I happen to notice two certain users who are rather fond of this shipping. One of them especially seems to really like it and crave for more, so I'll fulfil your drought of fanfics with this one I wrote. Apologies if anyone seems out of character. It is mediocre but maybe this just existing is more than enough.
[I literally searched up names online, so these aren't real places and not a real ship…Probably]
The steak presently placed on a platter had been ripped through with many holes, four in a line. Pale fingers held its silverware on the edge and lightly brought down of the slab of beef on the plate repeatedly. Rio just watched the point pierce the meat and fill with the saucing, eyes fixated on the food in front of her.
It had been quite some time she had been married to a man living in luxury but he never stayed inside for long. The day she received the ring on her finger was a one she hadn't imagined herself being happy of, to be lucky enough to be wed to someone of her choosing despite her upbringing and one seemed to only exist in sleeping thoughts.
Arclight, the name she had taken as her own. Thomas, the name she wedded to.
His ignorance and starkness were nothing a mature adult could possess, and yet he existed. Rio didn't think she'd come across someone with an attitude, much less tolerate it but it had become quite amusing of what antics he came up with. Her fasciation in him had what drawn her in to further inspect this ['remarkable? handsome?'] interesting character.
Truthfully, this had been what pulled her in but his surprise generosity was what made her stay.
At first glance, Thomas seemed to be one who'd stay in his large home build from his family's money, not to cross the seas to assist others in need. He hadn't undertaken his father's business unlike his brothers had intended to. This young gentleman had joined Richmond, a vessel that ported supplies to Ambrosia's neighbouring country, Angria. It was much less unfortunate then their own, they both allied and was promised to contribute to help their citizens stay safe, well eaten and recover from targeted enemies.
His attitude hadn't further suggested his intentions. Those eyes often trailed off and Thomas's face could barely been seen more than ten seconds for a conversation about such a subject like politics [that he received a lot of], but all attention was put when discussing the support needed for the other country.
After the previous captain retired for he had become too elderly to travel, he gave the position over to Thomas. The other crew members had contributed longer than he had and protest was thought to have been made for the newest addition to take such a great responsibility, but their support had been one that a close friend would give to continue forward with one's goal.
Rio praised his work and persistence for it but there's always a lingering feeling that weighed down on her heart to see that ship sail away.
Thomas's presence at home had become less the more he was asked to set sail. Many nights Rio had gone to bed without lying beside another. It was only issued a month or so he'd be away, however those days were ones they weren't together, not so much as to pass each other in the hallway or sit at the table during a meal. The two were the ones who'd be there the most, one having a long trip across the ocean that was only called when needed, and the other wasn't allowed to [any job a woman could get was not one Thomas would allow a newly made noblewoman to partake like putting coal in furnaces or weaving. Money wasn't a problem and would've been low anyway].
He was what gave her company, the only other person [who was not paid to be there] in the house to have a truthful interaction with. It kept her entertained and glad to spend so much time with her spouse as others aren't as lucky. But not all was paradise, her husband left occasionally, not just a few days but sometimes passing seasons. He was an ocean distance away from home, if only determination measured to physical strength it'd break the limits capable of the human body and separate the seas for the two to be united once more.
Mere thoughts that'll never become reality, instead sitting and waiting is all she could do until the day Thomas returned.
"It's better once you actually eat it."
Rio looked up through thick eyelashes to her father-in-law at the end of the table. He had stopped mid motion of cutting his own food to turn his head in her direction. Speaking up had attracted the attention of two others on either side of him, still and stared unknowingly of the spoken intention.
With three sets of eyes with her in their vision, Rio gently placed her fork down on the table. "Is me picking at my food distracting you Byron?" her tone deep and dullen as she leaned back into the chair for some kind of relief from sitting up, such effort to keep herself up had given up.
Her questioning had Byron lowering his dining utensils, positioning them straight and equal distance from the plate with his finger. The male clasped his hands together as they rested on the edge of the table. "Is there anything bothering you?"
Both his sons Christopher and Michael hadn't moved from their frozen state while Byron kept eye contact. From a higher status since birth, he had been someone Rio couldn't look in the eye. Although treated as the same level and smiled at to be pleased to see, him and his formality was one she felt wasn't deserving of her to look on equal grounds. The other two weren't quite the same; less tuck in shirt and no elbows on the table policy, but being stared at was never welcomed in her perspective.
