Porridge and Milk
Lin felt lethargic and largely apathetic as she pushed the porridge around the bowl. Its usual tempting texture and scent did not stir her senses or even make an impression on her as she spooned the occasional amount. Roary and Fiona had yet to have made it down for breakfast, which was just as well as she doubted she would have been able to muster the courage for conversation. This day was destined to lead them to a place that she simply did not want to go. She had no rational reason for it, she just felt numb with the mere thought. Actually it was a bit more than that. Her chest felt constricted and her body drained of energy. She pushed the bowl away; she was clearly not going to be able to eat. She needed to let go of the images of the night. Hell, she needed to let go of the images of the past and of those from the night. She was carrying around too much and she couldn't afford to let any of it get in the way of finding the next and final silk and getting her boys back. She flashed on her dream of the hounds. What if it was too late? What if they had already let go of each other and had taken to those forms? The tea cup slipped from her hand and rattled on the table. Thankfully she had almost finished and had not been holding it far from the surface, though the noise was still enough to startle her back to the present. She cleaned up the small mess and her breakfast things and made her way back to the room to pack for the day, feeling the tightness in her chest and knowing that she needed to find a way to free herself of it, to be stronger for what was yet to come.
Fiona had showered and changed, dressing in layers as she was uncertain what the day would hold. She packed her bag and then sat at the window. The night before had been hard for her daughter. There had not been much she could do for her. Point of fact, there had not been much she had been able to do so far really. She felt rather useless, or perhaps the better word was helpless. They had experienced so much and yet were only partially complete with their task. She was worried about Sean and Ian. What had become of them? What would become of them? Even if they managed this incredible task and brough them safely home, how would this experience affect them? How did one live as an animal, in the world of the Fey, and not be touched forever after by the experience? She fingered the star stone in her pocket. Her short time within their world had transformed her and she had not even stepped into another skin, only another plane of existence. Though she would not trade those moments for anything, she could not help but wonder if the boys would say the same. She clasped the stone tightly and closed her eyes, willing her mind blank. It was time to start this day and this fretting and mulling would not help get her moving. She pressed herself upward with a sigh and grabbed her bag, bracing for the coming day. She gave Lin a silent nod of greeting as they passed each other in the hallway.
Roary leaned into the spray of the shower though the water had long since lost its heat. That was one of the problems with the bed and breakfast arrangements. If you did not get an ensuite bathroom, you often ended up with a cold shower, especially if you were on the late end of the users for the day. He felt surprisingly alert - though perhaps that was just the cold speaking. He was looking forward to the day. It felt somehow exceptionally freeing to have gotten through the prior day with no more than the internal scrapes and scars that seared his memory. And he had to admit, he was proud to have delivered one of the silks up to Lin and Fiona. They were at least that much closer to the end of this quest. He turned off the tap and stepped out, grabbing his towel and rubbing himself down vigorously. Yes, he was damn proud of that part. Now if today could yield a similar result, perhaps they could finish the task Aiofe had set.
He paused. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had no idea what finishing the task truly meant. He did not actually know what completing the task would bring for the swans, for the boys or for himself and for Lin. Perhaps it was this last that left him deflated. He found himself sitting on the edge of the tub rubbing his head with the towel and feeling a bit less energetic than he had just moments before. He stood abruptly, dropping the towel and starting to dress. In the end what mattered was getting Ian and Sean back, the rest - well that would be what it would be. He buttoned his shirt and picked up his items. It was time to get down to breakfast and well past time to start the day.
He found Fiona at table; Lin had apparently eaten early and was upstairs packing. He fixed his plate from the sideboard absentmindedly. At table, Fiona remarked on the odd combination of oats, tomatoes and brown bread. Roary merely grunted in response to her remark and dug in.
Given Roary's abstracted behavior and her own pensive state, Fiona had a feeling that the day did not bode well for pleasant company. She finished her toast and tea and cleaned her space. "Lin and I will be down in a few minutes," she relayed as she left the room. Roary's silence filled the vacuum of her exit.
He finished his odd breakfast and poured another cup of tea. His pack was already put together and at his feet. He wondered where they would head today. He was hoping that the decision would be made easily, though he doubted that was possible. The two women joined him shortly and they sat over tea, each trying to find the courage to begin the discussion of where the day would lead them.
It was Fiona who finally broke the barrier. She brought up the topic of Tara, mentioning that it was closer than Finvarra and that perhaps it might be best to try there first. It seemed innocent enough, but somehow it was clear that there were other reasons behind her determination to go there first. After all, the day before the decision had been less than clear and ease of access had not been weighed that heavily in their earlier discussions. Roary waited for Lin to add her voice to the conversation. When she did not, he was not only confused, he was disappointed. He tried drawing her out on the topic, but she simply deferred to Fiona. Apparently she was willing to let her mother make this decision. As he could not think of a reason not to go along with Fiona's desire to go to Tara, he simply nodded and suggested that they head out. However, he could not help but feel a great sense of unease as they ventured forward. It was unlike Lin to be so reserved, especially when it came to something as important as deciding the next destination in their quest. Something was amiss, he just did not understand what it was.
The drive was unexpectedly easy. Fiona broke the silence with tales of her prior travels through the area. Her rich descriptions and inclusion of characters from the past brought the scenes to life, and Roary could easily see why her travelogue pieces were so popular. It seemed as if they had scarcely been on the road at all when they came to the roundabout that would send them to their destination. It was here that Lin spoke for what seemed like the first time all day, asking if they might stop for lunch before they went on to the site. While it was early yet, both Fiona and Roary agreed it was a good idea as they would not likely be back to town before the late afternoon.
They found a cafe that was just opening for the luncheon crowd and settled around a table near the window. Roary and Fiona each made their selections fairly quickly, picking among the cafe's array of sandwiches and chips. Lin, on the other hand, sat with the menu in her lap and stared out the window. "Do ye whay ye'll have then?" Roary inquired softly. Lin looked at him blankly at first and then finally seemed to catch on to the question he had asked. "Just a sandwich. Can you order whatever you got for me as well?" "Aye," he murmured. He turned to Fiona but she merely raised an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulders in response to her daughter's odd behavior. Whatever it was, Fiona was not going to press her. Either that or she already knew and was not about to step into it. The order placed for lunch and the drinks delivered, the trio was left in silent observance of the street scene.
A young girl sat on the opposite curb patiently trying to urge what seemed to be a stray cat to come to her. She had a carton of milk and some cookies and was alternately taking a bite or sip for herself and offering her fare to the cat. The cat, a patchwork tabby with wiry fur and wild whiskers, sat with its head cocked to the side watching her. Occasionally it would dart a paw forward as if considering moving toward her and then rear back to its original position. It appeared that the two had reached a stalemate, when the girl suddenly turned and stared at the shop behind her. Someone must have called to her. She set the crumbs of a cookie out and split the carton of milk open next to it, gave the cat one last broad toothy smile and then scrambled up from the curb and disappeared into the shop. The patchwork cat made its way in halting movements to the offered treat and had just settled in to sup when their own meals arrived. A grateful sigh rose from the table. Whether this came from the relief of the stray at last being fed or from their silent vigil being broken by the arrival of the food, no one noted the cause of the collective easing, they simply enjoyed the change that came over the table. The fare was good if not exceptional, yet all the better for the sudden lifting of the tension. Though conversation remained sparse, it was with a much lighter sense of being that they ate together and this held with them even as they dorve off to find Tara.
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