sixthiterationlogs | 05 Trying her best [Open + 1 Closed]

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05 Trying her best [Open + 1 Closed]

WHO: Moana
WHERE: Cliffs & Inn
WHEN: March 17th - 18th
OPEN TO: Ned & ALL
WARNINGS: bruising, that's it.
STATUS: OPEN

Cliff – Closed for Ned

She stood at the bottom of the high cliff, her dark eyes scanning up towards the sky. It was the perfect place to begin her climb.

It wasn’t the greatest plan, Moana knew that, but that hasn’t stopped her before and it wasn’t going to stop her now. She was covered as best she could in clothing. If the fireflies returned, the only thing that she had to be careful of was her eyes which were fully exposed. Her hair was tied up and a rope that Moana had made was looped around her torso. The end of that rope was connected to her spear which was safely secured on her back. She was ready.

It would be difficult to climb in boots but Moana was determined to see her plan through to the end.

Climbing was second nature, at times she’d pause and have to search for a handhold or a place to put her boot but it wasn’t too difficult to make her way up the towering rock face. When she was about half way to her goal she paused and looked behind her. The valley expanded beneath her, there was no harsh brightness but she saw the heavy weight of the fog and the thick clouds that gathered ominously above them. It was beautiful in its own right; quiet, peaceful and still. As her eyes scanned the ground, she noticed that the walls circled the entire area. They really were stuck in a hole in the ground.

Before Moana was able to continue her ascent she spotted the flickering lights of the fireflies, rising up to meet her. She began to climb, faster than before, but there was no way for her to outrun the flying menace. Moana paused when they got closer. She waved a hand in front of her face, knowing that the rest of her frame was protected by several layers of clothing. Her fingers cramped as she struggled to keep herself flush against the rock face.

A first she felt weightless and then she was falling.

Moana screamed and then remembered that she had a plan B. She pulled the spear from her back, her muscles protesting as she twisted midair. She threw the spear upward; the rope unwinding around her torso as she continued her rapid decent. The pointed tip of the spear embedded into the rock face and the rope around her torso tightened. Her fall stopped with a sudden jolt, breaking her spear in half while dropping her the last 10 feet to the ground.

The hard impact of the ground vibrated uncomfortably through her while her spear landed somewhere to her right. Everything hurt but Moana wiggled her fingers and toes, as Jyn once told her too, confirming that she’d heal and it’d be fine.

"Ow..." She didn’t think she could stand but she knew it wasn’t safe to continue flying prone on the forest floor.

Inn – Open

Moana had decided take the time to heal after Ned found her at the base of the cliff. She was lucky that she didn’t get stung; however she was bruised from head to toe and sore. Her plan didn’t work, which was fine, because now she knew not to do that.

She spent the next day or so around the inn, wearing a tank top with the provided navy blue scrub bottoms. This gave anyone looking a clear view of the lightning scar across her shoulder and back as well as the dark purple and black bruises that trailed from the base of her neck, all the way down to the heel of her foot. Sitting was difficult but Moana could be found standing next to the fire, her arm leaning against the wall to keep her upright while she focused on the task in front of her.

She had decided to work on a new project. Making long strings, like nets and ropes, was boring. Instead, Moana started to work on something more complicated. She used the same milkweed fibers as before. Her fingers nimbly dipped and weaved with the threads creating a lace like pattern that she hoped to turn into a necklace, bracelet or anklet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The inn was not one of Robb's regular haunts, but on the days when the hunt was good, he was happy to drop any extra meat at the kitchen there for the use of the village. Hands still damp from where he'd washed them at the kitchen basin, he paused on his way to the front door, recognizing the dark, wavy hair spilling over bare arms. He had turned, mouth open in greeting, but then faltered, his pleasant expression falling into one of concern.

"You were struck," he said as he took a step Moana's way, brow creased with worry. What he could see of the wound looked painful.

"Are you all right?"

Her fingers slipped between the fibers, weaving the threads so that the pattern slowly expanded within the palm of her hand. It was beautiful though she wished she had beads to thread between the braided threads.

It took Moana a moment to realize that Robb was talking to her. She turned, her large dark eyes looking over at him quizzically. It was easy to forget when she was focused on her work, however her movements brought a small twitch of pain to her expression. It was short lived and a smile quickly pulled across her lips.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I was struck by lighting a few weeks ago." The lightning scar had never healed fully and Moana didn't know that it twisted over the whole of her shoulder blade. "Jyn helped me but the mark never went away."

