Tides and Affairs (G/t)

Love the Name of Honor... Fear Death

An hour or so had passed before Vaughn came back to his tropical place of stay. His run and absorption of the setting around him cleared his mind and his soul of all worries and concerns. In fact, it had done it so well that he had re-entered the home through its front door, completely forgetting the opening in the previously curtain covered glass doorway and who it was for until he came into the kitchen for water. Seeing it put him in a panic at first, but it soon subsided, remembering that he was the only one staying on the island and that the resort kept his residency there a secret to everyone else unless he asked. Yet, those terms didn't apply to the miniature miss he last saw on the dining room table.

He quickly downed a more-expensive-than-necessary, small bottle of water from the refrigerator before going instantly into tunnel vision toward the dining table to find the little lady. His eyes went straight for the cloth that was visibly much cooler now, but she wasn't there. Her bag wasn't in its spot next to it, either, and he felt bittersweet. If she had finally found the freedom that she wanted, then he was happy for her. Yet, if that screw up of his - that 'mark of death' or whatever it was - eventually escalated into more than she could handle, then he would never forgive himself. Of course, he probably would never know if it did, but the thought of it was enough to make him feel guilty. Nevertheless, he kept looking around, in case she had gotten stuck somewhere or something, and he didn't have to look far.

On the right side of the cloth - the area behind her when the tiny girl was sitting - there was a trail of liquid that went all the way to the ceramic mug that Vaughn had left. He looked up in worry, thinking that there was some kind of mystery leakage, but nothing could be found. The warm weather and one level floor plan of the home made the idea less likely, anyway, but he wanted to make sure. He wafted the droplets and concluded that they were of the same substance as what he poured into the mug - the resort's specialty herbal tea. Like with the cloth, he had put it out for her to soak in, in case she had a sporadic muscle cramp, spasm, or some other pain... or to drink some of it, too, if she felt like it. The mug itself hadn't been moved, but its liquid level did look lower than what was put in. He didn't check it for cracks before pouring, so he lifted it up to be sure.

Upon its ascent, the mug was much cooler now, and no new drops fell, but a fork in the tea trail came into view on the table - its intersection is shown as a larger puddle. One path went up the side of the mug like it was a spill from pouring, but another path - a drier one - went around half the circumference of the mug, bordering the ring it made and traveled all the way to the edge of the table... and kept going. As the distance increased, the number of drops lessened, but there was a visible path going off the edge, onto the end chair's cushion, and up the chair's back to eventually reach its top... where the little lady's bag hung on a corner, and every bit of her clothing - all damp and scented like tea - dangled on a makeshift clothesline made of string and a pair of hooks, dripping into nearly invisible puddles on the floor far below.

Seeing this made Vaughn have a variety of emotions, especially considering that he would've been notified by the resort if an unknown (human) visitor had entered, and no alert had gone off. First of all, for the pint-sized persona to pull that off, she would've needed a lot of stamina and strength, so he was happy that she was healthy. Secondly, actually coming up with that idea was more creative than anything for which he had won an award, so he was also impressed. Thirdly, for all of her body to have gotten that drenched, she had to have fallen in or dived in, meaning that she was curious... and he did something right to catch her intrigue, thus making him feel proud of himself. However, his fourth feeling trumped all of the others - concerned intrigue. If her stuff was up there, then where was she, and why?

Luckily for him, his questions had simple answers... sort of.

His tunnel vision had her out of frame, and it looked like her nearsightedness and what looked like intense focus had him out of frame... and mind, too, placing Vaughn at an impasse. He had already put her in traumatic shock going after her in plain sight before, so he didn't want to risk it happening again calling her out if she wasn't trying to be found and had a genuine curiosity. Yet, there she was, past an empty dish that once held fruit - an almost four-inch young woman standing by his prints at the end of the longest trail of tea drops, using one arm to hold the carpet-sized pages up while the rest of her not-completely-dry-self bent over them extremely closely to examine them - a tiny woman... a tiny, still dripping woman scented like flowers... a tiny, dampened, tea-soaked, naked woman that barely looked three-quarters of his age, if that.