By the time the camp settled into a new place, Erik was seeing Arabella almost everywhere he turned. Whereas previously she would live her own life apart from his, only stepping in occasionally to make light conversation or ask if he needed anything, she now went very much out of her way to include him. She danced for the crowds closer to the red tent he lived in. Each evening, after presumably cooking dinner for her family, she would bring her own plate – and one for him – over to the tent and suggest he start a fire for them to keep warm. They would then spend two or three hours sitting by those fires, talking quietly, sharing little games, and sometimes even sharing in their skills. There were times when he would sing for her right out in the open, and she would decide to dance around the fire.
One day, she even brought him an old violin.
"You said you could play just about anything." She pointed out at his flabbergasted but grateful reaction. "It's the only thing that was kept after my grandfather passed away… because it wasn't technically his. He'd gotten it to teach me."
That was how Erik learned that when someone passed away, all of their personal belongings – and even their homes – were destroyed.
Not long after the violin had been bestowed upon him, Arabella came to their campfire with a wooden alto recorder, although she called it a flute due to her lack of knowledge on just how many different types of instruments existed in the world. It was definitely an item he'd never received, and although of very old and only barely adequate quality, he relished the smaller gift over the violin. It was a new challenge for him to seize, and was certainly one Arabella enjoyed watching him struggle through.
"It makes me think I've gone back in time." She sighed contentedly one evening, as she sat leaning against a tree while he played perched on a stool closer to the fire. Her eyes were closed, and he warmed at the ghost of a smile on her face. "Why is that? Why would I feel like should be in the court of King Arthur and Lady Guinevere?"
Erik pulled his lips from the instrument and grinned.
"You know that story?" he asked with only mild surprise. The gypsies were a secular community, but it didn't make them completely ignorant of the world around them.
"Doesn't everyone?" she challenged, cracking one eye open to give him a half-hearted glare. Slowly both eyes opened and she peered around at the deep shades of blue and black that made up the night. "I wonder what time it is… My father will probably come roaring for me soon…"
Erik shuddered. Since the wedding feast, he'd become close enough to Arabella to realize – although she never admitted such a thing – that her father was a bit more than a loud voice of anger. He had no doubt whatsoever that when Arabella returned to her fathers' impatient and angry call each night, she was probably returning to a hell full of bruises and scars… just as he still occasionally suffered with his own captors. His were fewer and farther between, and they often came with less intensity as he slowly built up his confidence and their wary trust. Bella however… her torment had no light at the end of the tunnel… not that he could see from the distance she kept him at.
If she would just talk to him… acknowledge his suspicions with concrete evidence of what her father did… Erik knew he would probably try to intervene. It was terrible, whenever she appeared before him with the fresh shadow of a bruise on one jaw, or walking cautiously on a hurting leg. But he hardly saw her every moment of every day. For all he knew, it was her mother causing the physical abuse – or even her grandmother or a stranger. He could hardly sneak around her tsera and wait for the proof to reach his eyes or ears. The moment Arabella left his company, his captors circled in closer, wanting to herd him into his tent for the evening.
At least the cage was more a formality these days. He knew that soon – very soon if he played his cards right – that his captors would forgo the wretched thing altogether. They were beginning to fear him to some degree, as the pranks he'd often played on his mother had taken a new and darker turn here in the campground. Having freedom during the day allowed him to steal more than just a bit of money from the crowds. His tools of mischief were making him have quite a reputation… and Arabella seemed to be the only one who hadn't heard of it.
He sat with the recorder rolling between his palms, and he stared down at it as his thoughts returned to the young woman all but lying just beyond his shoulder.
"May I ask you something… personal?" he queried warily.
She sat up and looked at him curiously. He asked her things all the time, but rarely asked permission first.
"All right." She conceded.
Erik hesitated a little longer, knowing that he was about to tread on land it had been made quite obvious early on that she wasn't comfortable with.
"You're… of marrying age." He stated slowly. "But you have no obvious suitors – other than Adnah, and both of you have made your positions perfectly clear… I think…"
He glanced at her questioningly, and she nodded with great reluctance.
"I've told him that just because we can be friendly now, I have no intentions at all of allowing him to pursue me." She expanded. "He hasn't bowed out gracefully yet… but I'm hoping he will soon."
