As The Little Guy Tugged comes to rest at Salt Lick's docks, the town turns out to greet you all.

Orus marches up, looking quite proud as if he has done something wonderful.  But instead he hugs you Bellinha and says, Papa proundly, "I knew you could do it!  Congrats!"  He turns to all the townspeople.  "Well?  Who's got the beer?"

As the townsfolk huzzah, Orus leans closer, speaking so only the lot of you can hear.

"Unless we got an emergency, let's talk in the morning.  For now, you folks should rest up.  I'm gonna declare a two day festival in your honor startin' tomorrow.  So get some sleep now."

I will let you guys decide if you want to do anything for your first night back.  If not, I will assume you get some sleep and we will start the festival in my next post.

Thanks

Bellinha had descended from the ship to the dock, her notebook in hand, and had not expected to see such a turn out from the town.  She barely had time to vocalize her confusion before Orus marched up and embraced her.  For a moment, Bellinhas eyes went wide in surprise at Orus' action before she simply smiled and embraced him back.

"Thank you, Orus."  Bellinha replied.  "We could all use the rest.  And a chance to clean up.  There were...limits...on the ships."  Lowering her voice, she continued.  "There are a few things that I want to discuss with you, but we can talk in the morning."

Breya was still in a kind of daze over the whole thing.  She wasn't withdrawn, but she was quiet and in deep contemplation.  She would be overjoyed, she reasoned, but she felt overwhelmed and dull.

Breya had heard from a fellow pit slave once that before he'd wound up there, he'd been in and out of various gaols his whole life to the point he thought he was deliberately committing crimes to go back to gaol because it was comfortable and familiar.  Breya had thought that crazy.  He'd been mauled to death by dogs.  Now, Breya thought she understood.  The pit was all she knew and the fact she wasn't going back there ever again meant she was experiencing a weird kind of loss and a feeling of alienation.

But she'd had time and she realized she had to make a decision, just not quite yet, but soon.  She just had to let events unfold for a while more.  Seeing no reason to wait she was already unloading a heavy barrel, something that in all likelihood only she could carry.  They wouldn't finish tonight but no reason to not get started a little bit before finding a nook to settle into for the night somewhere.  Then she'd get cleaned up somewhere early tomorrow.  Despite her size and how rough she was, Breya could clean up and look decent.

The decision would be to stay or go after the festivities were over.  Either there was a reason to stay here, in which case she'd take the next steps at that point, or there wasn't, in which case she'd make sure any sure of hers of all this went to the upkeep of the local orphans and she'd see where the next ship or wagon took her.

And so the worm turns...

The lot of you are put up in whatever accommodation you had before.  And you all manage to find sleep fairly easily that night.  Pillaging a pesky pirate post takes a lot out of a person.

You wake to the smells of breakfast.  Ham frying.  Pancakes flipping.  Eggs being cracked.  Which isn't a smell, but then neither is flipping and you didn't have a problem with that, did you?

Anyway, as you all make your way to the common room of Grat's Packets, you find it filled with eager locals who slap you on the back, stick beer into your hands, and seem intent of feeing you a massive breakfast.

One of them proudly tells you, "Thanks to you lot, we're gonna have a Fig Festival!"

Everyone in the room huzzahs.  A Fig Festival!  What a surprise!

Today was supposed to be the start of a two day festival, so Bellinha skipped her morning training to prepare.  She put on a nice and comfortable dress and spent time on her long hair.  Bellinha wasn't sure what the festival would involve but she wanted to be prepared, and nice looking.    Satisfied with the result, Bellinha headed down for breakfast.

In spite of the heroes welcome that they had received coming into port the day before, Bellinha was not expecting the greeting from the folks in the common room.  "...oh...yes...thank you....nice to see you...good morning..."  She said, working her way around the room to greet the townsfolk.  They had taken the time to come out this morning and it would be rude to not acknowledge them.  "Yay...Fig Festival..."  she cheered along with the rest, though Bellinha was not sure what the festival was going to be about.  Presumably something to do with figs.

Sitting down at the table, Bellinha patiently waited.  It wasn't her breakfast that she was waiting for.  It was Breya.  Her beautiful brawling friend had been oddly quiet and withdrawn the journey back to Salt Lick.  At first Bellinha thought that she was just tired but as Breyas mood continued Bellinha was more convinced that there was something else on Breyas mind.  Bellinha was going to find out what her friend was thinking, so she sat waiting for Breya to appear, trying not to wring her hands nervously.

Breya had worked to unload the most perishable and valuable things the previous night, and when she'd gone to bed she'd been quite tired and slept well.  She appreciated the accommodations.  Breya would have been happy sleeping in the shed they stored the stuff in.  These were nice people.

