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feredarStory: Shelter
Year: 1002
Characters: Fesha, Sorell Younger
Notes: This takes place in the Incest AU.
Fesha had worked off and on as a file clerk in the town public clinic since her marriage. Here was where most people went when they needed emergency care, or where Deshell--when he was still an Inspector, before being elected Mayor--took people after bar brawls if they needed medical attention before being put in a cell to sober up, things like that. It was better than working for her uncle--more interesting, better pay, and she felt like she was contributing a little more to the town, the way her husband did. The clinic was funded by a mix of private donations from wealthy townspeople with guilty consciences, fines from brawlers, and a grant from the Grand Duke.
She'd stopped working there for a while, when Ledam and Ensill were too young to go to school, and then when Selmid came to live with them, but other than that had been fairly reliable about it--three or four days a week, for at least a couple hours a day, enough to keep their records in order.
She also had better luck calming children and anxious parents when they had to come in than some of the doctors did, so it wasn't exactly a surprise when she was asked to come out and help with a patient. She gathered up the usual toys--a stuffed bear, a brightly-colored ball, a worn story-book--and headed out to meet him.
The boy was probably around twelve, but painfully thin and delirious, either with pain or fever. "What happened?" she asked. "Where are his parents?"
The doctor shook his head. "No idea, ma'am. Loda found him on the edge of town, out cold and completely alone, and brought him here. He won't tell us his name or who his parents are or anything."
I wonder what he's running from, she thought, but just nodded to the doctor and went to sit by the boy. He blinked hazily up at her--bright blue eyes. She smiled, doing her best to keep it gentle. "Hello. My name's Fesha."
He quickly looked down. "Hi."
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"Would you like me to read you a story?"
He looked up at her again for half a second, then looked back at his hands and nodded.
She flicked through the book to one that had always been Selmid's favorite--long and quiet, sweet, less violent than some fairy tales got. She was a little surprised that he was still awake when she finished--it was a long one.
"R-rellos," he finally said.
"I'm sorry?"
"S'my name."
...how far away did you come from? It wasn't any name she recognized--barely sounded like a name. His accent was Feredar, if a little off, but no one else she'd met from there had a name like that.
But asking him about it would be a bad idea. "It's nice to meet you, Rellos," she said. "I have to get back to work now. Would you like me to leave the book?"
He nodded, then flushed and looked down again.
She smiled. "I'll leave it on the table."
"Thank you," he whispered.
She resisted the urge to ruffle his hair before walking away. Not yours to look after, she reminded herself. Even if he's alone and running from something terrible and needs looking after so desperately...
She smiled a little to herself as she put the ball and bear away and sat down at her desk. If she was entirely honest with herself, she missed having children around. Selmid was still staying at home, and Ledam and Ensill had theirs, of course, but...an adult son, staying at home and working with Deshell, and grandchildren...they weren't quite the same.
And Rellos--or whatever his real name was--needed someone to take care of him. As much as Selmid had, when Deshell had brought him home all those years ago.
I'll talk to them when I get home, she promised herself. He's not mine to look after. But he could be.
Year: 1002
Characters: Fesha, Sorell Younger
Notes: This takes place in the Incest AU.
Fesha had worked off and on as a file clerk in the town public clinic since her marriage. Here was where most people went when they needed emergency care, or where Deshell--when he was still an Inspector, before being elected Mayor--took people after bar brawls if they needed medical attention before being put in a cell to sober up, things like that. It was better than working for her uncle--more interesting, better pay, and she felt like she was contributing a little more to the town, the way her husband did. The clinic was funded by a mix of private donations from wealthy townspeople with guilty consciences, fines from brawlers, and a grant from the Grand Duke.
She'd stopped working there for a while, when Ledam and Ensill were too young to go to school, and then when Selmid came to live with them, but other than that had been fairly reliable about it--three or four days a week, for at least a couple hours a day, enough to keep their records in order.
She also had better luck calming children and anxious parents when they had to come in than some of the doctors did, so it wasn't exactly a surprise when she was asked to come out and help with a patient. She gathered up the usual toys--a stuffed bear, a brightly-colored ball, a worn story-book--and headed out to meet him.
The boy was probably around twelve, but painfully thin and delirious, either with pain or fever. "What happened?" she asked. "Where are his parents?"
The doctor shook his head. "No idea, ma'am. Loda found him on the edge of town, out cold and completely alone, and brought him here. He won't tell us his name or who his parents are or anything."
I wonder what he's running from, she thought, but just nodded to the doctor and went to sit by the boy. He blinked hazily up at her--bright blue eyes. She smiled, doing her best to keep it gentle. "Hello. My name's Fesha."
He quickly looked down. "Hi."
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"Would you like me to read you a story?"
He looked up at her again for half a second, then looked back at his hands and nodded.
She flicked through the book to one that had always been Selmid's favorite--long and quiet, sweet, less violent than some fairy tales got. She was a little surprised that he was still awake when she finished--it was a long one.
"R-rellos," he finally said.
"I'm sorry?"
"S'my name."
...how far away did you come from? It wasn't any name she recognized--barely sounded like a name. His accent was Feredar, if a little off, but no one else she'd met from there had a name like that.
But asking him about it would be a bad idea. "It's nice to meet you, Rellos," she said. "I have to get back to work now. Would you like me to leave the book?"
He nodded, then flushed and looked down again.
She smiled. "I'll leave it on the table."
"Thank you," he whispered.
She resisted the urge to ruffle his hair before walking away. Not yours to look after, she reminded herself. Even if he's alone and running from something terrible and needs looking after so desperately...
She smiled a little to herself as she put the ball and bear away and sat down at her desk. If she was entirely honest with herself, she missed having children around. Selmid was still staying at home, and Ledam and Ensill had theirs, of course, but...an adult son, staying at home and working with Deshell, and grandchildren...they weren't quite the same.
And Rellos--or whatever his real name was--needed someone to take care of him. As much as Selmid had, when Deshell had brought him home all those years ago.
I'll talk to them when I get home, she promised herself. He's not mine to look after. But he could be.