Moana hoped that he wasn't talking about the discoloration to her skin. She couldn't see the state of her back or know how bad the bruising might be. She couldn't think of a great way to explain that she tried to climb the walls of the canyon without sounding completely insane.

A few weeks ago. Now that he'd stepped closer, Robb could see that the wound was indeed healing, despite the lividness of the bruises. Sansa's was on her hip, a place she wasn't exactly in the habit of letting others see, so he had no idea how it was coming along beyond what she told him.

"I met Jyn," he said, just something to say; knowing the mark was an older one did little to settle his concern.

"My sister was struck, as well."

Moana turned her torso to look over at Robb. The bruises littering her back weren't important but Moana was mindful of them. If she moved the wrong way it'd hurt and at times the pain would be too much.

She had stopped moving her fingers though they remained trapped within the complicated twists of string. Her dark eyes looked worried but also curious. "Your sister?" Moana didn't know who his sister was or that it was someone she's met before. It didn't really matter. Either way the worry was there, twisting uncomfortably in her chest.

"Is she alright?" Her voiced lowered some as she tried to think of those she's seen moving through the village. Who'd been struck? She knew that one person had been killed. It had been a boy, which meant that Robb's sister was alive though it didn't offer more information than that.

"She is, yes, thank you," Robb replied with a quick bob of his head, and then offered a faint, chagrined smile. "I suppose I oughtn't worry so much about either of you; I have my doubts that you could be kept to a sick bed any longer than Sansa would. You may have met her, she certainly seems to know just about everyone." But then, she'd always been that way, even when she was small.

"I hope it doesn't pain you too much."

"I'm glad to hear it." Moana exhaled a breath of relief. "I've met her. Well, she helped me out just after I first arrived." Sansa had taught Moana a lot about snow and the cold. It was probably a strange thing to teach someone but coming from a tropical island had a lot of disadvantages. The cold seeped into her sink, chilling her to the bone. On top of that, Moana was in a constant battle against layering clothing. She hated how it restricted her movements. She also hated shoes which was why she chose not to wear them when she was inside.

"It isn't so bad." Her lips tugged into an unsure smile. "I can handle a little soreness." Almost drowning, being struck by lighting and now falling from a cliff: she at least found new ways to injure herself.

"I should be healed in a few days but I was told that the discoloration might take a few weeks to fade." Her skin was already tan but it only seemed to accent the dark purple bruises along her back. "How have you been?" Her eyes quickly scanned down his form, he looked well though Moana knew that could be misleading.

"I've been well," Robb replied, and then hesitated, smiling to himself. "Very well, actually. My father arrived not long ago. I hadn't thought I would ever see him again."

While it was true enough that his emotions about his father were no less complicated now than they ever had been, that there was still a twist in his stomach anytime he laid eyes on the man, the simple joy of having him alive and near again was undeniable.

"Apparently I continue to be lucky," he added. "You ought to join us for a meal some evening. It's a bit crowded, but we'd be glad to have you."

Moana's smile grew and brightened. It was easy to forget her own soreness in light of another's good news. "That's wonderful!" She didn't know the specifics of Robb's situation but she imagined that having his father here was better than not... even if fathers could be overbearing at times.

"I'd be happy to. Crowded meals are my favorite kind." That's how it'd always been in her village and it was something she missed. The inn was nice because she got to hear the heavy steps come and go but there was still a separation between those who stayed there. Everyone on her island had been her family and she felt their absence. "I'm sure I could find something to bring also."

Moana paused in her excitement and the thought about Robb's last name. "Oh, is your father's first name Ned?"

After briefly faltering, Robb let out a faint, astonished huff of laughter. Of course his father had gotten round the village and met everyone he could, and of course he looked straight out of Westeros, even in the queer clothing this place provided. One of the most daunting aspects of becoming lord of Winterfell himself was how he might manage to be so at ease with the mantle. You could look at Eddard Stark and instantly know he was a lord; Robb always felt as if he were simply muddling through.

"It is," he confirmed. "You've met him, then? I can't say I'm surprised, between the two of you."

