Hey there, @forestofbeginnings here! So a lot of people were interested in getting the whole theme week thing started again, but someone actually reminded me that the anniversary of the series is dangerously soon! So instead of organizing an entire week on such short notice, I decided to do a weekend instead!
So here’s the general lowdown of the weekend: The goal is to create awesome content and talk about our appreciation of the Rune Factory series! Each day of the weekend, starting with the 12th anniversary on August 24th, will have themed days with prompts and general things to talk about. If you’re a content creator, feel free to use these prompts to create art, fanfiction, edits, playlists, or more. If you just want an excuse to talk about your love of the series, you can use the prompts as a stepping point to talk about your favorite aspects of the series or your experiences with the games!
Of course, I will be reblogging everything I see onto this blog so everyone can see a big collection of it by the end of things!
Are there any rules? Mostly no! The basic rule is to have fun and to generally spread positivity, so just be a cool person during the event and you’re awesome! NSFW content is certainly allowed...though I will not be personally reblogging any NSFW content on this blog. Please make sure your adult content is tagged as such and will not be found if SafeSearch is on.
So anyway, onto the actual themes of the weekend!
Friday, August 24th, 2018 - RF 12TH ANNIVERSARY: Time
Possibilities of the future and echoes of the past; perhaps a look into the present.
Saturday, August 25th, 2018: Dancing
No celebration is complete without a little bit of dancing, no matter how good you are at it.
Sunday, August 26th, 2018: Wooly Revolution
/ ( ÒㅅÓ)＼
That’s about it! Please contact this blog with any questions, and hope that you will be able to participate!
The hashtag for this event will be #rf12th, so please make sure to use that tag during the weekend so that I can reblog your post to the blog when you post it!
It’s after midnight where I’m at so this is a little late. I’m really happy with how this turned out though! It basically follows the timeline of Cecilia’s life and the different Earthmates she encounters on the way and how they effect her. I didn’t include Tides of Destiny bc I’ve played like one hour of that in total lmao. Hope you enjoy!
My friend @i-cant-thinkofa-name is going to draw some fanart to go with this fanfic so keep an eye out for that!
“Raguna, are tanks gonna come? Is everybody gonna die?” Ceci choked out, warm tears starting to spill from the corners of her eyes. Her hands clutched at her dress and she didn’t break eye contact with the man who saved her once. Could he save her again?
“Don’t worry,” Raguna knelt down to Ceci’s level and used his thumb to wipe away the tears she couldn’t stop. “I promise I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Ceci clenched her eyes shut and rushed forward, pulling Raguna into a hug as tight as her small arms would let her. “Okay,” she whispered. “I believe you.”
Raguna rubbed her back for a moment until she calmed down enough for him to talk. “Your father wants to help me, so I need you to do something really important, okay?”
Ceci simply nodded her head from it’s place on his shoulder.
“I need you to hide,” Raguna pulled back and made sure Ceci was looking at him. She didn’t think she’d seen him so serious before. Not when talking to her, at least. “You and Nicholas need to hide in his house under his bed. Don’t come out until me or your father come and get you. Okay?”
Ceci stared at Raguna for a moment. If he wouldn’t let anything happen to her then why did she need to hide?
“Ceci,” Raguna got her attention again. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” Ceci stated, voice coming out stronger than she expected. “I pinky promise.” She held her right pinky out for him.
Raguna smiled and took her pinky in his. “Pinky promise.”
Earthmate
Cecilia had heard the term used to describe Raguna when she was younger, but she had very little understanding of what it meant. She only knew that apparently they were special and Raguna was one.
She knew little, but when the mansion doors swung open and Kyle stepped in for the very first time her first thought was Earthmate.
He had to be one. There was no other explanation for the energy that radiated off of him the same way it had for Raguna.
Earthmate and Raguna had been such synonyms in her mind that even during her first conversation with Kyle she couldn’t help but let her old hero’s name slip when she introduced herself to him. She felt silly for it, but Kyle took it in stride. Just like Raguna would have.
That night she writes to her father. She doesn’t write him as much as she should, but today gave her plenty to write about.
A man came to town today who reminded me of Raguna, the letter read. Can you send me any books you have that mention Earthmates?
