Swinging the axe downwards, the log was cut into halves and soon clattered into the twin piles on either side of the stump. Seraphina rubbed her gloved thumbs over the sheen coating of the handle of the axe. A frown creased her features as she caught sight of her distorted reflection in the blade. Tired eyes, a red-tipped nose and generally a dreary and exhausted look was to her, only made far worse by the distortion of the metal.
Her breath came away in a white mist as she hooked the axe into a belt hoop. Leaning down, she gathered the piles under her arms and began her trek back towards the looming form of the Vauclain homestead. Tired eyes examined the gentle dusting of snow that covered the various greenery and wreaths that hung from the sides of the house and roof edges. Wintertide was nearing with each passing day and there was still so much to do. Thankfully she had already handled her present shopping the week prior or the items were in the process of being crafted.
Shouldering the kitchen door open, Seraphina stamped her boots on the carpet and dumped one of the piles into the basket near the stove. Smiling faintly towards Marie who waggled a wooden spoon at her, Sera continued onwards to the sitting room.
The servant's voice carrying after the large woman.
She spoke over her shoulder as she entered the sitting room. Plunking the rest of the wood onto the small pile beside the empty fireplace, Seraphina rose to her feet and lowered the scarf around her face to rest against her throat proper. Leaning against the mantel for a moment, she rubbed her gloved fingers over her eyes, as a wave of nausea came over her. Clearing her throat and giving herself a good shake, much like a dog would, she continued her little journey through the house. The wave slowly fading with each step she took.
Approaching the stairs, she braced herself for another spell of nausea and dizziness, but none came. The faintest of smiles appeared on her features as she mounted the staircase, taking each step carefully yet briskly as she came to the second landing of the house. Moving along the hallway, she removed her glove from one hand and shook out her curly locks. Running her fingers through her damp curls, she soon came upon the closed door of her bedroom. Without much further ado, she merely yanked the door open and entered.
It hadn't exactly been her idea to spend the rest of the week with the Vauclains, or well it had been, but rather something a note to herself had said.
Some of the words of the note that lay folded up neatly and tucked into its envelope, lay on her bedside table, whispered in her mind. Eying it as she entered, she pursued her lips for a long moment before shaking her head. A smile crossed her tired features as she set to escape the confines of her wet winter clothes. First went her boots, then her coat and then her socks and so on.
Soon enough, she was dressed right back into a proper outfit of thick furs, cloth and a bit of leather that fit her form as it should. Letting out a yawn, she moved over to the desk by the window and settled herself into the chair. Retrieving a pencil from the little makeshift cup holder that had been made out of a once mug that bore the words: Beloved Tía, but was missing its handle as it had been caught in the crossfire of a particularly bad flour fight.
Pursing her lips, she glanced over the list that she had retrieved from the drawer. Rubbing her eyes again, she leaned back in her chair and let out a deep breath. Tucking her pencil behind one of her ears, she looked towards the left drawer. Chewing firmly upon her bottom lip, she moved to slowly open the drawer and with careful fingers, drew an envelope from within.
Leaning back in her chair once again, she turned the envelope over and over in her hands. Watching as the words written on the front were turned over to reveal the unopened and familiar red seal with a rearing bull's head; her own personal seal. She did this once, then twice and then three more times before settling it face up with her own script facing up at her.
The words written there were like angry slashes of ink to the envelope face that they were written upon. Her slanted and quick script reading out:
The 28th of December, three days after Wintertide and the day that she often found herself dreading. Strange for someone to dread their own name day, but for Seraphina, the date caused more negative feelings than positive ones. It was a curious envelope and the contents almost assuredly unknown to the woman, and yet she herself had written whatever was within it.
Awaking a few days ago with glassy eyes, a raging headache and lacking memories of the evening prior, to say she hadn't felt just a bit out of sorts would be an understatement. After scrubbing the sleep from her eyes and attempting to collect herself, she had stumbled over to her nightstand and discovered the two notes from her previous night's self leaning on either side of a glass of water. Downing half of the glass, she had read the first note over at least twice that morning and then numerous times afterwards. She had lost count after fifteen.
