[Flashback] From Small Beginnings

[Siana Skyglow]

For the next few days, the preparations for the upcoming whaling expedition were so clamorous and hectic that Siana felt like the entire Hold, if not all of Avanthal, was in a constant uproar. It was one of the last expeditions to be launched this year, before winter ice and bitter cold made pursuing whales too dangerous. As such, the hunters strove hard to ensure a successful hunt, so that they could supply the Hold with whale meat, blubber, skin and bones for months. Siana could appreciate the sentiment, but not the fact that the men conscripted everyone in their households to help them gather victuals, organize camping supplies, verify maps, test the edge of their weapons, and whatever else they asked. The prospect of practically waiting hand and foot on her father, brother and the rest of the whaling party, in addition to her regular chores, aggravated her to no end.

Finally, on the morning of the whaling party's departure, Siana lost her temper. Her father had been laughing and jesting with a fellow whaler in the communal hall while oiling the long knife he always wore during hunting trips. By chance, his friend chuckled at a joke and slapped her father on his left arm just as he was applying drops of oil to the blade. The bottle of oil her father was holding in his left hand was knocked loose by the playful blow and smashed on the table, sending oil and bits of glass flying everywhere.

Naturally, at that point, Siana had been walking up behind her father with a tray of food. Oil splattered all over the front of her dress, and a shard of glass caught her on her right cheek, opening a shallow, paper-thin cut. A tiny trickle of blood welled up from the cut. With a gasp, she instinctively raised her hand to her face, and the tray of food crashed to the ground. Now, both her dress and shoes were ruined.

Clutching her cheek with one hand and hopelessly trying to shake her dress clean with the other, Siana burst into furious tears. She glared at her father. "I…I give up!" she cried, scrubbing at the oil to no avail. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

Her father tried to take her hand, but she yanked it away and stamped her foot. She knew she looked terribly foolish, which just made her angrier. "I'm sick of having to help you do everything for your stupid whaling trip! Don't you think I have other work to do besides fetch things for you, Papa? I try to help and you don't even say thanks or say sorry about my dress or the glass. I hope you're happy now!"

Before anyone else could say anything, Siana turned around and stormed out of the hall.

Sobbing, she ran straight to the deserted children's sleeping area. Feeling miserable, she tore off the ruined dress and washed off every trace of oil, spilled food and blood from her hands and face. As she regarded her reddened, tear-stained face in the blurry mirror, Siana felt a hot surge of shame mixing in with her vexation. She hadn't thrown a tantrum like that since she was a small child. How could she show her face in the Hold again?

Still, Papa had ruined her dress and given her a cut on her cheek, and he'd never said sorry. But on the other hand, it wasn't like she'd given him much of a chance to say anything once she started raging at him. Now he was going to be upset with her and possibly even punish her. Tears sprang to her eyes again at the thought. Her father was a gentle man, but implacable in his anger.

Siana's first thought was to burrow under her covers and pretend nothing had ever happened. But she also wanted to talk to someone and clear her head. Too many emotions were swirling around inside. Unfortunately, everyone she could talk to was helping the whaling party finish their preparations before they left this afternoon. She couldn't think of anyone who she could trust to listen, understand and not make fun of her.

At the edge of her vision, a green-and-rose ribbon fluttered under the mess on her bedside table. A wild hope suddenly shone in Siana's eyes. The thought was parent to the deed, and she snatched her cloak and hurried downstairs, taking care not to meet anyone associated with the whaling party. She had no desire to see them just now. From the clangor and bustle, as well as the sound of horses whinnying and stamping their feet against the cold, Siana could tell the whaling party was about to leave from the great front doors. A cheer went up, followed by the thunder of many hooves. Quickly, she took a side exit and ran outside into the snow.

At least that means I won't have to avoid Papa and Ivian all day. I'm glad they're gone, she thought. But the thought felt hollow as she remembered the irate words she had hurled at her father before he left.

Her steps brought her quickly to the dwelling where Aneira lived with her family. She knocked rapidly on the door. "Hello? Is Aneira there? I…I just want to see her for a little while. Is that all right?"

[Aneira Haimati]

For her own reasons, Aneira had decided not to join the party seeing off the expedition. She had not seen or heard from Ivian in days. No doubt he had been busy with preparations, and Aneira had no trouble finding an abundance of ways to keep herself busy.