She woke up early and cleaned herself.  There was a lot of Breya to clean but most of the work went into her hair, which had gotten dirty and unkempt in all the fighting.  It had gotten quite long, extending past her shoulders, though normally the simple ties she put in it kept it at bay.  She had cleaned it and gotten all the dried blood out.

Her red hair meant a lot to her.  She'd been told many times it was a weakness in the fighting pit and to get rid of it, and she had kept it growing in defiance of that sentiment.  It was a 'fuck you' to her slavers, and it honestly became an intimidation tactic.   She also thought it made her a better fighter, because she had to be aware of where her head was constantly.

When she got a pair of shears she'd take off some of the split ends, but it wasn't too bad once it was clean.  Standing up, she tied in a low pony tail, then twisted it through a couple of times, creating a visually complex knot that looked like a lot more work than it actually was.  Pulling a few strands loose to frame her face and so that it would rest easy on her scalp, she was pleased with the results.

She eschewed her armor for now and opted to go down in her leggings and jerkin, though she wore nothing under the jerkin, which called attention to her bare arms and cleavage.  Breya knew she was too tall and too much muscle to be conventionally attractive (though some people were into it, she'd gotten some divisive looks last night carrying those kegs and boxes) but that didn't bother her, being big and built like the proverbial brick shithouse had kept her alive.  If she had someone else's body she wouldn't have survived what she had.  Still, she was girl-shaped, even if it was a lot of girl.

As someone announced a fig festival to her, her mind went to the gutter.  "Very funny."  The dry reply probably didn't make sense but Breya had been accused of having male anatomy before due to that size and musculature of hers mentioned previously, and being told she had testicles had been a common taunt.  She had learned to not argue about the rumors, nothing was better than a newcomer thinking he was clever by kicking her between the legs only to quickly realize there was no strategic value to that target after all.  It was a painful lesson too.  That's when she realized no one was making fun of her (at the moment).  "Wait... you're serious?  Well.  Okay.  I suppose."

Her mood brightened with the supply of food.  She'd not really eaten much last night being so tired, and at the moment was ravaged.  It was a mighty pile.

She sat down, making eye contact with Bellinha.  For all her size and mass, Breya tended to not clang or crash around so much.  Breya hadn't avoided anyone the last few days since the butterflies ate the last of the pirates, she'd just been somber and quiet.  But by putting herself in such a posture in such a busy time she'd ensured no one had said much to her, even though she responded fully to what little was said to her.  However now her posture was different, as she made direct eye contact with Bellinha and was actively engaging with others, which she hadn't been.

"Hello Bellinha."  Not good morning, but hello.  She began to prepare her breakfast feast for a civil devouring with her knife and fork.

Bellinha brightened when she saw Breya walking through the common room.  That changed when Breya sat down and said Hello.  That was an odd greeting.  There was definitely something up.

"Good morning, Breya."  She said cheerfully, smiling though her hands fidgeted nervously.  "I like what you've done with your hair."  What was with that look from Breya?  And that tone.

Bell pondered what to do as Breya prepared her breakfast. Calistria give me strength, she thought before deciding to just go for it.  "You've been quiet the last few days, and I was...well I'm worried.  Is everything alright?"

"Thanks.  It's nice to have the time to fuss with it.  I was going to put some braids in it, but that's more time consuming."  Breya bisected a sausage, trying not to joke about whether it'd be served with figs for the festival.

"Sorry if I've been weird, it's just that my brain finally caught up to what's actually happened to me.  With all the shenanigans and fighting I haven't had much room to think about my situation."  She took a bite, a perhaps surprisingly small one, which she was able to chew thoroughly and swallow in minimal time.  "And no everything is not alright, though things are overall pretty good.  The fact is I'm free, and as sweet as that is, it's also hard because I haven't been taught to participate in normal society.  I don't have the skills.  I don't have a trade, or a profession, or more than one pair of socks, anything.  If not for the generosity of these people I'd be sleeping rough outside somewhere, purifying water from puddles and boiling rat meat.  I don't mean to be gross, it's just the truth.  I actually know a lot about surviving like that, but I don't know how to thrive.  Or how to be normal and talk to people in a way that isn't strange and awkward.  There's nothing for it, I'm going to have to dig in somewhere and learn to be a human being.  It's not going to be much fun because I'm probably going to have the worst job imaginable since I'm not good for much but lifting and stacking and things like that, and I'm going to embarrass myself a whole lot, but ultimately it'll be good."

She took another bite.  "It is what it is.  It's not something I'm going to solve in a day, or a week, a month or probably not even a year.  And it's not anyone else's burden but mine, I have to confront it.  But what I do need to figure out is when and where to start.  So I wanted to ask you something, because your answer will help me get started."

