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 Posted: Wed Apr 03, 2013 10:18 am
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 NEW BEGINNINGS
The giant tree loomed over the rest of the grove with an almost eerie presence, its leaves beginning to turn dark with pestilence and its bark seeming to writhe with blackened fog. Halwyn adjusted the cloth covering his mouth and nose as he stood there, simply staring at the large object. It had been roped off for safety’s sake, in order to prevent anyone from touching it, but the idea of someone wanting to get close enough was absurd. The newly-appointed Grimm avoided taking deep breaths, instead inhaling shallowly and quickly exhaling again. He’d heard rumors that Grimms might be better off in terms of possibly contracting the disease, but he still didn’t want to take a chance.
The idea that such a strong, resilient tree, and a sacred symbol at that, could become plagued and begin to rot before its time was disheartening. However, it was also interesting: to think, this disease must really be something! Sure, he knew that it had transferred from humans to inanimate objects and even animals before, but a tree? That amazed him; he’d always been taught to think of trees as being on a separate plane than earthy animals and humans, as almost above everything else (except Panyma of course). He’d never fully subscribed to the idea consciously, but obviously his subconscious had begun to believe it because he found himself in awe of the death occurring in front of him. What would happen to the mother of the oak grove? Would it really become a little pixie-like plague like so many others he’d seen about town? Would it look like the ones that sometimes visited his house and farm, the ones that Daphne talked about like friends? He hoped so; that would perhaps be the most interesting thing that would happen in his personal life! To think, he could be a real Grimm! Okay, he might be getting a little ahead of himself, but who really cared?
“Halwyn, get away from that thing! The last thing we need is for you to get sick!” His grandmother’s voice echoed across the field and Halwyn jumped slightly. Her voice had always been a little shrill for his liking, and he found himself grimacing beneath his cloth mask. With a sigh, he gave the tree one last look, fingering the rope boundary between them, before turning and heading back toward the farm plot near the house. “Halwyn, come here!!” He winced when Jadis screamed out the window for him again. “We’ve gotten a letter from Anica!” Halwyn stopped in his tracks at that; what would someone at the Fellowship headquarters want with them? He jogged back to the private entrance to their barn-style home, tossing his work gloves on the ground near a discarded trowel; he’d finish work later. It was only just after daybreak, after all.
“Oh, Halwyn dear, they want to meet you! Lady Estratus is sending a group to come and look at the tree!” This time it was his mother’s voice that rang out as he pushed open the door, and the young man’s face lit up as he grinned.
“What? Really?” He asked, looking over his mother’s shoulder and making her jump. Rosemary whirled around in surprise and beamed at her son, showing him the handwritten letter. She clasped her hands on Halwyn’s arms and pulled him close for a hug, which made him groan. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! You’re going to make a name for yourself!” Jadis piped in from the other side of the room: “It’s about time! I’ve had enough of your fooling around, Halwyn!” He and Rosemary exchanged a knowing glance, the middle-aged woman’s mouth quirking as she turned around and went back to the boiling pot of laundry over the fire.
“Get out your blue tunic tonight; you need to look your best for them tomorrow! We can’t have you wearing your work clothes!” Rosemary chimed, sounding like a cheerful little bird in spring. Halwyn chuckled. “Yes, Mother.” He turned on his heel and headed to the bedroom he shared with Daphne, fully intending to wake her up and talk with her about the great news. He was going to be a full-fledged Grimm!
“Get back out there and gather the potatoes! I’m going to make a stew tonight to celebrate!”
“…Yes, Mother.”
That evening, as Halwyn came in from the fields after gathering some herbs and spices for various apothecary recipes, he could smell a savory, rich supper cooking. They’d already had their largest meal of the day, but something told him that supper would be more extravagant in terms of ingredients. His father, Morris, had gone to the market today and he must have picked up something special. He took a dramatic sniff as he came into the main room of the house that functioned as kitchen, dining room and den all in one, which made Rosemary laugh from the far side of the room. “Smells delicious, is that chicken?” He asked, heading to the kitchen wash basin and rinsing his hands and forearms free of dirt.
