Cultivating Plants

"I'm going to kill her," Mirah stated with such impassive cruelty that it took Aloe a few blinks to process the words.

"Mirah, please relax." The scribe's voice was coarse, partially from having talked this much, but mostly because she felt ill.

"Relax? Aloe!" The housewife stood up and banged the kitchen table. "How do you expect me to relax after having heard that? It wasn't enough that the fucking whore raped you, but then she broke your legs! In two separate occasions at that!"

Whilst it wasn't the first time she had seen Mirah angry, it was certainly the first time she had seen the comely woman curse. A part of her wanted to correct the housewife, she hadn't had her legs broken, only a shattered pelvis and a bruised ankle, but her other part wanted to tear someone's throat off with her teeth. Namely, Aaliyah's.

"Nesrine, please tell her something. She's really going to do something." Aloe knew that Mirah didn't only bark if she didn't intend to bite. How was she supposed to do something to the ruler of Ydaz being a housewife was beyond the scribe.

"Ma'am, I understand your afflictions, but you know better than to defy the sultanah, surely." The guard stated neutrally, so much so that the scribe wondered if she had forgotten that said sultanah was her employer and the person her loyalty should be placed at. She hasn't highlighted any of Mirah's 'blasphemies' so it's not like she thinks highly of Aaliyah.

"I…" Mirah looked at the guard and clicked her tongue. "Pests, all of them."

It was obvious which select group she was referring to. Where does her hostility come from? It wasn't the first time Mirah had antagonized the imperials, but Aloe was incapable of seeing where that hatred originated. Aloe's had been justified even before her trip to Asina, but the inception of her aunt's was a mystery.

The scribe gathered a bit of courage to finally ask that question, but alas, she had been too tardy, for the moment she opened her mouth so did the main door.

"Hello, hello. We are back daaaarling!" Jafar's exaggerated voice yet potent reverberated through the small house.

"Mooom!" If the voice wasn't clue enough, the furious tip taps leading to the kitchen were enough to announce Aya's presence. "We are ba…" The girl's eyes landed on them, especially Aloe.

Ah… The scribe moaned in a mixture of sadness and pain. It had been only a few months since the last time she had seen Aya, but she was still young, and such a small amount of time was easily perceived in a growing body. She's grown so much… Ah, Aya. Only now that she had it in front of her did Aloe recognize how much she had missed the little child.

"Ehm… hello, Aya." She wanted to welcome her with all her radiance, to pamper her with love, yet only a half-hearted salute came out of her. "It's been a while since we last saw. Y-you've grown into quite a fine girl." Her tear glands were dry from before, yet Aloe felt her eyes becoming watery again.

"What's wrong?" Jafar asked from the corridor. "You've all grown rather silen-"

The male guard's eyes inspected the room with the precision of a hawk, not unlike that of a cultivator donning the sense stance. His eyes hastily landed on Aloe, or rather, the wheelchair. His expression turned dark yet composed.

"I haven't heard of you in a while, little plant." He saluted like always, but that tone was that of a soldier who just come out of the battlefield drenched in blood up to his neck.

"I could say the same, Uncle Jafar." There was no glitter and hope in Aloe's tone either, only a wry smile came from her lips, and calling it a smile was pushing it.

The only man in the room blew from his nose and changed his expression into a warm smile. He then knelt and grabbed her daughter by the shoulders, turning her to face him.

"Dear, would you mind taking a stroll? We have adult business to talk about."

"But Dad, I want to be with sister Aloe, I haven't seen her in years!" Aya, like the kid she was, protested. And those months may very well have been years to her.

"She's going to be here when you come back. Right, little plant? Won't you accompany us for dinner?"

"Ehrm, sure…" Honestly, Aloe wanted to run away and not look back. Not only the scene was weighing down on her heart, but she felt tired. So tired… she echoed in her mind.

"Here, a fajat. Buy a sweet." Jafar gave her a copper coin and patted her head.

"Hmm…" Aya accepted the coin but didn't look too satisfied. Still, she was an intelligent kid and took the hint, leaving the house without further protesting.

Once the sound of the door's closing reached their ears, Jafar stood up and talked to them. "I have a lot of questions, but first, what's she doing here?" He pointed at Nesrine.

"I could ask the same question, captain." Captain? Aloe shifted her gaze from Jafar to Nesrine.

"This is my house; I think I'm more allowed to be here." He looked at the female guard over the shoulder.

"Do you…" Mirah interjected, "know each other?"

"This man was my mentor," Nesrine explained with animosity.

"And this woman a disaster." Jafar puffed.

"Hold your camels. Captain?" Aloe said. "Since when?"

Jafar turned at her with a questioning gaze. "Since a while ago? Didn't I tell you?"

"No?" The scribe searched through her memories, but those had become a hazy mess for a long time now."

"Huh, I'm sure I did." The male guard shrugged. "Anyhow, why are you here, Nesrine?"

"I am to escort scribe Aloe around the city," Nesrine explained with her potent and stoic guard tone.

"Alright, alright." He sighed. "I'll not pry in that. But there's another matter that I cannot ignore. Little plant, I need answers. Now."

