The trek towards the lands of December has brought Thomas and Agatha through April and into March. The farmlands have given way to pastures where cattle and other livestock roam and feed, and the pair of travelers have left the main road in order to keep nearer the woods and river. This is in part due to their wanting to camp out three nights for every one spent in a town, and otherwise a means to deal with the weather, as the lands they now travel have thunderhead clouds above and unusually high heat and humidity which the river manages to lessen slightly.

Curious bovines watch from the pastures as the young man and woman pass by. The muggy air has taken its toll on Agatha; her hair is a matted mess and she's been reduced to cut-offs and her bikini top, which means the padded frame of her heavy pack is leaving chafe marks on her back. "They should rename this place from March to Slog," she complains, covered in sweat that does nothing to keep her cool.

Thomas is down to just his jacket; his shirt having been retired to his backpack. "Oh, it's not that bad," he remarks, grinning. Even though he's sweaty, he doesn't look that bothered by the heat. Motioning towards the cows, he even adds, "I find this place quite, ah, moooving."

"Gah," Agatha responds to the pun, and glares at the cows. "At least we haven't seen any purple ones yet," she comments. Turning back towards Thomas, she asks, "I don't suppose the Hawks maintain any safe-houses out here? The nearest town on my map is a little village called Ides that may not have an inn, and I really don't want to get caught in a thunder storm at night."

"Beware the Ides of March," Thomas says gravely before he falls into a fit of laughing. When he recovers, he says, "Well, I don't know of any current safe houses, but there was one back in the old days. Randall established it as a point between the crown and April. Might be still around."

Agatha gives Tom an odd look at his proclamation. "Do you know something about Ides that makes it dangerous?" she asks.

"Haven't you read any Shakespere yet?" Thomas asks as he marches ever onward. "The Ides of March was the date when Julius Caesar was killed. March Fifteenth."

"Oh!" Agatha says, blushing in embarrassment. "My class did Taming of the Shrew. I find Shakespeare hard to read," she mumbles.

"I just find it dull. Two paragraphs to say what could be said in one sentence," Thomas remarks, "Anyway, the name Ides implies the town is in the center of the lands of March. It's probably a crossroads town and would likely have an Inn. So, up to you if you want to press on or if you want to try and locate a ruin."

"Well, we should look for the safe house anyway while we're here," Agatha notes. "You can check it's condition and add it to your Golden Hawks 'to-do' list. Gotta have grunt-work for the new recruits, after all!"

"Or some grunt work to keep you from getting pudgy, Countess," Thomas quips as he reaches over and pokes her in the gut.

"Hey!" Agatha complains, and tries to step back from the poke - only to overbalance and fall backwards onto her pack. "Ow," she says from the ground.

"No," Agatha says as she rolls to her side so she can get back up. "I may be a pathetic traveler, but it's still my pack to carry," she notes while brushing off bits of grass and dirt that have stuck to her sweaty skin. "But a bath is definitely on my to-do list now. I think the mugginess is making me clumsy or something. Where do you remember the safe-house being?"

Tom tries to help Agatha up anyway. "I think you're just in awe of my greatness and forget where you're walking," he claims with a grin. "As for the safe house ... it was more like a safe cellar. We reused the basement of a collapsed castle. It was part of one of the local lords' territories that was annexed by a neighbor. Probably ... north-ish from where we are right now."

"That's on the way to town, I think," Agatha notes, and checks her leather map. "It's hard to imagine Mirari being old enough for ruined castles. I figured you'd have a little cottage or something out here, tucked into the woods. Quaint. Maybe with a grandmother in it waiting for her granddaughter to bring her a basket of treats."

"Since when do I look like a little cottage type?" Thomas remarks and rolls his eyes. "You'll be lucky if there's any soap!"

"Well, lead on then," Agatha says, gesturing with her map. "I've got my own soap."

"I'll help you use it," Thomas says, waggles his brow, then immediately heads north rapidly (probably to avoid getting hit).

"Promises, promises!" Agatha retorts, and follows a bit more slowly - taking care to watch where she steps this time!

