Chapter 182 (1/2)
Helen wanted to be sympathetic, but just couldn’t find it in herself to. So she just tilted her head to the side and asked. “Still sick?”
Teliph glared at her briefly, then suppressed the uneasy expression, keeping his face blank. “Unlike your exhaustion from earlier, Aether Poisoning doesn’t just go away after rest. Leave me in peace.”
Which of course, made Helen want very much to torture him, but she decided that she was in too good of a mood to bother with the stoic brute. After all, she also wanted to work on her own new moves.
But as she settled into her stance, she saw a small boat bobbing over towards their boat, and felt a flash of anger. There was only one person on board, but still…
“These motherfuckers…” Helen muttered, eyes scanning around. Divveltian was still sitting with his eyes closed, waving his fingers. The male spear attendant was rolling over to the side, fiddling with Tassles. It didn’t seem like Teliph would be able to get up soon. So with a great sigh, and a bit of worry that she still hadn’t recovered from her Aether shortage, Helen walked to the edge of the boat.
For a moment she considered throwing something to upend the tiny thing, but then she recognized the soft looking individual who was leisurely paddling towards them.
“Ah, Clappy.” Helen said lazily, almost disappointed. Sure, another fight would have been hard, but… she felt strange exhilarated by the thought of it, especially with her new Skill Set evolution. She tried to quell that urge, because it would likely get her into a fight she couldn’t win someday, but she didn’t try too hard. After a life of having her mother breathing down her neck, it was nice to feel on top of the world.
‘It would be even nicer to be on top the Ghosthound’ Her mind commented slyly, in her mother’s voice. She shushed it and focused on the approaching merchant.
His face brightened visibly when he saw her. “Oh! You are the woman who knows so much about leather. Good, I came to see the Ghosthound-”
“He’s fucking busy.” Helen said, her voice chilly, the delivery abrupt. It was an effort of will not to grind her teeth. This fucking merchant showed up, and what did he do? Instantly ruined her mood by reminding her of all those years with her hair and clothes permeated by the disgusting smell of the tannery.
It was impossible to breath in her childhood without catching some whiff of the occupation of her family. Some bore it as a mark of pride, but… those fucking asscocks were not the type of people she wanted to associate herself with. She had finally managed to shake that feeling of connection to that dirty, small minded place, but this piece of shit brought it all right back.
“Oh.” Claptrap seemed to wilt slightly, and then glanced to the side, where the Ghosthound was very clearly engraving. His face transformed into a look of horror. “He’s engraving?!?! RIght here, where anyone can see?”
Helen shrugged. They all knew academically that the Engraving Guilds were an issue, but it was very hard to focus on them as threats when other groups were actively attacking them. It was a matter of priorities. Although Helen was no longer sure why the Ghosthound so incessantly was Engraving. She wasn’t sure what he was doing with it, but it was pretty clear that he didn’t need the money.
It was surely useful to train a skill and gather PP from it, so you could go though your chosen path. But this seemed to be more than that.
The two of them hand been standing in silence for 30 seconds, her and Claptrap, so Helen added. “He fucking likes the feeling of the rain while Engraving. Is there a fucking problem?”
“Uh, ah, no. um. Okay, well please let him know that there will be a market day in two days, and I would appreciate if he could…. Or have you bring me any finished pieces he has made. I made an agreement with the Crashing Wave Style, and we will be selling some pieces publically. So… well yea.”
“Goodbye.” Helen said simply, enjoying the indecision on Claptrap’s face. It felt nice, in a way to be so dismissive of him-
But then Helen realized with a start that this was exactly the petty, small minded way of dealing with things that her mother would always employ. Flattering to her superiors, cold and disdainful to her inferiors. Helen’s anger rose up viciously and she had to grit her teeth to throttle it down.
“Uh… yes, I will tell him. Eventually. So don’t fucking worry. It’s annoying, but uh… not a problem.” Helen said lamely, almost blushing at herself. She had trained for years to handle things delicately, controlling her language and temper. Even if she had always raged on the inside, outwardly she was perfectly controlled. But these weeks with the Ghosthound and his teachers had ruined that. Her explosions had become more public. And admittedly less caustic and destructive, but…
She watched Claptrap leave, and then settled back into her stances.
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