August 22 - Day 3
Possibility
Fiorenze turned sharply, her eyes wide and ears pinned back. That hadn’t been what she expected to hear from around the thick bramble of bushes she’d been foraging for saxifrage in.
She didn’t recognize the girl, armored in spellweave with leaves clinging to her loose brunette braid and dirt smudged on her cheek. But maybe she did — the soft swell of her cheeks, porcelain skin and bright eyes were the same as what she saw in the mirror every day.
Fiorenze wasn’t sure what to do but stare and listen to her heart thunder in her ears.
The girl — woman, she was a woman grown — ran up and hugged her, making the hazy edges that her shards of reality had taken on as soon as she’d spoken come crashing together, “I saw Aunt Pyra out here days ago and hid because— well— I was right. You’re here.”
It took a moment, but Fiorenze hugged the unnamed daughter back. Acrid ozone, the same scent that lingered all around Eon’s Fringe, clung to her. “Am I not in your timeline?” She knew the answer already; there was too much joy, too much hope, in the younger woman’s tone.
“Am I not in yours?” Her time-lost child pulled back and looked at her, blue eyes bright and brimming with soft tears. She had a spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks — like Pyraelia did. This close, Fiorenze could see Halandir’s influence, too. Less than her own family’s, but still there.
Fio shook her head and reached up to rub at a smudge of dirt on the girl’s cheek away, “I have no children here. What’s your name?”
“Sylmae! And there’s Finn, too, but he’s not here. He doesn’t like to fight, which Father prefers. I think he’s his favorite, I look too much like you— it doesn’t matter, I found you,” she hugged Fio again, tightly.
The knife twisted as Fiorenze smiled; Sylmae had been her mother-in-law’s name. She’d had the children Halandir had always wanted — did he love her there, until she died? Did he love her still? “He’s not remarried has he? Your father, I mean.”
“No, never,” Sylmae’s voice was muffled from where she’d pressed her face into the crook of Fio’s neck, “He tried but apparently all the courting was exhausting and—”
Fiorenze carefully, kindly, put some distance between herself and Sylmae, keeping the fae child at arms distance. It was hard not to smile fondly, and it was harder not to want to keep her. But what if she could go there?
“If I find the right portal, can—” Sylmae looked up at her, hopeful, before she broke off into a bright, disappointed laugh, “That’s… It doesn’t work like that, does it? I’m being ridiculous.”
What did she have here, really? Pyraelia and Keranna, but they’d both be fine without her. They’d understand. Xylaes… they hadn’t talked in over a month, and every time she’d wanted to recently it felt like she’d be intruding. He had his son, the mercenary group, and she’d never measure up to Callia. Arandori and Tinnaire had other friends. They’d all be fine without her, wouldn’t they?
Her brow furrowed a bit before she shook her head and smiled, “Walk with me? I… maybe it does. My sister has a friend here from another timeline — they’re trying to find a way to keep her here forever. Maybe I can offer a trade? Or… I don’t know. I’m not going to promise you anything.”
“I get it. It’s nice to think about the possibility though. What if I stayed here? Like Aunt Pyra’s friend? I’m not— well— home isn’t—” Sylmae sighed, obviously a little flustered. Overwhelmed, like Pyraelia got sometimes.
“Maybe. We can ask. That’s the least we can do. The Bronzes are—”
“Pretentious assholes? Oh. Sorry. Language,” her daughter had the grace to look a little sheepish, but not sorry.
Fiorenze smiled wryly, heart aching, “No need to censor yourself on my account, darling. There’s a lot for us to catch up on. We can take the longer path back.”
@daily-writing-challenge / @kharrisdawndancer & @xylaes small mentions.