Breya put down her utensils.  She'd been very matter of fact about all of this, she didn't seem overly sad or distressed and didn't show any sign of emotional investment until now.

"Bellinha, you're a good person in a world sorely lacking in them.  You're brave, you help others selflessly, you're kind to people you don't have to be kind to, and you're going to be successful and beloved whatever you do and wherever you go.  You're also talented at a lot of different things, and you're very pretty on top of all of that, and it's not fair one person gets to be all these things.  But mostly, you're a good person and I will always care for you no matter what."  Her voice was quite steady.  Breya had thought about this a lot and decided this was the play, and the best play, and Breya did not lack for confidence once she'd made up her mind.

"Listen, I don't know if I'm doing this right, you know my situation I didn't exactly get a lot of chances to interact socially the right way.  But one of the things people do to live and be normal is they try to find love with significant others and there's a lot of rituals and customs around it, I think it's called courting.  So I'd like to court you.  They're doing this fig thing, there's probably going to be dances and weird ritual races involving props.  Would you be my date for whatever this thing is?"

First things being first, Skeeter needed a long hot bath after returning to town. Between that and the remaining bottle of rum, he was well renewed, even if a little out of sorts. The argument about killing the passed-out pirates was still bothering him. Am I the asshole? This is just how I thought things were supposed to be. It's not like I can ask a multitude of strangers through the ether to tell me whether I was out of line. But if Bellinha AND Breya thought I was being too much, hell, maybe I was.


Freshly polished and never being one to put in manual labor anyway, he found a good perch to watch, out of the way and unnoticed, the remaining unloading of goods from the Little Guy Tugged, being one of those who enjoyed the look of the beads of sweat on Breya's figure while she lugged the kegs and boxes off the ship. Of course, from his quiet, shadowy perch, it's not like she would know there was one more set of ogling eyes. She had eyes for Bellinha anyway, that was clear. Oh to be a fly on the wall of that boudoir.

The following day was much the same, staying out of the way and unnoticed unless specifically looked or asked for, but always watching and observing. Breya and Bell did make a cute couple, even if he was a little jealous that he couldn't have one or both of them himself, and it made him smile despite it all to see Breya's efforts at wooing.

Cassandre had emptied her numerous pockets and satchels to share all the things she had collected from the pirate lair. She did not overly rely on being well equipped, except when it came to spellbooks, so she was very happy to pass on the opportunity to wield better swords or don better armour.

Back at Salt Lick, she indulged in a very long very hot bath, with unguents of whatever variety she could find. This and a wonderful night sleep. Next morning, she was early in the common room, filling up on eggs and yogurt and fruits.

She too thought the Bs would make a very cute couple, but she did not regret she couldn’t have either of both. While keeping an ear to their touching it a little awkward breakfast conversation, she set next to Skeeter and smiled, showing her misaligned teeth. With her good eye set on him, she asked:
  “That thing you do when you climb on the enemy to stab them… how did they come about?”

Bellinha listened to Breya speak, with held breath.  So worried had she been that she did not even realize that she was doing it.  As Breya was speaking, Bellinha could hear that soft whisper in her ear, the one clearly heard over the fluttering of a room full of butterflies.  Those dark whispers that she had originally dismissed but that was before Breya started to act all withdrawn.  Then it seemed like the dark whispers might actually have some truth to them.  Bellinha was trying hard not to expect bad news but the whispers kept on playing over and over in her head.

When Breya finished, Bell let out a soft sigh of relief as her shoulders relaxed.  "Oh thank the gods, I thought you were going to lea..." she blurted out and then caught herself.  She covered up by giving a small courtesan-like clearing of her throat, a small cough with a hand covering her mouth.  Bell kept her eyes on Breya.  How could she even think for a moment that there was any truth to the whispers?  No, she could put her trust in Breya, she'd done it before.

Having recovered what remained of her dignity, Bellinha reached across the table to put her hand over Breyas.  There was so much that Bellinha wanted to say, but none of the words fit.  Breya had told her a little of her history and her struggles after being freed from the arena.  Breya had even admitted that she did not know how to live a normal life, and for Bellinha that felt like a punch to heart.  She'd seen Breya fight and risk her life for others, or take up a stand on an issue and command respect for it.  To hear the admission about trying to fit in outside of fighting, of living on the streets, and wearing only rags, pulled at Bellinhas heart.  It was not out of pity.  Breya was struggling and Bellinha wanted to help her because she cared about her.  Because she...

Bellinha smiled sweetly.  "I'd like that." she said simply, giving Breyas hand a soft squeeze.