Coran was not very happy.
Actually scratch that – he was livid.
Astraea reminds herself to give him a better present for his birthday next year, possibly one that includes anger management manual or perhaps a book labeled 'How to Fix your Mood in 5 simple steps!'
The old man sure has quite a fuse to blow. The worst part was that he fumes 'silently' which was worse when he redirects a particular heavy stare at his clients which, in this case, was directed strongly at Astraea who tried her best not to shrivel from its intensity. Stranger on the other hand stared at him warily. However, Coran wasn't the only negative here – Aileen was there too.
Just great. She cannot believe her bad luck.
The middle aged woman's face morphed from surprise to sly as she looked between her and Stranger. Astraea did NOT like that look; it meant nothing but trouble (the seamstress's expression turned even more gleeful when she noticed the clothes Stranger was wearing. Oh no).
'Why was she even there at shop in the first place?!'
Pointedly ignoring her presence Astraea cleared her throat, "Ah, Coran! You look…well."
His scowled deepened further. "As you can see I have a bit of a proble–"
"A bit?" he grunts.
Astraea sighed, "Ok its bigger problem."
The elder narrows his eyes, "Start talking. I don't have all day brat."
She looked at him, then at Aileen who had a neutral look on her face before glancing at Coran as if waiting for the man's verdict. He glanced back at her, their eyes communicating a coded message that Astraea itched to know, before he looked back at her and gave her a sort of shrug. She took it as her sign to start talking.
Within the next three minutes Astraea lets the dam let lose, telling the man (and woman) how she found Stranger in her garden injured and unmoving and how the next day the black figure showed up claiming to capture her and the fight between the two of them with Astraea coming up with a plan of escape. However, she leaves out the little details, particularly about the Handasiun teleportation rune she created out of scratch.
Coran listens patiently, his face growing thunderous the more he listened. Meanwhile Aileen seemed to look as if she didn't know what to think of the whole matter, eyes wide and mouth pressed to a thin line. Astraea glanced at Stranger from the corner of eye to know what she was thinking only to find the woman's expression was closed off. Well, she wasn't very expressive to begin. Looking at Coran she wears a small wry smile, opening her mouth to speak before Coran barked sharply, effectively stopping her from starting to ramble, "WHAT WERE YOU BLOODY THINKING?!"
'Ouch,' Astraea thinks absently while she flinched at the volume of his voice and the tight anger constricted within the muscles of his face. She could see the veins on his temple come to life, almost pulsing with the rage he was barely restraining. Suddenly Astraea felt like a child being caught doing something wrong. Despite almost reaching thirty two the elder always made her feel like a young teenager again; a teenager who was caught doing more mischief than good. She refused to give him the satisfaction of getting under her skin like that. She set her jaw and stared at him directly.
"I did what I had to do old man. Did you think I would just let someone be dragged along like some dog? He could have killed her," she says resolutely.
The man fumed, "And yer decided it was a good idea to host a mother-trodden escapee? From the very prisons from Jericho?"
Ah, now there was the very question she had been avoiding all day.
He must have noticed her grimace for his expression grew grim, "Do you realize what you have done?"
She said nothing, a deep pool of shame curling in her stomach making her nauseous. She didn't want to regret her choices, even though the circumstance had been completely unorthodox and foolish. In the small part of her heart she felt she did something right; she would have never forgiven herself if she had let her go or seen her killed. She kept silent which seemed to anger the man more.
"You let an escapee into your shelter. You clothed and housed her which now makes you her accomplice! Do you have any idea what this would cost you?!" he bellowed making Astraea grit her teeth in frustration.
'It would paint a target on my back,' she knows this well, 'I'll be considered a criminal as well.'
"You've dug your own grave now."
'I know, I know, I know.'
She says nothing, silently staring at the floor now, pointedly avoiding the angry redhead's fiery gaze. Aileen coughs delicately between the iron thick tension in the air, "Well it's no use weeping over spilt blood. It is done and dusted and probably won't be the last encounter."