Sommerende
The grand castle of Sommerende once ruled over this part of the lands of March. But, as with most feudal lands, peace with its neighboring rulers was rare. After a Year of war, Sommerende fell. Its once strong walls were reduced to rubble and only a few scant rooms survive above ground. And now, over fifteen Years later, even those are gone; only the mossy outlines of where they once stood remain. In the center of the forgotten castle a weather-worn hole with cracked stairs leads down into the earth; likely the remains of the castle's fortified storehouses.

"Yeah," Thomas remarks as he clambers atop a pile of moss-covered rocks, "Not much left of this place now. Give it a couple more years and it'll be gone, I think."

"This is from war, and not a dragon?" Agatha asks as she eyes the ruins. "And I'm not really getting pudgy am I?" she asks next, looking a bit concerned. "I feel like my clothes have shrunk since this morning, and I don't feel like I'm retaining water or.. stuff."

"Might've been a captive dragon used as a siege engine that took the walls, given the extent of the damage, I suppose. I wasn't in this area during the war, so I can't say. I was busy tracking down rumors of Jack," Thomas says as he hops down from the stone. He also can't help but laugh and point out, "I don't see how you could be getting pudgy given what your hand maidens make you wear! You could barely eat grain of rice while wearing that stuff."

Agatha blushes for some reason, and changes the subject. "So, does the cellar look okay?" she asks, motioning towards the stairs.

"No no!" Thomas calls from up ahead, "It's too perilous for a Countess! You might break a nail!"

"Ooooo," Agatha all but growls, but does proceed with some caution, having been overbalanced once already today.

"Heeheehee," cackles Thomas up ahead. His footsteps eventually stop; probably about twenty feet under the ground by this point. It's also rather, well, dark. She can hear Thomas, well one can assume it's Thomas, fiddling with something in the dark.

"Nah," Thomas answers. There are several bursts of sparks, then the dull red light of a flame illuminates the worn stone staircase. Thomas is about fifteen feen ahead and poking at an old torch to get it to stay lit.

"About fifteen more feet to the first level," Thomas answers as he puts away his tinderbox. "Food was stored down here and underground the temperature remains constant at, oh, 65 degrees or so. He grabs a torch off the adjacent wall and lights it off the burning one, then heads down.

"That's a relief, at least," Agatha says, happy at the prospect of leaving the heat and humidity behind. She follows close to keep within the torch's circle of light.

"Are you neeeeervous?" Thomas remarks playfully as they approach an old door. He prods it and it swings open; the old hinges complaining loudly. It opens into a large and mostly empty room. There are some decrepit tables and chairs and disturbingly, even a fireplace. Waving towards it, Thomas comments, "I doubt the flue is clear, so no lighting a fire."

"It doesn't look so bad," Agatha comments as she scans about, trying to see what else might be lurking beyond the firelight. "No rotting piles of junk anyway."

"Yeah, so if there's no rotting piles, where are you going to sleep?" Thomas asks, and boy does he grin. He goes to find a couple more torches to light and a place to mount the one he's carrying.

"If the flue is blocked, how safe is it to use these torches?" the girl asks. "Won't the place fill up with smoke?"

"Just don't close the door. The ceiling is high enough," Thomas notes, "And you could try clearing the flue...."

Agatha sets down her pack finally (and it makes a pealing sound when she pulls it away from her back), fishes out the flashlight and goes to inspect the chimney.

It's one big chimney, too. At least two feet across and two feet wide. As she looks upward, it looks like it's just full of old branches and leaves.

"Windblown stuff," she reports. "Maybe even enough to burn," she adds, as she reaches up to try and pull down the closest branch.

Oh, the branches give way with a good tug ... and the rest of the junk follows it! Agatha barely has enough time to jump out of the way to avoid being covered in a lot of gunk. "Usually you try to shower off dirt, not on dirt," Thomas laughs!

"Ha ha, laugh it up," Agatha says, but is actually looking a bit pleased. "It missed me! My luck must be changing."

"You're still stuck in a ruin with me. Not exactly great luck, you know," Thomas points out with a grin. He tests out one of the tables by leaning on it. It creaks a bit, but holds.

"What do you mean by 'stuck'?" Agatha asks, getting back to her feet and checking the rest of the room with the flashlight to see if anything useful is left - like a bucket or a barrel.

