A Day With Doti, part 1
9:11 am, Sowenmoon 24th, 456 NE Squad HQ, Stockmans’ Row, Naurlinz, South Wisana, Jaboa
“Oh dear, oh my darling, look at you. You are all scrappy and ‘possum like.” The squeaky of a Flirnii (think floresiensis) woman pierced the sounds of sawing wood and clanging metal coming that accompanied the curses, from Gregones and Beadle. Who, by lamp light, were working on who knew what behind piles of lumber, crates and tools gathered on the working side of the ‘compound’ they ‘creatively’ called HQ.
Dot Gasefrie stood arms akimbo with a look of loving pity. “Well, I have my work cut out for me today.” With a serious look she walked up to up to the large trestle table at center of the ‘living’ side of HQ.
The perimeter of the warehouse was cubbies of sleeping nooks and hammocks, lockers and more crates. Snores and farts emanated from the crashed-out troops strewn as haphazardly as their luggage.
In contrast with the ramshackle ambiance, the table itself was clear except for a wicker basket of corn bread, a pile of empty oyster shells and squeezed lime wedges on a platter, a bottle of their entrepreneurial neighbour hot sauce and a dutch oven that Emmy was scooping crawdad étouffée out of and over a square of cornbread. She was hunched over, a scrape arced across her forehead, filthy and haggard looking. Looking as if she had been chasing chimeras on the river front. Which was true.
Dot sat down hard next to Emmy, sighed heavily and began laughing. Emmy smiled big as she handed a crawdad to Pani, her ferret familiar, who had suddenly appeared upon the table upright and smiling.
Doti was in fresh clothes and tidied up, but a tiredness in her face showed she had been complicit.
Pan sneezed from the spicy sauce. Then he ran over and grabbed a hanky out of Emmylou’s sleeve and cleaned his meal, muzzle and paws before greedily eating it.
Doti leaned back into Emmylou moaning, stretching her arms over her head. Then in a lazy arc swung herself up grabbing a cornbread. “Hey, let’s go see Madame Fem. I need a reading.” After taking a bite of the morsel, she tucked in her chin, pursed her lips and said “Oooh Lordy, those new domestics you got are keepers! Got any cold hibiscus tea around?”
Emmylou gestured into the shadowy kitchen and slung herself up. “Let’s hit the bathhouse first.”
Emmy felt hollow headed. Despite her exhaustion, she needed to do things, to keep moving, to be able to process it all. Too tired to sleep. She knew she should wait for the others to wake but she needed a break from them, to be honest. Plus, she was curious about this ancient fortune teller.
Esther and Chaz had already left for morning prayers. Koli had just come in and immediately crashed after Esther left. Ricky along with the rest of the Flaming Os slept in the gear jungle.
QUACKEN’S CAFÉ 2:41 pm Things were quiet. It was siesta time. They sat at a small table on the café’s patio sipping strong coffee, snacking on butter cookies and a bowl of fresh black berries. The owner sat with his staff and their small children lunching and chatting just inside. Two tabby cats sunned themselves on patio stones. Pani was asleep in his sling with a belly stuffed on squirrel meat. Some finches flittered about the bougainvillea engulfing a wall and creeping across an arbor. It was in the last of its bloom with its fresh citrusy fragrance turned a bit sweet. Somewhere, far off, a couple was cavorting passionately. A baby laughed. A goat bleated. It was all alive and pleasant.
“Thanks Doti. I needed that. I should be dead tired but you…you really keep me going.” Emmy lsaid through purple stained teeth.
“No, it is called coffee…Emsy.” Dot quipped with a smirk.
Earlier a full steaming bath at Dot’s had begun the rejuvenation. Dot then did an exquisite job on Emmy’s hair and did what she could with her combat worn nails. The helots took her laundry and she borrowed a yellow sundress from Doti.
They had a lunch of hibiscus tea, cheesy grits, mustard greens & pork hocks, fresh peaches, biscuits and breaded frog legs with pecan pie for desert. All lovingly served by Dot’s family helots.
Then there was a visit to the wonderful seamstress Barlinda Suufont and her team. Her outfit was proof.
This all had done miracles for her energy and her state of mind. Right now was the perfect moment for it all to gel.