The thought never came with Thomas, conjuring a smile at him was easy and thoughtlessly as blinking.
Rio decided to occupy her sights with anything other than them. "I was just too deep in thought." Had been the answer given, her finger traced the handle of the fork whilst looking to the side.
"I just don't want your food to get cold." Byron gestured to the food in front of her, only known of the torturous stabbing received from the female. Rio scrapped it with the blade of her fork for extra measure, lightly chuckling to herself at her immature thoughts, even Thomas would wide eye or lean away if she spoke it aloud and she would just show her teeth with her lips curled upwards.
"It's fine, thank you." Picking up the knife, Rio proceeded to eat; she took longer than everyone else at the table, obviously. No more words were uttered from those lips.
Byron and Thomas's brothers glanced over occasionally but hadn't spoken. They seemed to have an itch, that being to ask further of the dazed state Rio had been in, but that was never scratched to relieve of curiosity or concern, leaving it be. Rio's mind often wandered to far of lands that no one decided to interrupt, even if the expression on her face was sullen. It was best to keep quiet about it, there was no certainty she'd muster herself to speak, especially not to those with a wall between them and her. The three men finished their meals and left, once again with the same glances they gave during lunch.
She paced through slowly, chewing far long after it needed to be but couldn't muster energy to swallow. Her hand slid across the table to the seat beside her, waited to be warmed by the heat of fingers wrapping themselves around and resting its wide palm in hers. Aimlessly searching around for the other hand, the tablecloth beneath her fingertips reminded that no one would be there to hold her empty hand.
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The Arclight resident teetered on a large slope of the ground with the sea just below. It wasn't a big travel to the sand bank from the manor, where Rio sat to watch the water. She hadn't told Byron or anyone else she went there; someone would've come with her despite her want to sit alone.
The ocean would stretch on towards the horizon, farther than her eyes could see. It urged curiosity to witness what else was further beyond. The only barrier was that of what touched her bare feet, that of the wondrous sight she could look out the window every day. But of course looking at it from the distance wasn't the same experience to sit down in front of it and intake more than just the sights. The wind softly kissed her skin and shivered with the relieving feeling across her figure. The breeze carried the scent of salt that lingered in the air, what she'd always remembered from childhood and continue recognising that smell until her dying days.
This had been a pleasant pastime once, once. For quite some time the sight had blurred, eyes fixated on the horizon, imagination showed a familiar ship peeked just over, appearing small from the distance between, but approaching closer with each second.
Hope persisted for it to become reality, edging for a sequence of events to change fate for the journey to be shorter than intended. She had to remind herself that the world wasn't built around her wants and needs; no one was going to sculpt reality to her liking. Instead she'd had to find a way to preoccupy herself, anything to keep her mind from wondering off to a darken trail.
Though it had been difficult, the sense of loneliness wasn't the only factor. Being so far away, she wouldn't have known how her husband had been doing. If he was eating his full, wrapped in blankets at night or his immune system was enough to defend against sickness. Even if the journey to and from had gone without fault.
Thomas wasn't part of the navy and wouldn't be asked to fight when enemies attacked, thinking she was nonsensical to have such fears when there are other women and even children waiting and praying for their husbands and fathers to come back home from battle.
There was very well bound to be predators lurking across the water, and the Richmond wouldn't have any sort of defences. If not, the dark clouds would raise the level of the waves; many reports have been claimed of monstrous storms formed between Ambrosia and Angria.
Images filled the female's head, the waves rising and rocking the ship to and fro until enough strength pushed it one way and flipped over where her spouse would be buried in his watery grave. Or scrambling across the deck as fire and metal crashed down on them, jumping off the side of the ship to escape death from above, his limits would be worn through and would lose the battle to the sea.
Denial made her ignorant, but deep down she knew it was always a possibility. These ideas float about even if no logic came from it or the possibilities of it happening were slim. She passed it off as preposterous thoughts of a wife awaiting her husband's return.
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Rio occupied herself with words on paper, continued onward at just a turn of a page until it reached the very end. Receiving the same treatment a princess would get lead to waiting many hours for something interesting to happen. Without any sort of job, may it been cleaning or cooking, the amount of things to keep her engaged had been limited to some hobbies offered to her to do that she'd eventually lay her head on the table, or captivate herself in a well written piece of literature.
