#epathia

Ahh, thank you!! I feel very inspired by this! 8D

EDIT

The gems clatter to the wooden floor shattering the dead silence. Valja stares at them, her hands shaking as realization hits her in the gut. She recalls her frustration with the morning, nothing seems to be working right and now this. Now... she restrains herself and fights back the tears that want to come. The specks of broken glass beads and glistening gems are not real. They cannot exist. She crouches down in front of them reaches out to touch a rose stone. It would be crushed into powder and mixed with a solidifying liquid and inserted into a tiny bottle. It would have hung from an earring, the earring of a proud potion maker.

“Mama.” She whispers to herself. The shop is empty save for herself and one other. Iiander enters the small space, his head ducking through the small door. He observes quietly but says nothing. She thinks back to running away, how Zethoi sacrificed his freedom to see that she find help - and she had. She glances back to the tall Nyrnan, the pompous Nyrnan with whom she would be traveling. He is nothing like Erryk, nor is he like the stories her grandfather wove. Quietly she scrapes up the mess of gems and beads, uncaring of whether or not they will mar her skin. Iiander walks around and steps on a bead.

“You... you broke another.” She remains calm and watches Iiander lift his foot.

“I apologize. Tis a shame that I never saw my reflection in it.”

His words stun her, but she chooses not to reply and instead picks up handfuls of beads and drops them back into the wooden crate. “Is that all you think of? Your reflection?”

“I am beautiful, am I not? Either way, we should depart from here. I do not know if the Ondu will return searching for others.”

“They ransacked Mama’s shop... I know it does not matter, but... I just need to think.”

“Now is not the time and you know that more than even I!” Iiander stalks toward the door, “You should stop moping now because nothing shall ever be the same. Come!”

Valja gives up on the beads and stands, following Iiander out of the shop and to the square of the village. “You already infuriate me.” Valja grumbles as she tries to keep up with Iiander’s long legged strides.

“Why do I infuriate you? Did you not come seeking my aid?”

“I did, but I did not expect a pompous child! I have just lost my home-”

“And by the time this war is over you will have lost more! It is not me you are angry with! Do you not know how to properly manage your emotions?”

Valja pauses, her mouth clamps shut but he waits for her reply.

“I am angry but what shall I do with it? There is nothing I can do.”

Iiander rolls his eyes and spreads his arms wide, “Yell! Scream! Say something! Just please do not bottle it up! This is no time to allow anger to cloud your thoughts. Besides, furrowing your brows and grimacing will only cause early wrinkles and that is not beautiful!”

Valja stomps, screams and slaps Iiander across the face.

Prompt: ‘No one outside of my family knows how to get here - except now, you.’

By: Epathia AKA Alexis L. C.

The cold weather was bitter like a woman scorned. Icicles dangled from calcified tree branches overhead, ominous in nature. Eyya looked up, twirling slowly as the reflections of the sun above glittered against them. It was like being in a hall of mirrors, only more dangerous. The snow crunched underfoot and Eyya lifted her knees in an attempt to catch up with the long legged man trudging ahead of her. His shoulders did not sag like hers, they were set against the strong winds blowing from behind. She felt her black hair whipping around, attacking her rosy cheeks. She sniffled loudly and the man turned around to face her. His face was young, but there was a wiseness to his brown eyes. She smiled and he gave half a smirk, walking backwards as though he were some sort of snowy mountain scaling expert.

“What are we doing here?” Eyya asked, her long hair did nothing to keep her neck warm, so she tightened the loose scarf in hopes that it would aid her discomfort. It felt as though tiny knives were drawing up her skin.

“I wanted to show you something.”

“Ed-” She was about to say his name but he shushed her.

“Why are you shushing me?” Eyya caught up, her feet could hardly lift above the deep snow. Edward had always been secretive, in fact his entire family was a mystery to behold. After years of knowing him there were still things she did not understand. Once she caught up to him he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers in between her knuckles.

“No one outside of my family knows how to get here - except now you.” Edward walked up the slope, using his own strength to help her up as it was a slick incline. When they reached the top a cave was just barely visible. It was surrounded by strangely formed icicles. How they managed to form that way was beyond Eyya’s comprehension. Edward pulled her further toward the cave and then stopped. Her breath rose above her head in small puffs - she was out of breath and struggling to catch it, the cold had made her chest ache.

“This was where my ancestors used to hide.” Edward said, “When the war was still raging, this was where they bunked out. This was where my grandmother went to practice her horrible singing... this was where my father proposed to my mother. It was once dark but now it is a place where good things happen.” Edward turned to her and got down upon one knee.

Don’t ask me what’s going on here because I won’t tell a soul.

I have had to write my signature on something. So, yesterday for the first time ever I wrote my new last name (since it changed after getting married). This would seem to be a normal occurrence, correct? Nope.

I was presented with a receipt from WINGS and grinned to myself. It was my chance to really write my new signature on something! FINALLY, I was thinking to myself, just finally... I scribble down my first name in haphazard cursive and then comes the last name. I paused.

My brain immediately shut down and I had no memory of how to write a cursive P. Feeling like I was being watched by the delivery guy, I slammed down the pen, made a nice looking P and then scribbled the rest of my last name on the page. I handed it back to him and took my food, rushing back upstairs and telling myself I'd practice that night.

I didn't. Another night of ordering food and the receipt is presented to me, this time I can clearly see my name as the recipient and I smile to myself, this time I will get it.

Wrong. Scribbling down my first name, I nearly write a C (the original initial of my last name), and then make the prettiest P I can muster, only to write the rest of my last name quickly and not in cursive form. I wonder how clear it is to others that I am not used to writing this name on ANYTHING.