“Yes, your father got it to celebrate tonight,” Rosemary chimed, looking at her son over her shoulder. She was a slight woman, with a soft layer of body fat around her middle but didn’t reach over five and a half feet on her toes. Halwyn, on the other hand, was well over six feet and burly, with wide shoulders and thick limbs from a life of manual labor. He reached over her shoulder and dipped a finger into the food she was cooking, earning a swat with the spoon, but he laughed nonetheless. “Can’t wait.”
Soon enough the family was sitting down to dinner, Morris and his mother sinking down into their chairs with groans and a few pops of joints and Daphne wafting in as if a leaf on the wind. She looked much like the rest of the family: dark hair and pale skin with icy eyes, but possessed a thin frame that had yet to present in any other family members. Sometimes Halwyn teased her about being so skinny, but it was always lighthearted. His family may get on his nerves every so often, but he did love them.
“So, Halwyn, you should mention to them tomorrow that you’re working on something new,” Jadis hummed, looking up at her grandson through her lashes with brows raised. Halwyn let out a quiet sigh, and hesitated before responding as politely as possible.“I’m not sure if they have time for that, Grandmother. This visit is just about the tree, right?” He looked to his mother and father for help, but Morris simply continued to eat, though he had raised a brow. Rosemary nodded, however, and came to her son’s rescue. “Yes, we don’t want to trouble them with unrelated things,” she said softly, putting a hand on Halwyn’s arm.
“Well, if they saw that you’re not just goofing around anymore maybe you’d get somewhere in the Fellowship!” Jadis snapped, putting a piece of bread in her mouth angrily. Halwyn merely remained silent, but his strong jaw was set in irritation as he pushed his meal around his plate. Jadis never ceased to draw attention to Halwyn’s lack of focus, no matter the occasion or original subject. This was supposed to be a happy occasion; they’d drawn the attention of the Grand Magus and were going to meet some very high-ranking officials tomorrow. Sure, it was sad that the tree was dying, rotting from the inside out, but it was also good in the long run! The Deverills had long been hovering under the Fellowship’s radar, simply there because of ancestors’ actions, but largely focusing simply on their own family business to get by. Perhaps, if they could get back on the map, so to speak, things would pick up? They weren’t starving or scavenging, but they weren’t exactly comfortable either. |
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Posted: Tue Jun 25, 2013 10:45 am
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 PART I: CONFIDENCE
An old worn parchment envelope closed with a vibrant purple wax seal emblazoned with the Fellowship's symbol arrived at the Deverill household unannounced. In an ink so dark a purple it appeared black unless illuminated, 'Knotwood' was given an scrawled simply in the top left corner and in the middle but a single name: Deverill.
"Dear Deverill Family,
It is difficult, in these times of science, to find those even among the Fellowship who cling tightly to the roots of our society. Within your village and even across parts of Mishkan, the Deverill Apothecaries are well known for their sturdy dispositions, good work ethic, and positive results from traditionalist endeavors.
This is why we are coming to you, rather than anyone else. A terrible rash has spread through our walls and even our own apothecaries are affected. We do not have enough hands to create the proper amount of salve to treat this and it continues to spread. Even as we heal five of our people, ten more come to us with horrible itching. Many are scratching themselves until they bleed. Though there is no immediate threat to lives, this is a serious inconvenience to our work and a highly dangerous situation with the blackened disease so eager to spread its deathly fingers anywhere it can reach.
A recipe has been included. Please, we require all the assistance we can and you will be compensated for your time. It is imperative for us to improve our quality of life so that we may continue serving the Fellowship and the Panymese Empire. Our preference lies with those whose belief and tradition is as strong as ours but if things worsen we fear we may be forced to turn to less satisfactory remedies. Your apothecary is one of the best in the area and we trust you will do right by your Fellowship.
What are we, if not a group of fellows who may turn to one another in times of need?
You have our deepest gratitude,
Seer Abantes Levasseur of Knotwood"
-----
He could hear the voices from inside the house before he got within five feet of it, or at least his mother’s. She sounded excited and worried at the same time, as always, but Halwyn could hear the steady thrum of his father’s deep voice as well. They must be discussing something, but what? As he pushed open the door to the large main room of the household, a brow raised in curiosity, Halwyn dropped his dirty boots by the door and pulled his work gloves off, tossing them aside without really noticing where they fell. He’d been chopping wood for the stove for an hour or two this morning, and his arms burned gently from the exertion as he rubbed them and made his way toward the kitchen. “What’s happened?” He asked, looking between his mother and his father, the former having a very difficult time containing the bright grin on her face. Jadis was in the den working on an embroidered handkerchief, no doubt for Daphne.