Her old house tightly between other residents overlooking the streets had just a small bookshelf shoved in the corner collecting dust like most households. Now she had two stories worth of knowledge of her husband family's library just down the stairs to the right.
As a child, even when she had few books, Rio referred to sheets her father wrote for her and her brother of many different words along with definitions. Regardless of her previous status of a pleasant that not many knew how to write or read, she was fortunate enough to have a parent who could do both. Her young brain never was able to absorb many facts, only a few words were remembered and it wasn't unusual to forget the meaning a word. Sometimes she'd circle what she had trouble with and asked her father about it when he returned from work. He hadn't mind, her brother on the other hand screeched over her scribbling in the books they both had to share. Those fights never stopped even many years later.
Thomas learnt from a young age how to read and write, being taught by paid tutors to visit both him and his siblings. Besides writing up reports, Rio didn't expect him to commit to anything else that consisted of any sort of literature. From stories she's been told, his younger self had ignored the easy education he got, later regretting not being more appreciative. Still didn't mean he enjoyed it now.
He had witnessed the many papers his wife struggled to hold along with a book that could strain all fingers to hold in just one hand. She was given silence when telling her husband the reason she kept looking back and forth, scanning through the papers to find what she needed, many seconds wasted to read only one page. Going through a single chapter was a journey in its self.
The morning after she went to the library once again, like most days. It was a rare sight to find Thomas with a book in hand on his own free will. This was a smaller book than most on the shelves and the opening page had ink illustrations of cuddly animals stopped in motion while dancing around together in a circle. The sentences are simple, short words that young children can pronounce slowly to identify each word. Listening to Thomas read it out loud flows well with each word sounding the same at the end as the sentence before.
He had her sit in his lap whilst in the chair pushed up against the window, the seating everyone preferred over any other. Thomas held her firmly with the book lifted up in from of them, wrapped in his arms and pressed against his chest, Rio had been held close to him that she could pillow her head. He went through the book once before flipping back to the very beginning, this time encouraging her to speak.
She went through the book stumbling, knowing the sounds made of certain letters but couldn't piece it altogether.
"Every teddy bear, that's been good is sure of a treat today. There's lots of wonderful things to eat and wonderful games to play."
Thomas piped up; interrupting her but no disagreement was vocalized or even thought really. Rio let the pronunciation repeat in her head before moving her lips in the way Thomas did. Her voice staggered the first few attempts, sometimes he'd have to correct her once again until she could form a proper sentence.
With it all memorized, she skimmed through it one last time, this one begin the fastest to go through. It got irritable to say the block of text without facing the book while speaking as though she held it in her hand. She thought she would never pick it up ever again.
Though searching the many novels on the shelf, Rio hadn't come across this one, or any other that seemed more suitable to a younger audience, a very young audience in this situation. Others who had access to their library were Thomas's father and brothers, more logical thought processes than he had, none of which seemed to prefer this than an artwork in the form of literature. Neither would even need to have their sentences broken up to understand.
It could've been one they read as children and gave away most of the books they never touched again to the next generation to drool over, this might've been one left behind. Though, it was surprisingly in good condition.
Happiness bubbled at the thought of this kind gesture regardless, even if was never admitted to any other. Thomas was a decent teacher, at least for the simplest of things. If Rio didn't think this way before, she did after that, he could be reliable with a new member of the family, the thought calmed her for what the future was to bring.
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A smaller ship ported occasionally, it all had the letters written by soldiers and suppliers travelling the seas to be delivered to their families. The condition of the paper was well despite the rocking of the ship, might as well be given to by hand really. They must've just been kept in a good place; these words could be their last after all- but Rio tried not to think of such things.
Regardless of Rio's and Thomas's situation, they still had a way of communication. She wouldn't have held her pen properly if her husband hadn't taught her how to. The first attempt, Rio had it between her thumb and the other four fingers hooked on the top. The lines the ink drew were shaky and indistinct to identity. It was told to her and demonstrated how to properly hold it. Eventually it was at least legible, though if any other man on the ship saw her letter to Thomas, she imagined they mistook it for a child holding the pen.