The next day she tested her theory. As she poured Max his mid-morning tea, Cecilia remarked, “I felt the strangest energies coming off of that man, Kyle, yesterday. Do you think he could be an Earthmate?”
Max tilted his head, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched higher than the other. “An Earthmate? What’s that?”
So Max didn’t know, Cecilia noted. Max had the grandest education money could buy and didn’t know what an Earthmate was. Maybe Rosalind would have been the better sibling to ask.
Cecilia continued to ask around town, slipping the word Eathmate into conversation here and there. Only a handful of the townsfolk knew what an Earthmate was and none could give her information beyond what she already knew.
Eventually a letter attached to a box arrived at the inn. In the box was a single book. Sorry I couldn’t be more help, the letter read. Remember I love you very much.
Cecilia stayed up all throughout the night reading the book. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Russell only had one book for her. His library wasn’t the most expansive. The one book he did have contained a fair amount of information, however.
Earthmates had their own language. They could control runes. Cecilia soaked up as much information as she could.
The next morning Cecilia was almost sleeping as she did her work, but it was worth it. She left the mansion during her lunch break and trekked across town to Kyle’s farm. He was watering plants, just as she thought he’d be.
“Cecilia!” Kyle said excitedly and straitened up. He had sweat dripping down his forehead. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What’s up?”
Cecilia smiled shyly. “Nothing special. I just wanted to talk to you. I think I can give you some insight as to who you are.”
The smile Kyle gave her made all of her shyness go away.
The energy she felt from Kyle was nothing compared to what she felt when she first held baby Aria in her arms.
Kyle’s energy had never been as strong as Cecilia remembered Raguna’s being. She had initially chalked it up to how long it had been since she’d seen Raguna, but now, with this red-headed infant in her arms, she could tell just how much quieter Kyle’s energy was in comparison.
Holding Aria was like holding the sun.
Being able to feel Earthmate energy must have been an Elven thing, Cecilia noted. As she passed Aria around no one seemed near as affected as she had been.
Aria was going to be wonderful. Cecilia could already tell. She was going to be the greatest Earthmate the world had ever seen.
It was a cool fall day but the air felt sticky and hot due to the amount of people in the town square.
Barrett was going to be back any minute, and he was bringing a guest with him.
Frey, princess of Selphia.
The fact that this girl was a princess was what had most people excited. Ceci herself (because it’s Ceci again. After herself and her friends started having kids “Cecilia” was far too difficult for them to say in their early years) dressed up for the occasion.
Ceci knew Aria was excited for a far different reason, though. She was bouncing from foot to foot, unable to keep her infamous energy under control.
Not only was this Frey girl a princess. She was also an Earthmate. A girl Earthmate.
Ceci couldn’t blame Aria for being excited. She never had many role models to look up to when she was younger. Her father disappeared and she took it upon herself to find him. She was more grown up than any actual grown up in Alvarna.
The noisy square suddenly turned quiet. Ceci stopped staring at Aria, who now wore a look of awe, and laid her eyes at the woman on top of the stairs.
She was beautiful. Long, silky, minty hair and matching eyes. She wore an adorable little tiara on her head and a big smile. Barrett was beside her, but nobody was looking at him.
“Everyone,” Barrett tried to get their attention. “This is Frey.”
“Hi, everyone!” Frey beamed, and the quiet square immediately turned noisy again.
Everyone wanted a turn talking to Frey, and she took it better than Ceci could ever hope to if she was in such a position. She smiled and made conversation and everyone loved her.
Ceci noticed Aria was sticking to the back of the crowd. She probably wanted to talk to Frey last. That made sense. They would have the most to talk about
Eventually Ceci wormed her way to the front and got a moment with the princess.
“Hello, your majesty,” she greeted.
“Oh, please don’t call me that. Just call me Frey,” Frey giggled.
Ceci already felt more confident. Frey’s energy was so similar to Aria’s. “Hello, Frey,” she tried again. “My name is Cecilia.”
Frey’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a circle. “Oh! Barrett told me all about you!”
“Did he?” Ceci glanced over at Barrett, who was awkwardly trying to look like he wasn’t listening to the conversation.
