Aria Constance's Story

Aria sat on top of her home as it moved through the desert. The wind whipping her red hair behind her. It was a hot day and the breeze felt good. As the sun beat down on the caravan, all people could think about was water and how scarce it was. But all Aria could do was dream. Life could be as exciting as it was dull in the desert. It depended on the day. Today, though, seemed like a dull day.
"Arabella Constance! You get you arse down here this moment!" her mother screamed from SPH below her. "It ain't proper for a lady suchus yerself to be a-sittin' on top of a SPH like some raving lunatic!"
"I'm comin' mum!" she yelled back to the dark haired woman. Most gypsies had strange accents like that. a mix between what was once known as Irish and British as well as other odd mixes. It was just something that developed. Non-gypsy folk tended to sound more elegant. Once you're in the caravan, though, you tend to pick it up. "Mum, I don' understand, all the other girls are up on the rooftops of their homes a-dancin' an' singin' every night--"
"And you'll not be one of 'em! Ari, I need ya to help with the shop tonight--"
"Tonight?! But, ma! It be Lissy's comin' out party!--"
The caravan came to a sudden halt, jerking the SPHs. Aria and her mother lost their balance for a moment.
"I hate when they do that!" he mother murmured pulling herself up.
"Ma, you said I could go to the partie!"
Her mother sighed. "Well, you best hurry up an' get dressed. You 'ave an hour!"
"Thank you, mum!" she said kissing her on the cheek and running to the latter that she climbed to the story of the SPH that her tiny room was.
"But you better be a-workin' mighty hard come tomorrow!" her mother called after her. She sighed and looked at the shop. A few things had fallen over and noe it was a mess.

Mabel looked up from cleaning up a mess of fabric flowers and ribbons to the young man. "Aye, the rodents be running around like it's their palace!" she shook her head, "And, aye, I can take care of them shirts for yeh right now ifn yeh want." she held out her arms to take them.
"Aria! Hurry up or ye'll be late!" Mabel called.
---
Upstairs, Aria was brushing out her hair that she usually wore up. In the slightly revealing green dress that was likely considered quite conservative compared to what the other girls would be wearing, she felt lovely. It was unusual for anyone to see her so...pretty looking. She almost always wore something that she made quickly from old scraps of clothing. Now she felt beautiful. Looking out the window at the night sky, she thought about how quickly night came around these parts.
"I'm coming, mum!" she called and quickly adjusted a glittering headband. Then she rushed down the stairs, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of the man.
"Don' you look a sweet lil thing! Now, who be takin' yeh thar?" her moth asked.
"Nobody, Ma. I'll be walkin' there meself."
"To Elissabetta's SPH?"
"Yes, Mama."
"All the way on the other side of the caravan?"
"Yes, Mama."
"At this hour?"
"Yes, Ma-"
"Good heavens, lass! Ye'll be eaten by the wolves! You didn't think to ask someone to go with yeh?"
"I tried, mum, but no one was around-"
"Ye're absolutely not a-going! Not without an escort! An' it certainly won' be me!"
"But, Ma!"
"Arabella, behave yerself in this young man's presence!"

"A'course, ma'am. Rats seem tae like th' caravans; I cannae fathom why. We barely have 'nough food fer ourselves, let 'lone a colony a' rats..." Phileas smiled pleasantly at Mabel and nodded; but the smile started to go brittle and awkward when she called Aria. He removed his hat from his head and wringed it slightly nervously between his hands. He hadn't expected that.

And he reaaally hadn't expected Aria to appear on the stairs in a beautiful dress. His eyes immediately went a bit wide and boggle-y as she appeared in the store area of the house, looking every inch as beautiful as any other woman in the caravan, if not moreso. He looked down at the floor guiltily, and then quickly turned around and looked at Mabel, distracting himself. He was about to speak when Mabel and Aria started going back and forth about something or other. She was visiting... Elissaetta's house. Wasn't she coming of age today? Phileas had been invited to the party, but he had been hard at work the last few days and the distraction was unnecessary so he'd disregarded it.

Now, on the other hand...

Phileas sighed, holding his hat in one hand. He looked over at Mabel, his face still looking a little nervous (which is why he wasn't very good at poker; his face was quite emotive when it wasn't hidden behind goggles and a breathing mask). "Uhm... Miss Mabel, I could take 'er fer you, if it'd set yer mind at ease. Promise I won't get 'er killed or eaten by wolves." He smiled lightly, walking to the door and lifting his shirts from the counter, and his gun from the umbrella stand.

"An' I promise, I didn't come 'ere carryin' a gun on purpose. This's just a piece a' crazy random 'appenstance, ma'am."