The lace and taffeta were spectacular. She had to admit Doti was right, the wide brimmed hat concealed her scraped forehead, kept this damnable sun off and complimented her hoop skirt. Surprisingly the salmon pink worked great with her complexion. Dammit, Dot was right again. Judging by the looks she was getting from men, it wasn’t terrible.
With a crazy leering smile and sly eyes, Doti leaned in “Ah you think I do it because I am your friend. But, no, I want you to teach me how to cast charms and fly on a broom. I want a crocodile for my familiar and a shrunken head to watch my back!”
Emmy gave her a sceptical stare.
Straightening up with an earnest look, “Seriously though, I really would like to learn. I will be a good student and…” She looked behind Emmy. Her mouth and eyes opened with mild surprise. Her voice louder now “and I will make sure my brother stays away from you.”
She sprung up and rushed to her brother who was entering the patio.
“Huh…” Emmys voice trailed off as her head swung to follow her friend. Faban , Doti’s brother, was staring directly at her. He seemed stunned, a big grin across his ruddy face. He clutched a garish bouquet of slightly wilted hot yellow coneflowers and muted magenta phlox. His soft-spoken friend Wulgar was behind him smirking with his arms folded confidently across his chest.
Wulgar was a bit baby faced but kind of cute. Fabian not so much. He wasn’t ugly just a bit broad boned and plain with too thick eyebrows. They were both ‘want to be’ soldiers and practiced the ‘arts’ fervently. Faban being from a wealthy family, had tutors and actual arms. Wulgar’s family wasn’t poor but their haberdashery did not put Wulgar’s opportunities near the Fabian’s. Wulgar also had to actually work.
Emmy casually smiled and gave a little wave. Faban’s expression didn’t change but his face did turn red.
Doti grabbed his attention with a poke on the chest. Emmylou had met Faban a few times now as their paths frequently crossed. Like a lot frequently. Hmmm… Come to think of it, this is how he usually acted. Wait! Why did she need to be protected from him? Ah, the flowers. Well shit.
She quickly turned around finding great interest in the drupes of a blackberry.
She could hear them quietly arguing. It stopped.
“Good day Emmy.” Fabian’s tender but gravelly voice came from behind. She turned around. “Faban! So good to see you again… what are the chances?” she looked down at the alarming bouquet and regretted it. Control your eyebrows Emmy, she thought.
“Uh.” He awkwardly craned his neck backwards to look at Wulgar, who smiled with raised eyebrows, nodded with encouragement and did some strange flapping thing with his arms.
In contrast, Doti now stood cross armed, eyes squinted, mouth in a sinister smirk.
The young lad with the bouquet closed his eyes and composed himself. He stayed that way for a few long moments until Emmy began feeling uncomfortable. This made her start to giggle, which she did her best to suppress. Doti’s evil grin was increasing. Faban had gone pale. Wulgar had an oh my god, he is sinking look. Sweat began beading on Faban’s face. His eyes sprang open with unexpected confidence as he inhaled deeply. He squared his shoulders and shoved the bouquet at Emmylou.
“Here.” the words gentle, barely audible.
“Oh, ah, thank you so much. They are…they are…beautiful.” He had changed. He seemed more direct, unwavering. He looked at the table, the chairs then at her. “Oh of course, please have a sit.” She half stood up gesturing to the other seat.
He sat then reached for her hand with both of his and cupped it gently, his thick strong fingers not too soft and not too rough. They were warm…like her father’s.
She could smell jasmine pomade, leather, perique and fresh sweat on him. He dipped his jaw and cleared his throat.
With a rote candour he said “Emmylou, let me be clear, I am a bit uncomfortable right now. But I must let you know I am feeling. Uh, I have feelings, feelings like I never have before. Feelings for you.
Now, please understand, I do not expect the same of you for me. But if I may have the permission to court you, I would consider it a great honour. I am patient and do not expect an answer immediately.” He let out a big sigh of relief having obviously crossed a mountain of emotions.
She was speechless. Thankfully he carried on before she need respond.
“More currently, there is something else. I am worried about you. I didn’t mean to, but I heard you speaking with my sister about witchcraft. If you really are a witch, that is something I can overcome. It will be hard but I can. More importantly, if you are, is the witches of Naurlinz. They are vile and treacherous. They are oh so territorial. Be careful when out, especially at night or on Haver Street. More importantly don’t you yourself go making any sorcelling or haxes or elixirs or anything. They would not like that either.”
Protect? Emmy thought. His patronizing lifted a few hackles. His sincerity tempered them. Still she thought of herself as quite capable of navigating these things alone. Or with just Pani anyway.
This differed greatly with Doti’s burning desire to learn witchcraft and her near reverence for many of the city’s witches.
As was typical to most folk, Faban had wiccaphobia. One of the many reasons she kept that side of herself very private.
Emmy didn’t plan on stepping on any toes and definitely wasn’t thinking about setting up shop. Anyway, for the most part, her experiences with other witches hadn’t been that great. She mostly avoided them. She was even quite hesitant to share any of the crafts with her, more than willing friend, Dot.
There was also this; only women can be witches and all witches are barren. This had the danger of corruption. Deep maternal instincts unrealized turned sour. She knew how desperately Doti wanted children someday.
She snapped out of her thoughts at Faban’s words. “Emmy, I offer my blade in your service.” There was a long pause coupled with an expression as if he was expecting her to be elated.
She could not hide that she was not. Memories of the very real war she had fought in and, afterwards, the intense special forces training with the company she had sworn an oath to. She knew that she could likely take Faban easily in combat herself. She pondered on how to best let him down.
The young courter continued “If you so wish, it can be a professional realationshi…er…uh…platonic…Wulgar would be there too.” He lowered his head and voice with his faltering confidence.
He steeled himself again, regaining that confidence. “Look, I am feeling really foolish right now. I am going to go. I guess you will let me know if…if anything.”
He noticed the bouquet as he stood and resumed his businesslike affect, “The flowers. Press them dry in a holy book. Then keep a coneflower, the yellow one in your right shoe and the phlox, the purple one, in your left shoe. They have to be dry and flat though. Supposed to protect you from werewolves and evil doers. I’m going now.” He began to turn to leave.
“Wait. Please sit down.” Emmy burst out then put her hand on his forearm. He re-sat, numb faced and staring ahead. She continued. “We really are just meeting. You are a great guy. I really like you, as a friend.”
He flinched. She restrained a cringe. “Um, that was not good. Not what I meant. I meant that I really don’t know. I’m not sure how long I will be here. If I leave, will I come back? And…there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” She drew back into herself hoping he didn’t ask but waiting for him to have that opportunity. She slid the bowl of blackberries to him. “Hey, try some of these.” She smiled.
Faban softened his clenched face, grinned and reached for a berry.
She began asking about flowers. At first, he was shy about it being it is not manly but continued bolstered by her interest.
As she listened she became fascinated by the extent of his lore. Not just with flowers but with insects and all sorts of plants. His soft gravelly voice was like a wise hedgehog or little garden gnome revealing secrets of a hidden world.
Growing up he had spent a lot of time with Aurian, their Gensii (think heidelbergensis) gardener. He said he missed Aurian more than some of his relatives that have passed. Something he confided that he had never shared with anyone.
Her glances towards the scowling Doti were oddly satisfying. Doti was not liking that Emmy and her brother were having an engaging conversation. Emmy liked that her friend was challenged in controlling the narrative.
Wulgar had wandered over to a table and held a large lemonade, his other hand was tossing and catching a coin as he pretended not to spy.
Eventually, Doti burst into their sphere with a forced smile. “Okay Emsy, time we get to where we are going.” She tossed a few coins on the table and grabbed Emmylou’s hand. The two looked up from their conversation. Fabian with obvious dislike of his sister’s disruption.
Emmy restraining her amusement at Doti’s behaviour. Siblings. She suddenly missed her family. A family she would never see again.
Emmy slowly pulled her hand away. “Sure thing Dotsy.” She couldn’t torture Doti any longer.
“Where are you two going?” Faban queried.
Doti shot Emmy a serious glance then faced Faban. “None of your beeswax, that’s where.”
He rolled his eyes and waved her off.
They left with quick goodbyes as Wulgar came over to join the humbly gloating Fabian.