Erik bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and then turned to stare back down at his instrument.
"Why aren't you interested in marrying?" he asked. "Wouldn't marrying someone nice – even if you weren't in love with them – be better than your father harassing you all the time?"
"When I leave my father's tent, it will be to forsake men completely." Arabella stated, although her voice went light and airy as though it were not a topic that bothered her or should bother him. She lay back in the grass once more and closed her eyes with a repeated sigh.
"But… why?" Erik dared uneasily. "What would be so bad about it?"
She rolled to face away from him, staring towards the majority of the gypsy encampment. When he glanced back, he could read the extreme tension in her shoulders.
"I can't be a real wife to anyone." She murmured almost inaudibly. "Just thoughts of laying with a man… any man… makes me feel so sick inside that it's like having scarlet fever."
His slowly turned towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"I'm not sure I understand…" he confessed.
Arabella rolled over and stared up at him with eyes he was surprised glistened with tears.
"I'm marime." She breathed.
Erik stared at her endlessly, realizing in dismay that this was a Romani word he'd never heard before. By her use of it, the definition couldn't be anything pleasant… and he knew by her choice of the alien word that she wasn't about to go into further detail. She had been open with him by answering his question at all, but this was something she clearly felt much too ashamed to talk about.
"Does… marime… prevent you from marrying according to the laws of your people?"
"There are … consequences." She admitted slowly. "I could be purified by ritual, but… it wouldn't help the men of this camp want me. But, as I said, it's I who don't want them."
Erik nodded; watching as she slowly climbed to her feet and brushed off blades of grass and fallen leaves from her clothing. She shook her head in an effort to dislodge the same earthy ornaments from her braided hair, but it did almost no good whatsoever. Standing, Erik cautiously approached her and lifted a hand to help. He hesitated with his hands in the air when she stiffened, leaning away from him in surprise
"What-?" she demanded, using a sharp and mistrusting tone she'd never used on him before. It hurt his heart a little, but he stood his ground. He wasn't going to flinch away as she just had… He'd grown too much in his own confidence since being freed from his cage.
"I just want to help." He explained tenderly, chuckling softly to reassure her. "Your hair looks like a wreath."
"Oh…"
She straightened up and took a step closer to him, although her body remained wary and tense. Deftly, Erik began removing the debris piece by piece out of her strands, accidentally pulling a few strands loose so that they framed her face in threads that gleamed slightly in the firelight.
A clearing of a throat made them jump apart in surprise, both of their faces looking almost guilty as they turned to see who had intruded upon them.
Adnah stepped into the ring of light the fire offered, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave them an even and cool stare.
"I need to speak with the mullo." He stated icily, flicking his eyes to Erik in disdain. For days on end now, his behavior towards Erik had become more antagonistic than usual. Erik didn't seem to care about it, but Arabella couldn't help but bristle in indignation.
"Don't you call him that!" she hissed, taking another step away from Erik, although its' purpose was to separate her even further from Adnah. "His name is Erik!"
Erik glanced at her in surprise. She had heard Adnah and the others call him their disgusting pet names plenty in the past, and never said a word in his defense. Apparently, she had reached the end of her tolerance. As surprised as he was, though, Adnah seemed to barely flicker more than an eyelash. He … was not in the least surprised. He didn't even twitch at her rage. Instead, he let his arms fall to his sides as he squared his shoulders.
"It's time you should be in your tent with your parents." He stated. "Let's go… Erik."
"I am not your child to order around!" Arabella nearly shrieked, making Erik's shoulders hunch up protectively towards his ears. "He is not your possession! Go mind your own business, and stay away from us!"
Adnah spun so fast to face her that Erik momentarily thought he was going to strike her.
"Us?" he echoed harshly. "Us, is it? You divio, dinilo ghel! How dare you side with one like him?"
Arabella opened her mouth to further argue, but Erik quickly stepped between the two, having seen that there were others starting to witness the confrontation. Whatever Arabella had been referring to when she said she was marime, he knew her friendship with him had strained things further already. He didn't want her so openly defying one of his captors and ostracizing herself further on his account. He also knew that Adnah, in his current state, was most likely to take his rage out on his captive, and Erik did not want to be beaten even once more by the puling brat of a man. Fighting to protect himself would only land him in the cage again… but he'd never just lie down and accept a thrashing again. It was better to step in and get slightly knocked about than to incur the wrath of a man he just might kill in self-defense.