“Yes!” Frey continued. “He told me that you’re the one who taught him what an Earthmate is and got him interested in the subject.”
Ceci felt her face heat up and tried to tamper it down. She was getting too old to be so affected by simple statements. “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she said.
“I never would have been able to accomplish anything if it wasn’t for Barrett’s big old brain,” Ceci saw Barrett role his eyes at this. “How did you know so much about Earthmates?”
“Well,” Ceci starts, unsure of how to actually tell her story. “There was one in my town when I was young, so I grew up among the concept of Earthmates, but I didn’t research them until later.”
“You knew an Earthmate from that long ago?” Frey looked shocked and thrilled. “We have to meet up for tea to talk about this more. Where do you live?”
“I work at the De Sainte-Coquille mansion, actually. I know you’ll be staying there so we should have plenty of time to talk.”
“Perfect! I can’t wait!” Frey’s eyes darted behind Ceci so she turned and saw Aria slowly approaching them. She looked a little more shy than her normal outgoing self.
“I should get going. You and Aria here have even more to talk about than you and I do,” Aria finally arrived at the top of the stairs and Ceci gently pushed her bangs out of her face. She then gave Frey a small curtsy and Barrett a short nod before heading home for some well deserved rest.
SO, again it is Rune Factory’s 12th anniversary weekend. And I finally pulled out my laptop, so here’s the beginning of a fanfic that I’ve started writing. I actually started this a while back, before the weekend was announced and... yeah.
Behold, my theoretical plot for Rune Factory 5: The Wooly Revolution This is Chapter 1 (it’s unfinished, but getting there. I’m up to chapter 7 or so)
Spring 1, Year 1
I woke up to rain. It splattered across my face and dripped down my neck. The sky above me was a blurry blue-gray between the feathered foliage of overhanging trees. For a moment I just allowed myself to breathe. There was an ache in my head, near the base of my skull and crawling toward the top. The air was cold. It sat like the last dregs of winter in my mouth. The ground beneath my back made me shiver. Oddly, it was dry. Pieces clicked together. I must have been lying there before it started raining.
How had I gotten there? Had I meant to-
Blond hair and blue eyes suddenly popped into my view. “You alright?” a young man asked, his eyebrow quirked in a curious face of concern. A brown headband did little to tame the sunny spikes protruding from his scalp. He looked like a traveller of some kind. He offered a hand to help me up.
I took it, looking around at my surroundings. It was a forest, densely populated. I could hear birds, monsters, and other small animals rustling in the underbrush.
Oddly, though, it did nothing to remind me of how I got there. Or why I was there in the first place.
Or, I realized with horror, who I was.
“Can you talk at all?” the man tried again. Now that I was standing, I could see that he was shorter than I expected. He stood at least four inches shorter than myself. That wasn’t normal-- was it?
I blinked at him. “I-- yeah.” I ran through a few ways to broach the subject with him. Did he know who I was? Was I supposed to know him?
“Do I know you?” I asked finally.
The man smiled as if I had made a joke. “Hmm?” he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I was just heading to Laine up the way and saw you here. Did you hit your head?”
I rubbed my head experimentally. Sure enough, there was a sore patch right on the crown of my scalp. I winced.
The man nodded sympathetically. “Let’s head into town together.” He shivered slightly in the cold. His head tilted to the side and he made a strange face. “Sounds to me like you’ve got some amnesia.” He smiled reassuringly at me. “But I’m sure there’s a place up ahead where you can live out the rest of your life in relative peace without anyone from your previous life ever showing up.” He started walking before I had a chance to figure out any of the words he had just said. Had he started speaking a different language while I wasn’t paying attention?
“Wait what?” I asked as I jogged to catch up with him.
“I’m Micah,” he said cheerily as he continued to walk through the forest. “Do you remember your name?”
“Uhhh….” Did I remember my name? “It’s Elle.”
“Elle? Nice name,” he said brightly. “And, if you don't mind my asking, are you a guy or girl?”
I made a face without thinking, starting at Micah in disbelief. “What?” He just stared at my face as calm as can be as if he hadn't just asked one of the oddest questions I had ever heard in my life.
Which, considering I could only remember the past few minutes, didn't say much. I sighed. “A girl.”
