Her back did in fact end up hurting and for all the wrong reasons.
The unconscious woman had been a lot heavier than she anticipated that it took her an embarrassing fifteen minutes to finally get her onto the bed to assess the wounds and change the bandages. Now Astraea was quite strong for her age and build (she will insist that she is a good height as well) so she excuses herself by simply telling herself it's because it was in the middle of the night and she had not eaten lunch in the daytime.
The woman was still unconscious, body still as she lay as still as a corpse and breathing shallow. Astraea looked at her for a moment, observing her features out of plain curiosity. The stranger was pale with a good nose and thin lips. Her face was lean with a sharp jaw with dark hair that brushed her nape in a sort of a mullet, now fanning over the blue pillow in a dark halo. Her features were as if she were sculpted by an artist's loving hand from marble – how unfair! – yet contains a rugged edge that could have been born from character or hardship. There were deep scars on her left cheek and across her nose.
She watched the stranger for a while, wondering what kind of hardships this stranger had to face to end up like this, wounded and scarred in her own garden. Perhaps she was being chased? Abused? Tortured?
Astraea stood up, gathering the bloody towels and bandages in her hands, taking one look at the woman she had tended. A heavy feeling of déjà vu settled in her stomach yet again at the sight of her, a nagging prickling sensation at the back of her mind as if it were prodding inside her brain. She simply turns away sharply, trying to ignore the sensation.
'I wonder how she got here even,' she thinks absently as she puts the towels to be laundered in the morning and washes her hands, starring at the pink colored water from the blood stained on her fingers, yet again awakening that cool heavy feeling of nostalgia – as if she had seen this before. Shaking her head she takes the spare blankets from her armoire, bracing herself to sleep on the floor beside the bed on the floor. That way she can keep an eye in case if something goes wrong seeing the severity of her wounds.
As she made her makeshift bedspread a thought comes to her head. What if…she was the fugitive they talked about?
Astraea then thinks about the conversation she had with the woman near Coran's workshop earlier today. 'There is a fugitive on the loose, girl. An escapee from the prison camps outside Jericho.'
What if…this woman was the escapee from the prison camps?
Then that would explain her mysterious wounds, the scars on her face and the paleness of her skin; the deep wound in her side right beneath her ribs, her build and the bruises on her arms. The skin on her knuckles had been broken, raw and bleeding, as if she punched something hard continuously. She might have escaped from somewhere and landed here for her own reasons.
Astraea felt her body shiver as a terrifying feeling settles in her nerves, making her limbs feel numb and lifeless like water, the hairs at the back of her scalp tingling. 'What if she's a murderer? What if she's a serial killer? What if she's an enemy spy from beyond Jericho? What if she tries to kill me?!'
She sits up on the makeshift floor bed at the sudden revelation and looked warily at the stranger who was now on her bed. In her space. In her home. Was this the wrong decision?
Every nerve in her body was buzzing with paranoia as she stared for a long time, thoughts churning into a jumbled mess. She almost regretted her choice, berating herself for being so gullible and foolish. To let a stranger into her own house without even calling for help or at least a physician. But why?
She didn't even feel her body moving as she walked towards the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed and observing the stranger. The woman's expression seemed almost troubled as if experiencing an unpleasant dream. Something about that expression pulls a string in her heart. Whether sympathy or anything else, she does not know. Gingerly, she raised her hand, letting her fingers hover over the trouble face before tenderly rubbing the crease between the brows that were tight with tension with two of her fingers. The stranger relaxes almost instantly, leaning slightly closer to the warmth of her hand like a flower searching for the sun. The action stirs a warm pleasant feeling in her chest.
'What a child,' she thinks with a soft smile. She remembers faintly that there was someone she used to do this to, but she could never remember their face. She quickly retracts her hand and rubs her aching forehead instead, a migraine threatening to break out once again.
As quietly as possible, she brings in the stool from her study, a short one that she could sit on and be on level with the bed so the woman would be undisturbed. Astraea opts to watch over her instead, mind too buzzed to sleep.
