Arrival

1st Cylus 720
Alighting from the ..... creature, Perdita looked around and sighed. It was 'dawn' on the 1st Cylus, but there was no dawn, of course. It was just dark. And cold. Very, very cold. There was so much that she wanted to say, but she had not spoken a single word of criticism or complaint during the journey. After all, her parents had taught her that she must be responsible for her own choices, and they had warned her, had they not, about the dangers of ever, ever making choices which involved a boy. But that was exactly what she had done and now, just as they'd said, she was repenting at her leisure. But she wouldn't say anything to Eli, no. He, after all, was responsible only for himself. She had been an equal and willing participant in That Night, and now ~ and forever more, she considered gloomily ~ she was paying the price of her reckless and foolish actions.
During the journey, Perdita had considered where she'd first gone wrong and her conclusion had been that she should never have left the house that trial. There were other decisions, further along the day, where she was more in control of her fate ~ the most noticeable one being where he grabbed her hand and they ran into an alleyway, hiding from the guards ~ just remembering that caused a flush of shame to redden Perdita's cheeks. She'd spent a lot of time on this journey in the belly of a large flying moth blushing, trying not to blush and failing dismally. No matter which way she looked at it, she couldn't actually bring herself to hold Elijah responsible. He had helped her in the marketplace, he had pulled her out of trouble with the guard. They had run together, and she had to admit to being just a little surprised at her reaction to him holding her hand. But, hold her hand he hand and they'd run as fast as they could through the winding streets. Perdita was utterly lost by the time they finally slowed, but she had leaned forward, breathless, and looked up at him with a grin. It had been ~ she admitted to no one save herself ~ exhilarating.
But, she'd been battered and cut and Eli had frowned and insisted that her wounds needed cleaning up. She had admitted that she didn't have a first aid kit or such in her house and he'd said that there were supplies in his, so they'd gone there. He'd cleaned up her cuts and, in that process, had discovered that Perdita Westcott was an absolute baby. There had been cries of "No! It hurts!" At one point she had hidden from him - or more precisely from the lotion he used to clean her wounds. Eventually ~ or in fairness, quite quickly ~ Eli had given her a cup of something to drink. Perdita had sniffed it and asked "What is this?"
Had he answered? She wasn't entirely sure. But he'd grabbed hold of her and steered her to a chair, where he sat her down and then started cleaning her wounds again and so, Perdita had drunk it. All. "It burns," she'd said with a wrinkled nose and look of disgust, and then finished the mug. There'd been more in there, though - although how it got there she didn't know - so she'd drunk that too and then things really got blurry. They'd laughed a lot about something, she couldn't remember what, and over the course of the next few trials she had recalled flashes of moments, but they were jagged and not pieced together well.
What she did know was that, when she woke up the next morning, she'd been curled up, fast asleep in Eli's arms .... in the body of a very large flying moth. Her head had been pounding and she felt sick, her mouth was as arid as the deserts of the Hotlands and she'd looked around in surprise. She must have woken Eli up, and she hoped he hadn't noticed that she'd been totally wrapped up in his arms, her head on his chest and her arms around his waist. "Where are we?" Perdita had asked, blearily.
And from there, it had all gone downhill.
So now, they got off the flutterbus and Perdita turned to look at her unexpected companion on their unplanned journey. "Are you alright?" Perdita asked, quietly. She'd managed to make eye contact with him roughly five times during their journey, and she'd blushed almost constantly. When people also on the inside of the moth (that had really made her uncomfortable - they were inside a moth. A big moth, but a moth) had tried to speak with her, Perdita had done her best to talk, but she was ~ quite obviously ~ very shy. The cramped conditions hadn't helped and, just once, she'd whispered to Eli with a very genuine expression of horror, "It's a moth." She'd shuddered as she said it.
But now, they were on firm land once again and they were, apparently, in Desnind. At no point throughout the journey had she blamed him, berated him, or said anything at all. She had simply remained quiet, almost aloof, but close to him if she could be. Perdita was quite happy with quiet - and she figured that was a good thing; she had never met anyone who could talk as much as Eli did. He talked, he designed widgets and whirligigs in his notebook, he showed her the designs for said widgets and whirligigs, and he insisted that he could replace horses. He'd seem to take her assertion of the usefulness of horses as some kind of personal affront.