It was, she thought, a good idea to string out a bit of space between the two of them. Both could do well with some time to sort through things.

And yet, not seeing Ivian wasn't as easy as she had planned it to be. Trying to make sense of her own feelings was exhausting, and she did nothing but go round-and-round with no end or solution in sight. And when she tried to just push him from her head, he kept edging back in.

When she was rolling nuts and honey into dough for sweet bread, she remembered that it was Ivian's favorite - especially sprinkled with raisins. When she sat to braid her washed hair after bathing, she picked up one of the combs he had given her, just days before. And while she wore her hands raw with hot water on laundry day, she heard the cheers and beating hooves that signaled Ivian's departure from the city. The soap slipped from her unsteady hands for the tenth time, and she huffed out a breath of frustration.

"Ani?" Her mother glanced up from the soapy mess around Aneira's feet, to her face. "What's gotten into you?"

When she stopped to meet her mother's eyes, the tunic she had been scrubbing dropped back into the pot, slopping dingy water over the edges and onto the floor. Aneira sighed impatiently, pushing damp hair out of her face with the heels of her hands. "Nothing. Please - I just don't feel like talking."

The last thing Aneira wanted was to tell her mother of her troubles, only to have her launch into a story about love at first sight and happy endings. Her mother and father had a romantic tale, it was true. But Aneira was beginning to realize that romance wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

So she waved it off, managing a wan smile. "I just have a little headache, mama. It's nothing. I'm sorry."

Aneira was too preoccupied to fool anyone. Though she tried, her usually vibrant personality and reflective eyes were clouded with a faraway haze, tell-tale of her worries. More and more unfocused as the days passed, she kept making a wreck of her chores like this, so much so that her mother considered just telling her to find something else to do. Vlora had a feeling it had to do with Ivian and the expedition, of course, but she wasn't going to pry.

"It's all right, Ani. Why don't you - " Just then, there was a frantic knock at the door. Vlora rose to answer it, while Aneira began mopping up the mess she'd made. She was just slipping out of her soaking wet apron when Siana flew through the door, her eyes wheeling worriedly.

"Can we talk?" the girl pleaded, not even pausing to catch her breath.

Aneira's brow wrought with concern as she steered Siana toward her bedroom, where they could talk in private. "Of course. Siana, what's wrong?"

[Siana Skyglow]

Siana's face was crumpled with distress as she obediently followed Aneira toward her room. "Everything is wrong!" she burst out as soon as Aneira closed the door. "I just made the biggest fool in the world out of myself right in front of everyone in the Hold. Papa made this huge mess all over my clothes and I got so angry that I started shouting and crying, and everyone was staring at me and I…I just know I'm never going to live it down! You can't understand how awful it was."

Having just come from cleaning up dirty laundry water she had spilled, Aneira smiled sympathetically. "I think I'll understand better than you think. Sit down and tell me what happened."

Sniffling, the younger girl plopped into a nearby chair and took a deep breath. "Oh, Aneira…can I call you Aneira?…it's just that all the fuss about the silly whaling expedition has been driving me mad. Normally, I'd talk to someone from my Hold about things like this, but I don't think any of them would understand. Is it okay if I talk to you? I just need to clear my head; I feel like such a mess."

Aneira patted her shoulder. "It's all right. To tell you the truth, I haven't been feeling myself either. I think sitting down and talking might help me too."

Siana flashed her a grateful smile, but then her expression grew disconsolate again. "Ugh! Ever since my birthday party, that whaling trip all anyone can talk about. The men going on the trip all act like it's the most important thing in the world, just because it's one of the last chances for them to go whaling before winter sets in. They're always so serious and never want to talk to anyone except about whales, harpoons, currents, and things like that. It made me really upset because…because I felt like everyone forgot all about me!"

Before she could help herself, Aneira chuckled involuntarily, though not unkindly, at the last statement. Hastily, she covered her mouth, afraid she might further upset the situation further. To her immense relief, Siana only looked up when she heard the chuckle, and a tremulous, self-mocking smile slowly tugged at her lips. "Gods, that makes me sound like a baby, doesn't it?" she admitted. "Wailing because no one will play with me?"

"Perhaps a little," Aneira agreed gently. A hint of wryness entered her voice when she added, "I think I do understand why you might feel that way about the whaling trip, though."