“We’ve received a letter from Seer Levasseur in Knotwood. There’s a rash going around at the base there, and they need us to make something for it,” Morris explained, looking down at the beautifully written letter again. Halwyn looked to his mother and blinked, watching the way she practically vibrated with glee. “Oh, Halwyn, they need our help! We can show the Fellowship that our magic is still strong!” She was right in front of him with a flourish, her dark curls swinging around her face. Morris chuckled softly at his wife’s antics but remained mostly quiet, setting the parchment down on the dining table.
“Make the boy do it,” came Jadis’ graveled voice from the other side of the room. The other three stopped and went quiet, looking over at the elderly woman where she sat hunched in her chair. “He’s to become a Grimm, after all. He needs to prove himself to the Fellowship outside of simply watching over a piece of disease.” She spat the last few words out, aiming a glare toward the window at the diseased tree in the nearby grove. Now that it had been confirmed that the oak was indeed going to become a Plague, Jadis regularly expressed her disdain of it, much to the displeasure of the rest of the family. Yes it was a loss, but it was also a gain in the form of a new responsibility, a new family member. But Jadis would hear none of it. The tree was tainted, filthy, and would forever earn her hatred.
“It’s not a bad idea, actually. Halwyn, if you do this on your own, the Fellowship will see that you are indeed worthy of being a Mage.” Morris scratched at the stubble on his cheek as he grumbled, his own voice not much different from his mother’s. He had never been the most expressive of men, but even Halwyn could see the slight brightness in his eyes that hinted at excitement. The more he thought about it, the more he, too, became excited. He could do this on his own! The Fellowship would praise him for saving the day, for curing an entire base! He slowly broke out into a grin to rival his mother’s, nodding fervently as he reached for the letter. They had even sent a recipe, this would be simple! All he had to do was recreate it in bulk and make it more potent; he could do that!
“I’ll do it! I’ll get right to work!” He took the list of ingredients with him and scrambled back into his work boots and gloves, intending to gather what he needed for the recipe. As he shut the door behind him, he could hear Daphne’s voice as she came out of the bedroom. “What’s going on?” But he paid her no attention; he had more important things to think about now!
-----
What Halwyn hadn’t been counting on, however, was how much waiting was involved in this recipe. Yes, he was working when he was gathering the components and mixing them or pressing them or heating the oil to infuse it with the herbs, but otherwise…he would simply sit and wait. Wait for it to boil, wait for the herbs to steep for a few hours, wait for the mixture to thicken… All of this waiting did not sit well with such an excitable young man, and Halwyn was quickly becoming bored of the whole thing. One of few things that kept him going was the fact that he would be praised for all of this hard work, for all of the people the balm healed. However, it did not keep away the thoughts of what he could be doing with this “wasted” time.
It also left time for Jadis to peek in on her grandson in the back room of the shop attached to the Deverill home. She toddled in as he was muddling the third batch of herbs and adding them to a pot of oil, her wrinkled hands clutching a woven shawl around her shoulders as she hovered near where Halwyn was working. “Only two completed batches in all this time you’ve been working? Have you been wasting time again, Halwyn?” She asked, her tone snappy and accusing. Almost immediately it was easy to see how Halwyn hunched over his work as his grandmother spoke, holding his tongue. Sometimes it was more difficult than others to refrain from talking back to her; he had to respect the matriarch of their family, after all. “I made a mistake the first time around and it set me back, unfortunately. But I have gotten the recipe down now, I simply have to recreate it.”
“Well you can’t be messing around, Halwyn! Your grandfather, Ronald, was such a powerful mage and very well respected! He poured himself into his work and it paid off, he was very successful. You can’t soil his name by lying about and doing whatever you want anymore, young man.” She was beginning to babble and nag like she did when she felt she was in the right, which was nearly all the time, and it was clearly having an effect on Halwyn. Slowly but surely, his broad shoulders grew more tense and his mouth turned more and more downward, and he could feel the urge to snap at her growing stronger and stronger. Eventually, he could stand it no longer.