“Awesome!” He smiled. “Do you remember your birthday?”
“Ah…” no. I did not. “Maybe the beginning of winter?”
“Sounds good!” His smile broadened as he pointed ahead to a place where the trees suddenly cleared. “Look! There's Laine!”
We broke through the last line of trees. For the briefest moment, the world seemed to hang on a breath, my heart hovering between one beat and the next. Mist hung low over the rolling grasslands, leading down toward a small village near the coastline’s edge. A cluster of buildings were huddled together against the chill from a spring breeze carried from across the ocean. Some were small, homes perhaps. Others were robust and comparatively full of life-- smoke curling from chimneys and doors fearlessly tossed open in defiance of the chill.
“It’s beautiful,” I said quietly, my voice lost in a gust of wind.
I glanced at Micah at my side. His eyebrows were knit together in a look of confusion. “Something’s not right,” he muttered. He took off at a run down the path that led to the cluster of sea-worn buildings.
Without thinking, I followed him. What did he mean something wasn’t right? Did he live there? Were we about to run into a mess?
Probably. But I followed him regardless.
We arrived in the town, breathing heavy. I curled forward with my hands on my knees as I struggled to be able to ask one of the thousands of questions that were starting to bubble into my mind. Micah was looking around as if he expected to be greeted by someone or something.
When I finally thought I might be able to say something, a scream interrupted my intake of breath.
I turned my head this way and that, looking for the source. There were sturdy wooden structures like homes or businesses, but it took me a moment before I found the person who was screaming. It was a group of children playing outside the porch of one of the bigger buildings. About half a dozen of them were chasing one another. A small, dark-skinned boy was at the head of the pack, running away from the other five with a stick in his hand.
“Jerome! Get back here!”
“Big Bully- gimme back my stick!”
“Heeee~eey!!!! That’s not yours, it’s my turn!”
“Get him!!!”
The kids ran until they came running toward me. For a second I wondered if they would stop. They didn’t and my second of hesitation was a second too long. For the second time in all of the half an hour of my life, I found myself looking up at the sky with gentle water drops finding their way into the awkward crevasses of my neck.
“Ah now,” said a wizened voice, thick with sarcastic intent. “Look what y’all did. You nearly killed this poor girl.”
“It’s Jerome’s fault!” said a different voice. “He took my stick!”
I sat up, blinking and trying to again make sense of my surroundings. An old man, judging by the wrinkles in his skin and the white hairs on his head, stood with crossed arms and an expression that told me I was in trouble. He wore simple but hardy clothes, he looked like a worker of some kind, like a blacksmith or carpenter. He also had that air of authority that told me I should probably respect him or find myself in a world of social inconvenience.
But why the heck am I in trouble? I wondered. I’m the one they knocked over!
“Maybe less poor than just stupid,” the man said, nodding to himself. “That’s what you get for standing there like a gaping fish.”
Don’t agree with yourself! I thought bitterly, standing and trying, vainly, to brush the mud off my clothes. It occurred to me that I hadn’t noticed what I was wearing earlier. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to think about it now either.
“You alright, Elle?” Micah asked, seeming to have only just realized that I had fallen.
“I'm fine,” I said, not sure if I really was.
“Good,” he said. He turned his attention to the old man. “Is there a shrine or temple or anything nearby?”
“You need to make a confession?” The man squinted at Micah.
“Ignore him,” a new voice said behind us. We turned to the newcomer, an old woman was standing there with a small child on either side of her. She was elderly more than old. She seemed like the stately kind of woman who took charge of almost any situation. She wore a long green-gray dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Her hands were folded in front of her nicely. I envied the neat way she tied up her hair. My hair kept falling into my face no matter how many times I pushed it back.
“I tend the shrine here,” the woman continued. She shot a look at the old man and sniffed. “Rooty’s just a lazy sack of bones.”
I glanced at the man, wondering if this was normal. I didn't really have much to compare it to. But the words didn’t seem to sting their intended recipient.
The old man, Rooty, smiled sardonically in response. “Sally.” the way he said her name made me think they were probably old friends. “Wonderful to see your rheumatism kept you from bringing the kids on time.” He paused. “Again.”
“Old coot,” she sniffed. Gently, she nudged the children toward the building.
