"You've been unusually quiet." Kietnan stated calmly from his desk. "And still."
"I've just been thinking." She shrugged.
"Mmm."
About what Shima? Oh, nothing. Just about my uselessness, my full blown dependence on you, my constant fear that you'll stop wanting to help me.
But of course that conversation didn't happen. He didn't ask her that question, nor would he.
Probably half an hour later, Mustering up the little courage she had, she asked him. "Kietnan?"
"Hmm?"
"How dangerous are these trials, really? You were so weak last time. I wasn't sure what was going on, but you can tell me now."
"They are meant to test our abilities. Not everyone will succeed."
"But ..... will everyone walk away unharmed?"
"Some will not walk away at all." He said flatly, as if he were talking about the weather.
"Kietnan... Are you telling me you might die over the next few days?"
He shrugged. "I have confidence in my abilities, but it is a possibility, yes."
She sat down on the floor, near the wood stove, warming her back. Bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, resting her chin on her knee caps.
"Why are you doing this? Why risk your life?"
"It is expected of me."
"And you always do what is expected of you?" She looked at him expectantly
He put the papers down and looked up at her, sighing. "Most of the time, yes. I try to. It is easier that way."
"Easier?" She stood up, balling her hands into fists at her sides as she stalked closer to his desk. "Easier to do what is expected of you and risk your life? Why would anyone expect this of you? What is the point of these trails? I don't understand."
He stood and walked over to her, putting one hand on her shoulder, and reaching the other hand up to wipe a tear from her cheek. She didn't even realize she had started crying.
"In this situation, Shima. I do not have a choice."
"Are you saying you're required to do the trials? Not just expected? What would happen if you refused? Does anyone ever refuse?
"If anyone has ever refused, I would not have heard about it. They would have brought their family so much shame they would have been erased from all records, never to be remembered.
Her entire body tensed. Was he saying they would be killed? Not just him, but his entire family? She was too stunned to voice it. Too scared.
"Do not worry, Shima, I will not die."
"How are you so confident?" She whispered.
"You have so little faith in me? I thought you trusted me?" He smirked.
"Don't joke at a time like this Kietnan! She brought a fist up to his shoulder, hitting him weekly. And leaving it there. You know I trust you. I trust you with everything. That's what makes this all the harder. What will happen to me if you just don't come home one day?"
He stiffened and frowned. "I..." he looked down as if thinking over what to say. He reached his hand up and held hers, which she had unconsciously slid down to his chest. "That will not happen, Shima." He said determinedly.
She looked down and sighed. "Can you truly promise me that?"
"Shima..." When he didn't continue, she hesitantly looked up at him. "I do not plan to die. But if I am ever not here, for any reason, go to the dining tent and find Milleck. She is a friend and will help you."
"What... What kind of friend?" At his confused face she added. "How do you know her, exactly?"
"She has worked in the kitchens where I live since I was a child." He shrugged. "She feels more like my aunt than anything."
Ashima didn't think to hide the relief that flew through her, didn't realize how tense she was. A deep breath released from her and her tense shoulders relaxed.
"Shima." Her eyes focused on his as he said her name and her breath caught at the sight. The tall, lavender man was smiling and his eyes felt like they were boring into her. She couldn't take her eyes away, even as she tensed at his gaze. "Shima, did you ask because you were envious?"
"En...envious!?" She whispered, and cringed at how high pitched her voice came out. She pulled her hand away from his and took a step back. "I simply didn't know how you two knew each other. I haven't seen you speak to anyone else. I don't even know how old she is, or how old you are for that matter."
"She's 87 cycles, and I am 53. How old are you, Shima?" He asked while crossing his arms over his chest, his lips still slightly holding a smile.
"How long is a cycle, exactly?" Either they aged very gracefully and lived long lives, or their cycles were much shorter than earth's years.
He sighed and leaned against the nearby desk. "Each cycle is 180 days, each day is 30 hours."
"Ok so 180 days at 30 hours per day, already knowing their hours are a similar length of time to ours..."
She mumbled to herself.
"Does this answer your question?"
"Hold on, I'm doing the calculations. It'd be easier with a calculator, or a pen and paper..." He let out a small chuckle as she mumbled numbers and facts he didn't understand. Eventually she lit up. "You're around 32 or 33 earth years. Roughly." She smiled.
