They walked down the street and headed for the young man's home.
"My name is Paxton, by the way."
"Oh, I'm Aine."
"Aine, what a strange name. I've never heard anything like it before."
Aine giggled a bit.
"Anyways, I'm sorry that happened to you."
"No, don't be; it wasn't your fault."
"I'm just sorry, like that woman said, that man has done this multiple times." "The thing is, no one has ever fought back; you were first."
"Yeah, I'm new here; I don't know anything."
"I see. Where are you from?"
"I'd rather not say that to be honest."
"I see; I'll respect that."
She said that, but in reality, Aine doesn't really know where she's from either. So saying she would rather not say it seems like the least suspicious option, rather than making up a random place.
They arrived at a shop down the road.
"Wait here while I talk with the owner," said Paxton.
Aine nodded and sat on the bench in front of the shop. She was still shaking from the incident; she felt unsafe. She continued to just sit there in silence while the occasional chatter and footsteps of the passing villagers broke the silence.
After a while, Paxton walked out of the shop bearing news.
"Come in," he said.
Aine got up and walked into the rickety store. Walking in, it looked like a general store; it sold all sorts of bizarre fruits that she had never seen prior. There was meat hung on hooks and crates upon crates hidden in the corner, most likely supplies.
Paxton led Aine to the back, passing a door that said 'Staff Only'. She was greeted with a room that was filled to the brim with supply crates.
"Excuse the mess; please come in," said a mysterious male voice.
Paxton and Aine walked around a corner and saw absolutely nothing.
"Down here."
Aine looked down and saw a short man looking up at her.
"Greetings, Fabblestabble IV, at your service," said the short man.
Aine looked at him in disbelief. "So short," she thought.
"This is the one I talked to you about; this is Aine," said Paxton.
"Ah yes, Ms. Aine, it is a pleasure to meet you," said Fabblestabble IV.
Aine mumbled in confusion and tried to bow with her dress, failing miserably as she doesn't know how to do a curtsy.
"Oh, uh, please, no need for the formalities. You can also call me Fabble if you like."
"Uhh, uhm, yes, Mr. Fabble, hi."
"It was rather unfortunate what has happened to you, but not to worry, for Fabblestabble IV, this world's greatest traveling merchant, is here to assist you!"
Aine, again, was absolutely stunned. She didn't know what to say.
"Thanks, so, uh, what kind of services do you provide?" Asked Aine.
"Like I just said, I'm a traveling merchant; being that I'm merely renting this place for the time being, I will be on my way once I need to stock up again." Answered Mr. Fabble.
Renting? This place? But it's filled to the brim; how would this midget be able to transport this quantity of crates? Aine would rather not ask any questions, as she's already been overwhelmed with events.
"Anyways, I have a spare room in the attic, next to the room where Paxton here sleeps," said Mr. Fabble.
"Paxton? He sleeps here?" Asked Aine in confusion.
"Yes, he does."
"Oh, so you see, he's my great-granduncle."
"There is no way in hell you two are related."
"But we are; he's my brother's sister-in-law's grandson's nephew."
"Brother's sister-in-law's nephew?" Aine replied, never hearing such utter bullshit before.
"Yes, he's been in my custody for the past two years or so," said Mr. Fabble.
This gnome is technically blood related to this perfectly normal, and possibly handsome-looking, young man. Aine had seen it all.
"Anyways, Aine, feel free to make yourselves at home for the time being; take all the time you need," said Mr. Fabble.
"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Aine replied.
"Anyway, I'll show you your room; follow me," said Paxton.
Aine followed Paxton back out of the maze of crates, but before Paxton could get out of the room, Mr. Fabble called him.
"Oh Paxton, after you take Aine to her room, do come back down; we need to have a little talk about my vegetable cart that you destroyed," said Mr. Fabble while cracking his knuckles and radiating a murderous aura.
"Uhh, yes, sure, I will be right back down," said Paxton in a wobbly voice.
Aine could feel the dread seeping out of every pore of Paxton's body; he was fearing for his life. But besides that, Paxton did take Aine upstairs to the attic, and getting there was a challenge on its own.