"She means well to anyone in dire straits." He said quickly, his voice low and even, pouring what he could into his voice to diffuse the situation. "It isn't me she's siding with."
Adnah's lips curled back in a sneer, making him look a great deal like a snarling wolf as he reached out to yank at the back of Erik's head and thrust him in the direction of the red tent. His clumsy fingers caught the edge of Erik' pathetic cloth mask, tearing it from his face so that it hung like a used tissue onto the ground.
Erik didn't so much as bend to pick it up again. He merely kept walking as though Adnah hadn't managed to lay so much as a fingernail on him. He kept his back rigid, and hi eyes forward.
"Adnah!" Arabella yelled, making him cringe and wince in horror. What had gotten into her lately? Why had her temper flared like a fire out of control? "Don't you hurt him! Do you hear me? If I see one mark on him tomorrow, I'll tear the skin from your face, and see how well you seduce poor unsuspecting girls then!"
"Tomorrow." Adnah sneered under his breath as he stalked with Erik back toward the tent. "You're not seeing each other tomorrow, or any day soon…"
Erik shuddered, his skin crawling and his blood running cold. What kind of hellish scheme did the gypsy have in mind now?
He expected Adnah to make him climb into his cage, but instead the man rushed up behind him the instant they were alone in the closed-off section of tent and threw him by the shoulders into the side of it. Erik gasped in surprise, having expected a blow at least but not knowing he'd been about to be tossed like so much garbage. The cold iron corner of the cage dug into his diaphragm, knocking the air from his lungs as he rolled to the ground and stared up at Adnah warily. He'd never seen this particular gypsy so red in the face with rage.
He struggled to stand, trying to ignore the pain and how his eyes danced with black dots from lack of proper oxygen.
"What kind of spell have you got her under, Shimulo?" Adnah hissed, lunging forward again – this time to seize Erik by the collar of his shirt. Again, Erik lost his balance and was shoved into the cage, backward this time. Adnah had simultaneously lifted him, making it so that he all but sat perched on the edge of the prison and was leaned backward. Erik grabbed at Adnah's wrists automatically and dug his nails in to defend himself. "You don't touch our women. You don't speak to them. You don't look at them! You dirty everything you touch with your undead eyes!"
"I haven't touched her!" Erik protested, dragging his fingernails onto Adnah's hands so that the main hissed in pain and released him with a hard shove. A moment later, the gypsy had grabbed him by the shins and yanked him hard from the cage, making him drop to the ground and again lose his breath.
"Ah! S-she-she… she's… friend… my… friend…"
"You have no friends here." Adnah spat, giving Erik two harsh kicks in the side. "Go near her again, and I'll castrate you! Arabella. Is. Mine."
Arabella had started to follow, knowing that Adnah would take his rage out on Erik. But she was feeling cold all over, shaky and nauseous. The cold was from the horror of knowing Adnah was furious with her and Erik, and was most likely going to take his rage out on her friend. She didn't know where the shaking and nausea came from. Before she could stalk more than a dozen steps after them, she found herself needing desperately to detour behind a clump of shrubs at the edge of the campground clearing. She collapsed to her hands and knees, her entire abdomen cramping as she was agonizingly ill.
Immediately, she felt better… although the pain in her abdomen remained.
She shakily wiped at the back of her mouth, spitting multiple times in disgust before looking back up towards the red tent where Adnah had dragged Erik. Considering her vile detour, it was no surprise both men were already well out of sight.
Damn! She thought. Adnah had already pulled Erik off, and no doubt whatever damage he planned for Erik had already been carried out. But she wasn't going to forget or forgive this evening. There would be no escape from her tomorrow, when she cornered Adnah.
For the time being though… it would probably be best to let all their tempers cool.
Honestly… she wondered as she turned towards her parent's tsera. What had gotten her so swiftly riled up like that?
Mullo: Corpse
Dinilo: Idiot
Ghel: Girl
Shimulo: Vampire (literally: The Walking Dead)