A Life in Fresh Ink Blurs Easily

When the Calamity brought on the blizzard to darken Coerthan skies, ice locked the windmills that had once turned grain to flour for Coerthas. The river froze, leaving small boats carrying grain from the Central Highlands to the Western locked in stasis, and what grain remained in Gorgagne Mills went unclaimed, many farmers having died in the first onslaught of winter.

Ghislaine, widowed by the ice in the first year of the Calamity, brought her daughter Marceline to the household of Ser Gorgagne's son, Hervé. He, his wife Joie and their son Edmond welcomed the two with open arms. Formerly a wealthy household, there was enough in store to keep the families and their one servant adequately, if not comfortably, fed.

Throughout the second year, Ghislaine watched Hervé with increasing greed. Her deceased husband, only a hedge knight with the Durendaire house, had lacked any of Hervé's distinguished features, particularly the river blue eyes which he'd passed down to his son Edmond. In such close quarters, such gazes were impossible to miss. Perhaps had Hervé paid more heed to Joie's rising temper, her reluctance to invite Ghislaine to the evening fire for what remained of their wine… Perhaps then the illness that struck Joie down so abruptly would not have left him so vulnerable to Ghislaine's comfort.

No chaplain from Ishgard could come to wed the two, but prayers were made before the household image of Halone and Hervé treated Ghislaine as his wife in all ways, instructing Edmond to honor his stepmother, to acknowledge Marceline as his sister. An honorable, affable lad, Edmond put aside his grief as best he could do to as he was asked.

Greed faded, replaced by resentment, and Ghislaine begrudged every mouthful that Edmond took, seeing it as a theft from Marceline, from herself, from the family she wanted to build with the man she'd gained with such effort. Hervé held a blind spot for his son--or so she told herself--and pointed out the dangers of travel with the ever-stronger blizzard making even a brief trip to the frozen windmills hazardous.

When the calendar spoke of midsummer and the windows showed only the dead of winter, Hervé discovered a theft that put the household at the brink of death. The servant, a man who'd acted as butler and valet, tutor and instructor, had put all of the foodstuffs he could find into their one remaining cart and fled the Gorgagne household. With the larder now empty, only the dried fruit stored in the attic were left to sustain four hungry, frightened people.

Marceline took ill, Hervé made several attempts to track the manservant down, only to fall ill himself, leaving Edmond and Ghislaine responsible for maintaining the household as best they could. Watching her daughter fade before her eyes as Hervé fell into a delirious fever gave Ghislaine an opportunity she seized.

The hot, meaty broth she brought to the sickbeds revived Hervé almost immediately; Marceline claimed the broth tasted 'like crying' as her mother forced more steaming spoonfuls into her mouth. Despite her complaints, the food did as well for Marceline; she soon recovered from her fevers. The invalids were able to move to the sitting room, the warmest room in the house save for the kitchen, and take in the faint sunlight at the window.

Ghislaine broke the news to them that Edmond had taken it upon himself to chase down the thieving manservant, that he'd made a declaration not to return without food to save them all. Hervé wept into the heavy bearskin robe he wore, knowing his son's noble spirit too well to disbelieve the tale. Marceline wept with him, having cherished childish notions of marrying Edmond who'd treated her with such kindness.

Birdsong, unheard for many long months, broke the grief overshadowing the household. Marceline went immediately to the window to exclaim over the beautiful blue bird she saw sitting in the juniper tree half-buried in snow. Hervé listened intently to the song, watching with Marceline as the bird bobbed on the snowy branch, and they tried to whistle the tune back to the bird despite the closed window.

Ghislaine heard the song as well, and burst from the house with a broom, screaming and beating at the tree to chase the bird away.

And did so the next day.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Revived beyond expectation by the meat broth Ghislaine served to them, Marceline and Hervé spoke of Edmond cheerfully. They neither asked where Ghislaine had discovered the miracle of fresh meat nor speculated about Edmond's departure, but drank bowls of broth and chatted happily about what they three would do together when the end of winter finally came.

Despite Ghislaine's earnest attempts to keep the bird away, every day, blue feathers flashed against the unending expanse of white and grey. Every day, the song trilled through the air, growing clearer and clearer.

And every day, Ghislaine heard the words the bird sang, even as Marceline and Hervé learned to whistle the tune. Every bowl of the unending broth sustained them, and Marceline's cheeks grew positively rosy. She and Hervé sang together, composing lyrics to the bird's song and promising to share them with Edmond. Over and over, birdsong rang out through the snowy air, and Ghislaine grew wan and thin.

She ceased chasing the bird out of the juniper tree, too weak now to wield the broom, but only able to listen as, day by day, hour by hour, Marceline and Hervé sang along with the beautiful river-blue bird.

And when Marceline, well-wrapped against the snow, went to gather juniper berries from the tree in the yard… When Hervé cheerfully dished himself another bowl of broth…

When they sang in perfect harmony with the bird's song…

My sister stands above my bones My father stands above my flesh My mother lives, who took me Flesh from bone And laid me beneath the juniper tree

Kywitt, kywitt, oh what a beautiful bird am I Sprung from the snow that took my last sigh

Ghislaine's scream went unheard as she sprang to her feet. Her plunge into the snow past Marceline went unheeded, and only the brilliant splotch of blue in the juniper tree followed as she fled her guilt and vanished in the whorl of snow.