There are a few old buckets, yes. Most have rusted through handles, but at least one is serviceable. "Well, where else are you going to go?" Thomas asks as he now lounges on top of the table.

"You look silly on that table," Agatha notes, picking out the best of the buckets and bringing it over by the door. "I can always go back up top. If it rains, I can get a shower," she points out. Leaving the bucket, she carries her pack over by the table now, so she can sit on a chair. "Now.. Angel gave me something in case I needed first aid," she mutters, and starts rummaging through the pack.

Thomas stretches out, looking even more stilly than before. He even throws his hair back with a roll of his head and flutters his eyelashes at Agatha. "Now, why would you need first aid?" he asks.

"Because my skin is irritated," Agatha notes. "Muirenn wasn't exactly human after all, and.. well, there are some quirks to this body that I'm still figuring out. It's a little disturbing at times."

"Like what?" Thomas asks with a note of curiosity in his voice. "Anything I can help with?"

There's a pause as Agatha gives Tom a long, raised-eyebrows look. "What do you imagine you could help with?" she asks. "I'm still wondering if I'm ever going to get my.. uh.. never mind," the girl says, and retrieves a cloth-wrapped bundle from the pack. "Ah ha!"

"Well, sunburn lotion on your back, for one," Thomas points out, "It's not exactly easy to reach all of it by yourself."

Unwrapping the cloth, Agatha reveals what looks like a jam-jar full of white petroleum jelly. There's a parchment label on it which she reads silently, her brows furrowing. "Really?" she asks. "That's good, because.. Angel has weird instructions on this," she notes, and offers the jar to Thomas.

Tom takes the jar and reads the label. "It's not surprising of your skin doesn't weather sun well. You are part sea giant, after all. You need more moisture. Muirenn likes to bathe a lot," he points out.

The label is written in Alice's usual meticulous script, reading: Mother's Love Miracle Cream. Apply to boo-boo and kiss to make it better.

"Now this is just silly," Thomas remarks, "But it'll be darn funny watching you kiss yourself!" He grins.

"It's not the sun, it's chafing from the pack," Agatha claims. "And other stuff. My clothes are so sweat-soaked I'm probably all pruned up underneath."

"Okay, so you'll have to be a contortionist to kiss yourself. Hm. We could try to go to town and sell tickets. Good way to get money to rebuild this place..." Thomas jokes.

"And knowing Alice, it won't work if you kiss stuff yourself," Agatha notes. "Mother's Love, right? Someone else probably has to do it. I'm not going to kiss my own back!"

"Why, Redmane, are you asking me to massage and kiss you?" Thomas teases. "What would the others say!"

"What others?" Agatha asks. "You haven't told anyone about.. things.. have you?" she demands, starting to blush already.

"You know," Agatha whispers. "Thomas and Muirenn stuff. That old story probably gave people ideas already!"

"You sound like you're ashamed of it," Thomas says as he slides off the table. He goes to his pack and pulls out his bedroll. He brings that back to the table and unrolls it, then pats it. "Hop up and lay down on your stomach Muirenn," he remarks, looking for all the world very amused.

Agatha looks about to say something, then just gives up and lies on the table as asked. "I bet this sort of stuff never happens to Hannah. I doubt it ever happened to Muirenn even," she complains.

"Well, you do have the option of just dealing with the irritated skin as it is," Thomas points out as he opens the odd jar and sniffs its contents. "Or I could just walk to town and find a woman to come and take care of you if you would prefer," he offers.

The stuff smells just like Vaseline. "Just get it over with," Agatha says. There are two long rows of chafed skin running from her shoulders to below the ribs where the pack frame pressed and rubbed, both visibly irritated, along with some more that peeks out along the edges of her top.

"You are terribly frustrating. I joke with you, you get mad. I'm nice to you, you get mad. I think you're just always mad," Thomas comments as he sets down the jar next to Agatha and undoes the ties on her top so he can get to the irritated skin. "You should learn to be more like me, just let things roll off you..."

"I can't help it, this body likes to be angry," Agatha retorts, and then goes very still as she feels the straps get undone.

"Yes, but you direct it at me," Thomas points out and pokes Agatha in the middle of her back, "And I'm probably the best ally you have." Rolling his eyes, he dips two of his fingers in the goo and starts spreading it along the red strap lines from the bikini top.

