2nd day of Summer, 519 AV
The tendrils of the blue-green feather twirled between her thin fingers. A swirl of smoke danced around the table, from the singular lit candle atop silk-covered wood. Dark yet daring orbs of curiosity stared deeply into the depths of the ocean blue glare being shot across the table. Just two silver dice lay between them, glinting a fiery mockery from the flicker of the flame.
Snake eyes.
“So why are you here, papa.”
Rohka asked her father the question as a matter of fact. They’d already finished with the pleasantries. The ‘Oh its so good to see you again, I missed you’ bit was admittedly forced on her end, but she knew she needed to say it. He had come looking for her, and he agreed to stay and be a customer at her table. To buy food from the Malt House, and to engage with her craft. It wasn’t all that surprising; for more than five years she’d been living alone in the middle of the lake instead of on the edge with her family. For more than five years, Meer’s little girl was living her life away from his immediate grasp. She knew it wasn’t easy for him. He had done his best to keep tabs on her, to have her continue to connect with the family. This type of visit was never just a ‘hello, just wanted to catch up’. It was an ask. A call to duty.
Rohka waited for her father’s reply. She placed the feather back down on the table and folded her hands in front of her, offering a slight smile, hoping the bit of warmth would invite an answer, yet knowing full well that he would circle around the root of the issue for at least half a bell until he got to his point. She had time. It was why she suggested having him choose a service from her craft. The sybil had hoped that she could at least use the time during his rambling thoughts to practice with him.
She would never admit that she wanted him to notice how much she’d improved.
It would be childish to seek parental approval. But it was exactly what she wanted, no matter how much she tried to hide it. No matter how much she thought she didn’t need it, that desire remained. And it sickened her. Because the fact was that she knew he would never approve. To Meer, this was simply a game. Always had been, always will be. To see his daughter sitting at a table in a tavern amongst the common folk of the city was never a sight he enjoyed, not even once, no matter how many times his wife had told him that she was proud of Roh. It seemed so stupid. What was the point of letting their daughter be frivolously socializing with strangers and calling it a job? This wasn’t work. This was play.
“You don’t know why I’m here, Rohka? Your dice can’t tell you that yet?” The glare pierced further into her eyes, digging for an emotion he couldn’t name. Why couldn’t she understand?
“No, papa,” she answered, her eyes now downcast, her chest tightening with impatient frustration. “That’s not how they work. Look, I wrote it down, see,” she pushed the piece of parchment over with two fingers, gently, in his direction. “Rolling two ones equals two, and a two is the highest warning of trouble ahead. I usually offer a card reading with that one because it’s the most ominous, and a customer would want to know—“
“Rohka, stop.” She looked up to see that he’d stopped glaring, that he now held his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed into a knot. “Just,” he brought both his elbows onto the table, resting his head in his hands. The architect wasn’t here to play games with a child. The design needed to be completed. He needed to get this over with so he could get back to work at the company, no matter what happened here. Did it matter if Vida wanted her daughter back? Didn’t matter last year. Didn’t matter the year before that. What makes this year any different?
Just because of the weather?
Meer kept his head in his hands and spoke low, enunciating every word, wanting his oldest daughter to hear—to truly hear—what he needed to ask.
“You need to come home. I’m leaving for Zeltiva before the summer turns to fall. Can you,” and he paused, looking up into her questioning gaze. She was shocked. Of course she was. He hadn’t travelled outside the city since before she was born. He brought a hand up to stop her before she could speak.
“Can you help take care of the family for me?”
WC = 797
The tendrils of the blue-green feather twirled between her thin fingers. A swirl of smoke danced around the table, from the singular lit candle atop silk-covered wood. Dark yet daring orbs of curiosity stared deeply into the depths of the ocean blue glare being shot across the table. Just two silver dice lay between them, glinting a fiery mockery from the flicker of the flame.
Snake eyes.
“So why are you here, papa.”
Rohka asked her father the question as a matter of fact. They’d already finished with the pleasantries. The ‘Oh its so good to see you again, I missed you’ bit was admittedly forced on her end, but she knew she needed to say it. He had come looking for her, and he agreed to stay and be a customer at her table. To buy food from the Malt House, and to engage with her craft. It wasn’t all that surprising; for more than five years she’d been living alone in the middle of the lake instead of on the edge with her family. For more than five years, Meer’s little girl was living her life away from his immediate grasp. She knew it wasn’t easy for him. He had done his best to keep tabs on her, to have her continue to connect with the family. This type of visit was never just a ‘hello, just wanted to catch up’. It was an ask. A call to duty.
Rohka waited for her father’s reply. She placed the feather back down on the table and folded her hands in front of her, offering a slight smile, hoping the bit of warmth would invite an answer, yet knowing full well that he would circle around the root of the issue for at least half a bell until he got to his point. She had time. It was why she suggested having him choose a service from her craft. The sybil had hoped that she could at least use the time during his rambling thoughts to practice with him.
She would never admit that she wanted him to notice how much she’d improved.
It would be childish to seek parental approval. But it was exactly what she wanted, no matter how much she tried to hide it. No matter how much she thought she didn’t need it, that desire remained. And it sickened her. Because the fact was that she knew he would never approve. To Meer, this was simply a game. Always had been, always will be. To see his daughter sitting at a table in a tavern amongst the common folk of the city was never a sight he enjoyed, not even once, no matter how many times his wife had told him that she was proud of Roh. It seemed so stupid. What was the point of letting their daughter be frivolously socializing with strangers and calling it a job? This wasn’t work. This was play.
“You don’t know why I’m here, Rohka? Your dice can’t tell you that yet?” The glare pierced further into her eyes, digging for an emotion he couldn’t name. Why couldn’t she understand?
“No, papa,” she answered, her eyes now downcast, her chest tightening with impatient frustration. “That’s not how they work. Look, I wrote it down, see,” she pushed the piece of parchment over with two fingers, gently, in his direction. “Rolling two ones equals two, and a two is the highest warning of trouble ahead. I usually offer a card reading with that one because it’s the most ominous, and a customer would want to know—“
“Rohka, stop.” She looked up to see that he’d stopped glaring, that he now held his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed into a knot. “Just,” he brought both his elbows onto the table, resting his head in his hands. The architect wasn’t here to play games with a child. The design needed to be completed. He needed to get this over with so he could get back to work at the company, no matter what happened here. Did it matter if Vida wanted her daughter back? Didn’t matter last year. Didn’t matter the year before that. What makes this year any different?
Just because of the weather?
Meer kept his head in his hands and spoke low, enunciating every word, wanting his oldest daughter to hear—to truly hear—what he needed to ask.
“You need to come home. I’m leaving for Zeltiva before the summer turns to fall. Can you,” and he paused, looking up into her questioning gaze. She was shocked. Of course she was. He hadn’t travelled outside the city since before she was born. He brought a hand up to stop her before she could speak.
“Can you help take care of the family for me?”
WC = 797