"I'm glad someone understands," Siana muttered. "All Papa says is," and here she mimicked her father's booming baritone voice, "'Oh, the meat and bones will be so helpful during the winter. How can we possibly survive without them, even though we have enough seal meat and fish stockpiled to last us a whole year, not to mention bone and ivory in plenty?' And Selian is all," here she imitated the way her second-eldest brother's adolescent voice still broke into boyish squeaks, "'Ooooh, I can't wait until I'm old enough to kill things with sharp, pointy weapons!' Stupid Ivian mopes around all day and mumbles things like," here Siana dropped into a dreary monotone, "'I must prove my manhood on this trip. What if it turns out I'm just a big coward? Then I'll betray the honor of the Hold and die in shame! Noooooo!' Mama tries to keep everyone calm, but she's always telling me, 'We have to help the men because it's very important to them to be able to provide for us,' and I always want to say, 'What do I care? Do they care what's important to us, like the harvest or our own chores?'"

Aneira had to smile at Siana's imitations of her family members' voices, though she sighed when Ivian's name was mentioned. She remembered how distant and distracted he had been a few days ago at the birthday party and Siana's rant clarified why. As Siana plunged on with her narrative, though, Aneira decided to bide in silence and let the younger girl talk.

Oblivious to Aneira's thoughts, Siana poured out a description of what had happened that morning in the communal hall with her father, the shattered bottle of oil and her temper tantrum. Even as she described her own anger and unhappiness, though, Siana sounded more embarrassed and sheepish than furious as she reexamined her own actions. The more she talked, the more clear-headed she felt and the further her resentment ebbed, even though the clarity made her feel more ashamed of herself and conscious of how badly she had behaved.

Eventually, she covered her face with her hands and lamented, "Oh, I was acting like such a fool! Even with the cut on my cheek and my dress ruined, I should've been more grown-up than that. It was the last day before Papa and Ivian left, and now Papa's going to be angry at me the whole time he's gone. All because I lost my patience and snapped thanks to that oil bottle." She took her hands away and looked up at Aneira, her face almost comically woebegone. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how I'll ever show my face at home again!"

[Aneira Haimati]

Aneira stretched out across her bed furs, studying Siana for a long moment, with her chin cupped in her hand. Though that smile threatened to return to her lips, she managed to bite it back. But her eyes, as always, betrayed her, alight with a golden twinkle.

She didn't want Siana to think she was laughing at her, or taking her feelings lightly. Certainly, Aneira understood or even shared the emotions Siana was experiencing - so what was so funny? As the younger girl buried her face in her hands, Aneira sat up and shook her head. Siana was so expressive, and so dramatic, that there had to be a way to channel these feelings into something more useful than moping. Aneira knew that's what they'd both do if they continued to wallow.

"Listen," she declared, tugging gently at Siana's elbow. "By the time the men return, your father will have probably forgotten and forgiven, don't you think?" As she watched Siana's face soften, she noticed the sudden quiet. The cheers had dissipated in the distance, and Aneira imagined the gates had been closed. The expedition was gone. "We've got a lot of time on our hands without them, and sulking won't help. Let's do something fun."

She stood up from her furs, and moved to the corner, where a massive wooden trunk sat. It was one her father had given to her, brought back from Cyphrus and filled with souveniers and oddities throughout the years. As she opened it, a sea of colors spilled forth, as if they had been stuffed inside just waiting to overflow.

Before Siana could ask, she had an array of silks and fabrics flying at her, landing in her lap. Dresses, skirts, scarves, capes... every garment imaginable, it seemed, could be found in that trunk.

"You like stories, don't you?" Aneira's voice was breathless, muffled, as she sorted through costumes. "Let's write our own, and put on a play. Just for us, or," she paused, emerging, her hair in a wispy disarray around her face, "to cheer up our Holds."

She tossed a bright green cloak around her shoulders and spun to send it billowing. Then she tilted her head expectantly, grinning at Siana. "So, what do you think?"

[Siana Skyglow]

The wealth of vivid colors and fine textiles had already caught Siana's fancy and started pulling her from her dejection, but Aneira's words truly brought her up short. She paused, still clutching a handful of pale pink silk, as the thought of putting on their own play set her imagination afire. Siana had gone with her family every year to watch plays or special performances at the Crystal Hall, and she loved seeing the grand spectacles and hearing her favorite stories of Vantha tradition presented by consummate actors who utilized costumes, props and even music. Until now, though, she had never thought of putting on a play herself. Surely, that was only for the most brilliant and talented of showmen.

