Recent events were a blur for Thatcher. One day, he was speaking with Ashenie, who asked if House Portyr would allow orphans over the age of thirteen to learn the craft trades of the docks. Aidan would attempt to reach out to the steward of the Portyrs and seek an audience on this matter. When Aidan would donate, his donations were directed towards the orphans. Some of whom he knew existed as such because of wars he'd been in. There would always be that pang of guilt, as well as a hope that future orphans would find comfort in their care.
How much of a flop in matters. He'd come across a woman more than once recently. A face from a not-so-distant past. Threatening to kill two hin outside the Friendly Arms if they didn't hand over their coin. Though this had been a few years prior, Aidan defended them. The dark skinned wood elf with her crossbow almost had him bleeding out when he ran her off with his music. The bard had a slight chuckle while he nursed a headache with a glass of rum. Music for the sake of harm always seemed to be an odd concept. How bad would a bard have to play to make people nearly die just listening to them? For that matter, why weren't there more of these terrible, barely trained musicians traveling the coast and fighting off villages of goblins, orcs, gnolls, and Lizardfolk?
Just a shake of the head to such thoughts. Three years remembering that, and the same woman meeting him a year later forgot who he was and offered to go to a room with him, if he'd go adventure with her. A year and a half later, telling him he was handsome and what she could use a man like that for. Often, the shipwright wondered about the truth of what she remembered. What ploy would she use? Would she rob him, try and kill him? Or was she just that lonely? In the end, though, one trusts their gut instinct. People can change. Aidan had been proof of that to an extreme.
When he saw the same female speaking with a friend of his regarding adventuring with him and a few others, there was little to do but bring up the incident. At first, the elf said she'd done no such thing, then said it sounded familiar as Aidan handed out the details of the story. Her war paint upon her face shifted with the expression she gave, wasn't even aware Aidan had written the details down in a note. Fully expecting to see a bounty at some point. It changed the minds of those who considered the adventure, especially when she said, "I was likely drunk".
In spite of all of this, having met her a final time on this day, he chose to leave the past the past. They talked, and he agreed to get to know the woman. How peculiar he still wasn't familiar to the point of names. She was just a face and a background. Perhaps that would change; what wouldn't is an idea of interest in her. Wisp was one of the greatest parts of his years here, and knowing her as more than just a friend, could not be compromised for anyone. She came in and lay on the couch behind where he sat by the fire. A woman always fond of claiming perches that were already the property of someone else. Wisp aside in her own thoughts, Aidan hoped the orphans turned out to be nothing like the dark woodland elf who had little need for morals.