Fractured Lineage

From the iron wrought balcony, the growing storm could be seen from across the city. Black fluffy clouds obscuring the shingled roofs leaving only the flicker of steady gaslight shining through; a landlocked night sky just for her. Even if it was only early afternoon. Strelitzia watched the rolling clouds, letting her mind wander with them.

Her mother had finally returned after reclaiming their home country and wanted Strelitzia to join her once more. Mother and daughter reunited after a decade apart. Of course she was happy, excited, maybe even a little nervous after so long. She'd been a little girl when she left. Still she remembered that day clinging to her mother's skirts and begging her to take her with.

A brisk wind had her pulling the woolen scarf tighter around her neck. There was the telltale sound of heels against the tile meaning she was taking too long. They'd sent a maid to retrieve her.

She half turned, giving the woman a saddened smile only to realize it was her Aunt Charlotte. The woman who had cared for her as her own through the years. When she thought of home it was there in the manor with her aunt and her husband Rogan.

Strelitzia rubbed at her eyes before any tears could fall. "My apologies. I know the car is ready, I just wanted to see the view once more. It is awfully strange to be leaving after so long. I can still come visit though, right?"

Charlotte began to cry in the crook of her arm as she overlooked Strelitzia, her lips dancing between a smile and a frown. "I love you, and I wish you didn't have to leave. You can always say no." Her arms wrapped around her daughter tightly. She didn't want to go. Not in this moment, but she felt she could never. Her heart was already feeling heavy.

Strelitzia wrapped the woman in a hug, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I know but I think it's important to have my mother in my life. I deeply appreciate you and uncle for taking care of me for this long. I promise I will come to visit whenever I can."

She felt bad for leaving her aunt so distraught in her grief. They'd loved her like the child they could never have but this wasn't goodbye and it certainly wasn't forever.

"I'll write to you every week as well. I'm sure you could use a break from me and finally have some time for yourself." Very gently she pulled back, retrieving a handkerchief from her pocket to dab at Charlotte's eyes.

"Your father... Your uncle won't be seeing you off. He decided to stay in his studies. You know how he is." Charlotte said, shifting back to dab the tears from her eyes using a handkerchief. "Remember, I was like a mother to you too. No matter what anyone else says."

Someone knocked on the door. "Madame, the carriage is ready. We must leave before the storm worsens."

Sucking in some air, Charlotte patted Strelitzia's cheek before caressing it. "Don't forget. You know you'll be able to feel my glare from here. Brush your teeth, exercise, read. Bring extra underwear during your bleeding month. Um, oh, your vitamins too. Twice daily. One in the morning, the other at night."

"I won't. Don't worry," Strelitzia assured her. Their parting was bittersweet though necessary. This day had been coming for a long time and she felt it was important to rekindle the relationship with her mother. She gave Charlotte's hands one last gentle squeeze before turning away.

Down the hall, descending the stairs, and stepping outside into the oncoming wind and rain. Her things had been packed into cases earlier which were now tied to the roof of the carriage by twine.

She gave one last look over the place that held precious memories of childhood up until this point. Pulling the brim of her hat down to keep the rain from her eyes, she allowed the coachmen to help her into the seat, sheltered from the elements. The weather was ominous for something that should have been a happy day.

Charlotte was staring out the window when the brougham car pulled off with the coachmen in front steering. The countryside scenery passed in blurs of colors the rest of the world lacked. Green trees scraped the skyline, though even with the magick that ran through most mage's blood, they weren't as green as the ones in the old world books.

Still, in their lovely deep green shades, it was dingy compared to the real thing. It didn't matter whether they were rich. They looked far better than the wilted ones in the poorest parts of the country.

By the time they crossed the bricked bridge that led to the D'treroh ports, the afternoon bled into evening, and the rain still came down in a light shower. Scarlet Wind was passing into Frostdrift. Soon it'd all be slush and snow, a world blanketed in white and deep crimson.

A man waited at the deck for Strelitzia; fat and rippling rolls.

The sea scented rain brought on a newfound sense of adventure. It wasn't often she traveled—with the rivalries that ran rampant through the countries—everyone had thought it best to shelter her. It didn't help that she took after her mother: bright green eyes, long dark hair, and certain features that were foreign in the country.

Once the carriage was brought to a stop, she stepped out to greet the man who had to be her escort. It was unfitting for a woman to travel on her own. At least that's what Aunt Charlotte said. She'd be lying if she said that he looked fit to protect, but what did she know?

