On one hand, Tara could tell that neither of them talking bothered Matteo; he always liked conversations, but she preferred silence. It was one of the main reasons they didn’t really interact when they didn’t need to, why she would’ve stayed home if Itzun wasn’t curious.
On the other, however, she really didn’t want to say anything. Matteo was brave enough that he could strike up a conversation with, for example, the person sitting behind him and they would probably get along. Tara was not—even if she tried, she would only manage a little squeak, maybe a sentence or two in a near-whisper, before reaching her limit.
Matteo awkwardly spoke up once both of them had finished eating.
“I kind of have a plan for while we’re here,” Matteo said, looking at her. “We have the rest of today, all of tomorrow, and most of the day after to sightsee or investigate or whatever. I was curious about the library back in the main city and trying to see if any locals knew about that legend.”
“Okay.”
That didn’t seem to be the answer he wanted, because he lightly sighed—the way Mark did when Tara didn’t talk to him—and carried on.
“Do you want to do anything, or is it just a ‘me’ trip?”
She paused for a second to consider it. Honestly…
“…We should get something for Adelinde and Rene.”
That must’ve been closer to what he preferred; Matteo gave her a kind smile as his first response.
“Maybe our last day could be in the city?” Matteo suggested. “Then we can look around, at least. Rene might be hard to get something for, though—she’d be honored by the sentiment, but she doesn’t really have any hobbies that mean a lot to her.”
“It could just be a picture frame,” Tara suggested quietly. “They wanted a family picture in October; if we get one here, we don’t have to buy one later.”
Matteo perked up a bit. “That’s a good idea! Then for Mom we can just get a score book or a simple necklace or something.”
Tara nodded, and almost immediately they fell back into the same silence Matteo likely wanted to avoid. She continued drawing while Matteo looked around, squinting at a map of the village near the door.
After about five minutes, Matteo murmured an “all right” and stood up. Tara flinched when someone loudly entered, demanding attention solely by their arrival. She glanced over to see who it was, vaguely recognizing the woman’s face despite not having any reason to.
Although the restaurant’s conversation continued, she spoke loudly enough that they could hear from their corner.
“I need an omyn—someone who can bind things.”
The owner gave a response, but the woman didn’t seem fond of it.
“If I’m stuck here, I might as well make some progress.” She turned around to the people sitting at tables, eating or chatting; about a third of them had looked up to see who she was and why she was there. She managed to raise her voice even more, a certain quality that scared Tara to an extent. “Can anyone here help me? I have more than enough funds to pay anyone who even points me in the direction of a strong omyn. The greatest reward would be a nation—a new home for anyone who was cast aside by the first island’s gods!”
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The words meant almost nothing to Tara, but Matteo’s expression changed. She couldn’t entirely tell if she was witnessing someone trying to stage an uprising or a rambling person who didn’t seem to have any clear point. Many of the others in the restaurant seemed to take her to be the latter.
When no one responded to her call of action, she looked around the patrons. After a few second of searching each person’s face, her gaze fell to Tara and Matteo’s table. Both of them froze, although Tara could only see it out of the corner of her eye while Matteo turned away to pretend to make sure they didn’t leave anything on the table.
The woman opened her mouth to speak and took a single step closer to them before the owner and one of the waitresses gently took hold of her and redirected her to the door. Among the display, a few of those who were watching offered laughs or words of fake sympathy.
Tara and Matteo remained silent until the woman was pushed out the door, then Matteo glanced back to confirm she was gone before speaking up.
“Well, that’s…not something you see in San Asari,” he noted. He looked back at Tara. “Wanna head out now? There’s enough time that we can look at the shrine before too many people are done lunch.”
Tara murmured some kind of agreement and picked up her drawing things so she could follow him.
…
Neither one of them had seen a shrine like those from the first island in person. Itzun shows them to her in dreams, on occasion, but it had a…different atmosphere, almost, to this one.
She hadn’t quite realized the place was on a large hill until they went there, the area behind the shrine dropping off to give an ocean view in the distance. The shrine itself only took up a small area, but there was a good amount of space blocked off by a rope fence; in front of the shrine was a tall gravestone, perfectly maintained with a slightly reddish hue.
“Wonder why it’s like that,” Matteo mused, likely noticing the same thing. He came as close as he could to the fence, but didn’t cross it. She had some kind of anxiety just watching him stand so close to it. He glanced back at her to entertain some conversation. “Do you think its from the stone it’s made out of, or how they clean it?”
Tara shrugged, offering no other response. She didn’t entirely want to look at the grave and shrine, yet she had a hard time focusing her attention on anything else.
“…Is that writing from the first island?”
The question seemed to pique Matteo’s curiosity, and he further examined the gravestone.
“Oh, hey, it is!” Almost immediately, his interested look faded into a frown. “But I can’t read it. I don’t have a piece of paper to write it down on to try to translate later, either.”
“I can give you one of mine?” Tara offered awkwardly, trying to ignore her strange fears. In the back of her mind, she imagined being on a ship in the dead of night, thunder rolling all around her—all that, despite being on perfectly solid ground on a warm, sunny day.
“Would you? It’d be nice to have, at least.” Tara murmured some agreement, but Matteo frowned when he looked at her. “…Are you all right? You seem…tense?”
‘Tense’ would be an understatement, and he knew it. Still, Tara shook her head and opened her sketchbook to take out a piece of paper.
“Just a migraine.”
“We can head back to the inn for a while if you want to?”
“No; go ahead and write the text down. I can wait.”
She appreciated how he still hesitated, but ultimately he took the offered paper and one of her pencils and jotted down what he saw on the gravestone. As promised, however, as soon as he was done he led her back to the inn.
She did try to stay awake and draw—the effort was proven vain fairly quickly when Itzun apparently wanted the time to talk to her. Ultimately he said nothing important.