† Mikhail †
Imore was a strange little village.
Every shabby dirt road and clay tiled pale plaster home the same as all the others in the Ipahnish high mountains. Quaint, picturesque, coquette, charming to those who had the tastes for it. Mikhail certainly did not. He preferred the elegance of larger cities with diverse cultures and more things to do than look over a mountain. But there were some, like his aunt, who enjoyed 'humble' villages such as it.
"Etan!" A viper eyed woman by the name of Anise snapped at the baker.
The place wasn't strange in its architecture or unique in its isolation. But it was distinct in its people.
"Just your regular order today?" Was the bakers level reply..
"You make sure to keep an eye on that woman, right?!" She ignored him, voice abrasively loud and challenging. A good portion of the people in Imore spoke in such a manner. Even words said casually, came out with waspish licks. It was incredibly different from the Ipahnish he had met in other villages. The interesting people typically known for being warmhearted and smiley.
Mikhail watched from his peripherals as he filled baskets for deliveries. He meandered, slowly placing one paper wrapped loaf in after another so he could eavesdrop.
"Damn-it Anise!" The baker slapped a rag over his shoulder and dusted his hands together. "She's been preparing your bread for years! What's the problem today?"
Anise's head kept turning to the door leading to the back. Mikhail was too far off to the side to see as she saw, but he was sure if he leaned forward a bit he would catch a glimpse of the pale skinned woman.
A yelp and a shiver violently raked up Anise. She rushed forward with a hiss. "She looked at me!"
A tired sigh came from Etan, who was hastily wrapping up loaves so he could get her on her way.
Mikhail abruptly stood. He was only a visitor here, a temporary guest with a temporary job, which had him hesitant to intervene. He didn't know Anise and he certainly didn't know 'that woman'— who most definitely could hear everything happening in the front— but watching how the sharp tongued town ruminated and obsessed over her was becoming annoying.
"Mrs. Anise, was it?" He smiled, his eyes forming sparkling crescents, imploring all the charm he'd so craftily curated through the years.
He quickly caught her attention and a crimson blush bloomed over her face. With a coy laugh she extended a hand, "Indeed. And you must be Mikhail, the new talk of the town."
"A pleasure to meet you." Mikhail took her hand gingerly, giving her a polite bow of his head and no more. Then he brought their hands down between them, to the older woman's dismay, and smoothly slipped his from her grasp.
"Likewise." She moved on without a beat. "Such a fine and cultured gentleman like yourself is a welcomed change around here for once." Her eyes rolled back to the door. "Though I don't understand why you'd want to work during your stay. Especially at the bakery!—No offense Etan!"
Etan only grumbled, scowl deepening.
Mikhail shrugged with an airy laugh. "Ah, but what better way to experience Ipahn than how the Ipahnish do."
Anise swatted at the air. "Pssssh there are a hundred other ways to experience the country than sweating in a bakery with that strange woman lurking around. I'm Ipahnish and even I wouldn't work here." As if infected, she seemed incapable of shaking her thoughts of the woman and her head kept bobbing to the back.
"Kohryn is just quiet is all." Like a magician misdirecting his audience, he held her attention with his eyes, taking the order Etan had practically smashed into the counter and wrapping it securely in her arms. With a hand politely splayed across her back he guided her towards the door. "Nothing to worry about, only delicious baked goods to enjoy."
She went along, chest puffed out, skirts flowing and corset laced tight, cleavage on full display. With a pout and her slightly squished bread she got in a final quip, "I'm just worried she'd spit in the bread. Or even worse, poison it!"
No one saw Mikhail roll his eyes as the door chimed and the heated afternoon currents mixed with the haze of the bakery. He guided her under the threshold. "Have a delightful night Mrs. Anise. And please do come back." He gave her a polite wave, turning on heel and let the door close before she could say anything else.
Etan watched her retreat through the front windows, shaking his head with an angry scowl and his arms folded across his chest. "I wouldn't blame Kohryn if she poisoned that woman."
Mikhail nodded, brow pinched in perplexity. "She still took the bread?"
"They all do. Most don't complain so damn much though." If the villagers didn't want to be firing up their own ovens and kneading their own dough, they'd get their bread from Etan. It was the only bakery around and only a few of the fools were so stubborn as to not eat the Ipahnish staple at all. He cleared his throat, his face smoothing out. "You didn't get any coin from her did you?"