Aria turned a shade of pink which she quickly hid. Mabel, though saw this as a great idea. "Aye, he could take her, couldn't yeh? I 'av a sort of deal for yeh, lad. If you can get me daughter to the party an' back 'ere safe n' sound, I'll fix up yeh shirts for yeh. Can I trust yeh?"

"Mum-" Aria began, but she was quickly silenced by her mother.

"An' will you be a lady in his company, Aria?" she asked her daughter.

In truth, she was horrified to have to walk with someone. Especially someone who seemed so mature. Phileas didn't have any parents taking care of him like she did. He was completely independent. Aria wanted a piece of the life he had.

And it was a long walk. Aria looked up into her mother's eyes, though, and gave her confident reply of, "Certainly, Mum."

Phileas gave Mabel a slightly dumbfounded look. She was going to try and wheel-and-deal for the shirts in exchange for his taking Aria to the first communion? What about her rat issue? The inventor tilted his head slightly, perhaps a little confused by the situation, or perhaps his head had just wandered into the clouds as it was wont to do. Eventually, though, he realized that he was holding a live weapon inside of a house that was not his own, with two civilians inside, one a (very attractive) girl.

Phileas immediately lowered the gun, the large barrel nearly scraping the floor as he held out the shirts to Mabel. "I suppose ye have yerself a deal then, ma'am." He smiled sheepishly and placed his shirts on a counter near the old seamstress. He sighed and lifted his weapon to one shoulder, resting it there with the stock in his hand, as he turned, still looking slightly nervous, towards Aria.

"Well'n, we'd best get moving, I suppose. Unless ye wanted tae teleport yerself tae th' party." He moved slowly across the floor and propped the front door open with his foot, gesturing for her to exit first. As he stood there, he looked back at Mabel. "An' I'll be back tae look at yer rat problem tomorra afternoon, if tha's okay with ye, madame."

Mabel smiled as she collected the shirts in her arms. Aria, without making eye contact with the man, passed through the door. The dress she wore was luckily fitted so that she didn't get stuck in the door. She wondered how long she could make it without talking to him, but knew it was inevitable. She would have to eventually. Other than that, her mother would have a fit. But she really couldn't just begin a conversation. It wasn't right. He would have to start.

Kicking a rock with the toe of her shoe, she wondered if there really were wolves out there. It was something she'd like to ask the man, but would again have to wait for him to talk to her. At least it was a bit cooler without the sun to boil the land like a pot-grown cabbage at a wedding. It was pleasent now.

Phileas didn't feel like talking, so the silence persisted.

He could have come up with any number of excuses; that his throat had been sore, that he'd been breathing fumes all day, that he had a crippling speech impediment that appeared and disappeared randomly and only when it was convenient for him. But the sad and honest truth was that he found it really awkward to try and speak to Aria, mostly because his complete dearth of self-control would lead to his blurting out something embarrassing at one point in time or another, without even a shadow of a doubt. And even then, what could he say that wouldn't make him look like a fool? He was notoriously bad at small talk, and any other types of conversations were great for him--as long as he didn't talk to someone that he actually really liked. That list was a short one indeed.

But luckily enough, he found that he didn't have to figure out something to say. Nature supplied him with a response, of course.

The desert was an ever-sifting thing, despite its stationary appearance. terrain could change at a moment's notice, sand could shift aside and reveal buried structures, debris, rocks, anything--such as it just had. A round jut of what had once been a river rock was buried just below the surface of the sand, at the exact depth that Phileas's boots sank in and gained traction. Phileas was merely walking one minute, and then the next he stumbled and was falling through open air. Worse still, he lost his grip on the gun, and could only watch and listen as it clattered onto the sand. He somehow managed to loose a single word on his way down.

"Shite--"

And then he was facedown in the sand. Phileas was feeling atypically clumsy today for some reason. As he recovered, the single curse word turned into one long, uninterrupted blue streak as he scrambled over and lifted his weapon from the sand. At that moment, he'd completely forgotten that Aria was there. That moment passed, however, when he turned around and saw her standing there again, in that stunning dress. His long list of curse-words suddenly petered down to stunned stammering as he just stared for a few long moments, cradling the gun in his lap.

Then, awkward silence. His face burned red as he quickly recovered his footing and resumed his place at her side.

He walked slowly for a bit, head down in what seemed like embarrassment, before he mumbled the first words of the night to the seamstress.

"I suppose ye can count that as starting the conversation, ma'am."

As Phileas tripped, the young girl's hand shot up to her mouth in a gasp. She didn't know whether to laugh of be concerned. When he got up, though, she was very relieved. She continued to walk with him. Seeing his blush, she decided to look down away from him.

"I guess you could," she replied to him with a slight smile as she looked back up at him. "Yeh know, sometimes I wonder if there's anythin' out 'ere. We travel for days an' days, but all I ever see is sand."

