Chelsea and Vaughn

He had many sides.

On the barge that transported him to the various islands on which he conducted business, his mannerisms were crude and his sentences were peppered with the foulest language. These traits were the norms and expectations held by his seafaring peers. In his private quarters, he would practice spitting with gusto – in even the smallest ways, he had to hold his own with the men who worked on the sea craft year round. It was all a means to earn and keep their respect, and earn it he did. Though he was much younger than most of the men in the islands' shipping business, he was a hard man, as capable of spinning ridiculous yarns as the men whose age rivaled that of the rusted, wind beaten barge. As an act of unspoken etiquette, the men never called bull on the tall tales told on lonely nights spent at sea.

He learned a lot from these men, with hard work being the second most important lesson after maintaining a respectable image.

With the wild dogs, he was a man of silent awe in the presence of their unpracticed elegance. Though he was not above romping with the pack, he much preferred sitting aside and observing the dogs prowl about the forest or listening to them bay late at night. The wild dogs were, in a strange way, his, similar to the way in which the forest, though frequented by islanders, was theirs. He had a deep appreciation of the wild dogs' savage beauty and their acceptance of him. They were a family of sorts, and they had adopted him. In the beginning of his relationship with the dogs, he had thought that he had found them.

In all reality, the dogs had found him and shown him the beauty of their unquestionable acceptance.

In his work, he was aloof and devoid of outward emotion. Friendly advances and small talk were unneeded and unwanted distractions. He enjoyed the backbreaking labor for all its mess and required effort. Nothing pleased him more than a day's work done well. His working self earned him a reputation for being cold and wholly unapproachable. While this reputation kept his days clear of extraneous conversations and diversions, the pointed glares of gossipy women did make him nervous.

In a move to calm his nerves rather than to save face, he got into the practice of giving a good-natured tip of his hat when passing familiar faces, though he never did get into the habit of having unnecessary conversations with his customers.

Sometimes, when he stood on the beach late at night, waiting for the barge to take him to another island, he was a small and insignificant existence under the arc of the starry and infinite sky. The heavenly bodies that extended above him and much farther than his eyes could see were beyond his comprehension. Nights spent on the beach left him feeling challenged and unsettled by the immensity.

This was a fact that, in all his pride, he would never admit to the barge workers.

In her company, he simply loved. She was his equal in spitting, and there were many times that made him wonder at her strength – whether she was stronger than him. She had class and grace that captivated him and she kept him anchored when the sheer endlessness of the cosmos threatened to pull him away. Unknowingly, sweetly, she fed into him his most strongly felt emotions. There was a very special quality in her which allowed him to be a less fragmented version of himself. She was a woman with an unyielding spirit, and for that, he loved her.

He felt no need to pursue her with tactless flirtation; he knew no urgency in the matter. If it had taught him nothing else, working as an animal tradesman taught him patience. He knew that, to love him return, fully and properly, she would need the uncommon ability to love every shade of his person.

By the sweet blessing of the powers that be, she, too, had many sides.

This is a rewrite, one which makes me much happier than the piece I wrote for this same prompt a few years ago. I plan to restart this prompts project sporadically, as college won't allow for frequent updates, but I should be improving my writing due to a professional writing minor I've picked up. This prompt was interesting for me to pursue, because I, in the way that I wrote Vaughn, have many 'sides,' as lots of people do. I may have written a bit of myself into Vaughn while keep him in what I imagine his character to be. May have. I'd love opinions, suggestions, critique, or anything you lovely readers may throw at me!

Vaughn is definitely one of my favorites when it comes to Harvest Moon characters. He'll probably show up a lot. Fair warning.