"Interesting." He said as if he could not remotely be less interested in his age in earth years.
"She's 87 cycles, and I am 53. How old are you, Shima?" He asked while crossing his arms over his chest, his lips still slightly holding a smile.
"How long is a cycle, exactly?" Either they aged very gracefully and lived long lives, or their cycles were much shorter than earth's years.
He sighed and leaned against the nearby desk. "Each cycle is 180 days, each day is 30 hours."
"Ok so 180 days at 30 hours per day, already knowing their hours are a similar length of time to ours..." She mumbled to herself.
"Does this answer your question?"
"Hold on, I'm doing the calculations. It'd be easier with a calculator, or a pen and paper..." He let out a small chuckle as she mumbled numbers and facts he didn't understand. Eventually she lit up. "You're around 32 or 33 earth years. Roughly." She smiled.
"Interesting." He said as if he could not remotely be less interested in his age in earth years. "And how old are you, Shima?" He stood and stared down at her.
"29." She spoke softly as she was completely distracted by him standing so close, staring down at her intently. "I think that would make me between 45 and 50 cycles here."
"Interesting." He repeated and then smirked. "And do you have any special friends?" She understood his meaning but found her brows furrowed in confusion anyway. Why was he asking? Was he...? She gulped.
"N...no." She shook her head.
It was at this moment that a loud knock came on the door tent, sending Ashima jumping back in alarm, eyes wide.
Kietnan crossed the tent and cracked open the door to see who was knocking. "Milleck." She heard Kietnan say. "You finished early."
She couldn't hear Milleck's response.
"Yes." He glanced at Ashima. "Please, come in Milleck."
He opened the door wider and took a large crate from Milleck's arms as she walked in, taking it to the dining table.
"Greetings Ashima."
"Greetings, Milleck. I hope you are well."
Milleck eyed her curiously. "Kietnan, I see you have made progress in teaching her our language."
"About that." Kietnan said as he began removing small packages from the crate. "She has a translation device implanted. It took this long to gather enough information but now it seems to be working well enough."
"Ah." Milleck said, face impassive. "And how is the... situation, going?"
"Situation?" Kietnan asked as he walked to the door with Millecks empty crate.
"Yes. This living arrangement. Have you been able to find out what to do with her?" She was addressing Kietnan but her eyes never wavered from Ashima. Ashima's brows furrowed as she forced her eyes to release from the older woman's and look at the man behind her.
"You know as well as I do, Milleck, that communication with the homeland is slow from here."
"Yes. Well, It's been several days, It's only a matter of time." She stated and turned toward the door. "The dried meat will be ready in two more days."
"Thank you, Milleck. Be well."
"Be well." Milleck gave one last look to Ashima, offering her a small nod, and walked out the door.
"I must retrieve ice for the chest so the meat does not spoil."
Kietnan had one arm in his light jacket before she spoke. "What did all of that mean?" He finished the jacket and stepped toward the door.
"I'll explain when I return. I won't be long. Pick out whatever cut of meat you'd like for supper and we'll talk while we prepare it when I return."
She nodded and he left.
Ashima didn't know the details yet, but somehow she knew she wouldn't like anything he had to say. They had reported her arrival to this homeland and whenever they received it, her fate would be sealed. She doubted Kietnan could do anything about their decision. And even if he could, would she mean enough to him for him to go against what was expected of him? Her heart sank as the answer was clear.
She went to the ice chest, which had been empty until this moment, and just grabbed whatever pack of meat she saw first. Next, she opened the vegetable crate and grabbed a pack of whatever her hand landed on. She then pulled down the water pitcher and filled it from the large dispenser that sat on top of an empty crate, the water dripping to a stop when barely enough for one glass was emptied. Kietnan would have to retrieve more water as well.
She sighed and then took in a shaky breath as she looked around the tent she had called home for the past 5 days. Or was it 6? She rubbed her forehead with her hand, trying to clear her mind. It didn't work. She looked at her small cot next to the large bed. This tent had felt like her safe place, her sanctuary when everything outside was scary. At this moment, it felt like a prison. She isn't safe here. She isn't safe anywhere. She was living a delusion.
Kietnan returned with the ice, dumping it into the chest with the meat. He looked at the items she placed onto the table and turned to look at her.
"You're wanting to try a new vegetable?"