"Well.. you tease me all the time," Agatha points out, but without any heat. "That feels like Vaseline," she notes.

"It also smells like it," Thomas points out and wipes his fingers off on the small of her back. "Would you rather I be all romantic and gushy like that knight, Tristan? All that is, is an act to hide real feelings, you know. Dance around a subject instead of just being straightforward."

"Well, got anything straightforward to say to my back since I can't turn around right now?" Agatha asks.

"Yes, you have a big mole on your left shoulder," Thomas remarks. And using the moment where Agatha is probably about to retort, he dips his head down and kisses one of the now slick red marks before she can get embarrassed about it.

There's a mutually felt tingle, and then the goo and the rash both fade away within a few inches of the kiss. "That's just a freckle," Agatha says, and then seems to go stiff! "Whoa.. that was.. uh.. nice," she says.

"Eww, you had to tell me that?" Agatha asks. There's still plenty of red skin to go around, as it wasn't just the straps that chafed. "It doesn't feel like I've got any where you kissed though. I'd have thought Angel would fix it for the lips too. As if it wasn't weird enough."

Thomas starts slathering on more of the goo until Agatha's entire back is coated. "I think you purposefully got yourself all chafed just to get me to kiss you. Muirenn was always a sly one," he teases and tickles Agatha's left earlobe.

The girl actually giggles at the tickling, and then blushes from the giggling. "Hey, I just now saw how the stuff worked," Agatha notes in defense. "Besides, it's not like you'd get all of the irritated spots."

"But I could, you know," Thomas whispers into her ear ... and before she can answer, he kisses her back again, this time right on her shoulder blade.

There's a tingle, and whatever response Agatha was going to make is lost in blushing and goosebumps. "Is that a dare?" she finally asks. "This.. really brings back some memories you know."

"I don't make dare, I make promises," Thomas answers quite simply, then kisses lower ... then lower, as he follows the line of reddened skin.

Redmane goes quiet, although she still reacts to the magical tingles with shivers and goosebumps. At least it's easy for Thomas to keep track of where he's already worked on her back, since those spots are relatively dry and irritation free. "I must taste like salt from all the sweat," Agatha finally says. "Maybe gooey lips are a blessing."

"You taste like the mists of the sea after the passing of a great storm. You have the scent of the cool breeze as it flows from the ocean," Thomas whispers as he slides back up only to work his way down the other side now. "Or in other words, you taste like Muirenn always tasted. Memories, indeed."

"Are you sure you aren't being romantic?" Agatha asks, blushing more. "I'm almost afraid to let you do the rest now."

Thomas trails a fingertip up Agatha's spine. "Excuse me for a moment," he says ... then runs up the stairs.

Agatha jerks up onto her elbows when Thomas does that (but her top stays in place despite being undone, stuck to her skin still). "What..?" she starts to ask, but he's already gone. "Now what?" she asks the room in general, and then lets out a long sigh. "I should really scold Princess Angel over this.. sometime."

Thomas returns after a few minutes, his head and upper body dripping wet. "Oh, a cold stream was just screaming my name," he comments and grins as if it were nothing. "So, what else hurts?"

Agatha laughs! "Well, seeing as how the rest of the chafing is up front and below the belt, I don't know that we can go further unless you want to fill up the bucket for both of us first!"

"Well ... is it bad?" Thomas asks in all honesty. "I'd rather you weren't in pain for the rest of the trip."

"It makes it hard to wear my clothes," Agatha admits. "No wonder they feel tight," she says, peeling back a bit of her top to see how red it looks beneath. "If it rains, then maybe it won't be so muggy tomorrow."

"Then we should deal with it. It's not like I haven't, well, seen things on this trip already," Thomas points out, for the moment looking more embarrassed himself. "And this just proves it, you know."

"Proves what?" Agatha asks, hesitating for a moment before peeling off her bikini top.

"That we have the weirdest friendship in the world," Thomas says quite simply and readies the salve again.

"You've got that right," Agatha says, looking up at the ceiling to avoid looking at what Tom's doing. "After this, I'll.." The thought is interrupted by a rumble of thunder, and then the sound of rain echoing down the passage and through the chimney. "I'll take a cold shower!" she finishes with a laugh.