Often times she had his family teach her how to write cursively. That would take some time before she even got to that point, but she still smirked at the thought of Thomas receiving a page of neat handwriting and immediately think he was given someone else's. This became the main reason she practised every day he wasn't home, the day she'd give him the most beautifully written letter she ever wrote.
She'd be sure to transfer all the emotions swirling inside into the pen, the ink directed to create the instant thought in her mind, nothing would be left out; her entire heart would be presented all on her canvas of a frail piece of paper. It'd be an artwork all in the form of literature, maybe future historians will put up on a wall for generations along time to witness, and the love of which she had for this man will be known through the ages. Then everyone now and further on will know.
It made Rio smile, the thought is prosperous that her head almost floated away, but it only urged her more, a goal of passion that was determined to be fulfilled.
The many letters Rio received are written light heartedly, imagining his soft chuckle after she read about the children that caused mischief to others that read like reminiscing an old memory. Often times he'd mentioned a man with the same amount of maturity as the children, a man with a big smile and two steady hands prepared to lift others up.
This one had listed the jokes he said, ones that Thomas deemed appropriate for his wife to know at least. Rio giggled at a few, imagery of the spoken events formed in her head, no difference between this and how Thomas acted when close acquaintances came to visit. Voices ranged to the hallways with laughter and crude jokes, swearing like…well, like sailors.
Chris's nose crinkles and puff of air is blown from his nose when hearing the, unlike Rio who can't find the means to scoff. Personally getting to know Thomas had grown somewhat undoubtable of his sense of humour, finding herself expressing her joy the same way he did. Reading how he acted much like he did had settled her rattled state.
From what she's heard of Angria, its condition is unfortunate and its citizens are in a state of poverty. Thomas wrote of some positively about it, such as the welcoming locals, but doubt is still existent that there were things he never considered putting it down on paper for her to know. Like what or how little the citizens ate or how they slept at night. The most she's read is about how the locals were cooperative to both the sailors and each other.
Though such a thing might've been tough to explain to those who hadn't seen it firsthand, when she was young being around the neighbourhood children who a few had been asked by adults to never ask their fathers and grandfathers about experiences on the battlefield, land or water. And thus she had done the same.
Even if he'd never have to step foot on battle grounds, the worn faces, thinness, and illness cured only by passing in sleep of the citizens of Angria was more than enough for a lone soul to handle. Perhaps years down the line she might once he retired and wasn't experiencing it currently. She didn't expect to him to answer if he didn't want to relive any memories.
If she were to ask one thing only, it was so that it wasn't as bad as the thoughts clouding her mind made it out to be and nothing happened to keep from sleeping and scaring the man without denial she sworn a lifetime to.
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The seat beside the window had been pre-occupied. Nestled into the comfort of the cotton wool material had been Michael whose attention was towards papers narrating a story all attached together.
There were far more other seats but then Rio couldn't look out to the crashing waves outside, it was probably the best action. Her eyes would never leave the sight of the sea.
A little over a hundred of books on the shelves all squeezed together side by side to ensure all managed to fit. So many stories written by others with different thought processes, but one hadn't stood out to her just yet. Either it's already been read or the first few pages failed to capture her interest without urge to try once more. Others she had yet to try if they would even appeal in the slightest. Rio found herself tracing her index finger across the spines of the books, coating her fingertips in bits of dust.
Dull dark green and blue covers with golden lettering difficult to read on the darken background with the same cursive fonts. Her attention lessened, almost turned and walked away. The decision was declined when came across the book at the very end. One that is thinner and smaller than the other thicker ones on the shelf, pushed in beside the already tight space, hidden away in the corner.
Rio grabbed it between her fingertips and pulled it out, taken such little amount on the shelf it wasn't a battle to pull out with the books beside it the same size and had to be pushed up against to prevent taking the whole bookshelf with it.
She stretched it out with both hands grasped onto both sides; the thinning pages almost bent and slope down from its weakness. Inside, the beginning had the familiar image of cuddly animals dancing in a circle. Something clicked in her mind. It was thought the female would never touch the book ever again, but it had found its way into her hands once more. Once again she turned the clean cut pages of the simple story till she reached the end.