As long as he didn't replace them with moths, she thought, pulling her cloak close around her as an involuntary shudder overtook her, that would be fine. No, she hadn't once told him that it was his fault, that her parents would be worried about her, that she was afraid and had never left Rharne before, she never told him those things, but she kept herself to herself, and yet kept close to him too. Looking at him now, Perdita managed to make eye contact as she almost pleaded. "Lets get food?" They'd had bare meals on the flutterbus and the realisation that they were eating when the moth was had made her eat very little. She was hungry enough to eat a horse - that would be a good use for them, she thought - and then, another thought crossed her mind, and she smiled a beaming smile. "And a bath!"
During the journey, Perdita had considered where she'd first gone wrong and her conclusion had been that she should never have left the house that trial. There were other decisions, further along the day, where she was more in control of her fate ~ the most noticeable one being where he grabbed her hand and they ran into an alleyway, hiding from the guards ~ just remembering that caused a flush of shame to redden Perdita's cheeks. She'd spent a lot of time on this journey in the belly of a large flying moth blushing, trying not to blush and failing dismally. No matter which way she looked at it, she couldn't actually bring herself to hold Elijah responsible. He had helped her in the marketplace, he had pulled her out of trouble with the guard. They had run together, and she had to admit to being just a little surprised at her reaction to him holding her hand. But, hold her hand he hand and they'd run as fast as they could through the winding streets. Perdita was utterly lost by the time they finally slowed, but she had leaned forward, breathless, and looked up at him with a grin. It had been ~ she admitted to no one save herself ~ exhilarating.
But, she'd been battered and cut and Eli had frowned and insisted that her wounds needed cleaning up. She had admitted that she didn't have a first aid kit or such in her house and he'd said that there were supplies in his, so they'd gone there. He'd cleaned up her cuts and, in that process, had discovered that Perdita Westcott was an absolute baby. There had been cries of "No! It hurts!" At one point she had hidden from him - or more precisely from the lotion he used to clean her wounds. Eventually ~ or in fairness, quite quickly ~ Eli had given her a cup of something to drink. Perdita had sniffed it and asked "What is this?"
Had he answered? She wasn't entirely sure. But he'd grabbed hold of her and steered her to a chair, where he sat her down and then started cleaning her wounds again and so, Perdita had drunk it. All. "It burns," she'd said with a wrinkled nose and look of disgust, and then finished the mug. There'd been more in there, though - although how it got there she didn't know - so she'd drunk that too and then things really got blurry. They'd laughed a lot about something, she couldn't remember what, and over the course of the next few trials she had recalled flashes of moments, but they were jagged and not pieced together well.
What she did know was that, when she woke up the next morning, she'd been curled up, fast asleep in Eli's arms .... in the body of a very large flying moth. Her head had been pounding and she felt sick, her mouth was as arid as the deserts of the Hotlands and she'd looked around in surprise. She must have woken Eli up, and she hoped he hadn't noticed that she'd been totally wrapped up in his arms, her head on his chest and her arms around his waist. "Where are we?" Perdita had asked, blearily.
And from there, it had all gone downhill.
So now, they got off the flutterbus and Perdita turned to look at her unexpected companion on their unplanned journey. "Are you alright?" Perdita asked, quietly. She'd managed to make eye contact with him roughly five times during their journey, and she'd blushed almost constantly. When people also on the inside of the moth (that had really made her uncomfortable - they were inside a moth. A big moth, but a moth) had tried to speak with her, Perdita had done her best to talk, but she was ~ quite obviously ~ very shy. The cramped conditions hadn't helped and, just once, she'd whispered to Eli with a very genuine expression of horror, "It's a moth." She'd shuddered as she said it.
But now, they were on firm land once again and they were, apparently, in Desnind. At no point throughout the journey had she blamed him, berated him, or said anything at all. She had simply remained quiet, almost aloof, but close to him if she could be. Perdita was quite happy with quiet - and she figured that was a good thing; she had never met anyone who could talk as much as Eli did. He talked, he designed widgets and whirligigs in his notebook, he showed her the designs for said widgets and whirligigs, and he insisted that he could replace horses. He'd seem to take her assertion of the usefulness of horses as some kind of personal affront.
As long as he didn't replace them with moths, she thought, pulling her cloak close around her as an involuntary shudder overtook her, that would be fine. No, she hadn't once told him that it was his fault, that her parents would be worried about her, that she was afraid and had never left Rharne before, she never told him those things, but she kept herself to herself, and yet kept close to him too. Looking at him now, Perdita managed to make eye contact as she almost pleaded. "Lets get food?" They'd had bare meals on the flutterbus and the realisation that they were eating when the moth was had made her eat very little. She was hungry enough to eat a horse - that would be a good use for them, she thought - and then, another thought crossed her mind, and she smiled a beaming smile. "And a bath!"