Astraea blinked, staring at the middle aged woman who had a peculiar knowing look on her face. Something about her words elicited an itch in her brain, a prickling sensation as if she was trying to remember something. Beside her, Stranger's eyes darkened slightly with apprehension. She decided to ignore the sensation in favor of listening to the conversation at hand.
Coran let out a heavy weighted sigh into the air that did nothing to loosen his furrowed brows. "Damn kids," he mutters while standing up, "come along. There's a spot backdoors here you can spruce yourselves up for now." He said it with a pointed look at Astraea who remembers the state of her own clothes and felt her ears heat in embarrassment. Looking at Stranger he says, "You lass, you come with me. I need to check your wounds; this girl is hopeless with first aid I'm afraid."
Astraea let out a squawk of indignation which the older ignored in favor of going through his massive ring full of keys to unlock the door in the corner of the shop. The three of them followed him in a tow like wandering ducks into the wide annex that contained four closed off cubicles that resembled dressing rooms built to the wall along with a decent space which held a large chest of dark wood on the floor, a rack of coats and dresses, and four candle lit dressing tables and mirrors. One could have never guessed this was the secret room in a craftsman's workshop.
Astraea and Stranger threw him an inquisitive look to which he grunts, "This place used to be a house of a theatre family. Not very rich but very passionate in their art; they would hold plays and musicals in the old days when Earnest was a mere village and this city was a neighborhood of many other houses and large fields. Of course with the turn of events, industrialization of Earnest and the rise of Jericho, their house was sold and rebuilt and eventually came to my possession. This was the lady and her three daughters' place of practice."
Astraea felt a fresh sense of awe and respect fill her as she looked at the bare remains of the possessions of those who lived here long before. These sparse items, the old costumes and the dresses with half empty yet lovingly used make up tins once filled with rouges and powders, the dressing tables were the only material things left of them for the living to remember them by. Many might have even forgotten their existence already. She couldn't help but whisper a small prayer and thanks to their kindred spirits for letting them use what was once theirs.
'To those souls that have been long lost, blessed is the gold of thy halo and may you see eternal light'
She then touched the center of her forehead with her middle and forefinger before kissing the fingertips in reverence; a silent salute to the dead. It was a gesture often used in respect to the deceased, usually done by the family members, however seeing the family line was long gone Astraea felt that she was obligated to do so instead. It was only right since she was using their space.
She then walked towards the rack that stood near one of the dressers that held a collection of various clothes. Glancing at her own tattered dress she scanned the rack for something more practical for her to use; a frock will be useless if she had to run. Then she found a traveler's get up only slightly more lavish. In the corner of the room were a veritable stack of shoes. Without wasting any time, Astraea grabs the clothes along with the spare medical kit left by Aileen on the dresser tables and rushes to one of the dressing cubicles to get herself changed. She vaguely saw Coran grunting at Stranger, trying to negotiate with the tall woman while Aileen pestered her to wear the clothes she had newly picked for her from another rack. She could help laugh silently at the display.
Once secured inside the cubicle, Astraea first tends the puncture wound on her arm. She carefully examined for any other debris and wiped off the crusted blood with the damp cloth before applying a purplish healing salve before wrapping the stark white bandages around the wound. It should help her for now in the long run.
She takes the clothes she picked and looks at them, tenderly running her fingers through the ancient fabric, the material slightly coarse and gathered with a thin layer of dust but still in good condition. Then she noticed something odd, the clothes were cleaner they should have been. Frowning, she gingerly brought the fabric to her nose and sniffed. The warmth of the room and its musty smell along with dust were there, but there was also a very faint scent of soap. The conditions of the clothes were as if they were washed a few weeks ago.
A though occurs to her. Had Coran perhaps….?
Best she kept her thoughts to herself.