Turning all the papers to the beginning, she rubbed her hand on the cover to flatten and remove creases. Her direct of vision hadn't changed, stood and stared at the book. Proof that she had picked it out amongst the rest; it had been detected strange compared against the others. It had no purpose in the library used by grown men. Realisation had come suddenly of one of the latter was across the very room she was in. She approached quietly. "Michael."
His body lifted off the chair slightly and unexpectedly in surprise at the sudden raise of her voice. "Oh, Rio, I didn't realise you were even here." Michael lowered the book in his hands with his finger on the page he caught up with in the book to keep track of where he had been. With Rio interrupting him, she decided to make this as short a possible while still getting the information that was wanted.
She lifted up the book to be revealed to the man in the chair. "Do you know this book?"
A cough brewed in Michael's chest and expressed through his closed mouth, eyes widen but his expression reverted back to its calming state. "Yeah, why are you asking about it?"
Unconsciously Rio fingers tapped against the cover, the words almost didn't pass through her throat from Michael's reaction, but conjured it up regardless. "…Thomas and I read it once."
Michael blinked at her response, "That old thing? It was something we use to read as children. First it was Christopher's, then Thomas's, and then eventually mine."
"So you all owned it once?" The woman standing in front of him found her hand sliding across the book of the adventures of the little creatures collecting supplies for their picnic.
It had been confirmed to have been gone through three brothers at childhood, though didn't seemed to have been touched by grubby hands or at least been kept in a stable condition for an unknown amount of years. Though the question still urged her to know why Thomas had this when it seemed to be a fragment of childhood thought to be unseen forever by Michael. There was always the possibility he came across it one day when looking for something to teach her with, but still was different from the others on the shelf. "Why do think it would be important to Thomas?"
The pink haired male pursed his lips at her question, quiet for those few seconds before conjuring a sentence. "I'm not… entirely sure… Father did say he read it a lot. We had a lot more books like it but after a while that was the only book he wanted to read, he refused anything else. We gave the others away but I guess we didn't for that one."
"You think Thomas kept it here?"
"Perhaps… I never really understood his interest in it. Mother and Father got that so it'll teach us how to read. Nothing really all that special…"
After he said the word 'Mother' she paid attention to the rest of the sentence but the mention of the woman still stayed in Rio's mind after the words had already been progressed. "You've... never mentioned your mother before."
Once again Michael hadn't said anything for quite some time before processing a sentence to speak. "She passed away when we pretty young. I have a hard time trying to remembering her… surprisingly enough that book is a pretty clear memory I have of her."
The thing in her hands, she held her spouse's physical remembrance of his childhood, remembrance of a loved one lost long ago, one she learnt without knowing. Understanding came clear at that second, she'd also want something of her late parents and case it in glass to be untouched by her and perhaps her brother… Not really though.
The fact that Thomas had allowed her to read it and lay her hands on it and stutter through its sentences, made belief stronger she was held more preciously than she originally thought. "And you said she taught you and your brothers how to read with this book?"
"Yes, it's a quite an easy read. Good for children- or anyone who was never taught for that matter." He most likely added that last part because of her once lack of complete understanding, Rio acknowledged him adding that consideration and appreciated it.
"Thank you Michael."
The said man smiled, "You're more than welcome." He removed his finger from keeping the book open. Michael stood up and held it out to her. "If you're looking for a book to read, I'd suggest this one. The characters remind me of some people I know."
It would be rude to take it from him when he was still reading it, but knowing Michael he'd keep insisting, stubborn like his brother though for the benefits of others instead of want Thomas would've wanted. Rio learnt not to argue with him and took the book anyway. As he said, the characters were all family in some ways, much like five actual people she knew.
It kept her occupied of her problems, even for a few hours and however long it'll take for her to finish it.
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There's barely enough time to wear away from the grogginess of sleep before a churning was felt and Rio's hand instinctively gripped for her nightgown, curling with her knees to her chin. Her mouth opened on its own, expecting something to rush up her throat, but nothing occurred. She found herself gagging, asking for this unpleasant feeling to cease and leave her in the previous calming rest.
Rio lifted her back off the mattress, looking over the edge of the bed. In this position the connection between her stomach and brain were weaken, however her mouth reminded the bile unsettling in her core she might've extracted.
Many reasons were thought as to what caused this, dinner was a bigger meal that night or perhaps something just didn't settle right.