First, they had to walk up a set of stairs that were hidden behind a few crates, which they had to push out of the way. Then, the stairs themselves sustained some damage; holes were punctured through the wooden stairs, and for those that didn't have holes, they were more creaky than a 200-year-old rusted door hinge.
After that, Paxton had to grab this sort of really long crowbar; it looked more like a weapon than a tool, but using it, he pulled down a trapdoor on the ceiling. Pulling it down revealed a set of ladders that they had to climb.
It was kind of awkward for Aine to go up it, as she was wearing a dress and slightly heeled shoes. They climbed the ladders to reveal a corridor with two rooms opposite each other. There was also a decently sized window; someone could jump out of it without problem.
The room to the left had a sign placed right next to the door; Aine walked closer to inspect it. 'Paxton' was written on it. So that must mean the room across from it was indeed the guest room.
"Anyways, my room is over here; your room will be the one across," said Paxton.
"Thank you, and, uh, good luck dealing with the dwarf," said Aine sarcastically.
Paxton sighed pensively as his fate was sealed; however, a laugh and a smile disguised the absolute dread. Paxton went on his way back down to meet his maker while Aine inspected her new room for tonight.
The room was very empty and quite dusty in some parts. You could tell this place hasn't had any visitors for a while. A candle was hung on the wall, and it looked like it was just about to burn out.
The sooty condition of the room, however, gave Aine a sense of loneliness. A dim gleam of light can be seen seeping through the crevices of the unsound-looking walls.
On the opposite side of the room, a futon lies on the floor. It looked old, but giving it a pat, I thought it looked very comfortable and well used. All it needed was a huff of wind to blow the dust away, and it'd be good to go.
Also hanging on the wall is a clock; it's not a grand clock like the one in Martha's house, but a simple and reliable wall clock. Aine's cheeks began to widen as a small smirk could be seen on her face. A sense of home filled her heart and warmed this cold world.
Before she could finish her moment, a loud bang could be heard from downstairs, followed by a scream, "I'M SORRY!!"
It startled Aine. The ruckus continued downstairs as Aine walked out of the room and looked out of the window from before. She couldn't see a thing because of the window's awkward positioning, but she knew that someone downstairs was having a bad time.
Angry screams could now be heard, followed by more noises of banging, clanging, and, of course, tonking, whatever that means. Aine understands the fear all too well now and thinks she should sympathize with Paxton. Then, the loudest sound Aine had ever heard shook the building. Aine tried not to pay too much attention to it.
On her way to walk back to her room, all the hullabaloo from downstairs just suddenly settled down. The world was reticent once more. It was so intense that she could even hear a pin drop.
That last statement couldn't be more true; she heard a pin drop. From outside the window, there was a creaking sound, then sounds of straining.
Aine assumed the worst. "It's the perverted captain," she thought. A shiver was sent down her spine; the face of that disgusting man haunted Aine. But she wasn't going to back down, not this time.
She remembers that the man was previously pelted by rocks; he should be weak. To add to that, this is the third story of a shop; a drop from this far could prove fatal. "I need to push him," thought Aine.
Aine scrambled into the attic and found a broom in the corner. She wielded it like a spear, prepared to shove that man off the roof.
The creaking got closer, and Aine readied her weapon and hid just by the window frame. It got closer and closer and...
Aine peeked her eyes out, and a basket of fruits was thrown through the window. Out of panic, Aine began attacking the basket, hitting it with her broom. Oh! What ever happened to humanity? What did this basket ever do to you? It was fighting for its life; it was getting bludgeoned, absolutely slaughtered.
"Hey, Hey, Hey, why are you attacking the basket? Calm down," said a voice from outside the window. Aine looked out the window and saw a man standing there with a swollen left eye.
"UAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Aine screamed at the top of her lungs in fear. She threw the broom like a javelin, hitting the man and making him fall from the third story. Only after she threw the broom did she notice that it was Paxton and not Captain Rapist.
Aine rushed to look out the window. "Paxton? Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Paxton could be heard grunting in pain from downstairs.
"No, it's okay; that was my fault for not screaming in advance," he said while in agony.
"It looks like I don't have to finish your punishment; this seems enough," said Mr. Fabble.
So it was Mr. Fabble's punishment that caused all the ruckus before. Aine wanted to go downstairs to check on Paxton, but before she could do that, Mr. Fabble interrupted.
