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Gone were the days, it seemed, when Nimueh was constantly surrounded by a gaggle of children. In some ways he was thankful for time to himself once again, but at others he... wasn't. Finding odd jobs to do had often been difficult, in order to scrape enough coins together to support their children (and Ygraine's children too), but... these days his daughter's family had moved on to Belrea, and his own were in their late teens, and more likely to wander off for days at a time than to stay in one place.

In many ways, their children had all inherited the love of the road and urge to roam from their fathers.

He had a pack slung over his shoulder, full of a few bits and bobs... new stones, fine silver and gold woven threads he'd gotten for himself, and some other things he wanted to make into accessories for his husband. Once, he would have found rare, beautiful feathers, but finding your husband growing them suddenly took a bit of the joy out of collecting them from birds.

Shaking his head, amused at the thought, Nimueh looked up from the well worn path he'd been walking, slowing when he spotted...a person ahead, with a cart.

It could be innocent, but he'd also heard (and seen) plenty of situations where it was some sort of trap from bandits.

(2/10)

As Nimueh drew closer, the young lady in distress only added to his worries that this was some sort of ambush. However, once he could properly see her, he realized she was absolutely dripping in bright accessories, piled as they were on the back of the lopsided wagon, and he found it difficult to consider a thief dressing so brightly. That, and she stood out quite a bit on her own - with rich red curls and shifter skin that stood out.

Hybrids were more and more prevalent these days, and yet Nimueh still felt fascinated whenever he saw another one of them - like himself, he could only imagine what sort of life they'd led, having inherited mixed blood.

"Are you out here on your own?" Nimueh asked, words that might have been ominous if they weren't layered with a concern that betrayed his parental nature. He set his bag down, striding closer to look at the wagon.

The mount pulling it had been fastened to a nearby fixture, but disconnected from the wagon which was pitched into a rut in the road that, once, must have been mud. Now, the wooden wheel had fallen out, and had a nasty looking crack that promised that any help he could offer would be a patch job, at best.

Thankfully, the settlement his family was staying at wasn't horribly far.

[Scar via Discord]

Nimueh surveyed the damage, hand scratching idly against his chin. It was probably a good thing that she was on edge - if anything, her subtle line of tension made him feel a bit safer that this wasn't some sort of ruse, himself. He slipped his hands under one edge, giving a testing heft of the cart, but it was full of so much that it didn't so much as budge. "Well. Lets empty the cart, and I'll see what I can do."

That was easier said than done, as it was packed literally to the brim - but he reached up and began to carefully pull off supplies, setting it carefully out of the way.

A few minutes in, and Nimueh was grumpily wishing he'd taken Siel with him - his son's help would have been appreciated. These days, as Nimueh got a bit older, manual labor wasn't as easy as it used to be for him, even with his size. "So many supplies, and no one came with you? Tsk." He commented, perhaps more grumpily than he would have a few years ago with a stranger. But having a big family had chipped away at his antisocial tendencies, and he wasn't nearly as standoffish as he once was.

[Scar]

The sun in this part of the country was almost as brutal as in Oba, beaming down on them with brutal strength that made his skin sting. He mourned not bringing a proper hat with him, but the one time he'd donned a straw hat to help with a garden his sons had laughed at him until, pouting, he slapped it onto Callum's head instead. His husband had much fairer skin, after all. As he worked though he could feel the warmth creeping along the back of his neck and ears, and knew that when he got back he'd be an uncomfortable purple in places.

At least she was helping, and hadn't just expected him to take care of it out of some sort of gentlemanly goodness. "... Are these all pretty things?" He asked, startled as he carefully set down the latest box. How much money must she have, to get a cart full of 'pretty things'? Although, his definition of pretty wasn't always the norm - he went for expensive rocks, after all, and she might simply like pretty cloth or something.

[Scar via Discord]

They were just about done unloading, even if the weather was slowing them down a bit. Nimueh hesitated, but accepted her offer, sighing in relief as the cloth soothed the skin at the back of his neck. He was- strangely surprised to hear she had children, although in hind sight he wasn't sure why - perhaps she'd just seemed young to him, or her seeking the aid of a stranger led him to assume she was on her own.

"Ah, well. Gifts are a must." He agreed with a sage nod and lopsided little smile. His eyebrows rose a bit at the question, and as he set the final box down and drew his arm across his brow, he nodded. "Mm. Five. My oldest two have children of their own, now." He said, proudly, as he moved to the side of the cart, considering it and how to proceed.

[Scar via Discord]

Nimueh paused, arcing a brow at her as she motioned to him. "You aren't wrong. My family does travel more often than not." Perhaps when he was young, traveling so often would have been unthinkable, but after seeing how much Callum bloomed on the road ... it was impossible to suggest they stay in one place again. The few times his children brought it up, he would playfully deflect and say that Callum would just burn the house down again.

... So, the cart. "The wheel is destroyed - I can patch it up enough to get you to where you're going, but you'll need to replace it." He heaved the wheel from where it had fallen, then sat in the dust and dirt of the road, pulling tools from the bag he always wore at his hip. They weren't meant for woodworking, but for metal and to chip away at stones - but they would suffice.

[Scar via Discord]

Nim had already sat, cross-legged, in the dirt beside the cart, the wheel leaning into his lap. At her offer, he tilted his face to look at her, offering a small, polite little smile. "If I can get this wheel working, I'll need you to put it on." He said, vaguely gesturing at her in what many might've taken as a rudely dismissive motion. Not that he noticed, as he had turned his attention back to his work.

He set upon the wheel, roughly hewing it back into shape - cleaning the shattered pieces out, and instead using his chisel to chip new, interlocking joints in the weaker parts so instead of falling apart, the wood would rely on the new points of contact to keep it together. He used an old scarf from his bag to wrap the sight of the break, painting the cloth first with glue that he normally used to fix stones together for his jewelry - he wasn't used to using so much of it, and mourned the fact he likely wouldn't be able to replace it for a while.

Finally, when he felt it was dry enough, he stood and rolled the wheel close to the cart, gesturing at Adenah to hold it upright so he could let it go and move, instead, to the cart itself, once again inspecting it as he considered how, best, to lift it.