“Grandmother, please! I am trying to focus, as you would like, and you are making it very difficult. Please, leave!” He looked up at her with a scowl, clearly annoyed past his normal amount of patience with her, and let out a firm huff. But he knew instantly that speaking up had been a bad idea. Jadis gaped at him, wrinkled cheeks smooth and forehead even more creased with surprise as she raised her graying brows. But that expression of surprise soon melted into one of anger and disbelief, and she stood up taller. “Young man! That is no way to talk to your grandmother! You insolent boy,” she spat, her crows’ feet-lined eyes narrowing as she leered at him. “Do not think that becoming a Grimm gives you any right to defy your elders, Halwyn Deverill. That thing out there is a curse, not a blessing!” And with that, she stormed out of the workroom as quickly as her stiff legs would carry her. Halwyn simply rolled his eyes and went back to work, grumbling under his breath. He didn’t care if he would hear about that later; it had felt very good to tell her off at least once. It had also gotten her to leave, so he considered it a success. Now he could just focus on making more of the salve and making it wonderful, so that he would be praised by the Fellowship. He would show his grandmother! |
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Posted: Fri Jul 05, 2013 10:03 pm
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PART II: A HARSH TRUTHDear Deverill Family,
Your efforts to aid us were indeed appreciated. We offer you great thanks and hope the payment offered upon delivery was enough for your services. The supply you gave us assisted in the almost instantaneous relief of three mages and the rest was spread among many in multiple applications. I must confess, however, that there is some concern. Though it is fair to state the recipe was followed, our expectations were not wholly met.
One of the reasons we requested your assistance, aside from our shared beliefs in tradition and respect, was that we understood there was a measure of quality that the Deverill Apothecaries put into their craft. To receive the quality we were given was a surprise; it lacked a mage flavor. What we received could have been made by anyone with the ingredients and recipe. This is an extremely confusing development, based on our knowledge and experiences with your work in the past.
We were informed that the eldest son of the household was responsible for the salves we requested and, in light of this, we have some concerns – particularly if he is receiving enough training and experience for his line of work. It may be to his benefit if he studied within our walls. The mages of Knotwood are especially attuned to the natural forces with which your family is known to align itself. This is by no means anything more than a suggestion but in these turbulent times we cannot afford to let the skills of our youth go by the wayside.
Please consider sending your son to study in Knotwood. Our Apothecaries are among the most skilled in the Fellowship and the distance between us is negligible. Transportation and shelter would be provided.
We await your correspondence,
Seer Abantes Levasseur
-----
“Halwyn Deverill!”
Jadis’ screech echoed through the home from where she stood in the kitchen, making Daphne gasp and Halwyn jolt awake. After doing the morning’s chores, he had returned to bed to sleep for a time, but it had unfortunately been much shorter than he’d intended. He groaned and rolled out of bed, rubbing at his eyes and rolling his shoulders. What could she possibly want? She had already scolded him for snapping at her like he did, and he didn’t think he’d done anything yet today to warrant her nagging, so what could it be? If she simply wanted to talk at him for no other reason than that no one else was home, he would be even more irritated than he already was.
As he shuffled into the main room of the house, combing his hair with his fingers and redoing his ponytail, Halwyn scowled. “What is it, grandmother?” He didn’t particularly care to find out, but he couldn't simply ignore her; that would earn him even more scolding. He made his way over to the dining table where she had seated herself, and that was when he noticed the carefully folded parchment in her hand. Raising a brow, he craned his neck to get a closer look at it. “A letter?”
“From Knotwood,” she snapped, laying it on the table for Halwyn to read. “Your salve was impotent, Halwyn! How could you fail so miserably when they provided you with a clear recipe?!” Halwyn recoiled slightly from her anger, his scowl deepening. “You have embarrassed this family, young man! You are a disgrace!” “Jadis!” It was Rosemary’s turn to interject, and she came toddling into the kitchen in a hurry to defend her son. “That is no way to speak to your grandson.” She only received a glare from the elderly witch, who crossed her arms and gestured to the parchment. “Look at what he’s done, Rosemary. Seer Levasseur has said that his work was ineffective!”