She watched her till the sun came out the next day.
* * *
"You want what?" asks Aileen with an eyebrow raised. Astraea finds herself fidgeting under her stare for some reason like a child caught stealing cookies in the kitchen cupboard.
"New. Clothes. I'm sure it's not that hard to understand," she says, wincing internally at the undertone of defiance in her words.
The shopkeeper looks at her curiously, "You know I have every right to ask. You only ever come to my shop when you're on a new job interview or if you've torn your clothes again through heaven knows what."
"Lies and slander! I do not."
"Are you sure? You are even asking specially clothes for a dyke. A dyke Miss Ravenwood, such people are usually in the higher parts of the social strata no matter the class. Them along with the stubby men which they tend to the labor side of things. You have to see how strange this request is, especially coming from a lonely woman such as yourself," the woman presses leaving Astraea to sigh heavily, feeling a tinge of annoyance and shame coloring her veins.
"The clothes please Miss Lovelace. I don't have time for this."
The said woman waves her hand in a dismissive gesture, "Yes, yes I know. I have some good ones with cotton right here that should fit," she walks towards one of the racks where a selection of clothes were stacked, "seeing the description of her clothing size was very helpful." The last sentence was directed with a pointed look which Astraea wisely ignored.
The seamstress produces a neat stack of clothes that would certainly lay an undeniable dent in her finances, but kindness never comes without cost so with a brave face she pays for the whole lot and walks away with little grace she had left in her, avoiding the seamstress's cunning look. How she hates gossiping ladies!
The sight Astraea receives when she reenters her home is…not quite what she expected.
Initially Astraea had gone to her bedroom to check on the stranger to make sure she was sleeping well; however, she found the bed was empty. It led her to spiral into a panic before hearing the soft thud of falling paper coming from her study. That was where she found her.
The woman, now awake in broad daylight, was hunched over her study with a confused yet curious expression at the many papers and books strewn neatly over each surface. A flush of panic and anger rushes from her belly and into her lungs like a cornered victim, "HEY!"
The sound barely startles the tall woman; she merely flinches slightly and turns to lock eyes with her, red irises flashing with an unreadable expression. Suddenly Astraea feels a little wronged whilst silly.
"What do you think you're doing with my things? Are you a thief? What did you steal? Fess up your sins now so I'll decide what to do with you now that you're awake," she demands, the weight of stranger's stare and the discomfort at her earlier action propelling the words for her as she tried to stare somewhere else. Yes, the lady has very nice eyebrows. A good place to look at.
She could still feel the woman's intense stare as she finally spoke, "Is this your home?"
Her voice sent soft shiver down Astraea's spine, rough from misuse yet clear like fresh water. An elegant voice, she thinks as she clearly had no idea what to expect the other would sound like. She musters her conscious to reply, "Of course it is. Who else's would it be? A random stranger could never enter someone's house spontaneously you know."
"I am a random stranger," the woman points out with a blank look and a tiny glint in her eye that could almost be taken as mischief. The nerve!
"Here's the difference stranger." The woman levels another look. "I invited you here with my own will out of the goodness of my heart. So that technically makes you my guest, which you are terrible at being by the way," she says confidently with a tilt of her chin with makes the corner of the stranger's mouth twitch upwards.
"I apologize for not being a proper house guest," she replies in a deadpanned tone that was shaded with amusement.
Astraea huffs before turning her head away to ignore the eyes of the woman all together, "Never mind, never mind. You were injured so I suppose I'll let it pass." She then turned back to face the woman to say more before her eyes finally took in the full picture of her house guest – who was currently wearing nothing but her worn leather trousers, a binder around her chest and the bandages on her side leaving her skin and scars to be displayed. Astraea felt her face heat up rapidly as if lit on fire.
"WHY ARE YOU HALF NAKED IN MY STUDY?!"
The stranger had the audacity to cock her head to one side as say, "How else was I supposed to be?"
"You're not wearing anything nearly covering!" Astraea screams.