"You'll probably need it. It might help with the swelling," Thomas teases as he uses the salve on certain swellings, "I doubt I can make these go down much." Shaking his head at the utter oddness ... the next half an hour is a strange period of awkwardness and apologies as the remainder of the heat rash is dealt with.

Flushed, Agatha grabs the soap out of the pack, a washcloth, and the bucket when she gets to the doorway. She looks back over her shoulder, and says, "You said you'd help with the soap too, remember? And I owe you, so.. I'll even scrub your back for you, okay?"

"Are you sure we're going to survive this trip?" Thomas asks as he now heads to the door to join Agatha. "I know you're uncomfortable enough with being who you are. Are you sure you, and Muirenn, will be able to manage through, well, this?" he adds as he runs his hands through his hair to try and release some frustration.

"Right, you did bring your swords. If it gets bad you can just kill me," Thomas jokes, grins, and heads up the stairs to greet the rain.

Showers are thankfully uneventful and rather soothing as it turns out. An hour later and the pair are dryinhd out near a small fire in the cleared out fireplace, Thomas asks, "So, you intend to take us through February?" He munches on some dried meat and looks at Redmane expectantly.

With a towel around her shoulders, Redmane nods. "Your grandmother is the original Lady February, isn't she?" she asks.

"Correct," Thomas answers, "Which is why I would prefer to try and go through as quietly as possible. I'm honestly surprised we haven't been accosted by nobles, or heck, villagers, yet."

"Why would they accost us?" Redmane asks. "I mean, we may be legendary figures and all, but how many know what we actually look like, or would think we were really who we are if they recognized us?"

"You never know," Thomas replies with a small shrug. "Anyone who was at the celebration after the defeat of Eion would recognize us immediately."

"We've been sticking to the back roads and following the river," Redmane says, tying her hair back and scooting over to sit next to Thomas. "Do you want to avoid towns altogether then?" she asks.

Thomas thinks about that for a bit. "Actually, no. You wanted me to not fall into old habits, and well, an old habit would be to avoid towns," he decides.

"Okay," the woman says, leaning in closer. "Do you want to check out Ides tomorrow? If it really is a hub town, we can hear any news we might have missed while we've been traveling."

"We can also restock any supplies we might need," Thomas agrees with a nod. "Among other things. I doubt we'll hear any news on the intrepid Hannah and hey faithful knight, though."

"Do you think she'll want to kill you when she gets back?" Redmane asks with a grin. "Oh.. I almost forgot: thank you for earlier, Thomas."

"Kill me? I got her away from all the people conspiring against her romance with Tristan. She would thank me," Thomas declares. He then blinks a few times and looks over to the closer Redmane and asks, "Thanking me for...?"

"For having to run to the river," Redmane says. "It was very flattering to know you find me exciting at times." She's sounding very much like the old Muirenn now. "And if you feel too frustrated, just let me know." She dips her head to give him a playful bite on the shoulder then.

"Ah ... heh," Thomas manages out, now frozen at the bite. "I thought you were afraid of being Muirenn?"

Redmane freezes for a moment as well, and it's Agatha who replies, "Oh.. well. I couldn't be sure something wouldn't happen, so.. Well, I know Rory Danzwyck, and he got me.. uh. Damn. If I tell you, I don't know if I'd be encouraging you or.. making you think I planned this.. or.. I don't know what you'd think, really. I'm not sure what I was thinking at the time. It's just that on this side, in this body, I'm not quite myself."

Thomas reaches over and presses a finger to Redmane's lips. "I'm thinking it's been a long day and that you should probably get some sleep," he says gently, "We still have a long way to go. Want to just camp here by this fire? I promise I won't do anything. Not even a joke."

Agatha smiles and nods. "We can spread out the blankets and sleep together," she offers.

"And, if we wake before sunrise, we can get some travel done before it gets hot again. C'mon, lets get the beds made," Thomas says as he pushes himself slowly to his feet.

Picking up her towel, Agatha checks to see if the clothes she washed in the rain are drying okay, and then goes to help with the bedrolls. She eyes the jar of Mother's Love Miracle Cream on the table, and wonders to herself: would it still tingle even without the magic?