BETTER PLACE / aine

[aine.]

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I'll come back when you call me

Aine found herself in an odd conundrum.  A state of panic, somehow listless.  Antsy pacing.  All starting from the moment Kydobi departed, Trygve in hand.  Wary.  Uncertain.  Inconsolable, though her father did try.  He always tried.  And she tried too.  She really did.  But the seed in her mind was planted.  What if something went wrong?  Something always went wrong. 

And Trygve. 

Did the Typhoon have a medic?  Was someone checking on his burns regularly?  Was he angry?  Did he hate them all now, too?  Just another face in an endless sea of hate-filled eyes?  … And if he was... Why was she sneaking out of the safety of her family's treehouse, a basket of flowers and herbs dangling from her jaws, attempting to retrace the steps from an accidental visit to the pirates' home a few moons ago?  … She had to.  She had to make sure.  Even if he hated them all, she had to know he was doing okay.

The thought of her father's angry voice when he realized she'd snuck out made her linger.  Standing rigid by the tracks.  To step onto them, to walk all the way across... An island home to... Hatred.  Her throat closed up, teeth clenching the woven handle of her basket.  Breathe.

One paw in front of the other.  Just one.  Then another.  Waves washing so surprisingly close.  Salt in the breeze.  What a pretty place...  But her hazel hues were locked on the tracks.  Watching her paws.  Flickering up for seconds, then flashing back down.  Up.  Down.  U- was someone guarding the gate?

Oh no. 

Aine faltered.  Breath catching.  But she'd only ever seen one jaguar with those freckle-like spots.  Oh.  She'd gotten tense all over again, just to realize there was no danger present.  … Assuming he wasn't mad.

Too bad she was out in the open.  An obvious flash of orange against tracks and shallow ocean.  He'd noticed her by now, so she could hardly turn tail and change her mind.  Trying to push past a tight chest, the vixen began moving once again, finishing the long trek across the track leading to the gate.  Her paws were drenched.  Legs tired.  But she'd done it.

"H-hi."  Da's gonna ground me forever.  "I - um.  I." Her voice, already horribly soft, was muffled from her basket.  A fact she came to realize rather abruptly, her ears flicking back sheepishly.  Slowly, she dropped the basket onto her paws.  "'m Aine."

Wait.  He already knew that, didn't he?

"I - um.  I wanted to check on you... So I brought- I brought aloe vera.  It-it's what I used for your- your burns.  And um.  These are some- um flowers that I- I grow. … Th-they're not- not herbs, I just. Um.  They're pretty." God, if she didn't feel a little silly, ducking her head down.  "… It's a um.  An apology.  We-well kinda.  I don't... No one knows I... Um.  I came."

Her teeth caught the inside of her cheek, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —