[ P ] no rest for the weary

ROISIN SAMAIRE

Her daily tasks sometimes took her beyond the castle town. Hunting down specific ingredients and herbs that the Vanadium household required kept her busy. Free time was a luxury Roisin was rarely granted. The maid was often seen scurrying from one place or another trying to keep everyone happy. Mutual contentment was never guaranteed, but it was something she aimed for. If she did her job well then she believed it would benefit her in the long run. Maybe even benefit her parents. It was a foolish hope, but it was one that she clung to even when all she wanted to do was crawl into her nest and sleep for an entire day.

The day was almost at an end as she plodded through the redwoods searching for a particular edible mushroom that was a favourite among the Vanadiums. Most of her day had been spent hunting down the mushroom without any success and her body was slowly wearing down. She stopped for a breath beneath one of the great reds and felt her eyelids begin to flutter. No matter how hard she willed herself to stay awake her eyelids would not open. Sleep took her and the small maid was snoring softly curled up into a comfy ball with her tail wrapped around her body.


“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar

There had always been something about the Redwoods that brought favourable people into its winding roots. An affable grasp, a gentle stumble. Even where hardships came and went, the great hickory, the mighty oak, it sheltered those who rested along its timber from the crows that flocked overhead. It was fairly common for such peace to become enrapturing, to some (or, perhaps just the foolish doctor himself) the very air was purifying. Cleansing away worry, heaving those who once resisted its spell into a soft, easy slumber.

Once more had his theory been held to a flame, and once more had it not caught fire. A bonny darling wrapped in cream and chocolate, curled up tightly as if the most precious of spring pumpkins. It seemed it was becoming a common occurrence with him finding women sleeping beside trees, at least this time she simply appeared to be resting and not... Knocked unconscious.

He held many thoughts of this encounter, one being why she was sleeping out in the open, another on how long she'd been out in the open, lastly why he'd never seen her before. She did quite match her surroundings, maybe he'd passed her by? No... No... A fool but he be not blind! Was she hurt? He smelled no blood... Though that meant nothing. The sun was setting she was undoubtedly unusual, and he wished not for her to awake and be lost in the mess of trees, leaves, brush.

Oh, dear... But how to wake her? Should he try his first approach? Just pick her up and go? No... Maybe... No! "Um, m-miss... Are yew alright? It's rather late, not safe tew sleep out here in the open." Stuttering, gently poking her with a paw.

ROISIN SAMAIRE

The highlander maid was shaken from her slumber by a large paw gently prodding her in the side. Red eyes fluttered open and her jaws parted to release a squeaky yawn. “Ah’m nae sleepin’” she murmured in protest, her native accent coming out unfiltered and undisguised. Looking up she saw the sheer size of the paw that was extended out towards her and then the height of the man to whom it belonged. “Kiel?” Roisin said without thinking, blinking the sleep out of her eyes the creams, greys and whites that marked him instead of reddish brown and white became clearer and she realised her mistake. It was soft green eyes that met hers, not deep crimson red. But of course it would not be Kiel. Kiel had been a dream.

Heat flushed through her cheeks and ear tips, but she was perfectly in control of her outward reaction. There was no hint of the embarrassment she felt in her expression or manner. “My apologies, sir,” she quickly apologised, rising to her paws and bowing respectfully. Her social mask was back in place and with it the accent disappeared. “I should not have imposed on you like this. It will not happen again,” she assured him, although her tone lacked the quality of genuine emotion that it had held previously. It was a cold and practiced manner in which she spoke and delivered each word.

Roisin could only hope that word of her slothfulness would not reach the Vanadiums. She had worked so hard for the past year to appear capable and reliable. If they no longer required her services then she had no idea what fate would be in store for her.
“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar