The Haunt of Danzig Ruin

Homesick

             They arrived back at the port before midday thanks to a farmer and his wagon full of the last of his winter root produce to sell at the market.
              He was a jovial old fellow who could talk the bark off a tree and, therefore, a wealth of information. He was exceptionally receptive to Petrich and Nora, which made them wonder if he could truly perceive their presence.
                But just as they climbed out of the wagon and was about to thank him and bid farewell, the farmer shook his reigns to his wagon pulling mule and moved on without a word.
                 Petrich looked at Nora and shrugged. "Well, nothing out of the ordinary there."
                 Nora sighed, almost hoping they could be seen and not forgotten so soon after.  It was no wonder that people wandering through the Dream Plain were ultimately rendered  insane. Without Petrich's presence, she would have lost her mind almost immediately. Not being truly seen by the population at large after so very long made Nora feel a little depressed, nonetheless, although it was the only way they could have brought down Theo Xander in Woxlichen. But now they were home, in a sense, or at least in a very familiar location, even if they were strangers to everyone living in it.
             The fact they could still sustain themselves without the need for money was still a great advantage and the benefits overrode the need for socialization.  From the farmer they found out  who to talk to for lodgings to lease and before long were arranging their possessions in one of the small limestone bungalows located on a cliff  with a grand view of the ocean and sandy beach below.
             The bungalow was far too small for proper workspace inside, so Petrich set his tapestry frame out on the veranda. 
             "This space would have been impossible if this were to be a painted document." Petrich commented.
              Nora had just finished stocking a tiny cupboard with food staples and joined Petrich out on the veranda.  She had to agree about the space. Spools of colored thread and sewing notions took up lots less real estate than painting tools. But this did not capture as much of her attention as the distant sandy beach down below.
              "Not that it was this particular beach, but the beach I knew as a child here was very similar." said Nora dreamily.
              "Spending summers here with Violet and Gilbert must have been lovely." Petrich said, busy categorizing the spools according to shades of color.
               "Oh, yes, and educational. Aunt Violet never lost a chance to teach us things, although Hilary and I thought of it as playing games." Nora replied, then laughed, "We practiced our letters and numbers by sorting mail for her! But Uncle Gilbert often took us down to the beach and just let us play on our own. Of course, by the time we were eleven or twelve, Hilary was more apt to come visit me in Leiden, since he was at the nautical academy by then."
              "Think he'll ever forgive me?" Petrich asked, "For coming along as I did?"
               Nora turned to look at him from where she stood. "For the most part, yes. Before too long he'll be far too busy learning how to manage the vast Baugainvillea fortune, thanks to his Uncle Dietfried."
             Petrich shook his head in disbelief. "How that man doesn't have an heir of his own, legitimate or not, astonishes me to no end."
              Nora shrugged. "Perhaps the right woman to be a mother of children just never came along. Seems to me his tastes in women were never much of the mothering type."
             "No, not as long as I've known him." Petrich added, "But there had been one he himself told me about years ago who ended up marrying someone else. He's lamented her ever since."
              Nora frowned. "I never knew that."
              "I doubt a lot of people do."
              "Odd for Dietfried to confine something so personal."
               "Yes." Petrich agreed, "He only told me because I was commissioned to do this woman's death document. You've seen it, Darling. It was the death document of the Baroness Valryllian-Beaumont."
Nora gasped. "You didn't tell me of her connection to Dietfried!"
"No, I didn't. At the time I felt it too personal to share. But, there it is."
"Sad, really."
"Yes. When he told me of it, it was a lesson for me to be on the lookout for the one meant for me, and for when I did find the one, be careful not to let go."
"Dietfried told you that?" Nora said in disbelief.
"He did. Was most adamant about it. You partially have him to blame for being bound to me."
               Petrich came over to her and together they watched the glittering reflection of the late afternoon sun on the easy waves of the ocean.
             Nora leaned her head casually against Petrich's shoulder. She could honestly say this was the most comfortable she had felt being in the Dream Plain, but it also reminded her of those she missed the most.
             She longed for her mother, the stalwart figure of her family. She also missed her father with his strong towering presence yet warm and kind demeanor. Nora even missed her younger brother, Randell, who had, surely by now, grown into his nautical cadet uniform and stood even taller than she.
"I want to go home," Nora said wistfully.
Petrich slipped an arm about her waist and held her closer to his side. "I know, Darling." He gently kissed her brow. "We shall work like mad to finish what we have begun. Everyone is waiting for us."
         *. *. *.

And work like mad, they certainly did, having made a rather tight timeline for themselves. As with all their works, Petrich and Nora kept hyper focused throughout the design process.
Now that they were truly bound, the creative process took on a whole new meaning for them. Petrich would not finalize a design unless they both approved of it, and throughout the process, there were times when Nora did not approve and would make suggestions. These suggestions were of great value to Petrich and he depended on them, wondering how he had made it for so long without the input of a bound assistant of his own, especially this one.
Even beyond the design, there were decisions to be made of the use of the predetermined threads. This task could prove tricksy. No new threads could be introduced and no original threads could be left out.
It was very much like solving a great puzzle in hopes there were not too many and not too few pieces by the end. Petrich felt sure that if the star reading was accurate, this would not be an issue.
After a couple of weeks of tireless design, Petrich was finally ready to put needle to canvas, leaving Nora to concentrate on household matters. She began to make regular trips to the marketplace, taking just enough to feed the both of them. As usual, the venders would wrap up meat pies and give her a little fruit and milk without expecting anything in exchange.
One day Nora had gathered a bouquet of wildflowers and actually tried to give them to a little girl selling new potatoes. The little girl merely stared and made no move to take the flowers.
"Don't take it to heart," said a familiar voice, behind her, "Can't you see she is blind?"
Nora turned around. In front of her stood Hilary Baugainvillea. He was every bit of twelve years old, with his silver blonde hair and ocean blue eyes from his mother and the slender yet strong build and natural tan complexion from his father. He looked as he did the last summer Nora spent on Ecarte Island, nearly a year before she met Petrich Hollenburg.
"Hilary??" she gasped, "Is it you? And. . .you can actually see me?"
Hilary's fine brow furrowed as an easy smile spread on his mouth. "Of course, I can see you!" he laughed. "Why wouldn't I?"
Nora looked down at herself, somehow feeling not quite so tall. She noticed the flatness of her breasts and the more slender feel of her hips. She was wearing a completely different dress, one that could fit her thirteen year old body. . .