“In any case,” the woman said, keeping an eye on the children as they ran past me, Micah and Rooty. “If you need to see the shrine, I'd be happy to show you.” She bowed respectfully, finally turning her eye to Micah. “I'm Salina.”
Micah’s shoulders fell in relief. “Thanks a bunch,” he said as his face fell into a smile. He looked at me and gestured to Rooty. “You should probably stay here. I bet Rooty knows where the farm is.”
I blinked. “What farm?” I asked. Had we been looking for a farm? Was I forgetting something?
He laughed as if it hadn't occurred to him that this needed explaining. “The farm where you'll be living from here on out.” He waved as he hurried to follow after Salina, leaving me there with more and more questions by the moment.
I looked back at Rooty. He was scratching his head. He looked at me. “You're here to start a farm?” He asked dubiously. He eyed me in a way that said he didn’t think I was suited to the farm life.
I shrugged. “I don't know. He found me unconscious in the woods. I don't remember how I got there or where I'm from or anything else for that matter.”
Rooty grunted and started to turn back down the road. “Well, your friend wasn't lying. There's a farm just over that way that hasn't been tended to in years.” He turned back to see that I was following. “C’mon, follow me.”
“Waaiiitt!!! Jerome still hasn't given me back the stick! It's my turn!!”
Rooty turned sharply toward the child who spoke. “You had better get into Miss Charity. You know how she gets if you're late.”
All the children suddenly stiffened before taking off at a full sprint toward the schoolhouse. I wondered briefly what kind of woman Miss Charity was, but then Rooty was walking off again. I had to jog to keep up with him. How was an old man so fast?
“The farm's this way. There's a little house attached to it that no one’s using. I don't know if it has any furniture or anything but you're welcome to have it.” His words flowed so quickly I hardly had the brain power to interpret them. “The seed shop’s owner’s been out of town for a while. Their son is taking care of it for the time being. A no-good delinquent, if truth be told, but there you have it. Luckily he's got that girl keeping an eye on him, but she's as naive as they come. You’ll find the shop if you poke around town for a bit. The carpenter’s shop is open, but I don't know what services they're offering this time of year.”
He kept up a rattling account of names and shops and places in town with a solid complaint against each of them. Somehow, even though his words were harsh, I got the impression he was quite proud of his town.
“And if you know anything about monsters, then you’d be welcome to try to cross the forest. But if ya don’t then steer clear. It’s a dangerous place these days what with--.” he coughed suddenly, interrupting himself. “What with everything.”
“What do you me--?”
“And here we are!” he interrupted me, gesturing to a dilapidated shack beside a weed-infested field of stumps and boulders.
It struck me that the area outside of town, the way that Micah and I had come into the town proper, would be much better suited to farming, but I decided to say nothing so not to seem ungrateful. Rooty looked at me expectantly as if either waiting for my complete dismay or complete adoration. I settled for a half-hearted, “Wow.”
Rooty turned away, but not before I saw a smile form on his face. “This’ll be your home from now on. Take good care of it.” He started to return the way we had come. “If you need me, I’ll call ya.” He waved without looking back.
“Wait, what?!” I looked after him, rooted to the spot. He just kept waving and walking until he was out of sight. I looked back at the shack. A large blackbird swooped overhead and lighted on the crest of the roof.
“What?” I said, quieter, to myself. I stood there staring for a long moment. More birds flew around. My head began to throb painfully and I shivered with a cold breeze that tore through the dress I wore.
I made my way to the little hut. At least the wind wouldn’t be able to reach me inside, right?
Surprisingly, the inside was much cozier than the outside might lead one to believe. It was only a single room with a small washroom attached to one side. There was a small space with a table and a single three-legged stool to the left of the front door. To the right, there was an old mattress on a wooden frame. A small apple crate was placed next to it with a single candle stub and a worn book.
I moved toward the book, curious. Inside was a diary belonging to someone named Cucumber who had run a farm there a long time ago. Without hesitation, I tore out the pages belonging to Cucumber and began to write my own entry, explaining everything that had happened to me thus far.