"Uh, nooo." Mikhail rubbed the back of his head with a guilty smile.
Etan sighed and clucked his tongue. "That's alright this time, I suppose. You're going to find quite a few regulars whose yappin' you'd rather not listen to, but always remember to get the coin."
Mikhail gave a salute. "Understood, boss."
Etan rolled his eyes at the playful foreigner, so different from his other employee. "Now go on and get that order taken. You still have one for the tavern after, then I'm showing you how we close everything up."
____________________________________________________________________________________
† Kohryn †
The last rolls were baking and she picked at dried flour beneath her fingernails while she waited. It flaked and chipped away, clinging to her apron as it fell.
It took only a few minutes for the delightfully doughy smell of sugar, yeast, and hot cliff-grains to begin permeating from the clay oven. She twisted, grabbed the large paddle from the counter in one hand and used one of her feet to pull a cooling rack near. It bounced across the cobbled floor and slammed into the oven as she pulled the first tray out from the radiating opening. Golden buns, seeded crusts glossy and steaming, were crisped to perfection.
Cautiously each tray was slotted into the rack. She ensured they were all safely tucked away and draped a large waxed sheet over them. They'd be paired alongside sausages and steamed apples, served to men in their early morning commute to the mines. Fuel for a day of digging plasma crystals.
"Alright Etan. Everything is finished."
Etan was a man with barrels and bricks for a body and he crowded over the stove, a small pot with sweet liquid rumbling inside; the storefront closed for the evening. Deep brown hair thickly crowned a square head with a sparkling pair of eyes set atop doughy cheeks. A bowl of flour was secured in the crook of one of his arms.
"You're gonna be as good as me some day! I'll have to give one a taste, but I'd say that looked like your best batch of speckled cliffrolls yet." He smiled, voice loud and jovial. It was not always so and, with her, it had not always been so. When he first offered her the job he addressed her with timid hesitancy. Over the years that had faded.
That aside, the last few weeks he'd been experimenting with floury confections. Much different desserts than the typical roasted fruits and honeyed sap soaked nuts of the country. It put him in a good mood to close the front and come in the back and bake. He'd become cheekier with his new passion. "I'm going to teach Mikhail the cleanup procedures tonight so don't worry about any messes." Etan turned back towards his pot of mysterious liquid, his brow furrowing deeply.
The creamy liquid began to steam and froth and right before it broke over the edge he swiftly whisked it from the burner. "Perfect." His face relaxed and he waggled his eyebrows with a grin.
Tomorrow there would be a new treat awaiting a taste test.
Pouring his mixture into the bowl, he bid Kohryn a goodnight.
She removed her apron and hung it on a hook whose finish had worn away from years of use. Grabbed a loaf of bread for her and her father, and stepped out the back door. Behind the bakery was already dimming in the shadow of the mountain and she took a moment to stretch in the cooling air. The breeze relieved a bit of the oven fever clinging to her skin.
Another day the same as every one before it. Measure the flour, knead the dough, man the ovens. Catch wandering eyes and stray comments. Repeat. It wasn't the first time someone she had known her whole life would recoiled from her eye contact and it probably wouldn't be the last.
"Already finished?"
She flinched.
Actually, it hadn't been entirely the same for the last week.
Mikhail approached, swing in his hip and a basket of bread in hand. He was from across the seas. Probably someone of importance with how he carried himself, not that it mattered when in Ipahn. Titles, prestige, and class died at it's borders.
He was tall and sun kissed with illustrious pale hair that curled down his back. Soft facial features were only offset by thick eyebrows that, in contrast to his hair, were a deep brown. It was masculine beauty that lacked the rough edges of heroes, reserved for courtesans and muses captured in marble by their lovers.
He was pretty and his charismatic nature put Kohryn ill at ease. She'd done her best to avoid the new delivery man. This was the first time he'd caught her off guard.
She nodded. "I am."
"You live up the mountain, right? I have a delivery to make at the tavern. Perhaps I could accompany you home?" His grin was open and easily gave, pearly squares packed around slightly pointed canines.
So far he reminded her of a dog. One with silky golden hair and hints of pedigree and pampered lineages. Deceptively not eager to please or well trained, but the kind of dog that would chew up your favorite shoes and drag you around on walks, doing whatever the hell it wanted. Spoiled rotten. What a shepherd or a farmer would consider a 'bad dog'.