Rosemary took a moment to read the letter as Halwyn glared openly at Jadis, standing tall and defiant on the other side of the sturdy wooden table. She was insufferable, that woman, and in his darkest moments Halwyn regularly wondered how she would die. With his luck, it would be of old age and not a conveniently timed illness. Of course, he would feel guilty afterward for even thinking of such a thing, but Jadis was making it difficult to feel remorse at the moment.
“It was not ineffective, sweetie. It just…wasn’t strong, apparently.” Rosemary looked at her son with a mixture of relief and apology, setting the letter back down. “It worked, but it wasn’t what they were expecting, is all.” She aimed a dirty look at Jadis as the matriarch hobbled away toward the fireplace to sit, grumbling under her breath. She was apparently done trying to argue her point for now, seeing as Rosemary would side with Halwyn regardless. “But look, they’ve offered you a place at their base in Knotwood! Oh, Halwyn, you could learn from the most powerful mages there! Their apothecaries are legendary!” She was back to being peppy again, her plump cheeks rosy with excitement as she considered what it would be like. Halwyn, however, did not seem quite so excited. To be honest, the past few days he’d spent making the salve had been terribly dull. While he liked apothecary and could see its uses, and was grateful to it for providing his family with a living, he couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t quite for him. Perhaps it was simply the disappointment of failure that was getting to him at the moment, but he felt little drive to pursue any sort of education in the Fellowship. With a soft huff of a sigh, he pushed some hair out of his face.
“I suppose I could. But I surely cannot leave before the oak has matured.” He glanced out the window and frowned. “I promised Sir Sloane I would take care of it, and leaving is no way to do so. But…perhaps after it has become an Excito I could go. I shall have to think.” He stretched his arms up over his head with a groan, offering his mother a smile that didn’t completely conceal the disappointment in his eyes. Even Halwyn Deverill, with all of his zest for life and short attention span, was not immune to the effects of dashed hopes.
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Posted: Wed Nov 06, 2013 10:10 pm
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UPROOTED
Lately, the stench of the great oak had been intensifying even more than usual during the nights. Even its daytime stench was stronger, to the point where the Deverills rarely got within fifty feet of it if they could help it. Something was happening; was the tree truly, finally dying? Perhaps that would be for the best, so that it would no longer suffer. However, Halwyn couldn’t help the slight disappointment that twisted in his stomach at that thought. He had been so excited about becoming a Grimm. Was that opportunity being taken away?
But that disappointment and the tree’s increased level of stench did not lessen the Deverills’ love of it. Late in the night, on an otherwise ordinary day, shouts reached the open windows of the farm house. Confused at first, Halwyn attributed them to hooligan young children playing outside. But then he realized that their home, out in the country outside Knotwood, was far from any sort of neighbors, and the closest ones did not have young children. He slid out a bed with a groan, waking Daphne in the other bed across the room, and peered out the window. There, far out in the fields, he could see four bright lights, likely torches, straying dangerously close to the oak grove.
The adrenaline began pumping hot and fast in his veins and he roused his father, yanking on a pair of boots and a jacket over his sleeping clothes, grabbing a pitchfork from the wall of the house outside the door as he sprinted out toward the trees. Morris was not far behind, still shrugging into his jacket as he ran and clutching his mage’s staff tightly. It took only a few minutes for Halwyn to reach the grove, and he shouted at the small group of men gathered near the tainted oak. Judging from the torches in their hands, they intended to burn the thing to the ground. “Hey! Are you soft in the head?!” He called, brandishing his pitchfork at them. “If you burn it, you’ll expose everyone to the plague!” The men looked at him fearfully at first, but their leader quickly reminded them of their mission. “That tree is an abomination! It needs to be destroyed!” It appeared that Rosemary had been gossiping about town, and the word had likely spread very quickly; Knotwood wasn’t known for being accepting of change, after all. Halwyn let out a sigh, looking away from the group only long enough to notice that his father had joined him. Already he could see Morris’ knuckles turning white as he held onto his staff, though the rest of him appeared relatively calm. His father had always been good at hiding his emotions and going largely unnoticed until he acted.
