#astrid1

The constant crashing and banging and sawing coming out of the newly occupied flat opposite her would have been infuriating enough, let alone when Orlaith worked nights so often and relied on being able to sleep in the day. But she was a reasonable person, and realised she could not expect everyone else around her to live in silence during the day. She really took great issue with the whole thing when the noises started inching further and further into the evening and then into the early hours. If she couldn’t at least catch up on her sleep in the day, the least she could expect was be able to on the fortunate nights she wasn’t working. 

It was difficult to describe it as anything other than a march when Orlaith finally pushed the covers off herself, slid her feet into a pair of slippers, and went across the hall. Her hand pounded on the door, harder than she would have usually, but she did need to be heard over all the racket, didn’t she? “HELLO?” she called through the door. “Did you know it’s after midnight?”

.

Odd jobs are what kept the werewolf afloat all this time on the Island. She’d never been particularly skilled at one thing, but rather mediocre at a whole lot. It made her somewhat more useful in these parts, where you were appreciated for your grimy elbows and forehead sweat. She thought she received more respect than miners, at least. And she wasn’t having to risk her life down in the caverns daily. Nope, because Old man Klemons and Elba had been doing business for years now, ever since he’d thrown his back out on a clamming endeavor. From there on out, Elba had taken up his perch and they’d share the cut. And over the years, the cut became mostly hers. He was a fair man. She appreciated fair business trades. In all honesty, she would have done it for a lot less, because having free range to his boat most afternoons sometimes felt like a faraway dream, one she wasn’t allowed to have. One day, she’d have her own, paint her own, name her own boat. It’d be a pathetic dinghy, and she’d love it so.

Routinely, his old fishing boat needed to be taken to the shop. This was something he always did on his own but today, the project had been handed over to Elba. She was doing more chores than clamming these days for him, but that was okay. He seemed to like the company, as did she. The cherry red boat hummed loudly as she entered where she thought she was meant to. The boat was much too flashy for herself. Elba wondered what people thought of her when they saw her roll on by.

Elba wasn’t sure why she pulled the beanie from her head as soon as she came to a standstill, but it was something she’d watch men do all the time -- respectfully remove their hats upon greeting a new face. “Hello, Elba here,” she greeted awkwardly, still seated, completely defeating the purpose of the respectful gesture. “Did Mr. Klemons warn I was coming ‘round?” Short, brunette hair remained in all sorts of cowlicks.