Staring down the little desk beside the plush bedding of her sleeping alcove, a very contemplative, very concerned teenager was gnawing holes into her bottom lip. Really. It was red from all the abuse she'd been putting it through; all the worrying. Sleep tousled red curls made her look twice as indecisive. Her fingers came into the equation now and again, and between the fidgeting, the nail picking, and the knuckle cracking, she gave a tired little growl.
"Wha' a Goddess-damned mess!" She exclaimed suddenly, molten eyes a-shining with distress and anger.
It wasn't a moment later, tears touching the corners of her those bright irises, that Lilliana McClae, highly un-properly underaged, pulled out the artfully carved stool to her desk and slammed her rump down to write.
Day Nine; Age 16,
I should have started keeping this a while ago, but honestly I couldn't get used to the idea that it wasn't the world that was the problem, but me. Everything was staying the same. The seasons, the faces of all the people in the bar, the old woman with her flower cart in the marketplace, the weedy tailor whom I'd approached to help me with my clothing situation... I don't know how I didn't recognize it before. Then again, who really has something like that happen to them? A witch, that's who. I should have known better...
Lilliana paused just long enough to touch her forehead to the heel of her writing palm, fountain pen and all. Rolling her face around a bit, she drug her hand down over the pert bulb of her nose before laying her hand to the paper again. There was a small streak of ink smeared between her freckles just above her eyes now.
Oddly enough, it was my brother Brishen that was the biggest kick in my pants. I'm so used to being the older sister I didn't notice his eyes. I didn't notice the curls. The brogue of his speech or ma's wiry fingers or Maddoc's smart jaw. All I'd been thinking about was myself...
And boys, and having fun; interjected her guilty mind. Pinkie-no, Dean.
His eyes were darker than hers, just like most people's. Darker but just as pretty. He seemed way too old for himself, just like her. Hijinks aside, she'd found herself intensely interested whenever he'd been around. There seemed a fog around his head at all times-he and his brother Sam were sort of misplaced and adrift, and while technically she'd been no better, Lilliana had memories chock full of intense family love and connectivities that kept her going. At night, when she lay down, she awoke with fresh memories, fresh smiles, and a head full of much preciousness. Dean and Sam seemed quite alone, and that broke a bit of her heart each time. Maybe that'd been why their kiss was so sweet? Remembering the cider soaked floor and their childish tangle of limbs, she giggled quietly. Sobering up from the nonsense with little more than a blush to show for it, she picked up her pen to continue.
...but that's past now. Or present. Ugh. I don't even know anymore. I have all my memories of the day before fresh as a squirt of juice in the eye, but at the same time I'm expecting to turn the corner and meet my Ma or the rest of my clan. Yet they're no anywhere to be found. How could I have been folding laundry with Ma and lil' Brish, watching him trip over the wicker bin and konk his head on the ground, when in the same breath I had been shaking up a spirited drink? It's not matching up, and I'm scared. There are folks here that seem to know me... the adult me. No one's told me how old I am though, how old I'm going to continue to get. I mean, I found my wagon again, the one Ma gave me when I was too rowdy to keep in the family one, and I'm not seeing any signs of remedies for the elderly, so at least that means I'm not an old crone I hope. Maybe I took the crazier route with the Goddess and decided on immortality? No. Maybe. Ma's always been aging slowly.
Sighing with frustration, Lilliana took another pause and tossed her pen away-the result of which was a very large, very unseemly splotch on the side of her otherwise very neat, very flourished penmanship. Squeaking, then scowling, the distraught red head leaned across and quickly pulled her writing utensil back up. She was rambling. She didn't like to ramble on paper.
I'm missing points here. Big ones. There's Mr. Tag for one; he was the man that found me, and the first new memory that doesn't line up with my real ones. He took me up, worried as a wet hen, and tucked me in with his own daughter. He did the right thing from the very beginning, and I've come to know him as a dear mentor. Perhaps he's a friend to my adult self? He must be to care that much, I wasn't the nicest child at times. Then there's the mysterious Lord Zayveon. He's huge! And very, very old. I can just tell, how can anyone not when they're near him? He may be scaly and well over seven feet tall, but he's no beast. Ma told me about creatures like him. He's a mage through and through, but he seems to know me well. I made him laugh once or twice when I accused him of being an old pervert, but all he seems to want to do is... protect me. Advise me. I don't know what to do about that, especially when this odd key necklace I own seems to tickle and prickle whenever he's around. I thought it was something of Ma's I'd pilfered, but I have no memory of that.