Just as I finished, my door was thrown open. The roof shuddered and dust flitted down from the ceiling. I froze, fearing that the house would fall down on top of me. Then I saw Micah standing there in the doorway, eyes wild and a giant grin on his face. “Holy Native Dragons, Elle, you’ve got to see this!”
He paused when he saw me with the open book in my lap. He grinned. “Oh, hey! You found the diary! So Rooty already explained everything to you about the farm, yeah?”
“Ah,” I closed the book, not wanting Micah to see my descriptions of him. “No, not really. But I think I’ve got the jist of this part at least.”
“Well lemme explain the rest reeally quick, then-- you’re absolutely not gonna believe it-- anyway--.”
He shot off in an explanation that was almost entirely lost on me. At first he said things like “check through your inventory with the [L] button” and then “equip with the [A] button” and “You can use it with the [B] button, but be careful because sometimes you’ll get stuck using a move and get killed by a monster mid-stroke.”
I stared at him blankly until he was done, physically feeling the words bounce right off my head. He finally finished miming a stroke from a weapon of some kind and put his hands on his hips. “Make sense?” he asked.
My head fell to my hands and I wished that I had never regained consciousness. “How did you make that sound with your mouth?”
Micah ignored me and turned toward a chest I hadn’t noticed against the far wall of my hut. “Oh, hey,” he said, moving closer to it, “I bet this has your farming equipment.” He opened it and started rummaging through it.
Horrifyingly, the sounds that came from it sounded significantly more echo-y than they should have for a container so small. I moved to examine the chest over Micah’s shoulder. My mouth fell open. Inside, the box was significantly wider and deeper than it should have been.
“How-?”
“I know,” Micah said in a tone of weary dismay. “But it’s always like this.” He pulled out an ax that definitely shouldn’t have fit inside the box, to begin with. He examined it and sighed discontentedly. “This couldn’t cut a twig, let alone a tree.”
I sighed, realizing I had expected his answer this time.
“Don’t worry,” he said, patting my shoulder as he misinterpreted my exasperation. “I’m sure the blacksmith in town can help you upgrade them eventually.”
I hummed in response, wanting nothing more than to sink into unconsciousness and hope that this was all just a bad dream. Micah seemed to notice my despair. He sighed, glancing out the open door. “Well, I guess it can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help you figure out the farming stuff-- heck, I bet I can find you some seeds from the shop in town as well!”
With that, he turned on his heel, smiling back as he shut the door softly. “Sleep well!”
I listened to the crunch of his boots against stone as he walked away toward town. Eventually, they faded into the cawing of birds and the whistle of the wind over my rooftop. Wearily, I turned on my bed so I was sitting on my knees and facing the window. I gently pulled the dusty curtain back, worried that the touch would cause the gentle fabric to disintegrate.
The scene outside was just as it had been when I’d first seen it-- bleak. From this angle, I could see the rickety wooden fence that marked the edge of the cliff. I made a mental note to never wander too close-- or fix up the wall later when I knew more about that kind of thing.
With the window open, I curled up on the mattress. It felt stiff and musty. As I closed my eyes, I wondered if maybe I’d regain my memories once I woke up. Maybe I’d know my way home. Maybe I’d remember my family…. Maybe I’d… Maybe…. Remember.
The sun’s fading light threw a perfect square of light into my face, waking me with some gentle warmth. I pulled the curtain closed, blinking until I could see again. The small room was a warm orange now. I noticed things I hadn't before: the small fireplace in one corner, the large mirror on the wall beside the washroom.
Slowly, I sat up. My head didn't ache as much, to my great relief.
Sadly, I still remembered nothing from before I woke up in the forest. The thought left me feeling somewhat melancholic. I took a deep breath. Better to mourn it now and accept my lot then let it fester for later.
I might have a family somewhere. They might come looking for me. Or they might not. I might have people waiting for me. Or I might not. In the end, whatever happened in regards to my past, this place was my new home. And I would make the most of it.
I recorded these thoughts in my diary. I didn't realize I was crying until the ink began to blur.
What made it all the worse was the fact that I didn't even know what I was mourning. I didn't know what I was supposed to be missing. I didn't know what home I had left behind or what friends I had now abandoned.
But all the same. All the same. I had a new life. New people. I could be happy here. I just had to try, right?
