Medicine and Hauntings, Such a Lovely Divide

When she felt Nolan's hand close around her fore arm, to help drag her into the boat, she felt the weight of the experience fall from her, wash back into the water, like the sluicing of water was known to do. He had her. Nolan had her in hand, and the black depth of water wasn't going to drag her back down, demons be damned -- the water couldn't have her just yet. She had promises and red in her ledger that still had to be brought to current, so she could turn around and die with every debt cleared.

And here she was gaining another one with one of her oldest friends in the world. She would think about all these near death experiences later -- one with Horus, and now one with Nolan -- later, much much later. When she had a good bit of rum in her belly and a warm body between her legs. She'd let it come upon her for a moment in time and then would let it wash free yet again.

She curled into the bottom of the boat, as he rowed, trying to keep her teeth from chattering as they went -- Nolan knew the way, knew the small cave system that lead into the cellar of her home -- this smuggling run usually old hat for them both, but tonight, something wanted them not to part ways just yet, and it was just like the demon infested cave to be the reason for it. No, neither of them really wanted to admit to the other that they needed the other's company. The tarp along the bottom of the small dingy was drawn up and over her shoulders in an effort to stave off the cold just a little while longer. This part of the waters got cold quick, and in winter, worse. She could feel the tips of her hair ice up, and knew that the ache that was starting to bloom behind her eyes was an indication of the headache to come if they didn't get warm soon.

And soon enough she felt the spine of the boat run up into the sand of her cove. She didn't try to speak because she knew she'd be at risk of biting her tongue, but she moved as fast as she could, hopping out and looping the mooring ropes around the large rounds that served as part of her dock -- when the tide came back in here in a few hours, this area would be chest high with water -- it's what made it such a good place for smuggling -- only accessible 6 hours in day light, and 6 hours at night, with the way the tides surged with the double moons, and even then, someone had to know where to look in the cliff walls to find it. With the boats secured, Celine forced her legs to take her to the small tent, to the blankets, and fire starter, fingers flexing fists to fully splayed trying to keep the blood flowing.

Here, help me with the flint, she chattered out, trying hard not to chip her teeth or take a chunk of her tongue as she knelt down, finding dry tinder to build a quick fire. The needed to get the worst of the cold off them before climbing the hidden staircase up into her house, and they had to be alert, and warm enough to make the four foot jump across the open air gap without falling some 20 odd feet back down into the sand. She had missed it too many times in the past and nursed broken and sprained legs too many times to know neither of them would make that jump at the moment. When she passed off the flint and dry kindling, she pulled warmer blankets from the tent, and shed the rest of her wet clothing -- any sense of prudishness gone in what came down to a survival situation for them both.

Once they were warm, the could have the luxury of flushed cheeks and the mindfulness of being wrapped around one another's naked form, but for the moment, she draped one of the blankets over her shoulders and adjusted a fire shield to help direct the heat of the soon to be flames back into the tent. I can't feel my fingers or toes anymore, fuck it's gonna hurt when they warm up.

Another worry for once the fire was started, even as a howl that echoed like cackling laughter bounced off the cave walls.