NaNo Second Week - part seven I think
Edwin left Maggie lightly sleeping in her room and walked back into the living room.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, how did it go?” asked his brother in law.
“Oh. Fine, fine. It will take some time.”
“Okay. How long? Pain? Pain meds?” Sam started.
Edwin smiled at the fact Maggie asked him the same questions. He took Sam what he already told his wife.
Miriam and Amanda were holding onto each other’s hands. There was hope in their eyes. Their arms and hands relaxed. ‘Okay,” said Miriam. “Okay,” repeated Amanda.
Thomas looked at his nieces. “Any chance of you two going to bed?”
The girls just looked at him.
“Yeah, well, moving on, then.” Thomas continued.
“Why do I feel like I just ran a marathon?” asked Edwin. Madeline came from the kitchen and handed him a glass of apple cider. Edwin looked up in thanks and didn’t bother to wonder how Madeline knew he wanted that exact thing.
“You are subterfuge man. I decided, because I finally know how to spell it.” Miriam smiled.
“Yeah, actually. In a way, yes. You are feeling excitement, guilt, fear, hope, everything. So, deep breaths, drink your cider and rest a minute before we start the council of war.” Madeline advised.
Edwin obeyed, took a breath, took a deep draught of the cider, and leaned back into the most comfortable couch ever.
“War?”
=========
Sabine wrapped her shawl around her neck even tighter than before. It was cold tonight, seemed more cold than normal. Probably because the baby was close.
She went to the dark dilapidated house, leaned heavily on the paneled door, swung her hip into the wood and opened the door.
It was only slightly warmer in the house. She took off a couple layers of clothing but kept her sweatshirt, undershirt and worn jeans and leggings. She re-wrapped her shawl around her hair to keep the dark, thick curls in line.
“Honey,” she called. “I’m here.”
“’k. I’m in the back,” a female voice called back.
She stepped into the small hallway and headed to the back room. The floor was a gray green old linoleum. The walls were peeling army green paint. The house smelled musty, but the air held a hint of cinnamon.
Sabine sniffed, sneezed.
“You aren’t catching a cold, are you?” called the voice, softer now that Sabine was almost to the room.
“No, it’s not exactly spring out there, though, even if I still get allergies.” Sabine replied and opened the door.
A thin, tall and pale woman was hunched over an old style light microscope. “Um,” she replied, noncommittally.
“Yeah, “answered Sabine.
The other woman stood up from her chair by the table holding the microscope. She moved her hands over her hair to catch the white strands that had escaped her hair tie. She gave up on the smoothing, took the hair tie out, shook her hair out, framing her face in elegant, snow white hair falling pass her shoulders. Expertly, she griped the lot of it, flipped her head, contained the mass into her hair tie, and moved on with her life.
Amaranth smiled slightly. She liked her white hair. It was something pure to her, the pure, clear white. She liked it more than her underfed, thin body.
Sabine watched amaranth’s hair maneuver silently. “You know I could cut that for you, give you a break from needing to fuss with it all the time.”
Amaranth let out a snort. “My one vanity? Hah!” She smiled easily with her apprentice, more like a friend these days, but apprentice nevertheless.
Sabine sat in another chair. Amaranth took her seat again, draped her arm on the table beside the microscope and lay her head on her arm.
“So, how’s mom doing?”
Sabine gave a small frown. “As well as can be expected, in as little meaning as that statement has. He’s hovering, making her anxious. He seems more interested in this birth.”
Amaranth snorted again. “Small wonder. Number three, three times the charm. We are nearly pushing it with a third.”
“Ya think?” Sabine said. “So, Leda is nervous. I’ve come for some bitter herbs or some such to soothe her.”
Amaranth nodded. “Yes, of course.” She straightened, stood. She walked over to the slightly creaking shelves, considered the jars and boxes and decanters.
Sabine looked up at what Amaranth was looking at. Oh, good, not another test she thought. I just want to get whatever thing it is I’m supposed to give Leda and go.
Still facing away from Sabine, Amaranth replied, “Ha, yeah, that will happen.”
Sabine put a hand on her face. “How do you do that?”
Amaranth, not turning, replied.
“How? And that’s why you’re the apprentice, I’m the master, you do the grunt work, and tell me what of this sundry and varied collection Leda needs to take at this point in her pregnancy to serve our nefarious goals.”
Sabine sighed and put her own head on the table. On her forehead, she talked into the table.
“Ama, I’m tired.” And she began to cry.