She simply shrugged, her back was to him as she washed her hands and face in a basin. "It's as good a time as any." She forced her voice to come out strong and even. He stepped beside her but before he could see her face she moved and crouched down to look for the pan needed to cook. "After we eat, I'd appreciate some privacy so I can bathe." She grabbed the pan and stood, specifically turning to her right to face away from him as she turned a 180 to head to the woodstove. "If you don't mind." She added softly.
"That will be fine." He said impassively.
They cooked in relative silence. Ashima didn't know if he'd looked at her or paid her any attention. She made it a point to not look at him. She knew her resolve would break. She'd either cry or soften toward him again and she couldn't have either of those results happening. She was getting too attached.
They eventually sat to eat across from each other but Ashima only looked down at her plate. She didn't bother smelling the green vegetable or taking a small sample. She stabbed it with her fork, brought it to her mouth and shoved the large bite in, chewing, and quickly swallowing it. She stabbed another piece but when she brought it toward her mouth, Kietnan grabbed her forearm and then removed her fork with his other hand, sitting it down on her plate.
"Do not potentially kill yourself because you are frustrated and scared."
She drew in a long, shaky breath through her nose, her mouth clamped tightly shut. The fact that he knew exactly how she felt both infuriated her and made her want to jump into his arms. She simply looked down at the discarded fork on her plate.
"Once you were stable and they were able to do a simple physical examination, the attendants at the medical tent sent a letter to the homeland about your arrival and their findings." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Such is the protocol. It should have arrived at the homeland today or possibly tomorrow."
"Today..." she repeated quietly. "And what do you think are the possible reactions to such news?"
He released his arms and laid his hands loosely across his lap. "I guess there's always the chance that they'll invite you in, give you shelter, ask you questions while they hope someone from your world or Aeruli comes looking to take you home."
Her throat suddenly felt dry but she didn't reach for her water, she felt too heavy to lift her pinky finger. "And the other possibilities?"
"They may hold you in lockup during questioning, treat you as a potential threat until they feel confident you aren't one. Then provide you with shelter until someone comes for you." He reached for the jar in front of him, taking a large gulp of the blue liquid he chose.
"As scared as I am to hear it..." she took a deep breath, steeling herself and finally looking up to meet his deep eyes. "Tell me. What is the worst they might do?"
He held her gaze for a long moment before finally his jaw twitched, clamping down before he opened his mouth to respond. "Our leaders have no qualms about execution when they deem it necessary to defend our people."
She stood shakily and turned from him, drawing in a deep breath as she did so. "That's the reaction they're more likely to have isn't it?" She knew the answer before she asked it. She could read it when he spoke.
She heard him come to stand behind her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Shi-"
"No." She cut him off and stepped away from him. "I need space. I need to breathe, I need to process. Since it's not safe for me to leave the tent on my own... please." She felt her voice tremble. "Please, let me have some time." Her shoulders trembled and she held back a sob.
After a long, silent moment she heard the door close. When she turned to see the tent empty she rushed to the dressing area and furiously pulled out all of the items needed for bathing, the water basin, the soap, and her clean sleeping clothes. She then went to the middle of the tent and dragged the heavy water pot away from the woodstove where she had placed it while Kietnan had gone to fetch ice. Finally, she stripped herself of every item of clothing, removed her hair binding, letting her long slightly wavy locks fall down her back. She stood in the basin, drew a ladle full of water and dumped it over her head. She gasped at the hot water but repeated the process until she was drenched.
She then grabbed the bar of soap and rubbed it into the wash cloth angrily. She threw the soap down onto the floor and proceeded to scrub at her skin until it was red and raw. She scrubbed her hair as her tears mixed with the water flowing down her body.
She eventually rinsed and dried herself and as her anger gave way to sorrow, her body began to feel the effects of what she had just done. She tried to dress but her skin screamed in protest. She managed her bra and underwear but couldn't bear anything more. Mixed with the mental exhaustion of it all, she threw herself onto her bed and simply bawled out her cries as she curled up into the fetal position. She mourned for the life she had, for the dreams she had never fulfilled, for the people she would almost certainly never see again.
~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:
How do you think you'd react if you were in Ashima's situation?
I think she has handled the entire situation very well so far, I'd like to think I'd do the same but wouldn't be surprised if I was much more of an emotional mess than she had been. I definitely would not be as brave as she has been.