(no subject)

[god_of_the_arena]

Work started early.

Gannicus didn't have a problem with early mornings, but sometimes they had a problem with him. Especially if he'd been drinking the night before... and he was almost always drinking the night before. His boss informed him a day or so ago that he'd hired someone new and they - she would be in this morning.

Whatever he was expecting, she was... short. With hair that reminded him of home. Despite his generally congenial nature, Gannicus couldn't muster an actual smile. His head still throbbed, though with the water he'd been pounding back it was starting to ease.

"I am not much for mornings," he confessed as he pulled his hair back. They had a fresh shipment that needed to be cut and portioned for the day's sales. It was early.

Comments

[scorpiobird]

"Those aren't stories where I'm from," I say. "Not the flaming ones or the three-headed dogs, but the capaill uisce lived in the ocean. Everyone on our island knew someone who'd been killed by one."

I don't give him the answer right away but I know the next question is obvious. If everyone on Thisby's known people to die from the water horses, who have I lost?

Suddenly, the thought of hacking away at meat turns my stomach and I have to drop my head and close my eyes until I get my bearings again.

[god_of_the_arena]

The question never came, though; she'd already answered it enough. Everyone on the island knew someone that died, so she must too. Asking after it, prompting, seemed somehow rude; or maybe she expected it? Gannicus was rarely good in moments like this. He drank his coffee slowly and sets it aside, watching as she looked down, apparently trying to catch herself.

"Are you well?" he asked, watching cautiously. If she was about to faint, he wanted to be sure to catch her.

[scorpiobird]

"Yes," I say. I'm not, not perfectly, but I need to tell myself that so I can steady myself. "I just thought about something from home." The gutted sheep lying in the road. The spray of blood on my face as that wretched piebald bit the terrier in two. The thought of what my parents must have looked like, if even anything was left.

And I'm thinking of cutting up meat to feed one of them?

I take a deep, cold breath and put my hands on the counter. "I'm not used to this. I will be."