Amaranth stilled herself and felt the room. She felt the warmth radiating from Sabine’s body, she smelled Sabine’s sweat and tears, she saw the hunch of her shoulders slightly shaking.
Amaranth walked over to her chair and sat by the younger woman. She let her hands lay loosely on her lap and waited.
Sabine’s sobs subsided. She sneezed again. She attempted to cover her face, but she succeeded to get her hands wet with tears and mucus.
“Aw, hell,” she said weakly, looking around for a cloth, looking down at her dirty jeans.
Amaranth passed over a washrag. “Here you go, dear.”
Sabine sniffed. “Sorry.”
“’s okay.” Amaranth replied. “We are all tired.”
Sabine smirked. “You aren’t.”
The older woman smirked back. “I’m too old and tough to be tired. I’ve past tired into, into something else.” For a moment, there was a faraway look in her eyes, but as soon as it appeared it left her face.
“Um, “ Sabine began. “Um, she still needs the calcium, the anti nausea grains, and water.”
“I’ll get the technical names out of you later,” Amaranth told her apprentice, giving Sabine a break. She stood and walked over to the shelves to get Sabine’s supplies.
“He didn’t give you grief about leaving the Tower?” Amaranth was a bit surprised at this. “This close to the birth?”
Sabine shook her head. “No, actually. Like I said, he seems more interested this time, and more, well, anxious, I guess.”
“Mm.” Amaranth replied, putting the relevant jars into Sabine’s hands.
She walked her apprentice back to the door. Sabine wrapped herself back into her warm clothing.
Sabine looked at Amaranth. “You’ll have to tell me about seeing the sun all the time, sometime.”
Amaranth blinked. Blinked again. “How… oh, you’re getting good. What is with this ‘How?’ stuff from you?”
Sabine grinned, “What? The servant becomes the master?”
Amaranth laughed. “Go, you!”
With that, Sabine left the house.
Amaranth shoved the door closed with her hip as the younger woman opened the door earlier.
There was an old, cracked mirror on the wall, with a small shelf for knick knacks and small hooks underneath for keys and such.
Amaranth looked into the mirror. Considered her face. Thin, yes, lightly wrinkled, yes. Smile lines competed with frown lines and the race was about even. Glowing white hair, she smiled, and touched her equally white eyebrows. Smiled, looked at her nearly perfect teeth. She sniffed. Patted at her hair again.
Not bad for a two hundred and a bit year old.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, how did it go?” asked his brother in law.
“Oh. Fine, fine. It will take some time.”
“Okay. How long? Pain? Pain meds?” Sam started.
Edwin smiled at the fact Maggie asked him the same questions. He took Sam what he already told his wife.
Miriam and Amanda were holding onto each other’s hands. There was hope in their eyes. Their arms and hands relaxed. ‘Okay,” said Miriam. “Okay,” repeated Amanda.
Thomas looked at his nieces. “Any chance of you two going to bed?”
The girls just looked at him.
“Yeah, well, moving on, then.” Thomas continued.
“Why do I feel like I just ran a marathon?” asked Edwin. Madeline came from the kitchen and handed him a glass of apple cider. Edwin looked up in thanks and didn’t bother to wonder how Madeline knew he wanted that exact thing.
“You are subterfuge man. I decided, because I finally know how to spell it.” Miriam smiled.
“Yeah, actually. In a way, yes. You are feeling excitement, guilt, fear, hope, everything. So, deep breaths, drink your cider and rest a minute before we start the council of war.” Madeline advised.
Edwin obeyed, took a breath, took a deep draught of the cider, and leaned back into the most comfortable couch ever.
“War?”
=========
Sabine wrapped her shawl around her neck even tighter than before. It was cold tonight, seemed more cold than normal. Probably because the baby was close.
She went to the dark dilapidated house, leaned heavily on the paneled door, swung her hip into the wood and opened the door.
It was only slightly warmer in the house. She took off a couple layers of clothing but kept her sweatshirt, undershirt and worn jeans and leggings. She re-wrapped her shawl around her hair to keep the dark, thick curls in line.
“Honey,” she called. “I’m here.”
“’k. I’m in the back,” a female voice called back.
She stepped into the small hallway and headed to the back room. The floor was a gray green old linoleum. The walls were peeling army green paint. The house smelled musty, but the air held a hint of cinnamon.
Sabine sniffed, sneezed.
“You aren’t catching a cold, are you?” called the voice, softer now that Sabine was almost to the room.
“No, it’s not exactly spring out there, though, even if I still get allergies.” Sabine replied and opened the door.
A thin, tall and pale woman was hunched over an old style light microscope. “Um,” she replied, noncommittally.