A sudden howl in the distance caused her to jump. Wolves. So they were out there. She had heard them a while back, but never thought they would still be around. She then realized the terrifying truth.

"They're following the caravan, aren't they?" she asked, but she knew it was true. They were still too far off to pose a threat, but it was still rather frightening to her. She lived with her mother alone. They couldn't defend themselves. She attempted to push the thought out of her mind.

The air was still warm, even after the sun was gone. It was a dry warmth. Would there ever be water?

Phileas smiled slightly as the two of them walked, lifting his gaze from the (apparently deeply interesting) desert sand slightly as they walked. He kept his gaze away from Aria, making a very big point of staring out into the rolling dunes as they moved, though. He listened to her speak, enjoying the sound of her voice as he thought about her words. To tell the truth, Phileas had pondered exactly the same thing in the past--what could be out here in the desert, if the lord of the land was willing to pass it off so easily? Either something incredible, or nothing at all. Phileas sincerely hoped it was the latter rather than the former, but the more time that went on, the more desert that they crossed with nothing but the dunes in sight, he was forced to wonder. Had the king sent the wanderers out here just to get rid of them?

"There's somethin' out 'ere, ma'am," Phileas said. "There's a home out 'ere, somewhere, waitin' fer us." He turned his face to hers, his eyes hiding a steel resolve. "Somewhere we can fin'ly settle wi'out havin' tae be chased outta town by a buncha superstitious nancies. Somewhere we willnae hafta scrimp an' save every bent penny fer a month a' food 'r a few gallons a' water." He looked her square in the face, looking somewhat grim. "Somewhere we can rest our bones and have a life, ye ken?"

Then, the howling. Wolves. It was always wolves. Phileas lowered his gun from his shoulder into parade rest, his thumb rested lightly against the fire selector. "Nae," Phileas grunted at Aria, looking out in the direction of the howl. "If they were followin' th' caravan we woulda known by now. No, likely that they were in th' area an' smelled our cookin' fires when we stopped, came tae take a look. We'll be fine." Even then, though, there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"C'mon, let's get ye ta Liz's paty; yer mother'd raise hell an' all its demons if she kent that I'd been standin' here jawin' for as long's I have out in the dark."

"Right," she said and continued to walk, quickening her pace a bit.
It wasn't long until the light of a large bonfire could be seen. Lissy, the 15 year old birthday girl was clad in a lovely pink dress that Aria had designed herself. When Lissy saw the redheaded girl, she sprinted up to her and hugged her. "Aribella!" she exclaimed, "The dress yeh made is simply beautiful! All the boys 'ave been looking at me all night!"
"I'm so, glad, Lissy! It looks lovely on yeh, too! I can't imagine a prettier young lady in that there dress!" Aria said cheerfully.
"I think the young Doherty lad may ask meh to dance pretty soon!" she whispered, "But please! Come 'n dance with the girls! Permelia has already arrived! Come on!" she pulled the girl's arm towards a group of dancing teens.
"Oh! Um! Th-Thank you, Phileas!" she stammered as she was dragged off. A few of the other girls met her and began to interrogate her about the young man escorting her there.
"Please, girls!" she whispered, "He was doing it as a favor to my mum! Besides, what man would like me? I'm not the pretty one..."
There was more giggling and chatting. They were all soon dancing, though, and Aria could now smile being with her best friend Permelia.

Permelia had spent her time at the party conversing with a few of the other girls there. She didn't want to admit it, but she was bored. She had only been there a max of 30 minutes, and she was ready to leave.

"Hey...Uh, Lizz? I'm gonna -OH!" She cut herself off as Aria came into view, a man on her arm. Shock as she was, Permelia was relived to see another familiar face. Even if the caravan was her family, Aria was her only "real" friend. Before Permelia could talk to Aria though, the two of them were whisked away by a group of rowdy girls, Permelia on accident.

"A-Aria!" She called out through the crowd, attempting to get her friends attention.

Hearing her name, Aria's head shot up and scanned the crowd of girls. Seeing a familiar face she smiled and called over the roar of the party, "Permelia!" she dragged her way over to her best friend and then pulled them both out of the crowd with a little laugh.

"I'm glad I found yeh! Dancin' with a group of screaming young ladies isn't really for me. But it isn't for y'either, is it, Permelia?" she laughed, knowing her friend to well. She knew that miss Bagley wasn't one to dress like the other girls, either. She was classy and never as trashy as some who basically wore their undergarments that were made all fancy with gems and ribbons. But Aria was not a trashy girl, either. As the others danced like strippers, she would be perfectly happy to talk with her friend. "Have yeh--" she paused and looked up as one of the men brought out the beer for the other boys. Aria sighed. She hated when men drank too much. "Let's hope they don' get too rough. I'd hate to see yet another fight break out. But it's gonna happen. It always does."

Permelia sighed heavily as Aria pulled them out of the group of half-naked, rowdy woman. It was a sigh of relief, naturally.

"I'm glad I found yeh! Dancin' with a group of screaming young ladies isn't really for me. But it isn't for y'either, is it, Permelia? Permelia smiled at her friend's strong accent. Of course, she had her own accent as well, but not nearly as drawn out as Aria's.

"Aye! 'Ve never been one for dancing though..." She trailed off, finger on her chin. Suddenly, the roar of the party got louder, and Permelia's head turned, coming face-to-face with a group of drunken men, one of them stumbling over to the group with several more bottles of Ale in hand. A slight laugh escaped from Permelia's lips as one of them tumbled to the ground, the liquor had obviously gotten to him.

"Let's hope they don' get too rough. I'd hate to see yet another fight break out. But it's gonna happen. It always does." Permelia raised an eyebrow, and laughed again.

" 'Tis true, I don't enjoy the fights. What I do enjoy, is their drunken stupidity. Stumblin' 'round like group of confused birds." Permelia looked back over Aria, well, her dress more so.

"Aria! You look so.. Amazing! Your dress is-" She was cut off by a pair of young men, their eyes half lidded.

'Aye, Ladies! How's y'all feel 'bout dancing with us?" They stopped there, unable to hold back their drunken snickers.

"I-I... Uh..." Permelia was unable to reply, her face a beet red colour.

Aria smiled politely at the two gentlemen. What she wanted to do was laugh at them. But getting thrown to the ground in one of their fits of drunken rage was definately not on her agenda.

"How polite, gentlemen!" Aria said after one glance at her friend. She continued, "But we're not much of dancers, my friend and me. And besides, my friend here gon' an' hurt 'erself. She's in no condition to be a-dancin' or a-twirlin' around! But I think that any of the other fine young ladies would be delighted to 'ave a dance with yeh."

As soon as her rejection was clear, a flash of anger came across the young men's faces. At that moment, Aria knew that this wouldn't end well. She grabbed her friend's hand and began to pull her back.

Phileas was having a good time at this point. He had been trading stories from the days of yore with some of the older gentlemen in the convoy--navigators, traders, what have you--in exchange for an extra drink here or there. Once in a while a woman would come by and, after she'd passed through the barrage of other men, Phileas would stop and exchange pleasantries, share a few passing flirts, maybe twirl her a few times in lieu of a dance, that kind of thing. But after a few more drinks, when he was properly tipsy and warmed in the cheeks, two mooks split from the group. Phileas suddenly felt trouble cutting the air like a knife, but he didn't know where it was bound.

It only took seconds for him to find out.

Aria and Permelia were quickly made the subject of these young men's undue attention. Phileas beat a path across the party grounds and moved as quickly as he dared, breaking between the two gentlemen and putting his arms amicably around their shoulders as he gave Aria and Permelia a look that said 'Go the opposite direction and go very fast'. He grinned into their faces and started to speak.

"Heeeeey, gen'lemen, c'mon. 'ere's nae need tae be startin' somethin' wi' these lasses 'coz they turned ye down fer a turn, aye?" He turned them slowly towards the rest of the party, turning them in the direction of a knot of other women. "Why jus' go fair these two when ye got a chance wi' any a' them o'er there? G'won, gen'lemen, g'won. Try yer luck o'er thar; plenty a' other fish in tha' sea an' all that garbage." He leaned back from them at that moment, giving them a gentle push in that direction.

He knew it wouldn't work. But deep down, he could always hope.

Aria was immediately greatful that Phileas was there. She hooked her arm around Permelia's and quickly pulled her back away from the men, but at a point where they could still see and hear them.

"This isn't gon' end well, Mellie," she said using the name she called her friend a lot. One that originated when they were children. "Let's just 'ope that...it's two 'gainst one..." she didn't like those odds. But she felt safer with her friend near her. She considered what would happen if and when a fight broke out. She could only hope no one would get hurt.

Deep down, she was very concerned for Phileas' safety, but she didn't know why. It was...strange...

Permelia sighed with relief as Phileas walked over, hoping he would resolve this conflict. She had seen Phileas around the Caravan, and had talked to him on occasion. As Phileas began to deal with the men, Aria pulled her away from the group, her hands shaking slightly.

This isn't gon' end well, Mellie. Let's just 'ope that...it's two 'gainst one..." Permelia nodded her head jerkily, squeezing her friend's hand.

"Aye. Musnt' worry tho'. Phileas 'vill be fine." Or at least, she hoped so. Everything seemed to be going fine, and it seemed as though Phileas was calming down the men. Well, it was going all right, until one of the men swung at Philead, aiming for his jaw.

"Dammit!" She exclaimed, rushing forward as pushing the man back from Phileas, motioning for Aira to come forward.