Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[gypsy_merrique]

---

Lapsing in and out of fitful sleep, Merrique lay in the bedroom of the family's mountainside home. It seemed whether waking or sleeping, terrible thoughts and images filled her head, one of the most predominant being the moment she was told that the youngest child had been stolen away from her during that fateful visit to Britain. Every so often, Merri's head would feel clear and she was able to sit up, and even converse. To her husband, she commended their older child for having the good sense to bring her home when it seemed even the healer's cottage was no longer safe from the mayhem of Britain.

During one of these such times, Merrique confided in Walter that she longed for her people. Yes, she loved her family. Yes, Umbra treated her well, but the truth was that the physical and psychological pain of the ordeal she had been experiencing forced her to reckon with that fact. There were times that she missed terribly the Gypsy songs, their special magic, their dialect, and the occasional visits with her cousin at the Salty Dog simply weren't enough to fill that void. Pleading with her husband, she begged of him to bring home to her someone who could stay with her during these dark hours. No, it was not personal. Yes. I love you. Of course I think you and Shal can keep me safe. Of course I realize we have no clues as to what happened, yes of course, everybody is suspect right now. All these things, she said.

Merrique could see the hurt in her husband's eyes despite the neutral, businesslike expression he wore; she wondered if this was the same face he put on during the less savory aspects of his work. Finally, he gave in to her, if for no other reason than to end the tension between them. He listened closely as his wife told him in great detail exactly where the camps of her closest kind might be found in Ilshenar. Reaching for his hand, she took it into both of hers and covered it with kisses.

The tribal Soothsayers, she explained, were rare even among the gypsies. They were part magician, part healer, part fortune teller, part confidant, and all things gypsy. If ever there was a time she was in need of such a person, she told him, it was now. Merrique was also careful to point out that due to the rarity of the Soothsayers, he may have to visit several of the camps, perhaps even locate a caravan. Walter nodded to her, that cold expression still affixed to his face, an expression Merri feared for a moment as something that might create a divide between them. This was not the time, she decided, to tell Walter that he was so much more than her husband and the father of her children; he was in fact, her best friend.

How helpless she felt as he stood and turned away, the door closing just a bit too hard behind him as he left without looking back. Sleep overtook her once again, this time a blessing in that it removed her from such an awful moment.

When her eyes next opened, there stood a sage old man, one she remembered from her bleak childhood of so long ago. Beside her sat Walter, all but glaring at the Soothsayer.

The Soothsayer spoke softly to her, never seeming to notice the harsh glare of the gaze in which he was held. "Ah, Merrique, child. We are here. This will end. The spirits have spoken, all will be well," he told her in a thickly accented and raspy voice. Hope filling her entire being, she turned her gaze to Walter.

Her husband nodded in such a way that was nearly imperceptible. Nearly as imperceptible as the flash of hope that came into his eyes.
_________________


. . . But the dark is very trustworthy.
It's always as dark as you thought it was.
And you don't have to work at staying there.
All you have to do is survive it.
And I've been doing that forever.
from the novel "Dark Debts" by Karen Hall