Melancholy
Xiao calls it a day as the sun begins to set; it's mellow orange dusting the cityscape ahead of her. Sitting down she can finally eat her bread, it's stale and dry as a brick, she'll still savor it, knowing it may well be her last meal for days. She takes her time on the way back, stopping every once and a while to say her goodbyes to the locals, amongst them the closest relationships she has ever had; a series of dialogue that seemed normal and empty but held the very last goodbyes from her that they would ever receive.
Returning to the monastery, Xiao speedily avoids herds of oncoming children, heading back to their bunks after a long day of meditation and bo-staff practice; Guo's way of keeping the children occupied. She didn't have much hope for the monastery children, every odd was stacked against them here, just as they had been stacked against her. She's seen it before with the older kids. Many would spend their adult life too preoccupied with playing the victim to try and change their realities. The other half would spend their life defeated by having tried. The only thing xiao could do was to preserve their innocence while it lasts. Even teaching them to stand up for themselves in here could turn into a bloodbath out there. She hoped her morals and instinct might have rubbed off on them, even so, Xiao wasn't so sure of her own morals. Questions of where she might be leading them to rise to the forefront of her mind.
She Looks around at the courtyard where she now stands, at the dirt floor, compacted by years of martial arts. She studies the four walls enveloping her, the covered porches of intricate wooden craftsmanship; leftovers from before the economy dip. In the early morning, this area would be alive with people. The monks preaching their doctrine to young minds while they're still malleable; Mother Guo, the only female monk, instilling discipline through exhausting martial arts. Older children, in their last years before coming of age at 16, tend to the chores tirelessly.
A dingy-looking mutt enters through a slit in one of the walls; distracting her from her disgust at this place. Xiao takes out the scraps of her loaf from earlier and feeds it to him. He eats unapologetically, "I don't know why I feed you when you're not even going to be thankful." The mutts ribs show more than Xiao would like, and after many years of him returning to her, he's grown more and more grey fur. "I have to leave soon you know that? Juliet will take care of you from now on, you remember her? The girl with the red hair?" He continues eating. Years of this treatment but Xiao remains fond of the little mutt. She's started thinking that perhaps she's the dog in the relationship instead of him.
Morning arrives and xiao removes the tattered blankets extremely apprehensively. She quickly washes with water from the spout before saying goodbye to the building one last time. She walks slowly this time, forced in a solemn pace by her thoughts. A part of her feels relief but a larger part of her is angry. Anger manifested by self-pity and loathing. She knew what she was doing, she knew that it was extremely stupid and yet she found herself at a crossroads with only one choice.
The same crossroads that forced her into removing clothes from others' clotheslines this morning; the same crossroads that made her steal from a visitor with a beaming smile and an unguarded demeanor. The voice in her head rebukes her when she feels the weight of the coin pouch in her hand. It's heavier than all the other ones she's felt before. She hates this life. She hates the person she's become and she wishes to escape her. By any means necessary.
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"Old lady, can you help me cut my hair?" Wendall points at her murky eyes, "Are ye sure? I'll do it but ye might come out lookin' odd." There's a solemn air before Xiao speaks up "there's no one else Wendall." They share a moment in silence. The older of the two reflects on time before these painted walls chipped, and the crown abandoned its people; the younger of the two not able to remember; Having no memories before poverty and famine took over this reality. Barely able to even dream of a life outside of it.
Through the doorway, the house opens to a small living space and an open galley kitchen to the left. Open windows make sheer curtains dance and fresh-baked bread fills the air with a sour yet sweet aroma. Wendall steps to the wall opposing her kitchen counters and easily raises a large mirror with lavishly crafted wooden framing. Carrying it over to rest in her living room, she orders Xiao to sit in front of it while she grabs a pair of incredibly antique-looking scissors. This is the first time xiao has seen herself in months. She languidly moves her fingers to brush away her long and grown out bangs, revealing two tired almond-shaped eyes, auburn eyes scan her own features.
Her tan face, high cheek-bones, and hollowed jowls. The bushy brows she allowed to go untamed, her dehydrated lips; She licks them only now realizing. 'Just as I stop wanting to look like a woman I start looking like one, ironic isn't it?' she ponders. They sit in peaceful silence as Wendall starts to assess her long locks. She picks up strands of hair and traces the length of them down her mid-back. "It's gotten quite out of hand hasn't it?" Not buying xiao's plea Wendall just smiles and shakes her head. "Aye, with hair this long ye might be mistaken as a woman," she jokes with a knowing smile on her face. Xiao looks down at her fiddling hands in front of her, completely oblivious.