Moana liked it when he laughed though it seemed to be short lived.

Dark brown eyes watched him curiously as he spoke. "Yes, we have." She didn't know how much of the story Robb was interested in but Moana owed his father for helping her. She'd probably be in worse shape now if it hadn't been for him.

"Why do you say that?" It sounded like he was implying something and Moana couldn't figure out exactly what. She knew herself but she didn't know Ned Stark very well.

"You're exceedingly friendly, and my father has a tendency to look after most everyone he knows. So it isn't surprising that you'd meet. Neither of you strike me as the sort to stay away from others." It honestly wouldn't surprise Robb at all if a fortnight from now, his father was practically running the whole place without even trying.

"I've no doubt he found you charming," he added with a smile. "I'm going to guess that you got on well."

Ned reminded her a lot of her father but she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He cared about people, that much was obvious. "That might be true. I'm used to having to work with others." She wanted others to be happy, it was something that was ingrained in her since she was very young. Her father had always intended for her to replace him and it affected her upbringing.

"Thank you for saying so but I think he found me reckless." Since she'd fallen from the rock wall. "We're friends." Moana was friends with most in the village.

"Friends?" Robb echoed, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, although his smile remained intact. Either Moana, with her open and effusive generosity, had a different definition of what constituted a friend than he had, or she and his father actually had lived up to their reputations when put together. Both scenarios were entirely likely.

"I hope you weren't doing anything so reckless as to warrant his disappointed look. It's a rather difficult one to get over, in my experience."

Moana made friends easily though it wasn't just because she was nice. She was passionate, open and intelligent. It was easy to charm those she meets. There was a part of Robb's father that reminded her of her own.

Would he be disappointed if he saw her now.

"Ah, I might have. I'm used to that look." She smiled a bit, her figure scratching at her cheek.

"It is common to fathers, I suppose," Robb allowed with a low chuckle, although he secretly believed that his own father was particularly gifted at it. Come to think of it, so was his mother. Neither of them needed say a word to make you feel terribly guilty about some ridiculous or selfish thing you'd done.

"But it sounds as if you made up in the end. I'm glad."

Despite all urges to the contrary, Ned has been trying to avoid hovering like a shadow in the lives of his children. He respects - and has always respected - their individuality, their sense of self. And though he doubts there would be a soul who, given the same circumstances, could blame him for his urge to interfere at all times, he tries to stay aware of interjecting too often or too much. So when he isn't with the family, he's meandering about the town, trying to learn the layout. He's been mostly staying towards the south, the location of the mysterious cabin that'd been set aside for him towards the southwest (too large a dwelling for one man, he thinks, but the two empty bedrooms feel like an indication of the necessity of prolonged hope for the last three members of his family to arrive). The blacksmith structure always seems to call to him, and often times, if he isn't mindful of the movements of his feet, they lead him there - perhaps the ghost of Gendry still in his mind, or perhaps in an attempt to find something familiar, something like home.

He's made his way more north this particular day, lingering towards the western border of the village, seeking solitude and time to clear his tempestuous thoughts. The remnants of the damage done and the demons created in the dungeon of King's Landing are hard to shake, though he knows there are no similar dangers here. He hears the unmistakable sound of a swarm of insects, screeching with their wings and then - a woman's scream.

All intent of isolation fades and in an instant, his soles pounding against the hardened earth - relying on his internal sense of direction and proprioceptive abilities to guide him to where he thinks she might be. He sees the shadow of a body descending to the ground, and though he tries - he's simply not close enough, not quick enough to get underneath her to break her fall. The sickening thud she makes against the compacted dirt makes his stomach lurch, but he ignores it - rushing instead to her side to place a hand on her shoulder, hesitant to move her in fear of exacerbating injury.

"Can you hear me?" he asks, voice urgent but masked with calm. "Are you all right?"

Edited 2017-03-17 15:56 (UTC)

Moana blinked; lights swam in front of her eyes are she tried to pull the world back into focus. She noticed the man hoovering above her but only because he was blocking out about 1/3 of her vision. She moaned softly and then slowly nodded her head to tell him that she was okay. She regretted that decision immediately. A sharp pain shot from her hip down her right leg. Moana had saved her life by using the spear to slow her fall but the sudden jolt of force to her waist had severely bruised her waist and pinched a nerve down her right leg.