"I'm in my trousers and binder," the woman replies.
"That is not proper clothing!" she can feel a nerve throb at her temple, whether it was because of her flushed state or the actual matter at hand, she didn't know.
"I don't have anything to wear," the other coolly replies with an eyebrow raised in challenge which then makes Astraea remember the bundle in her hands.
'Ah, of course she wouldn't have anything to wear. Stupid…' she thinks as she looks away while throwing the newly purchased clothes towards the latter, "Here then. Make yourself decent at least."
The stranger catches them smoothly and offers a small smile, "Thank you. You are a good hostess." The teasing tilt in the words irked something in Astraea that she decides to ignore. She waves her off instead,
"Yes, yes I know. Use the bathroom, you should be able to find it." The woman gives a small nod and walks out of the study past Astraea who makes a Herculean effort to not ogle at the firm muscles that shifted with the movement. No, she wasn't a degenerate; she was an appreciator of the fine things in life.
However, one particular scar bothered her. As the woman shifted around her to leave the study, she saw massive scars running along her forearm till halfway up her bicep, deep brownish pink with faded edges marring the fair skin. The sight of it made a pang of sympathy bloom inside her chest, imagining how painful it would have been and low long she would have had to endure the pain till it finally scarred over.
'Maybe it was a prison scar? Was she abused? Did she battle anyone? She does have the build of a fighter but still…'
A growl echoes from her belly and a long-suffering sigh escapes her lips as she removes her coat, rolls up her sleeves to avoid staining the white cotton and decided to make her breakfast. Foolishly enough she decided to go out shopping before even eating anything, too hurried to get out of the house for a while to sort her thoughts. Minutes ticked by as she began cooking, the smell of food wafting through the kitchen as she chopped and stirred.
She loved the smell of herbs, it always made her feel relaxed and at peace with herself. The morning sun had filtered through the kitchen lighting the place up with thin rays shining on half of her face. 'lentil curry always goes great with bread; I wonder if there's any limes left?' she thinks as she stirs the red brown contents of the pot. With a hum she puts out the fire and turns to set the small quaint dinner table when a strangled gasp erupts from her, heart threatening to jump out of her chest, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
The said target of frustration merely cocks her head aside as if confused, dressed in the brown blouse with long sleeves tucked into black trousers, with the same tiny, amused glint in her eyes. The audacity! And in her own home too!
"Rude and uncouth! You can't just saunter in and stand there like a ghost! Warn me next time or at least make a sound like a normal living person. If no one knew better they'd think you're a Dreamweaver ready to take my final words!"
"I did. I opened the door of the room which creaked," the woman replies as if it were a common fact. Astraea could feel grey hairs growing on her scalp.
She lets out a short, strangled noise before pointing towards the table, "Seeing you're fit to move then you can go set the table. I've made food."
With the nod the latter moves soundlessly, setting down the dishes in an orderly fashion while Astraea brought the rest of the food and bread and a slab of butter. They sat at the table and began eating.
Curiosity brimming as she stared at the woman who was eating her food in neat bites she speaks, mouth half full of bread, "What's your name?"
The woman gives a look, "Don't speak with your mouth full."
Astraea rolls her eyes and exaggeratedly swallows, "This is my house, I can do what I like and what I would like now is your name. Or would you prefer me calling you 'Stranger' instead?"
The corner of her mouth lifts a bit, "If that is what you want."
Astraea felt her brown twitch at that. "Well then, Stranger, tell me. Where are you from? Who are you?"
The woman, who now was named Stranger, merely took slow methodical bites of her food as if she were thinking. A long silence stretched between them as she waited for her to give an answer. A part of her hoped that Stranger wasn't the fugitive that was mentioned in the news. Astraea didn't want to violate her privacy but seeing that this was a complete stranger she was hosting in her own personal space she felt she had the right to at least pry a bit and see her intentions – nobody wants to accidently house a madman or a serial killer, those situations don't leave room for trial and error in judgment.
"I am an escapee," Stranger says with an unreadable look in her eyes.