As she slipped on the clothes she relished how snug they fit on her. The top was of a deep bronze like color that had an overlapping neckline that reached her throat; its length from the front reached till a little past her knee before it slants upwards making the end behind stop just behind her knee. It had a large parted slit that exposed her clothed leg. The garment had short sleeves with fingerless gloves that stopped at her elbows and was cinched at the waist with a thick beige ribbon. With the knee high brown boots on she examined herself in the full length mirror placed on the side with a slight frown.
She felt slightly bloated with the day the clothes hugged her body. It wasn't skintight per say but she couldn't help feel slightly chubbier. Being a writer didn't really leave a lot of room for physical activity, which meant she stayed in her house more than she should have, though occasionally she would go out for a long walk around the village to feel her legs. All that inactivity made a little extra fat settle around her hips, thighs and stomach making her feel insecure in some ways. She then thinks of Stranger who was tall and sturdily built with toned legs, strong arms and broad shoulders. The woman must have been some kind of soldier or fighter perhaps to have maintained such a physique that radiated a sort of deep strength etched with very movement of her muscles like a silent storm. Astraea feels awed, intrigued and jealous at the same time.
When she steps out of the changing room Stranger was nowhere in sight with Coran sitting on the chair she had once been on smoking a thick black cigar, the end a glowing ominous red as a thin trail of ash-colored smoke rose from it. Astraea felt tempted to tell him to stop.
He blinks from his train of thought and looked at her and her attire before his eyes clouded with a new look and his expression fluttered shut to the world. It was a look of deep sorrow.
"Um…the clothes fit well?" she grimaces at her own choice of words as the man stayed frozen as if he had been carved of stone, eyes unblinking yet now bearing a glossy sheen. Astraea felt an internal sense of panic; did the clothes belong to someone? Maybe a lost child? A dead lover? Why was he….
"Good," he gruffs suddenly, seemingly broken out of his silent trance before giving a small nod as if to emphasis his point. Astraea felt a small relief in that.
Just then Aileen comes in with a tray of two steaming mugs that filled the musk of the room with a sweet, almost citrusy tone that immediately soothed Astraea's nerves. The woman gave her a scrutinizing look up and down which made her squirm slightly before giving a small shrug.
"A better definite upgrade to your rather depressing wardrobe I'll admit," Aileen says in a nonchalant tone before looking at her once more, "you're definitely a bit chubbier though, but nothing a good walk and a diet cannot fix!"
Astraea wanted to hit something. Or someone. Anything was preferable.
'Better than being a stick,' she thinks to herself as she gives the woman a deadpan stare. Who even cares about mother-trodden body weight? In life – in society - it's either you ate well or you didn't, whether your own choice or not didn't matter. This silent law of nature was especially visible within the populace of Earnest despite the higher classed men and women prancing around the streets with their slender figures and dainty features. However it didn't stop the remark from stinging her from deep inside. Her mind wanders again towards Stranger's own physique against her will.
She could say something nasty to the seamstress, but in the end she opts for, "That better be sweet lime tea."
The older woman raises an eyebrow, "Of course. You and your sugar addiction is very popular around here."
Astraea merely snorts before approaching the latter and eagerly picking up the warm plain black porcelain cup. At the back of her mind, she vaguely thinks that the color of it resembled the dark obsidian shade of the walls of Jericho.
Sitting on one of the red stools she sipped the piping hot tea, the sweetness of the sugar blending well with the sourness of the lime all smoothed by the flavor of the tea making a concoction that delighted her sugar starved tastebuds while soothing her bones. She could feel the heat of the drink travelling throughout her body warming it instantly. By now she could hear the soft thud of rain beating steadily against the streets and the roof of the shop like a heartbeat.
