==== January 6, 2014
==== Baomos, Willimina, Ethelinda (played by Jhael)
==== The Zingari caravan matriarch is quite finished with Baomos' drinking and uses her cane to make her point.

Who Baomos, Willimina, Ethelinda (played by Jhael)
What The Zingari caravan matriarch is quite finished with Baomos' drinking and uses her can to make her point.
When Evening, 0 turns, 3 months and 12 days until the 12th pass.
Where Zingari Wagon

ethelinda.jpg 450_men-johnny-depp-chocolat-1914925636.jpg willapregnant.jpg


Zingari Wagon


The wind practically beats on the side of the wagon, howling through the caravan grounds like a mournful canine. Sand, debris and rocks hit the side of the wagon. A gaunt, but swelling Willimina sits at the table, lighting incense in the brazier. Glow baskets are dimmed so that Baomos may sleep off the drunk he's in. Willa shakes her head. Brought home drunk by a rider and one of the weyrs harpers, what a disgrace. But, she sighs heavily, she can't really blame him. Were it not for the child in her belly, Willa might be just as drunk….just as lost. Willa wipes her eyes, as if doing that would erase the big brown circles under her haggard eyes. Her cheeks are swollen from crying and she doesn't look like someone who should be taking care of someone else…. but there's no one else, everyone is keeping their distance from Baomos right now.

Sandstorm or not the little matron of the Zingari is not at all detered. The strength with wich the door of the wagon slams open is due mostly to the wind's pleasure. Wrapped from head to toe in scarves the wrinkled Zingari grandmother crawls her way into the wagon shaking sand in her wake. A helpful gust slams the door shut behind her. As she begins to unwrap herself of the desert garb her keen eyes take in the dim scene of her children's wagon. "That is enough of this nonsense. Willimina dry those tears and fetch that water casket for me."

Willimina starts with an audible shriek when to door of the wagon slaps the side with a sharp retort. "Grandmother! What on Pern are you doing out in this storm?!?" Willa wipes her eyes, nodding and fetching the water, sliding around things in the wagon with her hand on her belly to keep it from nudging things over. She doesn't know to what nonsense her grandmother is reffering to but she supposes she'll find out. "You shouldn't be walking around out there! I already had to stitch up Da's forehead." She says wearily, none of her usual cheerfulness in her tone.

"Your father is acting the fool." Ethel takes the casket, cradling it in her arm as she waddles forward her hand gripping the gnarled end of her stiff cane. As she moves closer she wrinkles her nose against the smell of liquor. Taking careful aim the small woman throws the contents of the casket right upon her son's face.

Willimina sighs and has to nod in agreement with her grandmother, even though she'd thought about doing the same as her father for days now. "Aye Grandmother…" is her only reply, but she stiffens herself and backs away from her father's bed when she sees what Ethelinda is about. She cringes a little, knowing her father is going to launch himself out of the bed.

Baomos comes flying into a sitting position, sputtering and wiping the water from his eyes. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WILLA???" He roars, automatically assuming it washis daughter tha woke him so abruptly. "Girl if you think….." His angry voice trails off as everything comes into focus and he spies the wrinkled face of his mother standing there. "Mother, what are you….?" He starts, having to grab the post of the bed to steady himself, his eyes are sunken and red, and his cheeks flushed, he even wrinkles his nose as he gets a whiff of himself. When he's sure he's steady he glares, or tries to anyway, and heaves a big sigh. "Go away…."

THWACK. Ethelinda changes her grip on her solid cane to swing it with suprising agility at the thighs of her drunken son. "Sit down you idiot. It is high time someone takes you to task over this," and here the cane waves dangerously in the air before coming down with a resounding CLACK to the floor of the wagon. "You too girl. I've words for both of you and none of them begin with 'bless." The glint in the old woman's eyes book no argument from either the pair of them.

Willimina flinches at the cane swinging and looks shocked, slightly. What had she done? "Grandmother…I…" She starts, wilting when she realizes that the line of thought she was following wouldn't work. So, she sits back at the table and picks up an abandoned cup of tea, sipping lightly from it. Nothing to do but listen to the old matriarch, after all, Ethel's word is law.

Baomos lets out a grunt when the cane meets his leg. He sits, glaring at his elderly mother, the stench of liqour coming off him in waves, and even more so as sitting causes him to let out a drunken belch. He runs his hands through his matted hair and along the unshaven line of his jaw. "There's nothing you have to say Mother, that I want to hear. Just let me be." His voice is softer, harsh, scratchy. Probably from inhaling all the dirt earlier. "Shoulda never went to that cursed gather… shoulda never went…." He mutters and drops his face into his hands, making no sense. He must still be drunker than he appears.

That cane is dangerous in the hands of the tiny woman as she swings it again, this time to poke her son firmly in the stomach. "Nothing you want to hear by everything you need to hear! Sabina'd be turning in her grave to see you disgrace this caravan such. Carried back by a harper and rider, I've half a mind to disown you to bring back some of our honor! That damned gather was our rough luck catching up with us, nothing else. And you!" Ethel turns on the pregnant woman behind her. "Moaning around like a fool, you do that babe in your belly no favors. That husband of yours working himself raw to spare you as he can."

Willa's eyes grow large and tears threaten again. "I eat… I sleep… the babe should be fine. And I know Ephraim is working hard! I can't do most of what he does either, not for now anyway. My mother is dead…. My foster son missing, What, pray, do you suggest I do?" Anger… well, that's something new, something different from the depression she's sunken into.

