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Sage had nodded along when Jora moved along with the idea of preserving the food. Good, she also knew well enough what to do in this sort of situation. He trusted her. She'd been in these sorts of similar situations before, after all. But getting Lyra excited about it, and not letting her know that anything was wrong was important. He didn't want her scared. She didn't deserve the sufferings he and Jora had needed to face in their own paths. He wouldn't let that happen to her. After cutting the fruit up for a bit, he handed the knife over to Jora, humming a "I'll go see if I can find a deer or something," before pecking her cheek and moving to grab a bow and plenty of arrows, as well as a few daggers and knives. He'd find as much meat as he could out there, and they'd have enough time to dry it out. Hopefully they would have enough for...however long this took. Well, hopefully they wouldn't need to hide out at all, or be locked in their own home or....well, anything bad really. But his gut told him things could get nasty. And he wasn't just going to ignore it. So, they'd need food and water. And he'd bring as much of both back as he possibly could. |
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Jora watched him for a moment longer than she needed to, fingers curling around the knife as he passed it to her. She didn’t say anything right away—just gave a small nod, steady and sure, the kind meant to anchor rather than alarm. She trusted that instinct of his, even when she didn’t like what it hinted at. Especially then. “I’ll keep her busy,” she said quietly, voice low so Lyra wouldn’t catch the weight behind it. There was a softness there, but also resolve. “Make it a game. She can help me sort, maybe count pieces. She’ll think it’s fun.” A pause, then a faint, wry smile. “She always does.” She leaned into his peck without thinking, her free hand briefly catching the front of his shirt before letting go. Just a second longer than necessary. Grounding. “Be careful,” she added—not sharp, not fearful. Just firm. The way she always was with him. “And don’t push yourself just to bring back more than you should. We need you more than we need meat.” As he turned to gather his things, Jora forced herself to look back down at the counter, focusing on the rhythm of cutting fruit, on keeping her breathing even. Panic wouldn’t help. Preparation would. “We’ll be here when you get back,” she called after him, glancing up once more, meeting his eyes. There was no doubt in her expression—only faith. “All of us.” |
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Sage nodded as jora promised to keep Lyra busy, a small smile forming on his face when she mentioned she always enjoyed helping out. "She always has been a good helper," he hummed softly in agreement. He threw Lyra a fond look before his gaze moved back to Jora, since she'd kept talking by then. He lingered there with her for a moment longer than necessary, as she grabbed a hold of his shirt, nodding along to her comments. "Don't worry, I'll be alright," he hummed softly. The ship was still far enough out for them to be safe enough. At least for a moment. Nerves were churning in his own stomach as he turned to move out the door, pausing and glancing back at jora as she promised to be here when he got back, and he offered her a small smile. "Wish me luck then," he hummed fondly, before slipping out the door and hurrying into the woods. Luckily, he picked up a deer trail quickly, and was able to follow it to a water hole. There were no deer there at the moment, but he settled down to wait, forcing himself to stay still despite his nerves. After a few hours, a decently sized buck came down to the waters edge, and sage wasted no time in shooting it. When it fell, he let out a breath of relief, and moved to prepare it quickly. As he was dragging it back to the cabin, he took out any bird game or squirrels he could find as well, stringing them up and dragging them along. It wasn't a huge variety of meat, but it would last them a few weeks at the very least. He moved to build a fire quickly once he was back at the cabin, working at getting the smoker set up and running so they could dry out more meat at a time. It was old, left over from whoever was here before ...but it worked well enough. |
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Jora watched him go with her hand still curled in the fabric of his shirt, only letting go at the very last second. She didn’t follow him to the edge of the trees—didn’t call after him either. She knew better than to distract him now. Still, her eyes tracked his shape until the forest swallowed him whole, until the world felt just a little too quiet again. She exhaled slowly. “I will,” she murmured under her breath, a promise meant for him alone, even after he was gone. The hours he was away stretched thin. Jora kept herself busy—kept Lyra busy, just like she’d said she would. They washed fruit, laid strips out to dry, practiced tying bundles with twine. Lyra chattered happily, blissfully unaware of the tension coiled tight beneath Jora’s ribs, and Jora matched her energy with practiced ease. She smiled. She laughed. She made it normal. But every so often, her gaze drifted to the sea. The ship was closer now. Not close enough to see faces or flags—but close enough that there was no denying its intent. Jora marked its progress carefully, committing angles and distance to memory, her mind quietly mapping contingencies. Hide routes. Supplies. What she could carry if she had to. Her hand found her stomach more than once. Stay, she urged silently—to the baby, to Sage, to the fragile peace of this place. When she finally heard movement beyond the cabin—the scrape of weight being dragged, the familiar rhythm of Sage’s steps—relief hit her so hard she had to brace herself against the counter. She moved to the doorway just as he