The curtains of a cubicle rustles making Astraea freeze involuntarily before whipping her head to the side to see Stranger walking out of it wearing a white long sleeved cuffed shirt tucked into black fitting trousers complete with brown boots. A thick belt adorned her waist with a few various sized pockets and two guns secured in the holsters on both sides of her hips. The two undone buttons at the top gave a lovely view of the tendons of her long neck and her sharp collarbones that complimented her jawline. Astraea wondered whether the heat she felt was from just the tea alone.
That's when Aileen decides to speak, "Judging from our lovely gawking audience I'd say I did a very good job for your clothing. Your coat is on the second rack by the way."
Astraea lets out an inaudible screech of protest before pointedly ignoring everyone in the room to focus on her warm mug instead while muttering under her breath, "I wasn't bloody gawking." In the corner of her eye she sees Stranger putting on a hooded brown long coat that had no sleeves.
Stranger gracefully accepts the tea offered to her by the older woman before sitting on the stool next to her which made her sit a little straighter in self-consciousness. Coran decides to finally speak.
"I've been thinking about your situation now. Considering the state of matters right now; fugitive being housed and you now being considered as an accomplice," he says giving Astraea a look that made her feel slightly sheepish, "it would be best if you hid away for now. Judging from Cyrene's story I have now reason to believe you might have actually done an altruistic deed after all."
This made Astraea feel relieved while slightly smug which the man evidently noticed as he growled out, "You don't get the credit because you did it on impulse brat. You could have at least interrogated her properly."
"Of course I did old man! That was the first thing I asked!" Astraea protested with an aggressive gesticulation of her free hand, "I could barely get an answer before that psychotic man showed up and tried to blow down my house. I even got my arm stabbed!" she lets out a frustrated breath; she could still feel the pang of pain in the bicep every time she put weight to it despite bandaging it.
She then side-eyes Stranger, irritation coloring her features, "So, your name was Cyrene?"
The taller woman, who turned out to be Cyrene, gave an apologetic look of sorts on her blank face, "Yes."
"And you didn't tell me because?"
"…"
Seeing the hesitation in her eyes Astraea merely sighs before sipping her tea, an unfamiliar sense of exhaustion settling in her bones making her jaw feel soft, "No matter. At least I know something now."
Without looking at Cyrene, she speaks to Coran instead, "So? What is your plan you wanted to say?"
Coran and Aileen were looking at her with a strange look before the man locks eyes with her, "I have a mutual friend. They should be able to give you shelter and protection from the Venators till everything dies down. She might be able to find a solution to Cyrene and help her find her way."
"I see."
Something about the idea of parting ways with Cyrene so soon made her stomach hollow and her temples throb slightly as if a migraine were threatening to arrive. Ridiculous.
Attempting to ignore the thought she drinks more of the tea while her eyelids seem to have a sudden weight to them with each time she blinked. Roughly setting her tea cup aside she stretched her arms and settled her elbows on her thighs, "When do we leave?"
"Tonight at the earliest or by dawn. It would be the best bet for us," Coran says.
"Mhm," she says unintelligibly, her eyes growing heavier while her mouth felt like it was filled with lead. What was happening to her?
'Was it something in the tea? Did Coran…'
She looked at the man mustering as much energy as she could to keep her eyes open, "Coran?"
The older man had a look akin to pity and guilt in his eyes which she couldn't understand.
"Coran," she says trying to speak with more force only for the syllables to slur instead, "Did you…d…id you…why…?"
She feels her body sway to and fro from her seat, teetering forwards which if tilted any further, she would fall on her face on the ground. Astraea wanted to glare at him. She wanted to scream, maybe even punch him in his stupid oversized face. The other half wanted an answer, wanted to understand why he was doing this.
'Why are you doing this of this, why did you spike the tea?'
She could hear some muffled voices. Someone sounded angry and another sounded pleading. Her vision was blurring and darkening rapidly as her body slumped lifeless until finally the world turned black.
"Things have been set into motion now, there is no stopping the coming storm," Coran rumbled.
Astraea never hears this.