She swallowed and quickly found her voice. "I'm fine. It hurts but I'll heal." She spoke between clenched teeth as her eyes looked back up towards the rock wall. "They're coming." She reached up, hoping to grab the man's shoulder and lift herself to her feet. She was able to raise her torso from the ground before she had to pause and catch her breath. Everything hurt but she'd have time to sit and think about that later.

"I don't want you to get bitten." He was her more immediate concern.

Her abs tensed and she rose herself using her core muscles. They were probably the only part of her that wasn't bruised. Her right leg felt useless, any movement shot another jolt of pain from her hip making her wince. Breathing was also difficult. Luckily, most of the pain was a dull ache. With the adrenaline pumping through her it wasn't to hard to ignore though Moana doubted that her endurance would last.

"Inn or water... to get away." She fought to breathe and the more she moved the more effort it took to inhale.

"Good, you're talking," Ned mutters softly, brushing the loose strands of hair from her forehead. Memories of Bran after he'd been pushed from the tower begin to trickle into his mind, like water through a fissure in a dam. He grits his teeth, pushes the ghosts away; he needs to focus on what's in front of him now, and getting this woman the aid she requires. Her ominous warning forces Ned's gaze upwards, wondering what it was she might be talking about, but the grappling at his shoulder drives his attention back. He braces her with a hand at her back, pushing only as much as she needs to sit herself upright. He thinks to ask about what might be coming, her admonition prickling his skin like a thousand needles, but decides to act first, ask later.

"I'm going to lift you," he warns, reaching down to slip an arm underneath her knees, the other coming around under her arms. "If anything hurts so much that you can't see straight, you have to tell me, all right?"

Moana looked up at him and tried to smile. It wasn't a very good smile but the effort was there. "Yeah." It was probably good fortune on Moana's part that this man had been the one to find her. He looked more like then men from her village, powerful and strong. She trusted that he'd be able to carry her and probably quick enough to avoid the stupid bugs that hoovered above them.

"Ah." She winched as he moved to lift her, her whole back hurt. "Thank you." She got the two words out in a rush before the pain twisted her voice into a muffled cry.

Moana was trying to be strong but pain wasn't something she was over familiar with. She was strong, stronger than most but she had her limits.

Ned hesitates at the sound of her stifled cries, but knowing that he had to bring her somewhere indoors, as well as the echoing warning she'd given him still bouncing around his skull, he presses onward. He tries his hardest to not shift her all that much in his arms, to soften the blows of each foot to the earth as much as he can. She isn't impossibly heavy, but Ned is not the young man he had once been. He strains a bit under the urgency of getting her to the inn; at least he knew the location of the building.

His gaze continually oscillates between the direction in which his feet furiously move and her face, trying his hardest to gauge her pain and discomfort. He exhales a quiet sigh of relief at the sight of the Inn's door, and once inside, he finds an empty chair and gently places her in it. His lungs burn, his muscles strained to the point of constant vibration, and there are trickles of sweat scurrying from his temples. Still, he offers her a smile.

"Let me fetch you something to drink," he says quietly before standing to approach the bar.

Moana winched when he placed her in the chair. She was thankful but it was hard and uncomfortable against the bruises along her back. Then again, she didn't think she could stand either so this was a good place for him to set her down.

She attempted to call back to him and tell him that she was fine but he was dashing off before she could.

It was fortunate that they made it inside without incident. Moana felt awful, not just because she failed but because she put someone else in danger during that time. She focused at the wooden floor before kicking the ground. That was a mistake. Pain flared up her side making her hunch forward. Her hair worked as a curtain against the rest of the room, allowing to make any painful expression she wanted.

Moana inhaled and exhaled slowly and when Ned returned she had managed to force herself to relax. She couldn't smile but she didn't look like she was in pain either. "Thank you... again." Her tone was sweet and earnest. "Sorry about this..."

Ned returns a few moments later with two different vessels in hand - one with water, the other with something fermented. He'd been told by his children that, unlike the water of home, what was here was safe enough to drink - no risk of disease or pestilence. All the same, the variety of wariness that had sunk its teeth into the mind of Eddard Stark was a resilient breed, thus forcing him to bring the other beverage as an option. Whatever she decides she'd rather not have, he would finish himself. There would be no inconsiderate waste of resources here.

