'd broken into Padraig's home. He had little else to tell however, except to mention that the smaller of the two men had an odd tattoo on his neck, just above his collar. Looked like a heart on fire, he explained.