#martin freepaw

“Freshen up your coffee, hon?”

The waitress’ words shook Jude out of the daydream he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. That had a tendency to happen, this time of the year. You’d think he’d be used to it, after all this time, and yet it always caught him by surprise just the same.

“No, thank you.” Jude answered, looking up at the waitress with kind, patient eyes. The waitress had been keeping her eye on his table all morning with the sort of businesslike concern a food service employee might reserve for an out-of-towner with no idea what to order. She’d seen this miqo’te youth come in and sit at a table all by his lonesome, ordering nothing but cup after cup of plain black coffee, and had resolved to save him from his indecision.

She did not recognize who he was, and so she had no way of knowing this, but unfamiliarity with the restaurant’s fare was not the issue giving the miqo’te pause. Jude had in fact been coming to this eatery for longer than the waitress had been alive. He had even personally known the proprietor… But that was years ago, before the proprietor died and the new owner changed the name of the establishment. 

The restaurant hadn’t been called the Drowning Wench for almost twenty years now.

“Can I bring you something else, then? You’ve barely touched your eggs and bacon… Something wrong with it?” The waitress asked, nodding toward Jude’s heavily laden plate.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong with it… Nothing at all.” Jude insisted with another warm smile and a wave of the hand. “I’m, ah… Just a slow eater.”

“At least let me warm it up for you, it must be cold by now.”

“I like cold eggs, if you can believe it.” Jude replied. The waitress smiled as though she thought the miqo’te was pulling her leg. Jude picked up on this and raised his coffee cup in her direction. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Believe me, it’s better than it sounds.” The waitress laughed.

“Well, alright then… I’ll leave you to your cold eggs. Just let me know if I can bring you something hot, okay?” To this, Jude offered a wordless nod that sent the waitress on her way. The excuse he’d given her was a half-truth. He really did like cold eggs, but being a slow eater wasn’t the reason his food had gone untouched. Like the daydream he’d lost himself in earlier, his loss of appetite was just another symptom of the wistfulness that always took him this time of year.

It was his ninety-seventh nameday. That alone didn’t bother him overmuch. It wasn’t even something he would bother to keep track of, if not for the fact that this date on the calendar happened to be shared by his wedding anniversary. This would have been the eighty-ninth.

Slipping back into dreams, Jude thumbed the simple silver band he’d worn for the past eighty-nine years. Enchanted as it was, the inscription it bore was still as legible today as it had been the day he’d first gotten it. The engraving was written in Old Auri, a language that was no longer especially common, though Jude remained fluent. Even if that were not the case, he’d know the inscription by rote, like a memory held deep in his heart:

My Sun, My Azim, My Lion. I will be with you always. From this day, until the end of time.

He could still picture her face in his mind’s eye, clear as a bell. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Sayoko was here with him. She’d sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder the way she sometimes did. She’d order fresh juice- not coffee, not this time of morning. And she wouldn’t order a meal of her own, instead satisfying her hunger with a few bites off Jude’s plate. She never ate very much, and even if that were not so, Jude always ordered enough for the both of them anyway. He was always happy to share his plate with her, as she well knew.

He could see it so clearly that it almost felt real… Real enough that he wanted to stay there with her, in that pleasant daydream. But the arrival of his guest, who was presently easing themselves into the chair across from Jude, broke the spell and brought Jude back to reality.

[“I’m glad you came, Martin.”] Jude would say to his guest, speaking in sign language. 

Martin was a miqo’te like Jude, though these days, it was only vaguely clear that this was so. A walking cloud of pink hair, flowers and underbrush, his sibling seemed to drift deeper and deeper into the Twelveswood with each passing year, becoming more wild with every yalm they retreated into the forest. Antlers had begun to sprout where once there had been only miqo’te ears, and atop their head, they wore a crown of razor branches that could only have come from the Thornmarch- a sign of feral royalty, or perhaps something more ominous.

[“I would not miss our nameday.”] They replied, their long, thin fingers moving like brown spiders.

[“I started without you, knew you wouldn’t mind. Would you like to order something? I could call the waitress over.”] Jude asked. Martin shook their head, sending a cascade of leaves fluttering to the ground.

[“Thank you, no. In the free cities, even the water tastes foul. It pains me to be here… Nothing grows in this dreary place.”] They replied with a world-weary sigh. Mismatched green eyes stared out from a mass of pink tangles. [“Are you keeping well, Brother?”]