Feeling at odds about the great, draconian-looking red mage, Lilliana very hastily skipped down to the next line to continue writing, though not without giving the key beside her on the nightstand a little brush with her fingertips.
Now there's older Brishen. I've plagued him with my presence a few times, but not much. He's got a baby and my sissy-cousin Niamh to worry about. Curious. He says it's his and Ni's child... I tucked that information away too, just to help support my theory of misplaced magic and time.
Then there's Dean...
Having finally committed his name to paper rather than childish thought, Lilliana's lips bore the slightest of smiles. It was tinged however.
... and his little brother Sam. It sort of reminds me of myself and my lil' brother, but they're both boys, so they're a bit meaner. Not horribly so, just in the way boys seem to be. But I believe Dean's come to like me, and while that's an idea I'm not completely unhappy with, it seems all that's going to have to be put on pause with his brother missing. We kept a decent vigil last night, but he still hadn't returned. I think I fell asleep first, because when I woke up I'd had his blankets tucked up around me. For a minute I almost thought I'd woken up in my old wagon, but when the sunlight hit me strangely and there was no impatient kicks from lil' Brish in my side, I knew different.
There was that sadness again tinging her small smile all the deeper. Part of her still had a butterfly or two stuck in her belly when she thought about it. They'd been meaner than troll snot to each other when they were smaller, but as they'd gotten bigger and just a bit smarter, their like seemed to be moving into a desperate little friendship. Two kids growing fast against the world. Shaking her head just as the pen touched her paper again, Lilliana yawned.
But his brother's still missing, and I've got to help him like I promised. I nowhere near a master of power and spellwork like my Ma, but I can at least help him with what I can do. Next time I see Dean I'll insist on the tracking spell if Sam's not with him yet. I have to... They seem to be the only family one another's got. How can I not do everything I can? A promise is a promise, and those are things I intend to keep no matter how old I grow.
Sleep seemed to be creeping up on the teen more than she'd like it to since she expelled the greater bit of her frustration on the ink and paper. Knowing how warm her sheets still were that were a mere three paces beside where she now sat, Lilliana set the pen down safely in it's ink well and turned away from the open notes she'd just written down. As the days progressed, she was resolute about writing more often so as to better recall this wild experience and the lessons to be learned from it. Aha... and she was right. Her blankets were still warm, and there was just enough dark out in the early morning sky that she could sink right back into another few hours rest.
http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/309/f/8/f843b3a846ed90e9b4dc6f3145bb5c86-d327cuz.jpg
"Wha' a Goddess-damned mess!" She exclaimed suddenly, molten eyes a-shining with distress and anger.
It wasn't a moment later, tears touching the corners of her those bright irises, that Lilliana McClae, highly un-properly underaged, pulled out the artfully carved stool to her desk and slammed her rump down to write.
Day Nine; Age 16,
I should have started keeping this a while ago, but honestly I couldn't get used to the idea that it wasn't the world that was the problem, but me. Everything was staying the same. The seasons, the faces of all the people in the bar, the old woman with her flower cart in the marketplace, the weedy tailor whom I'd approached to help me with my clothing situation... I don't know how I didn't recognize it before. Then again, who really has something like that happen to them? A witch, that's who. I should have known better...
Lilliana paused just long enough to touch her forehead to the heel of her writing palm, fountain pen and all. Rolling her face around a bit, she drug her hand down over the pert bulb of her nose before laying her hand to the paper again. There was a small streak of ink smeared between her freckles just above her eyes now.
Oddly enough, it was my brother Brishen that was the biggest kick in my pants. I'm so used to being the older sister I didn't notice his eyes. I didn't notice the curls. The brogue of his speech or ma's wiry fingers or Maddoc's smart jaw. All I'd been thinking about was myself...
And boys, and having fun; interjected her guilty mind. Pinkie-no, Dean.
His eyes were darker than hers, just like most people's. Darker but just as pretty. He seemed way too old for himself, just like her. Hijinks aside, she'd found herself intensely interested whenever he'd been around. There seemed a fog around his head at all times-he and his brother Sam were sort of misplaced and adrift, and while technically she'd been no better, Lilliana had memories chock full of intense family love and connectivities that kept her going. At night, when she lay down, she awoke with fresh memories, fresh smiles, and a head full of much preciousness. Dean and Sam seemed quite alone, and that broke a bit of her heart each time. Maybe that'd been why their kiss was so sweet? Remembering the cider soaked floor and their childish tangle of limbs, she giggled quietly. Sobering up from the nonsense with little more than a blush to show for it, she picked up her pen to continue.