Well, that was not what she expected someone to admit.
For a moment she felt unsure whether she should pry further, clearly sensing this was a rather sensitive topic being breached. Before she could say another word Stranger continued, "I was locked away. I don't remember most of what happened to me. I am…looking for someone."
"You're looking for someone?"
"Yes."
"And you were imprisoned for?"
"Thirteen years…I cannot be entirely sure."
"I see…"
After a moment of silence Astraea couldn't help ask, "How old were you?"
Stranger stares at her for moment, eyes carrying a strange darkness to them, "Eighteen."
She felt her jaw drop. Whatever did this woman even do to end up imprisoned for thirteen years since they were eighteen?! It must have been indeed severe; the scars and statement made it believable.
Astraea opts to take a massive bite of bread dipped in the red brown curry with an awkward silence. Her toes tinged with an invisible energy, unable to keep still. She could feel her mouth grow heavy with the desire to fill in the silence and lessen the strange atmosphere they had unknowingly created. She had always been a talkative child all her life, silences were not good company for her.
She decides to address the next question bothering her, "How did you end up here?" 'Were you looking for me or were you chased here?' she wanted to ask.
Stranger carefully swallows her food and stares at the table with a contemplative look, "I'm not sure. I woke up here while being chased."
It sounds plausible enough for now to Astraea, but at the same time she could help but feel a tiny sprout of doubt growing in a corner in her heart. This was a stranger after all, she could not lower her guard nor accept everything told to her at a glance. 'And she is an escapee,' she thinks dryly, recalling the blunt declaration by the woman.
Suddenly an idea comes to her mind. Quickly stuffing the last of her food in her mouth she roughly wipes her fingers on her clothes and rushes to the front door, out to the garden to the exact spot she found Stranger. Munching in deep thought her hunch seemed to be verified as she saw the pattern burnt onto the grass. A geometric rune that was formed through rings in a helix position, interlocking over the small hollow center circle. Letters in the old tongue were etched in the outermost circle.
She rushed back into the house and marched straight into her study and plopped herself before the messy desk and pulled out her notebook – it was made of cheap black leather and a sturdy buckle to seal it shut – and opened to a fresh page to draw the geometric rune that had been etched on the green grass of her garden. She felt her mind buzzing like that of a thousand bees in visceral excitement.
The rune had been finished in a mere few seconds, inviting Astraea to read into its purpose. Its secrets.
A piece of information was recalled by her mind just then: Handasiun runes are location based. Today's ones are more fragile and used for short distances or cargo delivering hence a low range. The Handasiun runes during the Aurum Period were more powerful. The Seraphs taught the mages in hopes of enabling travel between longer distances, perhaps even worlds. However the popularity of these seals died with the Seraphs…
'Here comes another headache,' she groans as she felt her temples throb at the sudden remembrance. There were till many black spots in the whole thing; she didn't understand where she knew it or how but she decided it was a question for her to answer in the future.
Without a doubt this was a Handasiun rune etched on the grass of very garden near the maple tree but this one had been slightly modified. The numbers of intersecting circles were only half the amount of the original which would usually have twelve circles intersecting to represent the twelve months of a full year and six circles in today's one – this one had seven in total with the center hollow when usually there was a black center; the formation itself should have been a risky one. Seals such as this tend to be volatile when faced with an irregular count in the rings. The inscriptions were modern runes from the Handasiun runes today in the center with the more ancient ones on the outer ring to stabilize it.
Whoever made this must have truly been a mad genius!
"What is that?"
Astraea felt an undignified squeak leave her lips as the woman had seemingly manifested beside her, looming over her shoulder to look at the book curiously. She turned and glared at the behemoth of a woman trying to silently communicate her irritation in an attempt to cover her embarrassment. The woman merely met her gaze steadily without a single care; so rude!
She lets out a polite cough, "Well…as you can see, I figured out your method of teleporting to my house."
"Oh?"
With a self-satisfied hum she points out the symbol she had drawn, "You came through a Handasiun gate; a special case one in fact."