But now, surrounded by the riches of Aneira's wooden trunk, Siana's head began to swim with dreams of theatrical glory. It didn't help that she was utterly enchanted with the diverse array of costumes in her lap and heaped atop the bed. Having garbed herself in wool, leather and furs for most of her life, Siana couldn't resist marveling at the use of delicate lace, lush velvet and shimmering silk into various garments and costumes.

When Aneira fastened a bright green cloak over her shoulders with a dramatic swirl of fabric, she burst into delighted giggles, all her moodiness forgotten. "That's perfect! I love that color on you. I know just the thing to complete the outfit, too."

She rummaged through the pile of clothing on her lap and produced a flamboyant three-cornered hat in a different shade of vibrant green, embellished with a curling feather dyed in rainbow hues. She tossed it to Aneira, who slipped it on at a jaunty angle and struck a dashing pose. "Don't I look stunning?" she said laughingly, straining to peek at herself in the mirror out of the corner of her eye.

"You look like a color-blind minstrel," Siana proclaimed proudly, looking absurdly pleased at the colorful outfit she had coordinated. "Any minute now I expect you to whip out a lap-harp from somewhere in that cloak and start narrating a melodramatic ballad."

Aneira glanced sidelong at the younger girl, whose lavender-toned eyes were dancing with mischief, and her own lips curled into a devious smirk. "Well, now that you decided my costume, let's see what I can put together for you!"

"Oh n-" Siana began, but not before Aneira had swooped upon the piled costumes like a stooping eagle. In short order, the younger girl found herself engulfed in a tempestuous sea of colorful fabrics. Aneira pulled her over to the mirror, and Siana gasped when she saw herself decked out in a deep-blue ball gown trimmed with yards of flounces and a warrior's helmet whose curling horns were, astonishingly enough, the exact same shade of blue. "Aneira! Am I supposed to be some kind of barbaric damsel? 'Oh sweet minstrel, sing me a song of love and happy endings,'" she declaimed in a swooning voice, then shook her fist fiercely, "'or I'll disembowl you with my axe!'"

Amid laughter and teasing, the two girls played at dressing up for a while longer. Finally, in exhaustion, they both collapsed on the bed together. Her eyes a contented sapphire-blue, Siana looked nothing like the fretful girl who'd knocked on their door earlier. "Who made all these?" she asked drowsily.

"My mother," Aneira told her. "She works as a costumier and jeweler. My father brought her many of these fabrics, but she was the one who made them into real clothes."

"I thought so," Siana murmured. "It's not as though Avanthal has any silk trees."

"Silkworms, Siana," Aneira corrected her, patting her head. "The silk comes from silkworms that live in special trees. But yes, they wouldn't survive up here in the north. Don't fall asleep now, Siana. You still haven't told me if you'd like to try putting on a play."

"Oh!" Siana propped herself up on her elbows. "I would love to! With your masks and these costumes, it would be so much fun. Which story do you want to perform? The one with the woman who married a polar bear, maybe? Or…oh, I know, the one with the snow-maiden who couldn't love?"

[Aneira Haimati]

Aneira fell quiet as Siana's last words hung in the air. The girl was drifting off even as she spoke, her eyes heavy and her voice thick with drowsiness. It had been a long, trying day, and relief from the weight of emotions was making even Aneira feel pleasantly empty and exhausted.

With a misty laugh, Aneira guided the younger girl's head down onto a pillow, and ruffled her mop of dark hair. "Let's see what dreams bring," she whispered.

It wasn't long before Siana's breath grew deep and smooth with sleep.

Dusk came slowly, its light casting a milky glow through the room. Through the window, Aneira could see little through the thick curtain of falling snow. In the night, when all else was calm, she could sometimes even hear it falling. It wasn't that it made sounds, but that it quieted them, washing everything in soft stillness.

She imagined that Ivian, and Siana's father, and all the rest of the expedition, would be seeing much the same sight, however far away they had managed to travel before nightfall. From their eyes, sleeping beneath the sky, perhaps the stars would be lost between the glimmering flakes of snow. Down, down, spinning and mesmerizing, as snowflakes did when you watched them from below.

