Nathania walks up to the Wayhouse. Then she darts away. It's like she's trying to build up the courage to enter the building. After a few tries, though, the blonde sighs in defeat and her shoulders slump. She settles in a lawn chair and pulls out some knitting. The expression on her face says that she -really- wants to start day-drinking. Or, well, drinking in general.
"When we had breakfast," says a voice from underneath the lawn chair, "he was asleep on the couch." It isn't Etsy's voice: Nathania might recognize that chirruping voice as the voice of Esther's hedgebeast, the blue-grey otter that calls herself 'mrbl,' and insists that her species is 'mrbl.' "She has been looking in on him." The otter rolls out from under the chair and stretches itself out nice and long, yawning in the summer sunlight.
Esther comes wandering out of the trees that surround the house, singing absently to herself as she does so. Spotting Nathania, she comes all the more quickly, in that light step across the ground that almost looks like floating, but of course isn't, because she doesn't float. She just looks like it when she's Separating. "Bishop-Natty-friend!"
Nathania nods. "Thank you, mrbl," she says softly, voice sad. Sadder than usual, even, for the Winter. But she forces a smile when Etsy appears, eyes even managing to get in on the act. "Esther," she says warmly, and stands, moving to hug the mermaid. "How are... you doing today, mermaid?" she asks softly, forcing cheer into her voice. It may ring false to the ears of the Spring, but the Winter is okay with that. She's even okay with being seen darting to the door and not going in. "I'm sorry... about last.... night."
A big hug for Nathania, tighter than it looks like someone so skinny should be able to manage. For a moment, it might even seem like she's clinging. "Oh, friend Nathania, do not apologize for feelings. And do not pretend a happies when you do not have a happies." Her voice is gentle, devoid of its usual chipperness. She squeezes again and then lets go. "Do not be sorry. I -- " She pauses, lets out a long sigh. "I had the seeing of Count last night. It is not like that I understand... but." Settling down on the grass next to Nathania's lawn chair, she pats her lap so the mrbl can crawl into it and be petted. "Have a tells of me? Of your feelings?"
Pausing, Nat takes a moment to gather her thoughts before settling in and knitting once more. "Glitch... just up... and left one day," she says finally. "The Wanderlust... got him real... bad." Knit, knit. Staring at yarn. Knit, knit. "I figured he'd... be home in a week. That passed. Then two. Then a month..." She sighs. "I thought he was... dead. or reTaken." She lets out a shuddery sob, knitting falling to her plush little lap, and she covers her face. "I mourned him, Etsy." She sounds so conflicted. "I thought... he was dead or worse so... I mourned him and started... to move on."
Without saying a word, the little mermaid gets up from her seat on the ground, otter slung over one arm, and comes to sit on the side of the lawn chair. Etsy wraps her thin arms around Nat, hugging the soft dolly to herself, and on the other side of the dolly, the hedgebeast clambers up and hugs her too, with its little otter arms. One of Etsy's webbed hands pets Nathania's hair. No words. Just hugs.
Nathania cries, wordlessly now, into her hands as mermaid and otter hug her. It's cleansing somehow, even as the pain is fresh and raw.
Rather than saying anything, Esther sings. And what she sings, without words, is a song that is loss and sadness, is confusion and loneliness. Her voice rises and falls, a literal siren's song of longing, mourning and regret. It is the sort of song that can only come if someone has felt the emotions they're singing quite keenly, and Etsy rocks Natty gently while singing; she doesn't fade her song until Nathania's good and cried out.
It takes a good few minutes for the Winter to let her emotions out, but finally Nathania is a limp rag, leaning against Etsy, breath shuddering but less keenly sad. The emotion's still there under the surface, of course; but the Winter woman is more in control, now, more herself.
A gentle, cool kiss to the doll's fabric forehead, and Etsy sits back, watching Nathania carefully. She takes both of her friend's hands and squeezes them. "About you he was asking, so much. I think, probably, is a little afraid, to be seeing you, you know. Is worried, him, I think." Another small squeeze of Natty's hands, and then she scoots away a bit so that Nathania can take up her knitting again if she wants to. Etsy knows how important knitting is to the dolly's sense of calm, after all.
Nathania nods, and doesn't quite pick up her knitting yet, but her hands play over the needles and yarn on her lap. "I... will talk to him," she promises, "when he's... awake."
Clearing her throat, Etsy folds her hands in her own throat, sliding back into the grass. "It is an understanding that I do have, Nat," she reassures, fiddling her fingers together and watching them as though they are very interesting indeed. "Will not be the easiest, but if you have a love, is the worth of it."
Nathania nods in silence, picking up her knitting and working on it in silence for a bit before saying, quietly, "I'm just..." A pause, then she clears her throat. "If he... leaves again, Etsy, I don't know... what I'll do."
Her head shakes. "It is not needed to know what will be the doing by you if he has the go-away agains, Nat. It is not needed to know." Esther's hands absently fiddle with the white sash that marks her as a Courier, and she rolls her lower lip into her mouth, then lets it out. "Do you love him?" That, at least, is clearly phrased.
Nathania nods. "I do," she says, without a pause. "I do. Assuredly."
She reaches out her hand to touch Natty's cloth wrist, and says in her low, oddly-cadenced speech, "Then it is having a worthwhile for the pain, Bishop Dolly. And you will be finding the right way to be doing the thing, even if there are confusions and sometimes hurts." Esther's sea-change eyes shift a little, to a slightly brighter green, "At least, I have the hoping so. For both of us."
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