He hoists a chair over towards her, staying respectable distance away while maintaining a semblance of proximity.

"By the Old Gods and the New, you owe me no apology!" His tone and expression indicate the absurdity of having even been offered one. "Is the pain bearable?" He wonders if they've anything like Milk of the Poppy here in the village - if not that exactly, then perhaps something similar; something to soothe the pain, bring about dreamless, restful sleep.

Moana took both of the drinks offered. She wasn't sure which to actually drink and taking both seemed to solve that problem. She took a sip from both and found that the drink that wasn't water began to ease the pain twisting and shooting down her side. She kept her smile though Ned most likely recognized the stress in her features.

Seat sat away from the back of the chair, her back straight to alleviate the stress and pain in her sides. Her joints screamed with pain but that was easy to ignore with the ache that settled long her spine. Moana can safely say that getting struck by lighting hurt more but healed faster than falling off the side of a cliff.

"Yeah." At least she was able to reply. Moana had to focus on breathing, on drinking, each task was taxing in it's own way but she was stubborn. "Thank you for your help. I owe you." She didn't think she could repay him for his help. "I'm Moana."

"Water," Ned gestures to the mug, "And - ale, I believe. I asked for something relatively strong, and that is what I was given." He'd let the aroma of it infiltrate his nostrils as he'd walked back over, and the scent of fermentation had been incredibly potent. He imagines that, with enough of the liquid, she wouldn't need anything like milk of the poppy; the ale or whatever it might have been would be more than strong enough.

"There is nothing you owe me," Ned replies quietly, lips twitching into a faint, warm smile. "Though your thoughtfulness will not be soon forgotten." He sits comfortably in his chair, though perhaps a bit more erect and alert than he would normally, had he been only socializing or resting. He won't find the ability to be at ease until he knows she's found safety. "Moana," he repeats thoughtfully. "I am Lord Eddard of House Stark." His children had told them that the slew of titles that had followed his name for so many years was was no longer necessary, and he has to press the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth in order to stop himself from letting them escape. "Moana. It is not a name with which I am familiar. What is your family name?"

Moana slowly nodded her head, her dark brown eyes flicking between the two liquids. "They're good. Thank you." It was strange to think of water as good but it was one of the joys that she found in this place. Water, no matter where she went, more or less tasted the same.

She exhaled and looked up from her drinks. "No. I made a mistake. I shouldn't have tried to climb the cliff." Just like she shouldn't have tried to leave the island. Moana didn't really learn from her mistakes. "Yeah. I'm Moana Waialiki of the island of Motunui. Most haven't heard of my island but it really is a wonderful place." She smiled fondly.

She knew that they would be going on well without her but she couldn't help but be worried about her home.

"It certainly does not seem an activity befitting a young woman," Ned begins, images of his son, Bran, flashing across his mind. How surefooted he had been, how many hours he'd spend climbing the walls and garrisons of Winterfell. He wills the darker thoughts away, the ones that spoke of attempted murders and the Lannisters. "What was it you were hoping to find by climbing?" He thinks to ask whether she'd been looking for a way out of the town, but thinks it is too personal a subject for someone she has only just met.

"Forgive me," Ned replies with a quiet laugh, "In my failed attempts at pronouncing your family name. I am afraid my tongue is not acquainted with those sounds. Wai- Waiakali?" He shakes his head, knows he has pronounced it improperly. "I will learn it, soon enough."

"Don't worry about it. You can call me Moana if it's easier."

Moana exhaled, her smile falling and being replaced by a more serious stare. Her shoulders were straight and her figured exuded confidence though it's source wasn't entirely clear. "We're here for a reason." She began as she let her eyes lock with Ned's. "My village needs me but I think the people here do too." She sounded very sure of herself.

"There is more to life than surviving, you have to live and smile. I want to protect that. So I thought..." She exhales a long breath. "I thought I could do it. That I could find something out that might give people hope."

Except it hadn't worked.

"I will call you whatever you wish, but I will attempt to train my tongue in order to show your house the proper respect," Ned replies with a warm in his tone. Something little with which to distract himself, something concrete and measurable. Something to keep the demons and shadows at bay, at least for a little while.