As she rested her own eyes, head sinking into the furs, Siana's sleepy suggestions played again in her mind. The woman who married a polar bear, or the snow maiden who couldn't love. She knew both stories well, along with a host of others she had heard and seen acted out as a child. Thinking of them, she was touched with nostalgia, her chest tightening, and the visions dancing across the backs of her eyelids growing more vivid.

She remembered seeing, for the first time, one of her own Hold dressed as the handsome polar bear. Her mother had sewn and embellished the bearskin, and designed a headdress for the actor to wear. Even from behind the scenes, where Aneira always viewed the plays with her mother, she was dazzled. No matter how many times she had heard the stories, the way they came to life anew on the stage always captivated her.

It was with these pictures swimming in her mind that she, too, succumbed to sleep, feeling a peace and a gentle longing that had her eager for the morning.

[Siana Skyglow]

Siana woke up with a start in the middle of the night, surprised by the presence of another warm body sleeping beside her and the unaccustomed softness of the bed. Wherever she was, it certainly wasn't her narrow cot in the children's sleeping area. She couldn't remember falling asleep at all, let alone in someone else's bed. As Siana stared up into the darkness, though, the events of the day before slowly came back to her. With a flush of mingled shame and amusement, she remembered losing her temper at her father, running to Aneira for understanding, and being swept up by Aneira's mother's costumes and the idea of putting on a play while the men were gone. So much for her complaints about neglecting her chores, considering she'd utterly neglected them yesterday without any help!

Well, she reflected, listening to Aneira's deep, regular breathing, perhaps she had had some help. But it was still Siana's own fault just the same. Judging from the darkness outside the windows, though, there wasn't much she could do about it now, aside from apologizing extravagantly to her mother the first chance she got. She briefly contemplated getting out of the bed and heading home, but the way back was dark and cold and she didn't want to wake Aneira.

Siana sank back into the bed, thinking about the play she and Aneira had agreed to perform together. She'd never have thought of it herself, but the more she reflected on it, the more she liked the idea. Putting on a play was the perfect way to combine their love for storytelling and craftsmanship. Lulled by the silence and darkness, Siana sank into a meditative reverie, running various ideas for plots and characters through her head. Of the thousands of tales that belonged to the Vantha oral history, Siana knew perhaps only a hundred or so. She sifted through these, trying to find the most appropriate and effective story for two girls to portray together.

Of course, with Aneira's masks, it was possible for the girls to perform a play with dozens of characters, if they wanted. Just switch from one mask to the other when the scene changed, and there you were, a totally different character. For some reason, though, Siana kept returning to the smaller-scale stories that contained only a few characters. They didn't involve an entire city or a whole world, it was true, but the way they showed the characters' struggles and interactions made them feel somehow more universal.

Naturally, thinking about masks reminded her of the beautiful mask Aneira had given her when they first met. Aneira had said that it represented the spirit of the Aurora. Of course, both of them knew very well that there wasn't any such thing; everyone knew the Aurora was made of mystical light and energy that their ancestors had used to create a pathway among the stars. But Siana found herself captivated by the idea that the Aurora was somehow controlled or personified by a spirit with a mind and personality of its own. Perhaps it was like the polar bears that the Icewatch rode; most of the time, they were bears, but sometimes they transformed themselves into people. Maybe the spirit of the Aurora was something like that; most of the time, it was light, but sometimes it turned into a real person too.

If nothing else, Siana thought it made for a nice story.

And if perhaps the Aurora was lonely in the night sky, and then Queen Morwen spoke to the Aurora and told it that if it helped her children cross between worlds, it would have the love of the Vantha and the eternal companionship of the stars…

Siana sat upright in the bed and tried to climb out as unobtrusively as she could, so that she could write her ideas down. Aneira would be wonderful as Queen Morwen, ever gracious and beautiful in a white gown and glittering crown, and Siana wanted to play the spirit of the Aurora herself. She groped in the darkness for a candle and match. There was a good story somewhere in here, she just knew it.

[Aneira Haimati]

Aneira woke, some time later, to the dying glow of a candle in dawn's first, pale light. It took a moment for her eyes and mind to focus, but soon she recalled the events of the night before, and noticed, with some dismay, the empty spot on the furs next to her.