The other note, which now rested in both of her palms, glaring up at her like an annoyed creature she had caught, was still a mystery to her. And probably would remain that way until her name day. Unless, of course, she opened it at that very moment.
Frowning at the thought, she turned the envelope over once more, placing the angry slashes of words out of sight. Her thumbs gently prodded the waxy seal, nails poking and sliding over the outer ring of red. Sliding her thumbs upwards, they pressed gently together, covering the rearing bull's head and her frown deepened evermore.
A dry, stale smell hit her as she opened her eyes. The stonework of the room was hard to see in the dim lighting, her eyes squinting and her shoulders rolling. The muffled noise of voices speaking quickly yet no matter how hard she strained, she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. But she knew those voices, but what were they saying?
Blinking her eyes open, she soon returned to the present as her mind settled back into its proper place. A look of confusion found home on her features as she looked down to her hands, turning them over so her palms were facing down. Inspecting them, she finally took notice of the bruises there.
A bar fight, that's what it had been. Just a really nasty bar fight. Or that's what the note had explained it to have been. And why would she ever lie to herself?
Alexander's voice called from behind the door, pulling her entirely from her thoughts and having her turn about in her chair.
The door opened and her brother entered, his usual warm smile present on his features. With the door swinging closed behind him, Alexander tossed himself onto her bed and stretched. Planting himself onto his side, he eyed her and his smile faded as he studied his sister's expression. Adjusting himself into a proper sitting position, he folded his arms loosely over his chest.
Seraphina fell silent, turning her head away from her brother. Wearing a frown very similar to that of Alexander's, she picked up the envelope from the desk and offered it over to him. Her head was turned away as she heard the creak of the bed and felt the firmness of the parchment leave her grasp.
Looking at her questioningly, Alex looked the envelope over completely before speaking.
And there was the question that had been nagging at her since setting her eyes on the envelope. What was stopping her from just opening it here and now. She couldn't exactly explain what was stopping her, but rather that it was numerous things. Or rather, numerous questions. A handful of what if's and could be's that were raging about in her mind whenever she looked at the envelope.
She spoke those with such certainty and firmness that she surprised even herself. Clearing her throat, she moved to rise and hold out her hand towards her brother.
The man handed the envelope back over to her and rose from the bed, following her out of the bedroom.
Moving side by side, the duo made their way down the hallway and down the steps before eventually arriving in the living room. Alex knelt down before the fireplace, moving to toss some of the logs that Sera had cut into the fireplace. Adding a bit of old newspaper, he soon struck a match and lit the fire.
Observing her brother do this, she turned the envelope over in her hands for what was probably going to be the last time. Watching as the words written there finally faced upwards, she smiled and shook her head.
The fire devoured the parchment and written words like a starving beast. Whatever secrets or message that had been written carefully on that piece of paper had gone up in smoke. Perhaps this was not the right choice or the wrong one, but it was the one that she and she alone had made. And that was enough for her.
Her breath came away in a white mist as she hooked the axe into a belt hoop. Leaning down, she gathered the piles under her arms and began her trek back towards the looming form of the Vauclain homestead. Tired eyes examined the gentle dusting of snow that covered the various greenery and wreaths that hung from the sides of the house and roof edges. Wintertide was nearing with each passing day and there was still so much to do. Thankfully she had already handled her present shopping the week prior or the items were in the process of being crafted.
Shouldering the kitchen door open, Seraphina stamped her boots on the carpet and dumped one of the piles into the basket near the stove. Smiling faintly towards Marie who waggled a wooden spoon at her, Sera continued onwards to the sitting room.
The servant's voice carrying after the large woman.
"You're lucky you have blood made of what could only be fire, Seraphina, or I would have never let you go out there at all!"
"Aye, aye, but we needed more firewood, I'm just saving Patrick the hassle."
"Aye, aye, but we needed more firewood, I'm just saving Patrick the hassle."