emerged from the trees, laden with game, dirt-smudged and alive. Thank the gods. She didn’t rush him. Didn’t smother him. She simply stood there, watching as he went straight to work, efficient and focused, building the fire and setting up the smoker like someone who understood exactly what was at stake. “You did good,” she said quietly, stepping closer at last. Her hand slid to his arm, fingers curling there just long enough to feel his warmth. Solid. Real. “This will buy us time.” Her eyes flicked briefly back toward the water, then returned to him, sharper now—but steady. “We’ll salt and smoke as much as we can tonight,” she continued. “Pack light essentials too. Just in case.” A pause. Then, softer, meant only for him: “I’m glad you’re back.” She lingered beside him as the fire caught, the smoke curling up into the evening air—a signal, perhaps, but one she couldn’t afford not to send. Whatever was coming, they would meet it prepared. Together. |
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(Decided to add more) Jora stepped back slightly, giving Sage room to move, but she stayed close enough to catch every flicker of his motion. Her eyes never left him, even as he worked with precise efficiency, gutting the deer and stringing up smaller game with a quiet, steady focus. She could hear Lyra’s voice in the background, asking questions about the meat, about the fire, and for the first time in hours, Jora allowed herself a small, quiet laugh. The normalcy of it, the ordinary sounds of their life, were almost painful in how precious they felt. “We’ll have enough to last a while,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, letting her gaze drift back toward the horizon. The ship was still out there, inching closer, its dark silhouette a constant reminder that their bubble of safety was fragile. Her hand lifted instinctively to her stomach again, rubbing slow circles over it as if she could will the danger away, protect them all with a touch. Her mind raced quietly through contingencies—if the ship docked, if they sent anyone ashore, if they had to flee into the forest. Every scenario ended with her, Sage, and Lyra together. Every scenario included the baby safe, hidden, and untouched. She swallowed the tension pressing at her chest and turned her attention back to Sage. “You’ve done enough for one day,” she said softly, letting her fingers brush against his arm. “Rest a little while. I’ll help keep the fire going, make sure nothing burns.” Her voice was steady, calm—but every syllable carried the weight of urgency she couldn’t shake. She glanced back to Lyra, who was beginning to help more actively, patting meat into the smoker, laughing at the smoke curling upward. Jora felt a swell of protectiveness, fierce and raw. She would not let anything touch this moment, not the life they were carving out here, not the family they had built. Turning back to Sage, she pressed a brief kiss to his shoulder. “We’re ready,” she whispered, quiet but certain. “And whatever comes, we face it as one. No one is left behind.” Her eyes flicked toward the horizon once more, calculating, watching, waiting. The ship was closer now, its intent still uncertain—but she was ready. She would make sure they were ready. And no matter what, she would protect them all. |
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(all good! Sage had focused in on the meat and the fire that was now starting to warm up the kitchen and such, wanting to get as much as possible scraped off the bone and cooked. Every little scrap of meat could mean the difference between survival and.... something much worse. The difference between their daughter being hungry and afraid or not. The difference between a healthy baby or.... suddenly the idea that they could loose this child if they didn't have enough to eat, and he doubled down on the cooking with a set jaw. He didn't notice how long he'd been at it until Jora approached him, telling him to rest. He glanced back at the food with a sigh, not wanting to stop. Not wanting to leave the work that was so important. But she was right, he needed rest. He could feel exhaustion weighing his limbs down, burning his eyes. "You need rest too," he murmured though. "More than I do now too," he added, glancing at her stomach as he stood from where he was kneeling, a grunt pulling itself from his mouth as his knees protested the movement. "I hope you're right," he murmured, glancing out the window at the dark spot on the horizon steadily moving closer. He did move to wash up a little bit ...at least get the blood and deer hair off of him. The warm water felt good on his muscles anyway, given that he was tense. He knew it...he'd expected to be that way. But he didn't want to linger there for too long, so he moved back to the kitchen tiredly after maybe twenty minutes or so. |
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Jora watched him with a quiet intensity as he worked, the way his shoulders stayed tight, the way his hands moved with almost punishing precision. She recognized it for what it was—fear sharpened into purpose. Love turned into labor. It made her chest ache. When he finally stood and insisted she rest too, her mouth curved into a faint, knowing smile. “I will,” she promised softly, though they both knew she wouldn’t—not really. Not while there was still light to use and smoke to tend. Her gaze followed his glance to her stomach, and her hand settled there again, protective, grounding. “I’m okay,” she said, steady and certain. “I’ll tell you when I’m not.” She watched him wash up, listened to the muted sounds of water and movement, and used the moment to quietly check everything again—meat spacing, smoke flow, the fire’s breath. When he returned, tired written plainly across his face, she stepped closer without a word and took his hands, still warm, still real. “Sit,” she told him gently, but firmly, guiding him toward the bench. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” She squeezed his fingers once before letting go, turning back to the work herself. If he needed to see her moving—steady, capable—she would give him that. Outside, the sky had begun to deepen into evening. The ship was closer now, undeniably so. Jora felt it like a pressure at her back, but she didn’t turn. Not yet. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at Sage, her expression softening just enough for him alone. “We’re doing what we can,” she said quietly. “That’s all anyone ever can do.” And beneath the smoke and the fear and the encroaching unknown, her resolve hardened—unyielding, immovable. Whatever was coming, it would not take them unprepared. Not her family. Not tonight. |