She watched Etan train him on the most mundane of tasks. And he'd make an inevitable mistake and grin and apologize and bow his head through it all. A momentary shamed pup with the gal to smile about his messes.
But even dogs avoided her and she found him weird. "Oh, O-"-
"Excellent! Just let me grab the last basket." He cut her off, and before she knew it, he was shoving the basket he held into her. Forcing her to take it before it fell to the dirt.
He scrambled inside and quickly returned with the last basket and a breathless smile. "Alright. Let's go get Elly back in the harness."
She was going to say no. She didn't want to walk with the man. A silent sigh and Kohryn awkwardly followed as he charged ahead.
.
The creature to be harnessed was some mix between a lizard and a wolf with pale brown scales and slick black hair that decorated its nape and paws. The beast's back stood well above her waist and it had legs almost comical in length. It balanced gracefully on large and heavy black clawed paws. An aquatic animal from the great continent which he called a waterwolf. It stood perfectly still, allowing itself to be strapped in.
He affectionately pat its head before catching sight of Kohryn and waving her closer. "This is Elly." He introduced the woman to his pet.
With the sound of her name, a long tail boasting a tuft of blackened fur on its tip, spun wildly. "Whhiiiooop, wo-wo-whhioop!," funny chirps sung praises from its gullet.
"Good girl," he cooed at the creature. "Do you want to pet her?"
She shared a moment of eye contact with the animal, whose large yellow eyes were only a shade darker than her own. They observed her with quiet caution, a manic worry slowly filling their depths. Kohryn dropped her gaze.
Animals had never been particularly partial to her.
She slowly shook her head, an uncomfortable pressure settling in her solar plexus.
The man's smile persisted and he only replied in good spirits, "That's okay! Waterwolves can be quite frightening to those who've never interacted with them before." His words were kind and his smile was standard but his eyes lingered, rims tightening caught in beams of afternoon sun..
This was the first she felt of an indirect suspicion. A little feeling of unknown origins, a tick, a wheel turning. It all started with a strange discomfort.
.
The two walked in an awkward silence. The rhythmic rattle of the cart accompanied by the occasional chirping of birds and then Elly; who seemed to reply to their tweets.
Kohryn fidgeted with the hem of her tunic and thought of whether she should say something or not. The woman had no practice in starting conversations. It was strange enough that he wanted to be around her and it had odd sparks of heat filling her throat. She coughed into her hand in an attempt to rid herself of the feeling.
" How…" She finally broke the silence. " How are you fairing with your work?" Her voice was stiff. Her limbs glued to her sides, leaning just a little away, keeping a distance not to close or too far.
"I find that I'm actually enjoying it quite a bit!" He did a little skip, his limbs carrying him forward with a swaying grace as they went along.
"Mm. That's good to hear." Kohryn replied.
"I must admit, I've never done this kind of work before." There had been no need for his admission, it was incredibly apparent. "I'm still adjusting to the Ipahnish way of life. But the villagers seem to be happy with my delivery efforts." His pretty smile tightened. "At first everyone was a bit chatty but that's fading now."
.
"Ah, I see." She wore her typical stony expression, and made no further comment for a moment.
________________________________________________________________________________
† Mikhail†
He had heard quite a bit about Kohryn in his first weeks in the village. Imore's atypically cranky talebearing citizens had mouths full of her name. Curiosity drove him to her, and when he started working at the bakery anyone who knew had questions. Mikhail's approachable personality attracted the interrogators. It was tedious and he had shrugged off questions and gossip with some ease; citing her as simply introverted. Then he'd quickly move the conversation away from such matters.
He truly knew very little of her. She was always fluttering around. Had habits of running off or turning just slightly away from her viewer. Walking with her now Mikhail saw her close and steady for the first time.
She possessed an unmistakably Ipahnish face decorated in little moles, the darkest sitting above a pair of impassive lips. The last rays of the setting sun were absorbed by tar colored hair that sucked up the light. There was something dreary about the way Kohryn looked. Like she was caught at the scene of her crime, unblinkingly calm about her transgression. It was an uncanny and feral rawness that oozed from large eyes the color of yellow moons. She reminded him of an owl; direct, commanding, hypnotic with ill omens laced in her feathers.
"I'm sure they were very curious about me. I'm sorry if it's been a bother." What he left unspoken did not slip past her notice.
He hummed, cart clicking over stone and a soft wind swirled through the trees. He found that the most bizarre aspect of her character wasn't her appearance or stiff nature, but an undeniable ominous feeling that stickily clung to the air around her.