“Get out of our way!” The offenders began to advance, looking more determined than ever. Halwyn glanced at his father, who let out a tired sigh. He knew that Morris disliked fighting, but the tree had to be protected. Not only was it sacred, but it now would provide the Deverills with a way to become important to the Fellowship again. They couldn’t just let that opportunity be destroyed. Halwyn did his best to block two of the men, but their torches swung and threatened to light him on fire. Morris made a startled noise and made a quick gesture with one hand, a glob of water forming and quickly dousing the torches. Stunned, the would-be vandals were quiet for a moment, before apparently deciding to try brute force instead. Halwyn blocked a punch from one of them, using the handle of the pitchfork to knock the man’s hand away before kicking him in the stomach. Unfortunately, he would have to rely on actual physical combat instead of magic; his skills were less than satisfactory.
After more fighting and a lot more dancing around each other, Halwyn and Morris had nearly been backed up to the rope barrier surrounding the tree. One torch still remained, but Morris had been unable to douse it thus far. He and Halwyn were distracted with the other vandals, and just as the one wielding the torch crossed the rope and reached to touch the tip of his torch to the tree's roots, a loud pop broke the relative quiet of the grove. All of the men turned to look at the tree, wondering if someone else had climbed it and snapped off a branch.
While there had been a few black splotches on the bark previously, they had now multiplied and grown to the size of cattle, almost completely covering the tree. The rotten bark was disintegrating, popping and snapping and even falling to the ground as dust here and there. The leaves were trembling, dropping in large patches, and within a few short moments the tree’s branches were bare. From the smallest tips inward, they began to crumble like ash, until the tree no longer existed. The ground beneath their feet trembled and one of the vandals fell to his knees; the roots beneath the soil were crumbling to dust. Halwyn and Morris, particularly, looked on in horror. A shriek came from the house, a pitch too high to be Rosemary or Jadis, and soon enough Daphne was clutching at Halwyn’s arm. But that wasn’t all; the ground began crumble, the tree’s large roots no longer there to support it, and shallow sink holes opened up, causing the vandals to stumble and cry out. Frightened, they turned and ran. After a few minutes, the display was over and quiet settled over the grove again. Amongst the clouds of dust, small cries of anguish could be heard.
--
Uncertainty coursed through her, the sense of complete and utter disorientation overwhelming and eliciting a twist of anxiety in her…stomach? Suddenly she was aware of a strange sense of weight around her, in her; it was her weight, surely. Arms? She stared at them, these strange new things attached to her body, noticing the jerky, uneven way that they moved when she thought about doing so. Each finger curled independently, experimentally, and eventually her attention turned southward, down to her…legs? The rest of her body was of great interest, the way it moved and worked and looked. She could feel it, the earth beneath her feet—feet?
Suddenly, a large, looming shape drew her attention away. She flinched at first, a stiff, quick movement born of fear and uncertainty. Whatever this thing was, it was huge and that most certainly did not sit well with her. Clumsily, she turned and ran – well, tried to run. Her limbs were stiff, inexperienced, and because of that she simply wobbled and fell to the side, helpless and frightened. She most likely would have flailed and kicked in an effort to defend herself, but her limbs were simply too static.
“Oh no!” The voice was loud and came from above, prompting a frightened gasp from the little excito. Glancing up at the hulking figure, she watched in fear as it reached down to pick her up, lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all. She cried out with a hoarse voice and tried to squirm away, but it was no use. She watched the ground fall away from her, so far down, and promptly closed her stiff little hands around those fat sausage fingers right near her face. She was going to fall! Her head spun and her vision blurred for a moment before she dared to turn and look up at this gigantic creature, and she could feel something pull slightly at the side of her face. Unbeknownst to her, the two small oak leaves that were actually attached to her head and functioned as ears had folded back, much like a deer’s would. She could vaguely make out the appearance of this thing that was holding her in the dark of the night, its eyes and the flash of teeth as it…smiled? It was moving, taking her somewhere; she could see things moving past.
