Caliaphy
Caliaphy dawdled into the dining room, plopping the cleaning supplies onto the floor. She looked at the room and inspected it, picking up on every spot that needed cleaning. She walked back to her things and picked up the pail, filling it with water from an indoor well built many years ago. Out of the pocket of her apron she pulled out dried petals from a nicely scented flower that she pulled from harmonious field and crushed them up into the water. She walked across the whole room to a small closet and pulled out an old mop. Making her way back to the pail of water, she sang a song softly to herself, occasionally forgetting words and humming. Caliaphy actually had a sweet, dainty little voice, when she wasn't with other people. Safe in the home of her family she could be herself, she could be herself and feel safe.
Caliaphy began to mop the floor of the large room, every noise made echoed off the walls. It was eerie, but peaceful to Caliaphy and the alone time gave her a feeling of calm, but she did get quite lonely by herself sometimes. The soft light of the world outside made the colors of the large, stained glass windows reflect onto the floor. It was just her and the echoes, and the sound of her dainty song.
Caliaphy mopped for a long while before she finished, then she put a hand on her hip admiring her work, sighing happily. She dumped the dirty water out of one of the windows into the grass, then went to refill it again to start on the table and other surfaces of the dining room. Reaching into her apron, Caliaphy noticed she had no more petals left. She rolled her eyes at her lack of responsibility for not realizing it before. She sighed and put away the mop and put on her extra pair of boots she kept downstairs. Caliaphy untied her apron and her hair, and then started to make her way out the door to the field, grabbing and old woven basket and humming quietly the whole way out.
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