"That is a noble mantle to carry on your own." There is something about her - her ferocity, her determination, perhaps - that reminds him of his own Arya. How little she had wanted to do with the ways of a "proper lady," how her fiery spirit and quick wit had leant themselves to refuse the expectations set upon her simply for her anatomy. "And what sort of hopeful thing were you hoping to discover?"

Moana's expression faltered. "I don't know." This place wasn't like her island, there was so much that she didn't understand. Basic things like the houses or the items in the kitchen. They were sometimes familiar but everything was different. The only thing that was the same was the earth, the sea, the sky. Just like her home they were alive and should be respected but that did little for her comfort in the village.

She shifted a bit before allowing her thoughts to form and press against her lips. "I thought I might see the ocean. What I saw were cliffs, all around us." She moved her hands in a circle bringing her finger tips together as she completed it. "I don't know where the river runs but we're really stuck here."

It didn't sit well with Moana. She felt the call in her chest, pulling her towards the ocean only she didn't know which direction to go. Her hand moved over her heat, listening to it's steady drum. "There has to be more out there. I feel it."

"Where does the river lead, if one were to follow it?" Ned asks, leaning in a fraction. He certainly has no intention of seeking an exit from a place that has allowed him to live out what he hopes is the rest of his days with his children. The town is not Winterfell, not by any means, but he knows better than the question what the Old Gods see fit; if they were keen to bless him with four out of his six children, then he would show his gratitude properly.

Still, Ned is but a mortal man - and his curiosity piques a bit at the mention of an untraceable river.

"And what if there is? What will you do if you find it? There are sayings about seeking out trouble that would be appropriate for me to echo here, I believe."

Moana shook her head slowly, displacing the thick black curls. "I couldn't see. It was too foggy." She might be able to try again but she had a feeling that she'd get yelled at if she climbed along her own.

"I..." He was about to sound like her father. "I don't know what I will find but haven't you thought you were made for something more? Something just beyond the horizon."

She wasn't seeking trouble. The ocean called to her.

There is a grimness in Ned's expression as he allows himself to fall back into the seat, his body pressing against the wood with purpose. He considers her in silence for a few moments, something in his eyes darker and more somber than what had been there previously. A part of him admires her spirit, her fervor, her child-like curiosity. It comes from a certain type of innocence, he knows, and he hates the thought of taking any of it away from her. Why not let her think in such idealistic (albeit naive) fantasies?

He sighs, trying to strike some sort of middle ground.

"One misses out on the realm of man if one's head is always amongst the gods, Moana."

Moana knew that she was idealistic and she tried hard to ground herself, more so when she was around her father. He didn't like her dream and it'd been a point of contention for so long. Speaking to Ned now, it felt like that again. Her tilted her chin up, looking more like the chief she was supposed to one day be. Her dark eyes gleamed with confidence and knowledge that reached into years beyond her age.

"I know. I have things to do here and things that I must do at home too." She had people who looked to her. "I'll keep going. Until I can see my home again." And see that others are home too.

"I should rest but-" Her lips pulled into a smile that was only a little forced. "Thank you for help me."

He wonders at her use of the word 'home,' how clearly she delineates between this town and the land from which she comes. This place seems to have not earned the same title, which is something he can certainly understand. No matter how hard he tried or how much of his family came to find him, it would never be Winterfell. It would never carry the same respect and adoration that their home - their true home - did.

"Forgive me for keeping you; are you well enough to move about?" he asks, leaning forward again, readying himself to assist her should she need it.

Moana shook her head. "I am the one who should be forgiven. You've only been kind to me." She pushed herself up from the chair, wincing once. "I'll be fine. My room is close. Thank you again for helping me."

She paused before turning to leave. "If you need anything please let me know." Not that she can do very much. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Emma is a mother first and foremost and it is the one thing that she misses more than anything since arriving here... her son. She came to the inn every day, mostly to drop off the meager food she had acquired, but she did always manage to stop by the sitting room for a bit.

She spotted Moana, who she remembered from the meeting, and started over to her. Her smile dropped off her face when she noticed the bruises.

"Are you alright?"

Moana's pattern was slowly gaining the length of a necklace. Her fingers twisted and pulled gently as she continued, pausing only when she heard someone speaking to her. Her head turned towards Emma making her winch and then turn her whole frame. She was still healing though it didn't hurt as badly as yesterday.

