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Equivalent Exchange ( 18 ) - It seems as though this place has been forgotten by the world for a long time, and those laid to rest here were forgotten along with it. Some graves have been given small, strange little gifts, and some have flowers that are old and withered. There are many graves that have nothing. If you bring a gift down to the graves, you will be filled with a soft warmth, and it feels as though your worries are lifted. The sensation follows you home, and when you sleep that night, you have pleasant, safe dreams. When you awaken, you will find some sort of strange gift next to your bed–a dried flower, a string of beads, a small charm–something strange and dated. It is not often something of value, but there is a warmth in the object. It feels like a gift given with love.
One autumn evening, Fringilla decided to take a different path for her patrol this time. Due to the upcoming festive season, she felt that she should attempt to diversify her patrol routes. After all, this was the time of year when it would much too easy for youma to appear as-is and be seen as seasonally appropriate. At least, that’s what Fringilla thought to herself, anyway.
Soon, her new mystery path led her to a forgotten plot of land filled with some gravestones. Admittedly, Fringilla thought of turning and head the other way towards a tree-lined path or something, but on the other hand, the small graveyard was not too bad as far as appearances go. Not only were there trees here and there, there were some grave makers. The gravestones, which were normally a tad bit spooky at this time of year, actually appeared not as forlorn or lonely or scary. Instead, they seemed to emit some kind of warmth? Beneath the setting sun, the stones appeared to shimmer as they bask in the final rays of sunlight.
As she drew herself closer to one gravestone, she noticed that some of them have strange little gifts placed on them. She couldn’t understand their significance per se, but she understood that they were placed there to acknowledge their existence. Or rather, their existence that once took part of this world. Somehow, seeing this level of respect brought her some sense of comfort.
And, for some reason, a part of her felt compelled to do the same. To give her respects to these individuals that have since left the town. Well, if she was visiting this graveyard, she may as well pay her respects, even if she knew no one that was interred into the earth. She conjured some of her telltale sticky feathers and began to place some on grave markers that lacked some of the strange gifts their neighbors had. She couldn’t help but giggle to herself a bit because her feathers couldn’t be called normal. If anything, she was contributing to the strangeness. As long as she was somewhat conservative with her gift-giving, then her feathers shouldn’t be seen as littering or something mysterious, right?
Eventually, she reached the end of the small graveyard, which was fine. It was about time for her to return and have dinner. She then transformed back to her civilian form and made her way back. Cinta smiled as she felt the lingering warm sensation around her. Was this how one feels whenever they do a good deed or an act of kindness? Normally, this sort of feeling was brief and ephemeral, but she felt it continue to “hug” her as she walked back home.
The aforementioned warmth remained with her even as she went to bed for the night. Considering the season of fright and tricks, Cinta felt that this evening’s stroll and the events that transpired afterward were rather nice and warm.
‘It’d be nice to keep feeling this way,’ she thought to herself. Her dream that night was somehow filled with the warmth. It was the kind of warmth she felt as a young child having a memorable time of her life together with her family. It was when she was still in elementary school and her family had taken her on a trip. She went to the beach, built a sandcastle with her father, ate a popsicle with her mother, and she even petted a cat on the way back to her cabin.
As soon she fell asleep on her bed that smelled like a warm sunny day, Cinta woke up.
“Ah… it was just a dream,” she uttered. “Huh… what’s that?”
Next to her hand was a small, worn out bookmark. It was woven with a floral trim and stamped in the center was an elegant outline of a cat.
“I wonder where it came from…” wondered Cinta. “Hm… I think I better examine it later.”
Her morning schedule was quite busy, so Cinta had to temporarily store the bookmark into one of her books for the time being.