Had Siana gotten up in the middle of the night to go home? If so, she'd better trudge on over there right away, to make sure she'd arrived back at her Hold safely. It wasn't a long trek, but it also wasn't a walk for a young girl to be making alone in the middle of the icy night. And if anything had happened to her... gods, Aneira would never forgive herself. She had kept her up too late, planting whimsical tales and ideas in her head, and then had let her drift off to sleep without suggesting she escort her back home. If Siana wasn't safe, it was Aneira's fault.

It was then that the light registered. The candle was lit on the small desk in the corner, and there sat Siana, hunched over and scribbling busily. As Aneira stirred, sighing a breath of relief, Siana didn't even notice, so immersed was she in whatever she was writing.

Though curiosity struck her immediately, Aneira couldn't quite summon up any logical thoughts until she'd completed the first movements of her morning ritual. She threw back the covers and sat to weave a few slender braids on either side of her face, tucking them back to secure her long, slick hair. Then she stood, and considered the air. It was cool and stiff, but nothing they couldn't stand. The low fire already burning would do, and she could turn her mind to other things - like morning tea. Her mind would never shed its sleepy fog without it.

For being quite wild at heart, Aneira mused, she was truly a creature of habit. It gave her a place, she supposed, even if she were away from home. To go through the movements of familiarity, to drink in the tastes she knew and loved, and to create a comfortable nest that felt like home, no matter where she was, allowed her to feel at ease with the unknown. No matter what she did or where she went, if she had her rituals, she would be at home - with herself, if nothing else. And that, she knew, gave her a sense of freedom.

As she began to go into the kitchen and start the tea, Aneira paused to set a hand on Siana's shoulder. "What are you writing so early?" she asked, with the quiet of sleep still in her voice.

[Siana Skyglow]

Siana nearly jumped at the sound of Aneira's voice and the touch of her hand on her shoulder. For her, it felt as though very little time at all had passed since she had lit the candle and started jotting down her ideas for the play that Aneira had suggested. Yet, as she lifted her head and looked around, she noticed the first pale rays of sunrise creeping in under the curtains and, of course, Aneira standing there draped in a morning robe of light fur. Seeing her sleep-tousled hair and affectionate expression, Siana felt an unfamiliar sensation of sisterly friendliness in her heart.

"Is it morning already?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "Ugh, I'm going to be feeling tired all day, I just know it. I was up writing an outline of something we could do for our play. I had this idea about using that mask you gave me and performing something about how our people first came to this world…"

She broke off when she saw Aneira's eyelids flickering sleepily. Her own stomach was starting to growl audibly. Siana quickly amended, "Um, well, we can talk about it more over breakfast. Would your family mind if I came along to eat with you?"

"Of course not," Aneira assured her. "They already know you and like you. Besides, one more person is hardly a burden at breakfast! Come with me, I was just about to start the tea."

Rising to her feet and stretching, Siana dutifully followed Aneira to the kitchen, where Aneira's mother was already humming and busying herself preparing breakfast. Slices of bread and cheese were already arranged in a plate, and swirls of steam arose from a pot on the cookstove where Aneira's mother was boiling eggs. She turned around and greeted Siana without showing any surprise that she was still there. After giving her mother a hug, Aneira went straight to the tea kettle, filled it with water, and started it boiling. When Siana protested that she felt like a useless and free-loading guest, they let Siana help out by bringing napkins and utensils to the table. On her first trip, she ran into Aneira's father, who joined his wife and daughter in the kitchen to help prepare breakfast in properly husbandly fashion, to Siana's approval. In short order, plates of bread, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, and slices of smoked fish were laid out on the table, along with mugs of piping-hot tea.

After pronouncing a quick prayer to Queen Morwen, Aneira's mother urged them all to tuck in. Even before she finished talking, Aneira was already sipping greedily at her tea and visibly relishing its warmth and aroma. Siana spared a dubious glance around herself before she attacked the bread and cheese vigorously. Father and mother exchanged amused glances above the girls' heads before they too broke their fast.

"So," Aneira said eventually, looking much more awake and alert after draining her mug, "what were you talking about earlier about the play and the mask I gave you?"

Looking up from her food, Siana hastily swallowed a mouthful of crumbs and cheese. "Oh! Wrff amiffit! Yes, I wanted to use your Spirit of the Aurora mask in a play somehow. It's too amazing not to. So, I was thinking, maybe we could do something where we split the stage in half somehow and we both play a character on either side of the stage who's alone and they're facing a problem."