Aloe sighed in kind; her head started to hurt. That was why I wanted to come earlier… "This is going to take a while, and I have now to dine here, so Nesrine, would be you so dear to call for Lulu?" The armored guard nodded. "Also, Mirah. Could my escorts eat with us?"

"Of course." The housewife nodded. "Wait, escorts? There's another one?"

"My maid." Aloe responded taciturnly.

"How fancy." The scribe was unable to tell if Mirah was being sarcastic or genuine. The fatigue is affecting my faculties.

"I will take my leave then." Nesrine left them alone, still boasting formal language. Whatever there was between Jafar and her, now wasn't the time to pry about it.

"Here." Aloe handed her the keys to the house, not without having removed the keys to the office beforehand. One could never be too cautious.

The three remaining people shared gazes with one another. The first one to break the stare-down and the silence was Mirah.

"I'll get going with the dinner. It seems I'll have double the mouths to feed."

"Sorry." Aloe apologized.

"Nonsense." Mirah gifted her a warm smile and approached her to envelop her in an embrace, pushing the scribe's head against her chest. "I would never let a soul go hungry in my house, especially one that needs my help." She patted Aloe's head slowly. The gesture was warm and… familiar. That only made it worse.

By the time the housewife liberated her, Aloe's breathing was rugged and her face heated up. Mirah giggled at the sight but was quick to return to the food, she had had a pot in low heat since they arrived.

"Tell me," Jafar said. It wasn't an order, but neither it was a petition.

Nonetheless, Aloe complied.

Much like she had done with Mirah, she explained to her uncle about the events leading up to Asina and beyond. She kept many secrets – namely everything related to the vital arts – but she even obfuscated her encounters with the different sultanzade. The only thing she didn't hide from them was her hostility toward Aaliyah.

Oh, the heavens now she didn't let a spec of sand remain on her tongue. She let everything out, even details that most were unaware of, mostly the brutality of that night. She didn't have the heart to tell them to Lulu, nor the trust to let Nesrine hear them, but Jafar and Mirah she could confide in.

Confide… what a weird word. It felt alien to her, she couldn't even recall the last time she had blindly trusted someone.

She gave them an abridged version, Mirah could fill her husband the voids, as Aloe feared that door could swing open any minute now. Lulu and Nesrine were fine, but if little Aya were to hear a single of the words that were coming out of her mouth, her heart wouldn't be able to take it.

"I don't know what to say." Jafar's voice was tired.

"Then don't say anything, darling," Mirah told him without removing an eye from the food. Everyone knew the one who took it the worst was her.

Jafar complied with her wife's suggestion, but Aloe knew her words had nothing to do with his silence. The scribe could see him pondering, scheming. What a captain of the city guard could scheme was beyond her.

Only a few minutes later did Aya appear. She obviously asked about the wheelchair, but Mirah was quick to brew a lie with the shrewdness of a mother. Aloe was too tired to even remember what that lie had been, she just knew that anything would have been better than the truth, even if they had told the little kid that her big sister had been robbed and beaten to near death. So dim was the truth that such ruggedness was sugarcoating it.

The near-death wouldn't have been a lie, though.

Lulu and Nesrine didn't take much longer to arrive. The maid handed Aloe the keys, but the two escorts didn't talk much beyond basic presentations. It wasn't that they weren't welcome, but they acknowledged they weren't part of the family. Whilst the rest talked in the dining room – mostly Aloe inquiring about Aya's time at school, and the kid asking questions back to her and Nesrine – Mirah and Lulu tended to the cooking. At first, the housewife refused the help, but Lulu was too thick-skulled and effective to be left behind. She wasn't a maid for nothing, and Mirah ended up appreciating the help.

Soon, as the sun threatened to disappear and the sky darkened, they all sat down at the table. It wasn't a feast, at least not by the standards the scribe had grown to, but the meal was hot and welcoming. That couldn't be said of the foods she had had as of late, though that was partially her own fault.

Contact and interactions had become oppressive, but as Aya talked over how boring school was and Jafar dropped hints of his relationship with Nesrine, Aloe couldn't help but let herself be embraced by the conversation. She didn't speak, not much, but no one pressured her to talk. Even Aya was mindful of her. The little girl didn't show it, but Aloe's enhanced senses easily detected the lasting impression the wheelchair had had on her by the inconspicuous yet constant glances the kid directed to the contraption even if Aloe herself wasn't sitting on it during dinner.

Time became blurry as words and plates went by. Aloe remembered that she had never had the opportunity to learn to cook with Mirah, and whilst the path which now seemed scorched filled her with sadness, the truth was she was more than happy with just tasting the housewife's food. She didn't need to make it herself, nor that she have the time nor presence of mind to cook now.

At some point, Jafar brought wine. The reactions were mixed, mostly her wife condemning him, but she ended up drinking as well. The only one who didn't drink was Nesrine – besides Aya, of course – claiming she was on duty. Lulu gathered quite the buzz, as Jafar did, but Aloe and Mirah were conservative. The housewife didn't drink much, and the scribe had been donning her toughness for a while now – severely limiting the effectiveness of the alcohol – as the pain was killing her and she didn't want to ruin the ambiance with her weakness.

Yet amidst the pain and her inner sadness, Aloe felt warmth in her bones, her mind at ease.

She was surrounded by family. And they were all alive.