"Oh, right, Aine, don't bother trying to walk down; the exit to the second level is blocked off by crates," Mr. Fabble said.
"Blocked?" She replied.
"Yes, so I asked Paxton to bring you some fruits and a more comfortable fit for sleeping."
Ah, so the basket that Aine murdered in cold blood was from Mr. Fabble. Aine reinspected the basket and saw there were indeed a pair of pants, a shirt, and socks inside. The fruits were scattered all over the dusty floor, so they needed to be washed first before being consumed.
"You forgot the water, idiot; go get it up to her," ordered Mr. Fabble.
"Oh my God, can you please let me rest, you old hag? I fell from the fucking roof!" Retaliated Paxton.
Mr. Fabble exclaimed, "Oh, you little bitch," and Paxton screamed once more.
This time, it wasn't just banging or clanging, but even more tonking, whooping, thwacking, thumping, whamming, slamming, smashing, bonking, and other such onomatopoeia. Sounds that Aine never thought were possible.
After the ass-beating concluded, Paxton got back up, but this time with two black eyes, bruises everywhere, and a pot of water.
"Must be rough, huh?" Said Aine.
"Sometimes, but this one was deserved."
Although most people would consider this abuse, Paxton's emotions suggest that Mr. Fabble has no malicious intentions in his punishments.
Paxton and Aine sat down on the floor of the attic, with Paxton using the water to clean the fruit. Paxton handed Aine a fruit unknown to her.
The fruit was shaped like an apple, was dark blue in color, and was tough as bricks. It didn't seem to be edible with how hard it was. Aine looked at Paxton with a perplexed look on her face.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"I don't think this is food."
"It is food; an apple is called an after apple."
"After Apple?"
"It's the only breed of apple that could survive without the sun."
After Apple is the only breed of apple that was able to evolve and adapt fast enough to survive this harsh world. While apples in our world look juicy and can usually be eaten even without the skin peeled, the after apple has developed some other adaptations to prevent that.
The after apple has rock-hard skin and a texture resembling tree bark. This is so the wild animals of this world can't differentiate between an oddly shaped tree bark and an after apple.
The apple also doesn't radiate any form of smell, making it hard to detect; furthermore, its dark blue color helps it camouflage in the eternal night.
"How are you meant to eat this?" Asked Aine.
"You smash it first," answered Paxton.
Paxton looked to the corner of the attic. In a pile of rubble, he found a one-handed sledgehammer. He then swung the hammer at the apple, which he smashed into pieces.
The apple broke like a cobblestone and revealed vibrant pink insides. It smelled amazing, and juices were practically oozing out of it. Aine took a piece and ate it. It tasted sweeter than any apple she had ever tasted.
Its rough exterior is to protect its almost candy-like insides from being preyed on.
"This tastes amazing!" Said Aine.
"Glad you like it." Answered Paxton.
Aine and Paxton enjoyed the apples. Paxton then wished Aine a good night and headed for his room. Aine was still sitting on the floor, amused by the after apple.
Aine then got up, took the clothes Mr. Fable gave her, and went into the guest room. The candle from before had burned out, and it was pitch black. Aine couldn't see anything inside her room. So she nicked one of the lanterns hung on the attic wall and took it in with her.
She placed the lantern on the dusty table. She identified the lantern as a kerosene lamp. It emitted quite an oily smell; it was quite unpleasant, but at least it was providing her with light.
She then took off her dress and glanced at the piece of clothing that Mr. Fabble had given her. It was a nightgown. She put on the gown and took off her shoes.
The nightgown was soft and very comfortable to wear. It was the perfect thickness too-not too thin where it gets too chilly, but not too thick either where it gets too hot. Aine wondered if she could keep this perfect pajama.
Aine turned off the lamp and slid into the futon. It was surprisingly soft, despite being old. Nevertheless, she slipped into the land of dreams and wished goodnight to this starless world.
She heard a voice; it sounded static.
"Welcome to the 8 PM news, our headli-"
"A 18 year-old girl has been raped and now has been admi-"
The voice fades away, becoming indecipherable.
It was a much shorter monologue than her last one.
Which ends her second day in this world.