Wide eyed spy

I feel so guilty now. Several days ago Magda had come to the first fires to visit, the old spex/friend was disturbed by the fatigue she saw on my face. I looked older, as tired people do and when she commented on it I forced a smile, as tired women do.

"I am fine, Magda, you are overreacting, you always do."

She took the baby from me, clucking at me like a hen. "Go wash yourself, you look like you were bathed by a sleens tongue."

".. Thanks so much." I sighed, lifting a hand to my limp braid. I was rather hard pressed to recall my last hot bath alone. Magda left me, taking the children with her and I, realizing I had a few hours to myself and a bottle of turian skin oil left, smiled. I grabbed the bucket Catch had been using to keep my water barrels full and began the walk to the stream.

Halfway there though my steps slowed. I saw Karvek, the Uncle of Seveya. I had barely met him but once and had never gotten the impression he was a very.. approachable man. So, with that in mind, I did not approach him or speak to let him know I was watching. I was taken aback by what I saw. He was building, feeding a bon fire. I had seen the fire, of course, from my own wagon but assumed it was for a party or some celebration.

It was very clear to me that Karvek was not celebrating. I had only heard the news that morning and easily put two and two together. I'd never really seen anyone so openly angry before. Men tended to hide their anger from me, they tended to shield me from it. Apparently I was too delicate for anger? The idea always bothered me but watching this kind of anger made me a little bit grateful for the kid glove way I was often handled. I am not sure I would want to be privy to this kind of emotion from someone. Especially if directed at me.

I watched as leather canvas fell to the ground in ruined, defiled heaps. I stayed awhile, watching as he tore them into smaller bits and threw them, as if they were prickly bits of tangible thought, into the fire. I had such an urge to go and tell him to cut it out. That he was being .. too dramatic. That it was not as bad as it seemed. I had not thought he had even known Seveya that well. But then I really didn’t know much about how and what these days. I wanted to make that man a cup of tea he wouldn't drink and tell him to stop making a spectacle of himself. I wanted to smooth the dirty creases on his forehead and make it all right again.

I didn't.

I just watched until I heard someone calling my name and I, startled out of my own head, turned and quickly fled back to the fires of my own wagon where my children and smiles and happiness waited for me.

I'd spied on something I should not have and I suddenly felt much dirtier then I was. It’s been several days now and I walked by his wagons again this morning, on my way back from the stream and an early morning bath. He seemed to be gone and no wonder.. his wagon was.. uncovered.

I made a detour to see the leather workers. I like to fix things. By the time he returned there would be a new tarp on that wagon, but it would be plain and dull and much less.. interesting then the one Seveya had painted.

I found that to be really, very, sad.