#bailou

"Um homem sozinho não deve matar: se ele matou, é um réu, um homicida. Dois, dez, cem homens, se matarem, serão também homicidas. Mas o Estado ou o povo podem matar, quanto queiram, e seu ato não será um homicídio, e sim uma ação gloriosa. Trata-se somente de reunir o maior número possível de pessoas e a matança de dezenas de homens se transforma numa ocupação inocente. E quantos homens são necessários para isto? Eis a questão. Um indivíduo não pode roubar e saquear, mas um povo inteiro pode. Por que um, dez, cem homens não devem infringir as leis de Deus, enquanto uma grande quantidade pode?"

The stars danced and shone overhead as she woke to the sounds of a storm echoing through the cave mouth, faint and distanced but still familiar to her only from the time that she had spent out here before hand. Somewhere she knew that the Hospital staff were making sure the windows were latched, that the fires were stoked and likely about to do another round within the walls to make sure that the patients were convalescing as they should. The work areas would be shutting down, protecting the forge as well as the animals within the barns and menageries. Even with the sounds outside though she was asleep and perhaps the storm would give a hush to the world and let her sleep a little longer. Dreams are fickle things, twisting shapes and unpredictable. Tonight she dreamed of the night sky as it had been when she had last been awake, leaning against Kong in front of a fire with his cloak spread to cross her back as well, her own a makeshift blanket over the two. With a large moon so close to the horizon that it seemed to consume a quarter of the sky with its permanent hue of the harvest, swirls of gases in the atmosphere sliding across the vantage point and thousands upon thousands of stars all blinking intermittently in the pitch black of the evening. It was telling to her the level of trust she placed in Kong simply by the contact she offered to have with him without flinching or recoiling away. It was not often that she initiated contact with others beyond her bodywork and even then she always asked permission before laying her hands on another. But...it had just felt right to lean there against him in the cold and watch the Draenor sky. Into the night and past the first break of dawn she slept, warm and content in the furs that surrounded the sides of the bed she was in. The blanket that she had pulled around her though was one she was far more familiar with, a small knit thing just barely the size of her with a satin edge that showed its age from wear and fading of the once vivid purple that had faded to a softer lilac. With a stretch and a yawn though she found herself staring up at the ceiling with a smile leftover from her dreams stretched across her lips. That urge to try and go back to sleep wasn’t even there as she had rested all she needed and perhaps then some. Instead of laying there and soaking in the rest of her sleep she sat up and pushed herself up from the bed. The floor creaked slightly as she walked over towards the window to look outside. The sun was bright and shining off the top of the cave entrance and the world was flooded with light when the cave gave way to valley. The hotsprings kept the area a good temperature so she had not been freezing but she definitely caught the depth of the new snow that had fallen in a tempest the night before. Dressed for the time being she opened the house door only to see a package sitting there on the stoop in front of her. “Mail?” She questioned, one of the gardeners looking over at her while they were tending some of the flowers and she ducked her head, her smile turning sheepish. Bending down she picked up the medium sized box and brought it inside with her, mulling over the reasons why she suddenly had a package waiting for her. There was a lovely envelope atop of it and it was certainly addressed to her in a not yet familiar handwriting. Bailou! Eagerly she read the note, small as it was, before she took to opening the box itself. A squeal came from the house then and likely echoed a little bit off the cave as she pulled out the soft dress that had been sent to her. There were several shades of purple seeming to come together depending on the light and the way that the cloth was bunched and she spread it out on the bed. Quickly she rifled through her pack to find the actual note pad that she had and not her drawing book and she pulled it to her as well as one of her trusted pencils before writing a response. It was not often that she was given gifts but she treasured each and every one that she received. Standing up with the dress in hand she studied it before setting herself to trying it on. Never before had she been so comfortable in an article of clothing and yet so unsure of herself in her own skin. She had no way of truly measuring how it looked on her for the time being because...well a mirror wasn’t something that she had packed with her. Instead though she was determined to get used to it, shrugging off the discomfort as simply being unused to the dress. With the glass encased flower pinned in her hair where it was pulled back from her face so that it was firm and secure she reached for her art supplies and headed away from the house, locking the door behind her for good measure. She stopped though as she started walking down the path, her books clutched to her chest as she kept her eyes on the hut that she knew belonged to Kong. Was he still sleeping? Oh surely not. He was more than likely out doing one of the many tasks that he had there in upkeeping the Outpost. Had he carried her to bed?  More than likely, that was the only thing she could think of happening because she certainly didn’t remember walking. Her mind raced for a moment in ways to show him her appreciation of his kindness, of everything that he was doing for her when she had an epiphany moment. Chewing at her bottom lip for a moment she started out jogging and then a sprint towards the Inn and the kitchens because she had an idea that she wasn’t going to let go of. While she may not have been a master chef nor anything close to it she did at least have a good understanding of simpler dishes that she had been raised with and was at least good at adapting a recipe if she needed to. At lunch a runner was sent out to search down Kong, carrying a set of two warming boxes to keep the food within warm. In one was a cut of clefthoof meat that had been roasted and basted with a Tauren alcohol and black pepper, some soft sticky rice. The other held an abundant serving of little fried apple dumplings and a note. She had left the rest in the kitchen in similar containers to keep them warm if he wanted more. The runner also would present him with a sack that contained a bone from the meat she had used that was well sized and still had meat upon it for Mai’go. Sometimes a warm meal can speak volumes more than a timid woman stumbling over her words.