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Sage had nodded slowly with a sigh, letting Jora lead him over to the bench and sitting down. She was right...he knew that. He'd need rest, especially if the next bit of time was going to be trying. He needed to be aware. Needed his mind to work as well as it possibly could. He tried to relax against the bench, eyes following Jora as she moved back to the ovens and cooking meat. It was barely any time before he'd passed out there, head resting on his arms on the table. He'd tried to stay awake, he really had, but his eyes had glazed over and his body had taken over. It was quick enough he'd heard her words but hadn't been able to respond more than a sort of grunt as he slipped into unconsciousness. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but when he woke he jerked upwards with a sort of yelp, looking around for a moment and taking in the now completely dark sky, hissing curses under his breath as he stood and moved quickly towards the still smoking meat, looking it over as if something had gone wrong. He relaxed slightly when he noticed it was all still just fine, of course, moving to peer out the window and biting his lip when he noticed the ship. He could make out details on the hull now, and as he watched it move closer and he saw the family crest on the hull, he felt the blood drain from his face as he staggered backwards from the window, panic taking over his mind as his legs gave out and he just....sat down hard on the middle of the living room, pulse pounding in his ears. |
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Jora had been kneeling beside the smoker, checking the drying meat one last time before tending the fire, when she heard the sudden yelp from Sage. She froze, heart thudding instantly, and spun toward him. The sight that met her eyes made her stomach drop—the color drained from his face, eyes wide and fixed on something outside the window. Without thinking, Jora crossed the room in long, swift strides, reaching him just as he sank to the floor, knees giving way under panic. She dropped beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other finding his wrist, gripping it firmly. “Sage,” she murmured, low but fierce, leaning close enough that her forehead brushed his temple. “Look at me.” Her voice was calm, unwavering, but it carried every ounce of the steel she felt inside. “Breathe. Focus. I’ve got you.” He tried to speak, stammered, words lost in the rush of fear, and she pressed a finger lightly to his lips. “No. Not now. Not yet. Just… breathe with me.” She guided his shoulders upright, hands steadying him, heart hammering against his. Her eyes flicked to the window for a moment, noting the ship moving ever closer, before returning to him. She slid an arm around his back, anchoring him to her side. Her other hand pressed over his hand as it rested against her stomach. “We face them together,” she whispered. “No one goes alone. No one gets left behind. You’re not losing this family—not while I can stop it.” Jora’s gaze hardened, sharp and precise, full of fire beneath the soft glow of the cabin. “Now, calm down,” she said, voice firm. “We’ve got time. Enough time to plan. You’re not doing this by yourself.” She held him there, grounding him, letting the panic ebb just enough to be replaced by resolve. Whatever came next, they would meet it as one. And she wouldn’t let the fear take him—not now, not ever. |
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Sage had been lost in memories, old bits and pieces of his past coming back and flashing before his eyes. Haunting him. He couldn't focus, couldn't get them out of his head. He just sat there, chest heaving as he fought for breath, just trying to focus himself. And he had to admit he was failing miserably. He knew he should. He was screaming at himself to do so.....but he couldn't. He was frozen, eyes fixed on the symbol painted onto the sips hull. Then Jora was there, wrapping herself around him, providing the support she knew he needed. She'd seen him panic before, of course....after nightmares, and things like that. But this was different. Worse. "Jora," he sort of breathed, trying to explain what was happening. Warn her of what was coming. But he couldn't form words. Couldn't breathe. Her finger had stopped his useless babbling though, and he just melted into her, trying to focus on her own breathing to slow his own. Her scent, her voice....the real things he could focus on. Use to ground himself. He did calm down after maybe five minutes or so, but remained curled up in joras arms, chest tight and gut twisting. "We have the night," he choked out, shaking his head. "That's not....it won't ever be enough time." Mayen he was being pessimistic about all this, but he'd escaped that life. Those people were dead. Except.... apparently they weren't. And he hadn't. And now they were threatening everything he held dear, and if she was there....he didn't know if he could fight her. Even now, after years free of her hand....she terrified him, more than anything else he could think of. |
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Sunny Day with a Full Moon tonight