“Yeah, “answered Sabine.
The other woman stood up from her chair by the table holding the microscope. She moved her hands over her hair to catch the white strands that had escaped her hair tie. She gave up on the smoothing, took the hair tie out, shook her hair out, framing her face in elegant, snow white hair falling pass her shoulders. Expertly, she griped the lot of it, flipped her head, contained the mass into her hair tie, and moved on with her life.
Amaranth smiled slightly. She liked her white hair. It was something pure to her, the pure, clear white. She liked it more than her underfed, thin body.
Sabine watched amaranth’s hair maneuver silently. “You know I could cut that for you, give you a break from needing to fuss with it all the time.”
Amaranth let out a snort. “My one vanity? Hah!” She smiled easily with her apprentice, more like a friend these days, but apprentice nevertheless.
Sabine sat in another chair. Amaranth took her seat again, draped her arm on the table beside the microscope and lay her head on her arm.
“So, how’s mom doing?”
Sabine gave a small frown. “As well as can be expected, in as little meaning as that statement has. He’s hovering, making her anxious. He seems more interested in this birth.”
Amaranth snorted again. “Small wonder. Number three, three times the charm. We are nearly pushing it with a third.”
“Ya think?” Sabine said. “So, Leda is nervous. I’ve come for some bitter herbs or some such to soothe her.”
Amaranth nodded. “Yes, of course.” She straightened, stood. She walked over to the slightly creaking shelves, considered the jars and boxes and decanters.
Sabine looked up at what Amaranth was looking at. Oh, good, not another test she thought. I just want to get whatever thing it is I’m supposed to give Leda and go.
Still facing away from Sabine, Amaranth replied, “Ha, yeah, that will happen.”
Sabine put a hand on her face. “How do you do that?”
Amaranth, not turning, replied.
“How? And that’s why you’re the apprentice, I’m the master, you do the grunt work, and tell me what of this sundry and varied collection Leda needs to take at this point in her pregnancy to serve our nefarious goals.”
Sabine sighed and put her own head on the table. On her forehead, she talked into the table.
“Ama, I’m tired.” And she began to cry.
Amaranth stilled herself and felt the room. She felt the warmth radiating from Sabine’s body, she smelled Sabine’s sweat and tears, she saw the hunch of her shoulders slightly shaking.
Amaranth walked over to her chair and sat by the younger woman. She let her hands lay loosely on her lap and waited.
Sabine’s sobs subsided. She sneezed again. She attempted to cover her face, but she succeeded to get her hands wet with tears and mucus.
“Aw, hell,” she said weakly, looking around for a cloth, looking down at her dirty jeans.
Amaranth passed over a washrag. “Here you go, dear.”
Sabine sniffed. “Sorry.”
“’s okay.” Amaranth replied. “We are all tired.”
Sabine smirked. “You aren’t.”
The older woman smirked back. “I’m too old and tough to be tired. I’ve past tired into, into something else.” For a moment, there was a faraway look in her eyes, but as soon as it appeared it left her face.
“Um, “ Sabine began. “Um, she still needs the calcium, the anti nausea grains, and water.”
“I’ll get the technical names out of you later,” Amaranth told her apprentice, giving Sabine a break. She stood and walked over to the shelves to get Sabine’s supplies.
“He didn’t give you grief about leaving the Tower?” Amaranth was a bit surprised at this. “This close to the birth?”
Sabine shook her head. “No, actually. Like I said, he seems more interested this time, and more, well, anxious, I guess.”
“Mm.” Amaranth replied, putting the relevant jars into Sabine’s hands.
She walked her apprentice back to the door. Sabine wrapped herself back into her warm clothing.
Sabine looked at Amaranth. “You’ll have to tell me about seeing the sun all the time, sometime.”
Amaranth blinked. Blinked again. “How… oh, you’re getting good. What is with this ‘How?’ stuff from you?”
Sabine grinned, “What? The servant becomes the master?”
Amaranth laughed. “Go, you!”
With that, Sabine left the house.
Amaranth shoved the door closed with her hip as the younger woman opened the door earlier.
There was an old, cracked mirror on the wall, with a small shelf for knick knacks and small hooks underneath for keys and such.
Amaranth looked into the mirror. Considered her face. Thin, yes, lightly wrinkled, yes. Smile lines competed with frown lines and the race was about even. Glowing white hair, she smiled, and touched her equally white eyebrows. Smiled, looked at her nearly perfect teeth. She sniffed. Patted at her hair again.
Not bad for a two hundred and a bit year old.