Baomos grunts again as he's poked in the belly, but his face contorts with a mixture of rage and disbelief at his mother's words. But then a look of disbelief crosses his face. "Is that how I got here?" He asks, his last real memory being leaving the Dustbowl Cantina. Confusion had dissipated the rage. "I know she would be screaming at me too. But… I can't face the day without her… she's gone…. gone… my heart is gone…"

"That babe'll not be born to tears." Ethel's voice rings out clearly as she pounds the cane to the floor of the wagon again. "Women ain't meant to sit still while with child, it makes for a weak child. You know enough to be helping Merivel rather then wasting your time with sorrowing your eyes out." Back to her son does the old woman turn, scowling deeply. "So you'd drink yourself into an early grave and leave us without a male? Merivel is no fool, but he doesn't have your force with these rotten bazaar folk. Them bastard skinflints in the bazaar are bleeding us dry because he cannot demand the same prices you would get from them. And Jhael. You realize that boy ain't been seen since the funeral? And you one of the few who could be finding him and dragging his skinny butt home again. Will you be responsible for the slow death of all of us?" There is little anger in the old woman's voice as she snaps the words out. Each is delivered with the stinging ring of one who believes every word, and will back it up with decades of experience.

Willimina nods, easier to bring 'round than her father. "Aye Grandmother, I'll seek him out tomorrow." She sighs and drinks her tea, trying not to attract any more negative attention than she has too. Willa has always been a good girl, a loyal member of the caravan, she lives to be Zingari! So she can see the sense in her grandmother's words, she takes after Sabina that way, always seeing the rationality in things, specially when someone is kind enough to point it out to her, and bold enough to tell her she's being an idiot. It doesn't wipe the grief from her face, but determination starts to creep back into her sad brown eyes. She adds nothing to her father, as she has not the right too, she and Ephraim don't lead the zingari quite yet.

Baomos heaves a sigh and resigns himself to the lecture. "I did not know that Jhael was missing." He peers around Ethel at Willimina and glares at the girl. "Why did you not tell me your foster son was missing?" Never mind all that noise about Merivel and the caravan business. This news… Jhael… seems to be what catches the Caravan Leader's attention. He turns slightly red with Anger. "You keeping things from me now girl? When did that start?" Probably around the time he started drinking, but hey, there's no logic with drunks.

"FAH!" Ethal growls. "And now he cares." Once more does that cane come up to poke the man, though this time is is gentle and just to the shoulder. "You weren't sober enough to listen or pay attention to Willa when she had all what could be spared out searching the bazaar. Perhaps if you hadn't been so busy drinking away our emergency funds you might've noticed the lack of things burning around here. Even Gana hasn't seen the boy and you know how fond he was of that girl."

Willimina nods. "She's right, the last time I approached the door with news, you threw an empty bottle at me. I haven't /hidden/ anything from you Da. I figured it was best if I handled it." She shrugs and leans back against the chair she's sitting in, drinking her cold tea. "I've had anyne I could searching for him… and I've been taking care of you and barely myself." Willa looks sad that not even Ganaletta had seen her foster son. "No one's heard hide nor hair of Jhael." She looks at her grandmother, worry straining her pretty features. "I'm so worried about him…."

Baomos glares at the both of them. "And there's been no word? No sightings? Have you sent Timo to check Jhael's hidey holes?" And now, all of a sudden, he's the inquisitive Bao, the leader. He ignores his mother's words, somewhat. "Our emergency funds?" Had he been taking funds from the wrong chest? Bao shakes his head and rubs his face in his hands once more, finally coming around. Had he really been that wasted away?

"Foolish boy!" Ethal finally sits down, and begins to unwrap the last of the scarves that had protected her frail form from the scathing sands outside. "The traveling wagon destroyed and the beasts fled to their deaths too, the one so badly hurt young Jhael had to put it down himself; we'd little enough before and the repairs have cost us handsome. With no gathers to refill, those cowardly holders to afraid to repeat what happened at Keroon and these cursed sandstorms we've little enough chance to refresh."

Willimina stands and begins to prepare a pot of klah over a hot brazier, there'd be no lighting a fire outside right now. "Grandmother would you like some tea?" She asks politely, knowing the woman's distaste for klah. She doesn't wait for an answer as she begins digging through a chest for the tea leaves.

Baomos sighs. "Then we are in poor shape indeed." Baomos mutters and starts searching for his flask amongst all his pockets. He scowls when he cannot find it, guessing that it has been confiscated by his daughter. He scowls as he wipes his hands on the front of his clothes. "What is it going to take for us to recover?" He asks, holding his head as the hangover sets in.

"Yes, dear." Ethal's face loses the last of her ire as her son starts to talk sense, though she takes a hint of pleasure in the pain in his head. "May that ache make you think boy." Baomos will always be 'boy' to Ethal. She sniffs once. "We will talk once you have had a bath. And something to eat." She wiggles her cane at Willimina, "Food for him too. I believe the storm is dying down." She cocks a wrinkled ear out to the sounds outside.

Willimina busies herself making the tea and klah, and rummaging some bread,, dried meat and dried fruit for Baomos. She sighs, shaking her head. "We may as well add stocking fresh food to the list…." She /had/ noticed how low the stock was getting after doing the books the other day. At least she hasn't been /completely/ remiss in /her/ duties, just slightly. She passes a steaming mug of tea to her grandmother and one for herself lands on the table. Baomos is handed his meager meal and a steaming cup of klah.

Baomos takes the food and drink from his daughter, turning slightly green as his stomach makes him aware that he very well may vomit up this meal later. He takes a sip of the steaming klah, clearing his head only a little. Something of good solidness hits the side of the wagon and the howling of the wind becomes slightly less noticeable. There's less sand hitting the side of the wagon, making less of the spraying sound.

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