The carpet being stained was preferred more than her sheets for she wasn't lying on it, nor getting it on the nightgown, herself and had to shuffle through the hallways without light for her handmaiden. Who would be bagged eyed to arise from sleep long before she had to.
Those few minutes the young woman in bed rested her lower body as to not stir the swirling in her stomach and positioned herself on her side, something she was taught to do as to not choke. Morning had come quicker than expected; she had fallen back onto the soft resting for her head, letting her consciousness stray away.
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No one had usually come to her room to wake her, she hadn't anywhere to be anyway but eating was a critical thing. Of all people, it was Christopher who nudged her awake and stood aside as she fought back sleep pulling her back into her unconscious state.
To her the night went away with a blink, it had been dark with a gleaming light through the closed curtains then the next she opened her eyes the world had been shined with a golden tinge coming through the open blinded window. Her eyes strained in the sudden transition of brightness, closing them quickly to regain her strength. When Rio blinked away the sleep from her eyes and propped herself up on the pillow, Christopher finally spoke. "You've been sleeping for quite some time. Were you up late?"
"Not intentionally, I woke up during the middle of the night. I didn't feel very well." Rio answered, fully sitting this time with a slouched back.
"Oh, what was wrong?" Christopher asked with his tone raised from his previous quiet one.
"I felt like throwing up." responded bluntly.
"Will you be fine for breakfast?"
"Yes, it was only temporary. Don't worry." She replied as she threw off the blanket and slid towards the edge of the mattress.
"Are you sure?" he urged, "You don't have to force yourself to eat if you can't."
"Yes, Chris. I'm fine, don't worry." The female hadn't intended being questioned so much not long after waking up, any other time she'd be refreshed to give a stern reply.
A crinkle appeared on the male's forehead, his stare intent on her. Rio usually didn't receive such facial expressions from him. "This could be me overreacting, but I don't tend to take such signs of sickness too lightly."
Rio softened at the sense of doubt in Christopher's tone. "I'm fine."
"That's what Michael once told me. Hours later I had to get my outfit washed."
She had to resist the snicker from her thought of Christopher crouched over a barrel of water, scrubbing furiously at the contents left on his clothing. "This won't be like time."
"We should still be cautious."
"It's fine, really." She continued her dismissiveness.
Christopher scoffed loudly, "Why are you not letting me help you? You're so stubborn, you're just like Thomas."
With the mention of the man's name her previous state of calm drifted away. Slowly dread overtook with the familiar pain she found in her chest. Others say emotion come from the brain but the weight on her heart was something that no pill or medicine could assist to rid of it, if it could be.
Unintentionally, the female lowered her head and eyes lidded, her hands found comfort in each other's hold.
"What's with that look?" the other in the room spoke, her curtained mind temporarily blinded her from remembering and seeing him standing before her.
Rio lifted her head to catch eye contact with Christopher, with her harden tone she replied with little emotion, "Nothing."
A loud huff came from Chris. "Exactly like Thomas." He acted as though he was speaking to Thomas himself, a man of sophistication talking down to one of crudeness with the latter unaffected by the other's remarks. Supposedly she and he had similar traits, refusing to accept assistance from others who weren't from their selves.
A living example of keeping some things uncovered and letting it chip away at self well-being had been her brother, tough skin but a heart that crumbled, the slowest pain. Nothing would be gained from trapping the thoughts and feelings into a box with a lock and key, letting the negativity swell and the disease spreading through the whole body until there's no strength to move. There's only relief once it's opened and Rio isn't willing to let it overfill with tears in her eyes.
There was a wall built between her and Christopher, she hadn't expected to climb over in this situation but it was better than to let three other walls close her in.
Christopher moved closer to the door, the conversation before still repeated in Rio's mind of the disagreement she had with him. Despite the tenseness, she reached for comfort.
"It's Thomas… I worry for him."
The spoken sentence from silence caused Christopher to halt in place. He stood in the door way with his hand on the frame, turning his head to her. They both caught eyes again, her drooping lids and sunken face came more apparent that an inner voice told to not walk away just yet.
Christopher sighed and fully faced her, a breath exhaled through his mouth with no evidence of irritation, sighed with softness unheard until then and facial expression wavering between calm and one reflecting her own. "Yes, he's gone away again. It's always sad to see him leave, but he'll come back."