...but that's past now. Or present. Ugh. I don't even know anymore. I have all my memories of the day before fresh as a squirt of juice in the eye, but at the same time I'm expecting to turn the corner and meet my Ma or the rest of my clan. Yet they're no anywhere to be found. How could I have been folding laundry with Ma and lil' Brish, watching him trip over the wicker bin and konk his head on the ground, when in the same breath I had been shaking up a spirited drink? It's not matching up, and I'm scared. There are folks here that seem to know me... the adult me. No one's told me how old I am though, how old I'm going to continue to get. I mean, I found my wagon again, the one Ma gave me when I was too rowdy to keep in the family one, and I'm not seeing any signs of remedies for the elderly, so at least that means I'm not an old crone I hope. Maybe I took the crazier route with the Goddess and decided on immortality? No. Maybe. Ma's always been aging slowly.
Sighing with frustration, Lilliana took another pause and tossed her pen away-the result of which was a very large, very unseemly splotch on the side of her otherwise very neat, very flourished penmanship. Squeaking, then scowling, the distraught red head leaned across and quickly pulled her writing utensil back up. She was rambling. She didn't like to ramble on paper.
I'm missing points here. Big ones. There's Mr. Tag for one; he was the man that found me, and the first new memory that doesn't line up with my real ones. He took me up, worried as a wet hen, and tucked me in with his own daughter. He did the right thing from the very beginning, and I've come to know him as a dear mentor. Perhaps he's a friend to my adult self? He must be to care that much, I wasn't the nicest child at times. Then there's the mysterious Lord Zayveon. He's huge! And very, very old. I can just tell, how can anyone not when they're near him? He may be scaly and well over seven feet tall, but he's no beast. Ma told me about creatures like him. He's a mage through and through, but he seems to know me well. I made him laugh once or twice when I accused him of being an old pervert, but all he seems to want to do is... protect me. Advise me. I don't know what to do about that, especially when this odd key necklace I own seems to tickle and prickle whenever he's around. I thought it was something of Ma's I'd pilfered, but I have no memory of that.
Feeling at odds about the great, draconian-looking red mage, Lilliana very hastily skipped down to the next line to continue writing, though not without giving the key beside her on the nightstand a little brush with her fingertips.
Now there's older Brishen. I've plagued him with my presence a few times, but not much. He's got a baby and my sissy-cousin Niamh to worry about. Curious. He says it's his and Ni's child... I tucked that information away too, just to help support my theory of misplaced magic and time.
Then there's Dean...
Having finally committed his name to paper rather than childish thought, Lilliana's lips bore the slightest of smiles. It was tinged however.
... and his little brother Sam. It sort of reminds me of myself and my lil' brother, but they're both boys, so they're a bit meaner. Not horribly so, just in the way boys seem to be. But I believe Dean's come to like me, and while that's an idea I'm not completely unhappy with, it seems all that's going to have to be put on pause with his brother missing. We kept a decent vigil last night, but he still hadn't returned. I think I fell asleep first, because when I woke up I'd had his blankets tucked up around me. For a minute I almost thought I'd woken up in my old wagon, but when the sunlight hit me strangely and there was no impatient kicks from lil' Brish in my side, I knew different.
There was that sadness again tinging her small smile all the deeper. Part of her still had a butterfly or two stuck in her belly when she thought about it. They'd been meaner than troll snot to each other when they were smaller, but as they'd gotten bigger and just a bit smarter, their like seemed to be moving into a desperate little friendship. Two kids growing fast against the world. Shaking her head just as the pen touched her paper again, Lilliana yawned.
But his brother's still missing, and I've got to help him like I promised. I nowhere near a master of power and spellwork like my Ma, but I can at least help him with what I can do. Next time I see Dean I'll insist on the tracking spell if Sam's not with him yet. I have to... They seem to be the only family one another's got. How can I not do everything I can? A promise is a promise, and those are things I intend to keep no matter how old I grow.
Sleep seemed to be creeping up on the teen more than she'd like it to since she expelled the greater bit of her frustration on the ink and paper. Knowing how warm her sheets still were that were a mere three paces beside where she now sat, Lilliana set the pen down safely in it's ink well and turned away from the open notes she'd just written down. As the days progressed, she was resolute about writing more often so as to better recall this wild experience and the lessons to be learned from it. Aha... and she was right. Her blankets were still warm, and there was just enough dark out in the early morning sky that she could sink right back into another few hours rest.
http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/309/f/8/f843b3a846ed90e9b4dc6f3145bb5c86-d327cuz.jpg