“I think…she’s the tree! That’s how it works, right?” It was that thing again, its voice low but excited at the same time. A few other others, things that looked very similar to the first, spoke but she couldn’t really make out what they said because her head was still spinning. It felt like something was clogging it up, and everything felt heavy. After a few moments it turned back to her, the two lines over its eyes curved slightly. “Do you have a name?” A name? She shook her head, not fully understanding what a “name” was. The large figure smiled again, letting out a breath. Just then, one of the other creatures, a smaller one with a kinder face spoke up.
“What about Lucina?”
The one holding her perked up a little, glancing at the other. It looked back at her, smiling even larger than before. “How about that?” She just stared up at him, opening her mouth as if to say something, but closing it again. After a moment, she did manage to say something. Her voice was hoarse and sounded strange, but was there really anything she could do about it?
“Lucina.” |
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Posted: Thu Dec 12, 2013 12:31 pm
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A SEED OF DOUBT
She stared at her reflection in the small piece of polished glass, an ornate mirror that Daphne had gotten as a present a long time ago. The small crease in her forehead deepened as she stared, and as she reached up to touch it, she felt softness, warmth. The wood grain that covered every inch of her body was a lie, a façade, though her limbs were still stiff as if carved from the substance. The two largest leaves on her head folded back and she felt a familiar but strange tightness in her chest, a burning in her lungs. This was not right. She was not right.
After a moment Lucina looked away from the mirror that had been propped against the wall for her, toward the center of the large room. She’d learned very quickly that her guardian, her…Grimm, lived a very simple life. He got up early, was out of the house but not far for most of the day, and then went to bed early. She spent a considerably larger amount of time with Halwyn’s sister, and she had grown rather fond of the girl. She was gentler, smaller, and babied her more than Halwyn would probably like, but Lucina liked her. Unfortunately, she also caused a bit of a problem.
Daphne looked a lot like the other humans in this family: a head, two arms, two legs, two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. While this was all well and good for her, it was alarming for Lucina. As she gazed at herself in the mirror again, she noticed again how different she was. She had no eyes, no nose to speak of. While she had the two arms, they lacked the five fingers she saw on a regular basis. One, two, three, four… She ran her fingers along the side of her hand where the fifth finger should be, her small mouth pursing into a frown. This wasn’t right. And even the town simpleton could see that she was not right in other ways. While she was essentially ‘human’ down to her waist, that was where it all went wrong. Four legs, fashioned in the shape of a deer, and a tail. While they were crafted as if by an artisan, she was not pleased. A deer and a person were not meant to be fused. Though, after talking with Halwyn for a bit, she realized that she was decidedly not human. She was something else, something much more unnatural, dark.
“Lucina, look!” It was Daphne, and Lucina looked away from the mirror. She rose up onto her hooves from where she’d been laying with her legs folded beneath her. Her joints moved a bit more smoothly now, but she was still slow in almost everything she did. Thankfully, however, the jerkiness was mostly gone. “Look what I found! It’s from when I was little and played with my doll… Here!” Daphne held up a soft pink garment, with puffed sleeves and a collection of ribbons. There were even some dried flowers fashioned into a crown looped around her wrist.
“What is it?”
“What? It’s a dress, silly!” Daphne laughed softly, sitting down at the table near Lucina. “Here, let’s see how it looks on you!” She reached out and carefully removed the leaf and acorn crown on Lucina’s head, making the excito startle just a bit. She watched as the crown rested on the wooden surface of the table, but the familiar feeling of something adorning her head returned shortly. Following that was a brief period of blindness, but then Daphne was gently guiding her hands through the sleeves of the dress and tying the ribbon around her waist. She tied a few more around the rest of her body, before pulling back with a bright grin. “There! You look so pretty, Lucy!” She reached for the mirror and held it up in front of the plague, and Lucina stared into it in bewilderment.
It really was pretty, a soft pink with red ribbons and draping fabric. She touched the hems gently, looking down at herself. It was almost long enough to conceal her front legs, and if she stood just so, she could not see the rear pair, either. She smiled, looking up at Daphne with her ears perked up slightly. “It is pretty.” She went back to looking at herself in the mirror, fingering the flower crown atop her head and the small sap gem beneath it. She was reasonable enough to know that nothing had changed, that she was still remarkably and alarmingly different from everything around her. But even for a moment, Daphne had lifted her spirits. |
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