"Ah, yes," murmured Aneira's father, who had been listening in on their talk. Even though his eyes never changed color, Siana could tell he was interested by the tilt of his head and his smile. "Back in Zeltiva, I remember seeing a play that worked like that. The script was written in such a way that their dialogue matched up together almost as if they were talking to each other, even though they were actually doing monologues."

Siana nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Exactly! That would be perfect. One of the characters will be the Spirit of the Aurora, and she's incredibly lonely because she's a beautiful dancer, of course, but there's no one to watch her. She has no audience! So, she's very sad. Then the other character will be Queen Morwen herself. She's a powerful goddess, of course, everyone knows that, but her domain is winter, not travel, which is what she's interested in at the moment. She needs to forge a path for our people to settle in a new world, but she needs outside help. See?"

After that long, breathless speech, Siana promptly picked up her mug and took a long drink of tea. "So," she continued, "then we have these two characters who need something that only the other person can provide. The Spirit of the Aurora can give Queen Morwen the energy and power she needs to create a pathway through the stars, and Queen Morwen can give the Aurora the audience she craves, because her people will always be grateful to her for her help and love her for her beauty."

As she spoke, Siana could feel her own excitement about the play growing. She hoped that Aneira would like her idea, though the task of writing this particular script would certainly tax both their brains. Siana steeled herself in case Aneira vetoed her idea, though; the younger girl knew she tended to become too attached to her own ideas, to the point of obstinacy. She just hoped that whatever they came up with in the end would let her wear her beautiful new mask onstage, though.

[Aneira Haimati]

The dregs of tea in the bottom of her mug seemed to absorb Aneira for a long, few moments. As Siana etched out her ideas, and Cyril responded with enthusiasm, Aneira twirled her mug around between her willowy fingers, allowing a thoughtful pause before her last sip.

The quiet that ensued made Siana a tad bit nervous. Here, she had just poured out her soul - her entire night's worth of ideas - and it seemed like Aneira hadn't even heard her. Was she still so tired that she hadn't been paying attention? Or, worse yet, had she heard every bit and just not even liked the ideas? Siana caught her bottom lip in her teeth, and prepared to shrug off her disappointment.

But just then, Aneira looked up from her tea, her eyes shining darkly. It wasn't quite the hue one would expect to mirror excitement. Perhaps dizzying blue or a spark of red, but not a shade so dark that it looked black. And yet Aneira's father knew it instantly: she was feeling inspired. Not just inspired, no; but utterly and intensely absorbed by this new idea of Siana's. And so her eyes were cast with a dark radiance when she finally looked at Siana.

"I can see it already," she began, the glimmer of a smile touching one corner of her mouth. "Queen Morwen, an eye mask with lashes like ice. And a circlet..." She reached up to catch a thin braid between two fingers. "To imitate the snowflakes in her hair."

Aneira saw the vision swimming in her mind's eye, more vivid by the second, and yet in danger of dissipating. Even as she spoke, she was pushing back from the table, led by the image of Queen Morwen to begin. The vision wouldn't wait, she knew. It was now or never.

Vaguely, she gestured to Siana to follow her. Her eyes glazed over - certainly she was seeing something else, somewhere else, and was no longer entirely present in the eating area with her family. So, she went back into her room, Siana trailing curiously behind her.

She left her breakfast half-eaten and her robe on, not even bothering to get dressed before she sat down at her desk. The candle had died out, but by morning's sun, she had plenty of light.

She drew out a fresh sheet of paper and began to sketch. Her lines were drawn quickly and not at all neatly, though the haste with which she worked suggested she knew exactly what she meant to create. She seemed to shift and change her mind often, smudging here and there and drawing darker lines to emphasize her corrections, though she did not pause at all in her flurry of work.

Though she wasn't very talented at drawing, she did decently enough with proportion, and the general idea she had came across just fine. It wasn't a pretty picture, so to speak, but it would serve well as a pattern for the mask she intended to create. As she sat back to allow Siana a glance, she knew that even if the drawing made little sense to anyone else, it made perfect sense to her. And what emerged from it, she hoped, would be just as beautiful as it had looked in her mind.

"Let's keep going, Siana. What do you say? Until they pester us that chores await..." Aneira picked up the papers that Siana had been writing on, earlier, and began to ruffle through them, as an impish smile danced across her lips.