[“Well enough. I look after the house, check in on the new tenants from time to time… Run my bakery on the weekends… I keep busy.”] Jude replied with a sort of half-shrug. Martin lowered their head and fixed Jude with the kind of searching look that had always unsettled him. Even after ninety-seven years, he had the impression his twin could see right through him. In a way, that was the precise truth.

[“It is good to keep busy… Good to have purpose in life.”] Martin said knowingly. Jude looked down at his coffee, unable to meet his sibling’s eyes. It was quite similar to something his wife used to say, before she passed. At the time, Jude had been fond of suggesting that the two of them retire and become people of leisure, doing nothing but lazing about their cottage reading books and eating sweets.

“You would never be satisfied with that sort of life, my lion,” Sayoko replied, “And for that matter, neither would I.”

“And why not?” Jude asked, grinning. “We’ve worked hard, haven’t we? All those years adventuring to save up and buy a bakery, and now the bakery’s a success! It’s doing well enough that it practically runs itself!”

“Practically.” Sayoko repeated, flicking Jude’s nose lightly. “But you like the work we put into that place every week. Ordering the supplies, kneading the dough, baking the bread-”

“Taste tests…” Jude interrupted, leaning over Sayoko’s shoulder to dip a finger into the mixing bowl she was holding. Before she could stop him, he’d scooped up a bit of chocolate frosting on his finger. The golden-eyed Xaela laughed and grabbed his wrist, bringing his finger to her lips to steal his ill-gotten treat.

“Yes, those too.” She continued. “You like having things to do, Jude. That’s what I mean. We both do. We weren’t made for lives of leisure… We’d just get bored.” To this, Jude’s only immediate reply was wrapping his arms around her waist, sighing happily.

“Nothing about you bores me.” He whispered.

[“Brother.”]

Jude shook his head, the remnants of the dream fading like the last rays of sunlight in late afternoon.

[“You went away again.”] Martin signed.

[“Sorry. It’s this time of year, I suppose I get a little bit nostalgic.”] Jude explained with a sigh. [“I miss her every day, Martin.”]

Martin reached out to place a hand on Jude’s in solidarity before signing their response.

[“I know you do, Brother.”]

[“Couldn’t you… Just do your aether thing to… I don’t know…”] Jude grasped for words he didn’t have. Martin lowered their head again, this time a great air of sadness coming over them.

[“Brother… She has rejoined the Lifestream. No power in this world can bring her back from that. Nor should it.”] Martin spoke with the sort of tired urgency that indicated they had had this conversation before, and Martin was beginning to grow weary of having it. [“ Even if such a thing were within my power… It would not be her. Not really.”]

[“I know.”] Jude replied, his shoulders sagging in defeat. [“I just… I was sort of wondering if there was anything you could do to my aether to help.”]

[“I could take your memories of her… Or make you dream of her every night. But I do not think you would thank me for either of those things.”] Martin answered with a sorrowful shrug.

[“No, I suppose not.”]

There was a pause while Jude chewed a bite of eggs. It tasted like ash in his mouth.

[“You don’t have to stay with the mortals, you know. You could come with me. Back to the Black Shroud. The forest would welcome you.”] Martin said slowly. There was a certain reluctance to their words that suggested they knew what Jude’s answer was going to be. Sure enough, Jude shook his head.

[“I belong with the mortals, my dear sibling. My place is here among them. I know that they are weak, and flawed, and… And they do not live forever.”] He thumbed his ring again. [“But that is why I love them so. Their lives are so brief and fragile… They hold it precious.”]

[“Mortals hold very little precious, Brother, save their hunger for violence. You and I are proof of that.”] Martin sighed, smiling sadly. [“But I admire your faith in them, even if I do not agree.”]

Jude smiled ruefully and raised his coffee cup to his sibling.
“Happy nameday, Martin.”

Martin returned the smile and offered a small nod.

[“Happy nameday, Jude.”]

It was a quiet, dignified sort of moment between the two Allagan nonagenarians… And it only lasted until the sound of approaching clapping reached their ears from the restaurant’s kitchen. The waitstaff was approaching, carrying a large cake and wearing party hats.

It was the nightmare shared by anyone who had ever gone to a restaurant on or around their nameday- the terror of the restaurant staff finding out, and taking the opportunity to sing a nameday song.

Jude’s mismatched eyes shot toward the approaching waitstaff, then back to Martin.

“YOU DID THIS.” He hissed, his voice dark with anger. Martin smiled coyly. They shrugged, pleading innocence. The worst lie of the morning.

And then the singing began.