He watched as the people who strayed too close stole looks, grasping at their arms and awkwardly shuffling. Their eyes rolling about, looking for an escape. And not just people, but the very world she walked in seemed to panic and scramble out of the way. He felt it now- a permeating anxiety that sunk into the bones; an unidentifiable and unreachable itch.
He was surprised the waterwolf had been so calm. Elly was impressively tame for the wild creatures, but even so they were usually sensitive to volatile or disturbing energies. Having offered to let Kohryn pet her had been a bold move.
She continued to look up at him, a mystery of emotion beneath the surface of her eyes and then they left him to focus ahead. No longer offering hints. He parted and closed his lips a few times wondering where to continue. "Can I ask," his voice was soft, "if perhaps you'd share?"
Her eyes quickly snapped to him then back to the road ahead. He could feel her thoughts turning in her head. He was certain he unnerved the standoffish woman just as much as she unnerved everyone around her.
Admittedly it was a question out of line. But he'd rushed to catch her before she managed to slip off into the night again, so he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. He'd feared she may double down in her efforts to avoid him.
He steadily watched until she finally let out a long breath.
Kohryn lifted a slim hand to her head, taking strands of black hair between her fingers, she began to rub and twirl them together. "As a child I got lost in the forest. I must've fallen because when they found me I was in a deep sleep." She continued to look ahead, her steady pace never faltering. "I ended up with amnesia and the effects have remained to this day. I can't really remember much from before..." She trailed off, eyes losing focus as she lapsed into a momentary silence.
"A coma?" Mikhail interrupted whatever reminiscing or musing she may have had, prompting her to continue. He knew where this story went, or at least three different versions.
"Oh, yes." She confirmed with a methodical nod. "I was lost for two days. The search party found me four mountains over and I didn't wake up for three moons. People thought it was a curse."
"A curse? Really?"
"My body appeared to be in fine health despite the coma." Kohryn nodded, still fidgeting with her hair. Her voice was monotone and level, carried so little inflection that Mikhail ticked along with her words as if he were following the rhythmic clicks of a metronome. "Despite the lack of religious practices, remnants of old belief systems still remain. The Ipahnish, especially in these rural parts, can be a superstitious people. It is believed that children who get lost in the forests are kidnapped, possessed, or even traded with evil entities. Ancient creatures of plants and mushrooms. There were no signs of injury and some of the villagers found my healthy state suspicious. They demanded answers and action. Since it caused enough of a disturbance of peace, I was banned from entering the valley and confined to the mountain."
Mikhail looked down at her quizzically. He had known she was forbidden from entering the more populated areas of the village but he was not aware that she was basically imprisoned on the mountain.
"They quelled the superstitious by having me remain higher up so my spirit is closer to the great cosmos. That way I will remain as unsullied as possible by the evils of mortal existence." She took a moment to wave her hand about, as if brushing away something before continuing to twirl her hair. "It isn't too bad though. I like the mountain."
Mikhail had heard this story in gossip from more mouths than he could count on his fingers and yet her own retelling was the most disembodied. The villagers told it like some superstitious myth, bedazzled and embellished for effect. Kohryn told it flat and straightforward. Like it was just some fact and she didn't even care that it was happening to her. She wrapped up her explanation with no sadness or resentment toward her fellow community members. Just that clicking even voice, deeper for a woman with a hint of rasp he figured she'd gotten from working with the fires in the bakery day in and day out.
He wondered if her odd monotony was a product of protecting herself from judgment and fear. One full mooned look, pupils pin thin, and he was reminded that an owl was a bird of prey. For the briefest moment, wine swirled in her irises, aglow in the orange setting sun. Perhaps her strange personality was an unconscious mechanism of whatever horrible thing gave way to the uncomfortable aura that shrouded her. That itch. The thing that disturbed all the villagers and had those like Anise glaring daggers and nipping at her heals.
He was only beginning to feel more and more certain he had finally found what he'd been searching for. The entity within him rolling around in cyclic confirmation.
Mikhail let out a silent sigh and another smile easily spread across his face. "Well you seem pretty normal to me." He lied and playfully nudged her with his shoulder, causing her to stumble before quickly righting herself.
She gave him another look and he was quickly catching onto just how much the stoic woman could communicate in her eyes alone. A mystery in her swimming irises partially deciphered by the snaps and clicks of where and how her gaze settled.