"Yeah." She was tired, sleeping was difficult, but she'd live.

"It was an accident. How have you been?"

Moana liked Emma despite the fact that they had had opposing opinions at the town meeting. Emma was the sort of person that Moana could look up to, someone who fought for those who couldn't themselves. It's what Moana wanted to do too, everyone should have a voice and be heard.

Emma shook her head slightly, as she peered closer to view Moana's work. She wasn't trying to be nosy or anything, she respected people that could do things that she couldn't do. She could not for the life of her know how to sew, but put a gun in her hand and she could shoot anything. She missed shooting things. Hell, she missed a lot of things, but that was neither here nor there since she couldn't go crying over spilled milk could she?

"An accident where you got hurt is nothing to blow off, what happened?" She asked again, her concern evident on her face, leaving Moana's question for the moment.

Moana noticed that Emma was interested in her weave and she shifted so that she could show Emma what she was making. She was happy to share what she knew and saw no reason to hide her efforts. It was something silly, it'd most likely be a necklace but it was relaxing to make.

"I guess so." She didn't sound so sure. "I was trying to climb the cliff and I fell." She had been attacked by the fireflies but she didn't really want to mention that part. Moana really didn't like making people worry.

"I'm fine now. Just resting." She probably won't try it again.

"You did what now?" She asked, as she perched on the side of Moana's chair, careful not to bump the young woman. She looked down at the other woman, or girl, Emma wasn't sure at this point.

Moana reminded her so much of herself when she was younger that it scared her sometimes. Part of her wanted to protect the woman, but a greater part of her knew that she didn't need it.

"Why would you do that?"

Moana shrugged and looked down at the fire, with each motion she was mindful of her bruises and the rippling effect they had on her muscles.

"I’m a really good climber and I thought I could see everything if I was higher up." She had no intention of staying up there or leaving, it’d just been to see what she could find and then return to tell people about it. Only, it hadn’t gone as planned. "I didn’t expect the fireflies to show up and I didn’t want to get stung."

She’d at least caught herself though she broke her spear.

"I can tell," Emma complimented the girl softly, being mindful not to bump her as well. "They were wicked. You didn't get bit did you?" She asked, concerned. She bit her lip wondering if she should say anything. She looked down at her hands and thought of Elsa, smiling slightly.

"I could help you but I don't want to scare you okay?"

Moana shook her head very slowly. "No. It's why I feel but I used my spear to break my fall some." Otherwise she'd be dead. For some reason the prospect of possibly being dead didn't bother her.

She blinked and looked up at Emma. "You can help me? How? You won't scare me." Emma seemed so nice, Moana doubted that she would be scary.

"I can, but it's magic," She said. "A special kind of magic from my world. I am a product of true love," She explained. That was the simplest explanation without having to give a long explanation that Moana probably wouldn't believe anyway.

Emma didn't like to talk about her family too much anyway, because to do so would be to put them at risk, and that is the very last thing she wanted to do.

"Do you trust me?"

Moana's smile widened. "Yes!" She trusted Emma despite knowing very little about the older woman. "That sounds amazing." Magic that was formed through love. It sounded like something from a story her grandmother would tell her.

"Should I close my eyes?"

She wasn't sure how it worked or if there was something that she was supposed to do.

Emma laughed suddenly, happy that her gift could actually help someone she cared about. She wasn't being used for her power for someone else to get ahead. She couldn't help but shudder as she thought about Gold and his machinations.

"Only if you don't want to see what I'm doing," She explained. She turned to face Moana more fully, resting her hands gently on her shoulders, where she could see the worst of the bruising was. "It won't heal completely because magic isn't at 100% but it should help you move better."

She closed her eyes, as a gentle blue glow came from her hands. Moana would feel the stiffness leave her.

"I want to see." Moana was very interested in what Emma was doing. She hadn't seen a lot of magic and she didn't know what it was all like. It was probably different from the magic on her world, or at least, she assumed so.

She felt herself relax as warmth spread through her shoulders and down to her limbs. She eventually closed her eyes and smiled.

"That feels a lot better." It wasn't perfect but it was more than enough. "Thank you so much Emma!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

05 Trying her best [Open + 1 Closed]

Cliff – Closed for Ned

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