"That doesn't mean I don't miss him."
"That feeling comes when you love someone. It's normal to miss them. We've been doing that for quite a while; we know what it's like."
Rio almost forgot she's isn't the only one, but her overgrowing darkness clouded everything from what was clearly in front of her. A family both anxious and depressing their son's and brother's leave, there were others to share thoughts on that no judgement would be faced. A family she kept forgetting she joined, everyone was together and even though she wasn't related by blood, she was included. She had to learn to be closer to her family, climbing over any walls between them.
"It's shorter than when he usually leaves, he'll be back before you know it." With that Christopher had left, his ending words remained, a disagreement with herself of how true they were hadn't solved its own conflict until much later.
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The voices were indecipherable even with just a few steps to approach them. The men in the room spoke only just a little louder than whispering, the range of Rio's hearing wasn't lesser it was just them. The manor had quietened significantly since one certain member hadn't shown his face for quite some time.
When he was here, the others sighed and groaned to deal with him. When he wasn't, they stayed silent, even though all three came across as the type; the silence never seemed to be so quiet. She could've thought to be alone even when covering everywhere possible in the manor. Her old self would complain of how boring this was, but with this gone on for so many times, the well-being of the others being to be questioned. As Christopher had said, they knew what it was like, believing Rio to be some alarm bells ringing.
Walking into the room after standing the door way, the whole time neither of the men had noticed until she took her place on the loveseat beside Christopher. Whoever spoke stopped mid-sentence to look at her glide across the room to seat herself in the middle of everyone. The female interrupted with a smile. "Gentlemen, let's have ourselves a conversation."
"We were already discussing something else." Christopher had spoken quickly before anyone else had their say.
Rio hummed at this. "And what was that?"
"You wouldn't be interested. It was just about business."
"You think I shouldn't listen?"
"You'll honestly just be bored." The youngest son added from his place in the chair beside them.
The next motive he took had the female silent with her eyes following. In his hands were a small china plate he placed a teacup on, held firmly in his hands. With one hand on the bottom, the other wrapped its fingers around the handle holding with enough strength that wouldn't allow the cup to slip from his grasp. He brought it up steadily to himself for refreshment, done so quickly, effortlessly and without fault. Rio just knew if she tried, every move would've been a disaster.
"Michael, you like tea?"
The male lowered his beverage before answering. "I thought it'd be obvious… N-not to say you can't figure things out yourself o-or anything!"
"Well, I am quite fond of it myself." Rio chirped, "Betcha you didn't know that."
"….Okay."
Her mind scrambled to discuss anything interesting, darting towards other things in the room that'd be even more ridiculous to mention. The tea had Michael confused and anything else would've it made more so. Nothing else came to mind though.
"Rio, what are you doing?" Christopher with his usual annoyed tone, this came expectedly.
"Bonding."
"What do you mean by that?"
Rio placed her hands in lap, the smile on her face lessen from her previous attitude. "I've come to realise that I don't know you all that much. It's been four years since I've joined the Arclights, now seems more than great to start."
The spoken sentence had Michael bright eyed. "Wow, has it really been four years now? Time has really gone by quickly!" He exclaimed.
"When are you two getting married?" Byron said, first time that encounter, Rio had eyes wide, though not as much as his sons. Christopher flustered even more than his younger brother did. "I wouldn't mind some grandchildren."
"That's a discussion for another day." The eldest son intervened immediately.
Rio piped up cheerfully. "Actually, this is a discussion I'm interested in." raising her head with a large smile. "Not ready to commit Chris? The clock is ticking."
"Not for Michael and me it's not." The male objected, "What'll take for you to talk about something else?"
The female's smile grew larger. "Tell me something interesting about you. Feel free to tell me as many things as you want."
Rio got an answer she hadn't been confident to receive, achieving the goal of what she intended before entering the room, learning more about her family.
.
.
.
A game of chess with Christopher had become another pass time. One afternoon in needing for something to do, Christopher offered to teach her how to play. Though Rio wasn't on level with him, it still entertained and enlightened her to play. Being such a gentleman, many moves were amateur, no subtly to throw the whole game to Rio's victory. Having the match being hand given wasn't acceptable, she practised to be an opponent worthy of the male that challenged him and more thought to be given if he was to protect his standing. It was a day Rio looked forward to.