She spoke over her shoulder as she entered the sitting room. Plunking the rest of the wood onto the small pile beside the empty fireplace, Seraphina rose to her feet and lowered the scarf around her face to rest against her throat proper. Leaning against the mantel for a moment, she rubbed her gloved fingers over her eyes, as a wave of nausea came over her. Clearing her throat and giving herself a good shake, much like a dog would, she continued her little journey through the house. The wave slowly fading with each step she took.
Approaching the stairs, she braced herself for another spell of nausea and dizziness, but none came. The faintest of smiles appeared on her features as she mounted the staircase, taking each step carefully yet briskly as she came to the second landing of the house. Moving along the hallway, she removed her glove from one hand and shook out her curly locks. Running her fingers through her damp curls, she soon came upon the closed door of her bedroom. Without much further ado, she merely yanked the door open and entered.
It hadn't exactly been her idea to spend the rest of the week with the Vauclains, or well it had been, but rather something a note to herself had said.
Last night was rough, eh? We're going to be feeling that for a little while on top of the bruise from our spar with Oroban. …get some rest, relax and spend time with Alex and the family. Our family.
Some of the words of the note that lay folded up neatly and tucked into its envelope, lay on her bedside table, whispered in her mind. Eying it as she entered, she pursued her lips for a long moment before shaking her head. A smile crossed her tired features as she set to escape the confines of her wet winter clothes. First went her boots, then her coat and then her socks and so on.
Soon enough, she was dressed right back into a proper outfit of thick furs, cloth and a bit of leather that fit her form as it should. Letting out a yawn, she moved over to the desk by the window and settled herself into the chair. Retrieving a pencil from the little makeshift cup holder that had been made out of a once mug that bore the words: Beloved Tía, but was missing its handle as it had been caught in the crossfire of a particularly bad flour fight.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Pursing her lips, she glanced over the list that she had retrieved from the drawer. Rubbing her eyes again, she leaned back in her chair and let out a deep breath. Tucking her pencil behind one of her ears, she looked towards the left drawer. Chewing firmly upon her bottom lip, she moved to slowly open the drawer and with careful fingers, drew an envelope from within.
Leaning back in her chair once again, she turned the envelope over and over in her hands. Watching as the words written on the front were turned over to reveal the unopened and familiar red seal with a rearing bull's head; her own personal seal. She did this once, then twice and then three more times before settling it face up with her own script facing up at her.
The words written there were like angry slashes of ink to the envelope face that they were written upon. Her slanted and quick script reading out:
To be opened on the 28th of December.
The 28th of December, three days after Wintertide and the day that she often found herself dreading. Strange for someone to dread their own name day, but for Seraphina, the date caused more negative feelings than positive ones. It was a curious envelope and the contents almost assuredly unknown to the woman, and yet she herself had written whatever was within it.
Awaking a few days ago with glassy eyes, a raging headache and lacking memories of the evening prior, to say she hadn't felt just a bit out of sorts would be an understatement. After scrubbing the sleep from her eyes and attempting to collect herself, she had stumbled over to her nightstand and discovered the two notes from her previous night's self leaning on either side of a glass of water. Downing half of the glass, she had read the first note over at least twice that morning and then numerous times afterwards. She had lost count after fifteen.
The other note, which now rested in both of her palms, glaring up at her like an annoyed creature she had caught, was still a mystery to her. And probably would remain that way until her name day. Unless, of course, she opened it at that very moment.
Frowning at the thought, she turned the envelope over once more, placing the angry slashes of words out of sight. Her thumbs gently prodded the waxy seal, nails poking and sliding over the outer ring of red. Sliding her thumbs upwards, they pressed gently together, covering the rearing bull's head and her frown deepened evermore.
"I really am cryptic, aren't I?"
She mused to herself as she moved to set the envelope back down onto the desk. Considering it for what was probably the third time since she arrived back at the house, she folded her arms loosely across her chest. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back as she allowed her mind to wander.
A dry, stale smell hit her as she opened her eyes. The stonework of the room was hard to see in the dim lighting, her eyes squinting and her shoulders rolling. The muffled noise of voices speaking quickly yet no matter how hard she strained, she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. But she knew those voices, but what were they saying?
Blinking her eyes open, she soon returned to the present as her mind settled back into its proper place. A look of confusion found home on her features as she looked down to her hands, turning them over so her palms were facing down. Inspecting them, she finally took notice of the bruises there.
