Her grandmother had taken care of everything. Arabella wasn't sure just what she'd done or said to her father, but Yaakov had made it a point to avoid so much as direct eye contact with Arabella when they saw each other that afternoon. She came in to change into clean and undamaged clothing, and her father had been sitting outside watching the crowds pass by. He wasn't supposed to be there, as her grandmother insisted he'd found a way to keep busy earning his own keep for the day, but he'd been there… and hadn't so much as grunted at her appearance. He didn't mutter one word about her laziness or how she'd told on him. He didn't even spit in her direction.
Inside the tent, her mother had presented her with a brand new vest of rich red velvet with golden lace accents, something that would mold itself to her torso while helping keep the bandages she wore beneath a crème colored peasant shirt firmly in place. It went perfectly with a long black skirt of the same velvet material that was older but no less beautiful, also edged with lace but of a matching black instead of gold. Arabella had been surprised by her mothers' considerateness, but not argued. She'd only murmured a word of thanks, changed into the offered clothing, and hurried out before her father could change his mood.
Due to her grandmothers' strict orders, she was not going to be dancing at all for the next two or three days. That freed her time up considerably to do chores such as laundry in the nearby river… or even to witness one of Erik' performances first hand. She'd already heard rumors - since waking at around noon - he'd not only been allowed out of his cage, but out of his tent. She was curious just how Sven, Vlad, and Adnah had managed to set up space they felt secure allowing him in without fearing an escape attempt… or without permitting people to see their freak without payment.
The rumors had been mistaken. Much to the dismay of his captors, Erik had managed to slice his portion of the tent into giant strips of cloth that could be drawn to the side in multiple open doorways. No doubt one of the gypsy men had done the trick themselves, but to Arabella it seemed like an ingenious trick. At night, they could again release the canvas squares and strips to hide the area and cage, again giving Erik privacy. It was astounding to see so many people trying to swarm into the newly created atrium, only to be held back until payment was given to one of the three men keeping a close eye on the proceedings.
She stood outside at a distance, not wanting to disturb Erik by being seen as a witness to his public display… but she could still make out his shadow from where she stood, and hear the strains of his voice carrying to her.
She'd never heard it used in such a way. The noise, even at a distance, had the sharp edge of razor blades which rasped along her skin and made her feel like a whipped dog. It was amazing just how much emotion Erik could convey with that weapon he called a voice. She hoped to god it would not one day be aimed directly at her.
She stayed in the area for most of the afternoon, not caring that she submitted herself to such vocal hatred. She'd endured much worse in her relatively short life span, and Erik's punishing voice was not enough to scare her away… especially when she wasn't in the thickest cloud of sound. It was just comforting to have some time to herself, knowing that Yaakov could not touch her – at least for the time being.
Her blissful near-solitude was intruded on just before dusk as her mother found her and strode up to her carrying a pile of blankets.
"Come." She said simply in a no-nonsense voice. Arabella had never seen her mother looking so sober, although the woman's eyes were still bloodshot form near-constant state of inebriation.
"Where?" she asked curiously, taking some of the burden as her mother offered it to her.
"Ofelia is about to have her baby." Her mother stated simply. "You're going to assist me. You can't dance to earn your own keep for a few days, so you're going to come be a midwife assistant."
A midwife? Arabella's eyes widened. She'd known that whatever her mother did to earn her keep, it didn't require constant attention on a day to day basis… but she'd never dreamed her mother made her living helping new life into the world! All she'd ever known was that her mother had been born without Tsifia's gift of sight – a fickle gift that tended to skip generations at a time and was sporadic when it came.
Giving Erik's crowded atrium one last glance, she obediently followed her mother… daring to wonder if this would bring her and her mother closer together. It was probably far too late for that, but she'd heard of stranger things happening.
It was an exhausting night, and Arabella felt almost as drained as she had the previous morning y the time she trudged to her tent with her mother and fell face-down onto her pallet to sleep. The child was in tenuous condition, and the camp would be praying for its survival… but it had been delivered as safely as possible under the conditions of a breach birth. Her mother had done everything she could, patient enough to explain every single thing she did or order she gave in a way she'd never so much as taught Arabella how to dress herself. It had been… an experience…
But it had also been heartbreaking to walk out of that tent, where Ofelia clutched her newborn son in her arms and wept profusely while raying aloud that God not take away her heir.