Rushing off to throw up in the garden took away the competitiveness in the middle of a game. Without surprise Christopher followed, not to comfort her, just to tell her one other thing.
He spoke those words that rode up against her nerves. "I told you so."
"I don't care." muttered the female, crouched with her hands clutching her churning stomach and strands of hairs hung down her face.
"I know you don't, which is why you're here now. And thank you so much for ruining such a lovely rose bush."
Rio looked back to the mess she made and gestured her hand towards it with a toothy smirk. "You're welcome."
A puff air blew through Christopher's nose, he seemed to resist the urge to make a remark at this, but didn't comply with himself. Instead he held his hand to the female on the floor, pulling her up to her feet as she dusted specks dirt off her dress. "You said it was nothing."
"And I was supposed to know I'd lose my lunch?" Christopher just sneered at her response, not something a lady would say, though he'd have to remind himself the one he was speaking to was Rio.
"I can get Father to contact a doctor; they might give you something for it. In the meantime, you should get some rest. Lie down for the rest of the day, don't come to dinner if you don't feel well."
He placed a hand on her back, gently lead her back inside. She dragged her feet to the next destination at a slow pace, sickly and fuming being told incorrect but for something so small that came of nothing wasn't going to cause paranoia to constantly tap on her shoulder. After this though, something was crawling over her back, it didn't scratch or claw but had become more apparent than it did at an earlier time. Perhaps there was something more to it; she hadn't the same attitude as her companion had, though nothing was certain until closer examination.
.
.
.
The room had quietened after Christopher had ended repeating what they were told earlier that day. Despite Rio's moment the day before, the female insisted to stay at the manor and continue the day normally, her complaints hadn't been agreed. Christopher had taken to her town for her appointment he had made for her. It was realised how long it had been since her cycle and all her symptoms were estimated into one thing. This diagnose was least to be concerned about, one she even welcomed and had burst with joy. She hoped the others felt that way too.
"You really think she's….?" Michael started, trailed off with his voice soft and hush.
"That's what was predicted. It doesn't seem too far fetch; Thomas hasn't been gone that long. It's too early to say for sure, but it certainly seems like it." Christopher replied with strong confidence.
"Well, in case it's true, congratulations Rio!" Michael exclaimed. The male leapt to his feet and embraced Rio, who squirmed in unfamiliar arms. So taken away with his emotions, he eventually shuffled away at their awkward position.
"Thank you." She replied.
"I told you it was nothing." Christopher interrupted, smiling with lidded eyes. Rio huffed at that smug look that appeared on his face.
"Oh shush!" She blurted, "It's not like you knew what it was!" A scowl had been received from the other and she returned it all the same.
Byron smiled from his chair as he watched the two interact. "I suppose this changes a lot. We're going to need certain things."
"As well as keep her under supervision, I know she tumbles down the stairs." Christopher commented.
"How much of a klutz do you think I am?" Rio crossed her arms and puffed out her bottom lip childishly.
"A very big one dear sister."
"I'm not- well sort of. I didn't think you'd call me your sister."
"It's just a name I called you, for fun." Rio hadn't known he'd do or say anything for fun, or what fun even meant.
"That's sweet… Don't call me that again." Christopher frowned but stayed silent.
There was much a discussion of what would come from this. Although it mostly concerned Rio, her mind and her brain were separated through most of it. His name hadn't been mentioned but only Thomas was what she could think of. Of how he'd react, how long he'd even return home for however long the down line she got.
The messages to be delivered to Angria had expected to depart from port in a few days. With this going on Rio hadn't written much, having less to report, though with this sudden change in events those plans there was much more to write. The only thing that caused her stomach to tighten [besides the obvious] was how he'd react to this news. It wasn't as though he was in a very good position to be preoccupied for elsewhere. Though the ending time Thomas had to be there came closer, he'd probably be preparing to leave soon anyway.
Although this unsettling feeling never resolved, Rio decided to tell him anyway, he of all people should at least know.
This is getting pretty long, so I'll leave it here. It's not professional but I don't have much energy to continue it. There were moments I didn't want to finish it because of how long it turned out to be and I couldn't think of nicely worded sentences, but here it is. I'm more interested in a short story I'm thinking of [same couple]. I might come back to this afterwards if I get my head on straight.