Just another miserable grey morning in Odann, Al dragged his cart up the steep muddy hill away from the docks and toward the main road where his shop was.
He was exhausted by the night's work, which had been side-tracked by getting hit over the head with an actual fucking person.
He still had misgivings about his sudden attack of conscious. He looked back at his cart, covered by a tarp secured by so many bungie cords that whatever was underneath was sure to never see a pinprick of light, although it was obvious to any passer-by it was just a heaping pile of kelp.
"Hmph," He frowned, imagining that same heap could have easily been nearly twice as high. Well...he could always go back and check...
"'eeeeeeeey, there 'e is!" Seamus hung out the window of the bait shop, "Finally found somethin' worth findin' there Al? Why the sour face?"
"Sour face? Me?" He said looking back over his shoulders, smiling a toothy grin that was about two centimeters too wide on either side, eyes gleaming.
"Bah! Don't LOOK at me like that! I been told you!" the old man shivered, "Gives me the creeps n' you know it!"
Al cackled, now genuinely cheered up. It was not to last, though, as his next step faltered. He slipped and landed face-first in the mud with a soggy slap. It was now Seamus' turn to let out a wheezing cackle.
"Bah!" Al scrambled to regain his traction, "Mind your own business you miserable old fuck!"
"Damn invalid, nothing better to do..." Al grumbled as his cart creaked to a stop at his back door.
After cursing and fumbling with the padlocks for a moment he flung open the steel doors leading into the basement. He glanced around carefully before undoing the cords that strapped his most recent payload to the cart and tipped it over into the basement where it landed with a heavy wet thud.
His muscles were burning from his hour-long struggle with gravity. A throbbing headache had already overcome him. The pressure change always made him feel as though his eyes were going to pop right out of their sockets... every time. He tussled his stringy black hair and sighed.
Finally though, he thought, Chow time.
Al disappeared into the shadows of the basement, slamming the steal doors behind him.
And after lunch, a drink at the bar... the perfect day.
"Still resting, dear? At this hour?" Tulla inquired as she bustled about the modest bunk room that Sabre had been sharing with Sister Irena since she'd arrived.
"Nnnng," she groaned in reply, "I'm awake, I'm awake. So, chores today?"
"Only if your hands feel up to it. But never mind that for now. I found what we were looking for!"
She slapped down an old mildew-ridden file folder on the nightstand. Sabre glanced over.
"Congratulations on finding your hometown!" Tulla announce cheerily.
Sabre was quite sure she would never consider Odann her 'hometown,' but yes, the documents she flipped through confirmed that this place was indeed where she was born. She took a moment to look over a hand-written birth certificate that had been filled out by a doula by the name of Sister Simone, stating the name of her mother, Lyra Mezzine, and her father, Ian MacGregor, a man she had never met.
"Happy birthday, by the way," Sister Tulla smiled, tapping on the date noted on the form, January 9th, "Eighteen. It's a big one y'know. You're a big girl now."
"Oh. I," Sabre blinked, "I must've lost track of the days..."
"Oh, not to worry my child, not to worry at all," Tulla chattered on, making herself busy with folding the sheets, "It's to be expected, while recovering from...well, whatever ills had befallen you. But you've been here for nearly two weeks now y'know?"
"Two weeks," Sabre repeated in disbelief.
"Ah yes, how time flies. We weren't even sure if you could speak English when you first came to. You seemed so confused, so lost," Tulla was solemn, still unsure of what had happened to this young woman before she came to be one their doorstep and too polite to ask.
"But now you are found!" Tulla snapped back to her naturally chipper demeanor, "And to think, you were a fellow compatriot after all! So, my dear, now that God has guided you here, what shall you do, hm?"
"What," Sabre considered, "What shall I do now?"
Sabre was silent for a moment, rolling over the idea in her head. What was it that she was supposed to do now? She hadn't the foggiest.
It was true, she could speak English just fine, but she still had the occational trouble understanding the two nuns that had been caring for her. They each had completely different but equally thick accents. Sabre assumed she probably had an accent as well, French, maybe North African. That is where she grew up anyways, with her mother.
Her mother...
Her mother was gone. For an instant she was back in a hotel room. Strange men in all black riot gear were yelling at them while they hid behind an overturned desk. When her mother stood, there were several loud *POPs*, *POP POP POP*, loud enough to rattle her eardrums. Suddenly her mother's face exploded and contorted. The entire back half of her head splattered blood and brain and bits of skull against the tacky wallpaper.
Sabre blinked. She was back in the bunk room with an annoyingly cheerful nun.
"I," she hesitated, "I... don't know."
"Your parents? Do you know how to reach them?"
"My parents...they're gone. Dead."
Sister Tulla made a cross over herself and let the gravity of the statement settle before she continued.
"Well, they're with the Lord now, my child. We shall light a candle for them from now on until we join them, yes?"
"Um...yes. Sure." Would that help Sabre feel better? Less... numb? She did not know.
Sabre got dressed in silence and tidied her few belongings for the millionth time, still unsure of what to do with herself. She and Tulla went to join Irena who was busy digging in the courtyard. When Irena caught sight of them, she dusted off her hands on her apron.
"Right then!" Irena said, "So did you talk about finding a job then? A place to stay?"
"Oh, um," Tulla scratched the back of her head bashfully.
"A... place to stay?" Sabre was startled for a moment, "Are you...kicking me out then?"
"No!" Tulla quickly answered, "No, of course not dear, it's just..."
"Well, were you planning on staying here forever? Becoming a nun?" Irena asked, clearly lacking the social graces of her gentle counterpart, "Where is it that you came from? Where were you going? You've spoken so little; we were unsure of how to help you further."
"Right," Sabre looked down at her feet. Of course, she was right.
"The Lord helps those who help themselves," Irena clapped her palm on Sabre's shoulder, towering over her.
"I..." Sabre felt dizzy.
"Might-! Might I suggest something," Tulla thankfully interjected, taking Sabre by the arm and leading her out of the courtyard and through the chapel, "Why don't you go into town, my dear. Explore! Stop by the shops and the Inn. Perhaps, they have a room to rent, or need extra help? You could even go Brennen's."
"Brennen's..."
"It's the local pub," Tulla whispered, as if she were suggesting something unsavory, "Mr. Brennen is a good man though, and it's the perfect place to make friends."
"Make...friends...?"
"Oh!" sensing her hesitation, "there's nothing to fear child. It's a safe town, lovely in fact. I'll even give you some money to get something to eat if you like-"
"No," Sabre cut her off, "No, that's okay. I have my own money."
"Ah! Wonderful! Then there's nothing stopping you!" Tulla pushed open the front door of the chapel, "Go on then! The morning drizzle has cleared up! You just follow the road downhill towards the coastline. It'll take you right into downtown. Get some fresh air!"
"Right," Sabre's natural curiosity had begun to slowly return to her, as she threw her scarf over her head and set out for god knows what.
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