Time passed. Arabella continued to help her mother in daily tasks, and began to dance once again as her body healed. Her father didn't keep up his hands-off behavior, but someone had clearly made him wary of causing such damage ever again. He still wanted what he wanted – and when he wanted it… But he didn't use the same force or violence. If it weren't for the fact that he was her father and had a foul temper that could never remain totally in check, Arabella would have almost mistaken him for an overbearing but mostly harmless husband.
She spent much of her free time with Sarima and her family, glad to help out in the preparations for her friends' upcoming wedding. They didn't often have formal ceremonies for such occasions, preferring to celebrate with feasts… but the fact that her friend was marrying the son of their personal little kingdom made it a particularly special event. It didn't even matter that her groom was not definitively next-in-line for the humble title his father held, considering that was not how their people worked. Their leaders were voted on, not born into the privilege.
It was nice to feel like a silly girl again, as Sarima's excitement was absolutely contagious and disarming.
Occasionally, Adnah would manage to catch her in a few minutes alone, and she would somehow force her way through a pleasant conversation with him. It became clear very quickly that he'd lost any desire to discuss Erik with her, although he indulged her just enough so that they were both aware their agreement was still intact. Something had changed about the gypsy man since the night he'd roughly roused her out of Erik's comforting arms. She had a feeling that it had something to do with jealousy, but she could only hazard the vaguest of guesses at that. Unless it was clear physical attraction, she had rarely been able to decipher men and their emotions or motives.
Erik himself was slowly gaining more and more freedom as he proved himself trustworthy to his captors. They never let him forget that he was a possession to them, but it was actually becoming quite common to see him outside of the tent during the early mornings and late afternoons. He kept to himself mostly, although he'd sometimes exchange brief conversation with his captors or the other Freaks – particularly Gloria, since she was the one who shared his native language.
It was clear by the few moments she ever did manage to spend with him that his learning of her languages was improving in leaps and bounds. Very soon it would be to the point where she would understand the rare French he used when unable to find the correct Spanish or Romani phrase. Not long after that, he wouldn't need French at all, although she had no doubt he'd continue using it.
His accommodations seemed to be improving as well. Each time Arabella saw him, he was wearing a new piece of clothing. True, the clothes were too large or small for him, and didn't match in the least… but Erik managed to do something to them that gave them a semblance of fashion and real style. It amused her any time she caught a glimpse to see his growing confidence and how he began partaking in a little bit of gypsy life outside of his performances. He wasn't really included, and many in the camp still shied away or spat in his path to ward off evil… but he wasn't actively assaulted as much as she would have expected. It actually made her wonder just what he'd done that wasn't spreading around as outlandish rumor, for him to earn such a wary place in the community.
His language, too, was massively improving. Since her visits were becoming so rare and shortened with her added duties, she was impressed by his grasp on both her tongues… although he seemed less willing to speak them to others unless strictly necessary. Had she the time, she would have been vastly happy to learn his language the way he was so intently trying to learn hers.
Once she was completely better – about two weeks after she started dancing again – Yaakov told her mother that it was time she went back to her normal duties. She was only going to dance for her room and board again, and that would mean her father having every reason to keep a much closer eye on her. There was nothing anyone could really say about it, and even less they could do without informing the entire community of their deplorable family drama. But Arabella found she almost didn't mind. His brutality remained at a minimum, even if he did exercise his whims on her more frequently. Her schedule was one again much more free first thing in the mornings and at night, meaning that she was able to thoroughly enjoy Sarima's wedding ceremony and feast once it finally came around.
It was only three days away by the time she realized Erik had been wandering the camp virtually unguarded for hours without reprimand, well past his usual time for being locked up in his cage.
A/N: I know, I know! Painfully short chapter! But now we can finally get drawn into the real relationship, now that some of that pesky filler I was obsessed with is out of my way!