Strelitzia extended a gloved hand out to him. "You must be my escort. Thank you for coming out of your way in the middle of such bad weather."

The man took her gloved hand in his fat warm one and brought it to his nose where he sniffed, making piggy noises from how harshly he was inhaling. "Mm, Mm, mmm. Yes, and it is my pleasure."

Her hand slid from his grasp. There were noticeable smears on the fabric that had been clean seconds ago. Strelitzia tried not to show her disgust and forced a smile. "Right, well off we go then. The storm is only getting worse. I'd hate to keep them waiting for too long."

The driver had just finished transferring her things to the cabin beneath deck and re-emerged. He gave a tip of his cap in parting. Her last chance to cling onto the life she'd led for years leaving her behind in a puff of exhaust.

Unlike all the other ships in the harbor, this one was polished to the point it shimmered beneath the evening moonlight. All the masks and poles hadn't a single nick in their structure which held the sails string in the wind's currents that rippled through the deep waters of the onyx sea.

Her escort kept cutting an eye towards her, seeming like a hungry poor person that usually sat in Lorwells dingy corners holding a sign for food and wood for their fires. Winter was harsh. It was death incarnate. Death took and it never gave back, nor did it apologize for the bodies it left in its wake.

This man was much like that; a bad aura hovered over him akins to the storm clouds gathering overhead.

"You can pick whatever room suits you. Unless you wish to share one with me for protection. I'm Pudge by the way." His tongue swiped over his rotten, hole riddled teeth as a cackle left his mouth.

"Won't be necessary." Another said. Their voice was as cool and as soft as water running over smooth stones sitting in a clear stream. The person it belonged to leaned against the banister of the ship, golden blond hair pulled back and dancing in the wind.

"We have guards to protect her. Open the sails, pull the anchor up and let's get moving before we get caught in the eye of the storm. You know Razmyr wants things done when he strikes deals. The right way, no flaws. That's what we get paid for." He straightened, though kept his hands folded with a smile on his face.

"Have someone bring me and the lady some tea. It'll get rather icy and cold. We wouldn't want her to catch the chills since she's our guest." Turning around completely, his brown eyes landed on her. "Have you eaten yet?"

Strelitzia was grateful for the other man's intervention, nodding enthusiastically. "Tea would be lovely. I'm afraid there was no time for dinner. Thank you for such a warm reception." She would have offered him a hand but feared he would think her dirty from the marks left behind by Pudge.

Instead she smiled as well. Maybe the trip wouldn't be so bad afterall. She'd begun to worry when his companion kept ogling her like she wasn't literally a foot away. Daring a few steps closer, she looked out over the banister to watch the dark waters churn beneath them, spray from the waves catching loose strands of her hair.

"I imagine you've been doing this for a while? Would you tell me about the places you've seen over dinner?" Strelitzia knew she was being rather forward but it had been years since she'd been anywhere other than the manor. The fresh air may as well have been a glass of wine going straight to her head.

"The beautiful ones or the ones merely deceptive in their beauty?" Asked the blonde. His brown eyes were full of life and mysterious, though beneath their layers were a visible sadness that shone like molten gold.

Sometimes someone's entire life was visible in their gaze. Their fortune, their fate and dark deeds, but his was a trapped spirit that had the first taste of freedom. It was in the way that he closed his eyes and smiled like tomorrow may not come, so live life as though it were your last.

His arms were wings, a bird that had been trapped in a cage too long, opened wide, relishing in the ocean mist that hit his face every time the boat dipped down and came back up.

He wanted to feel everything like he'd missed it for far too long. The man turned with a broken smile on his mouth, still it was bright despite how heart wrenching it was—scarred hands extended to her. "I don't know if you like pasta. But we'll be having that tonight."

"That happens to be one of my favorites." Seeing as her gloves were ruined, she pulled them off and tucked them away into her pocket. Slender hands unblemished by the toils of labor and hardship alike placed themselves within his own. She could feel every place where calluses thickened his skin from what was probably intense labor and managing ropes on the ship.

How curious it was to see such a profound melancholy in this man's eyes with a clarity she'd never come to expect from a stranger. Strelitzia found herself impossibly curious about the stories he could tell, the life he'd lived. Why someone who barely appeared older than herself seemed like he'd lived more than their years could allow.