Pretty nasty bar fight, we knocked someone out cold. Don't you remember? All over something very silly. Can't rightly recall what it was, but we couldn't stop laughing over it.
A bar fight, that's what it had been. Just a really nasty bar fight. Or that's what the note had explained it to have been. And why would she ever lie to herself?
"Sera? You in there?"
Alexander's voice called from behind the door, pulling her entirely from her thoughts and having her turn about in her chair.
"Yeah, come in."
The door opened and her brother entered, his usual warm smile present on his features. With the door swinging closed behind him, Alexander tossed himself onto her bed and stretched. Planting himself onto his side, he eyed her and his smile faded as he studied his sister's expression. Adjusting himself into a proper sitting position, he folded his arms loosely over his chest.
"What's on your mind, sis?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing as in nothing, or nothing as in I don't want to talk about this right now nothing."
"If I say both, will you drop it?"
"For now? Sure. But you'll have to talk about it eventually."
"Nothing."
"Nothing as in nothing, or nothing as in I don't want to talk about this right now nothing."
"If I say both, will you drop it?"
"For now? Sure. But you'll have to talk about it eventually."
Seraphina fell silent, turning her head away from her brother. Wearing a frown very similar to that of Alexander's, she picked up the envelope from the desk and offered it over to him. Her head was turned away as she heard the creak of the bed and felt the firmness of the parchment leave her grasp.
Looking at her questioningly, Alex looked the envelope over completely before speaking.
"You wrote yourself a note?"
"Or a letter. Or something. I'm not supposed to open it until…"
"Your name day. Seems rather… curious don't you think?"
"There's a purpose to it, I know there is. But no matter how hard I try to remember, I just come up with distorted memories and even more questions."
"What's stopping you from opening now?"
"Or a letter. Or something. I'm not supposed to open it until…"
"Your name day. Seems rather… curious don't you think?"
"There's a purpose to it, I know there is. But no matter how hard I try to remember, I just come up with distorted memories and even more questions."
"What's stopping you from opening now?"
And there was the question that had been nagging at her since setting her eyes on the envelope. What was stopping her from just opening it here and now. She couldn't exactly explain what was stopping her, but rather that it was numerous things. Or rather, numerous questions. A handful of what if's and could be's that were raging about in her mind whenever she looked at the envelope.
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
Silence.
"Come on, sis. What is it?"
"I don't think I want to know what's in it."
"And why is that?"
"Because I just don't want to know. If whatever's written in that letter has to do with why I'm having a hard time recalling things, then there is probably a very good reason I forgot it."
"Yes, you do."
Silence.
"Come on, sis. What is it?"
"I don't think I want to know what's in it."
"And why is that?"
"Because I just don't want to know. If whatever's written in that letter has to do with why I'm having a hard time recalling things, then there is probably a very good reason I forgot it."
She spoke those with such certainty and firmness that she surprised even herself. Clearing her throat, she moved to rise and hold out her hand towards her brother.
"If that's how you really feel then… there's really only one thing to do, huh?"
"Yeah…"
"Yeah…"
The man handed the envelope back over to her and rose from the bed, following her out of the bedroom.
Moving side by side, the duo made their way down the hallway and down the steps before eventually arriving in the living room. Alex knelt down before the fireplace, moving to toss some of the logs that Sera had cut into the fireplace. Adding a bit of old newspaper, he soon struck a match and lit the fire.
Observing her brother do this, she turned the envelope over in her hands for what was probably going to be the last time. Watching as the words written there finally faced upwards, she smiled and shook her head.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. This is what I want."
Kneeling down beside Alexander, she tossed the envelope and whatever it's contents right into the flickering flames. Watching with a bit of interest, Sera leaned gently against Alexander, a soft sigh escaping her."Yeah. This is what I want."
The fire devoured the parchment and written words like a starving beast. Whatever secrets or message that had been written carefully on that piece of paper had gone up in smoke. Perhaps this was not the right choice or the wrong one, but it was the one that she and she alone had made. And that was enough for her.