Stranger raises an eyebrow at her. "The seal formation had been modified."
This earns a slight frown from phoenix eyes, "How?"
With an enthusiastic hand Astraea explains, "The original Handasiun gates are much different. Being introduced by Seraphs that were world crossing beings, Handasiun gates in the old days were used for travelling between worlds; or so the legends say. The last known records of anyone ever using it were a handful of centuries ago perhaps, used by the First Lady. Modern gates are much weaker and modified for lesser ranges.
This gate, however, had been tampered with and modified to evoke both benefits of the two seal formations making it enable the user to teleport whatever they wish at a distance of their choosing. Like an arrow at the hand of an archer."
Stranger nods, looking at the seal with interest. She takes the book from Astraea's unwilling hands and examined the seal closer, "I did not notice this."
"Of course you didn't. You were more busy trying to stay alive and bleed all over my grass."
"I apologize."
With a wry chuckle she leans back on her chair a bit, "I must say whoever invented this must have been a mad genius."
"Why?" the taller girl asks with a glint in her eye. 'Could it be nostalgia? Longing? Curiosity? ' Astraea absently thinks as she answers,
"Had the intersections been left off count without a proper stable base, this gate could have cost your life. By that I mean you would have been burnt to ashes when it overheats. Worst case scenario would be that your body being split to pieces and ending up in random locations. Luckily the seal had been constructed using the flexibility of the modern seals so it should be safe. However…" she aims a troubled look at the taller woman, "if this were to be used again I can't promise there won't be any damage, particularly to your body. It looks like it was casted as a rough job."
Stranger looks at her, then the seal with an unreadable look. Astraea wondered what she was thinking about.
She finally gives a narrow eyed expression, "You seem to know much on these matters."
That caught Astraea off-guard, nerves tingling in embarrassment and terror.
"I'm an author, I often read old books about these matters in the library in town," she says lamely, hoping she would sound convincing, "besides why do you ask? Why should I tell you? You are still a stranger and I do not know you; my matters stay as my business alone."
Albeit it sounded quite harsh to her own ears, Astraea felt a little panicked at the stranger's interest. She wasn't lying when she said she was an author, she had already written five books over the years and made a stable income keeping her well fed and alive. However, her knowledge on spells partially come from a distant memory that she couldn't recall clearly. It was evident to her that whoever she was before she lost her memory, she must have dabbled with spell craft at some point.
Writing helped her put her frustrations at ease with the fractured pieces of her memory that she had been struggling with for the past thirteen years. None of the mess in her head made any sense and made sleeping a challenge but she hadn't given up on searching for answers: hence the hoarding habit and the piles of papers scattered in every crevice of her room. The migraine had been one of the unfortunate side effects of the whole ordeal.
She glares at Stranger as if daring her to question the truth in her words, instead all she received was a funny expression she didn't know what to make of. Perhaps disbelief?
A loud knock shattered the fragile tension between them as if struck by lightning.
Astraea felt a little grateful for the distraction, quickly standing up and heading towards the door. Then she came to a sudden halt right in front of the wooden door and thought for a moment.
'Who would come to visit me? No one knows where I live, not even the village postman,' she thinks, an icy feeling slowly settling in her limbs.
She lived in a rather secluded place in the hilly areas away from the village populace. She collects her mail once week from the village postbox and she does not have any friends that she kept close with, much less know where she lived. Who could have come right to her very doorstep and knocked?
She gingerly let her hand rest on the cool metal of the doorknob and called out as steadily as she could, "Who is it?"
No answer. Instead another harsh knock.
Astraea gripped the handle tightly, "Who is there?"
In the blink of an eye the door exploded sending bit of wood flying in all directions right in front of her face, a few finger sized splinters wedging themselves in to the flesh of her left bicep and forearm making her shout at the burn of the impact. Blood trickled from her new wounds as she stared in disbelief at the cleanly shatter door, then at the looming dark figure right at the doorstep.
She could feel the smirk under their white mask in their words as they rasped, "Hello Miss."