My stomach growled, interrupting my soliloquy. I winced, wondering where I'd be able to get food. The hut didn't look particularly well-stocked. I began to pat the sides of my dress. Maybe I had pockets and money inside of them.
Sure enough, I found a store of money in my inventory with just about three thousand gold pieces. I hoped that would be enough for a meal in town. And some seeds. Maybe tomorrow I’d be able to get a start on fixing the farm.
I stood and stretched. My back popped. I winced. Moving toward the washroom, I caught a glimpse of myself for the first time in my memory.
I was obviously a woman. Micah’s question came back to my mind and I made a face. The dress I wore was well-cared for if not just a bit dirty. I could see places where someone-- myself, perhaps?-- had patched the seams and tears. It fell past my knees where I could see my torn stockings. They were knit with some kind of twisting pattern around my calves. Boots that laced up just past my ankle were tied onto my feet. They seemed scuffed and a little worn, but in good condition overall.
“So that’s what I look like,” I said, finally looking up at my face. There were splotches where dirt had clung to the rain on my face. My hair, probably a dusty brown, was currently just dusty. It might have been in a braid at some point, but I looked a bit like a wild child.
For a moment, looking into my eyes, I thought there was something wrong with them. But the moment passed. They were a deep fuschia color. Pinkish, but maybe that was just the setting light.
I moved to the washroom to clean myself off slightly. Maybe even brush my hair. I found the room to be better stocked than I had first anticipated. There were even some old, worn clothes. They were cleaner than what I was wearing so I put them on. It wasn’t anything flattering, but it seemed that I might be able to sew, so maybe I could take them in a little to fit me better.
I set my dirty clothes aside with the intent to wash them later when I returned. My stomach hurried me along toward the town again. Feeling refreshed and ready to eat the best meal that a poor amnesiac could afford, I threw open the door--
Only to have someone knock against my forehead with a sharp knuckle.
I spluttered and ducked, rubbing my forehead.
“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry-- I didn’t-- gods--.”
“Ahh,” I hissed. This kid had the knuckles of a palm cat. I blinked at the wood floors beneath my boots. Did I know what a palm cat was?
“Are you alright?”
I finally looked up at the man on my doorstep. His face was golden with the setting sun. His hair was sandy, nearly blending in with his skin. His purple shirt glinted with silver threads. He was tall and reasonably built, not gangly nor threateningly large. All that being said, if he wanted to pick a fight, I was pretty sure I could take him.
“Mmm, yeah,” I said, straightening. “Er… Sorry about that.”
His eyes widened comically. “What? No, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have--- gods, I’m so sorry. I should have been paying attention.” He was waving his hands. I found myself smiling at him. He was cute.
A blush spread across his face. “Really, I-- sorry-- I’m here because Granny Sal sent me. She said you’d probably be hungry and Rooty forgot to feed you before dropping you off and she’s with the twins right now and Rooty’s at the orphanage, of course, and-- gods, I’m rambling I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright,” I laughed for the first time. I noticed the box in his hands. “Is that for me?”
“Yes!” he said as if he had just remembered. With his arms stiff as sticks, he extended the box toward me. “It’s a dinner-- and there’s probably enough for breakfast tomorrow as well.”
I accepted the box. “Thank you, I was just thinking I was hungry.” My stomach growled to emphasize my point.
“I- uh.” from his other hand he lifted a second box. “Sal gave me one as well, so that I could join you, if you don’t mind the company?”
I blinked in surprise. Given what I had seen of Sal-- well, I had only seen her for a minute. Maybe she made a habit of making sure no one ate by themselves. “Of course not,” I replied.
I didn’t need to glance behind me to see the dusty, unwelcoming interior of my home. “Shall we eat outside?”
“Sure!” he beamed, clearly relieved that I had accepted. “There’s a place over there--,” he pointed toward the cliff, “--where a lot of us like to come to watch the sea. It’s a nice spot, is it okay if we eat there?”
As nervous as I was about the cliff and the rickety fence, I followed him there. The fence was even more rickety than I had imagined. Pieces of wood were just a nudge away from falling to the churning water below. He led me past the fence, around to a little flight of stairs leading down to a large shelf of sand and grass.
“Sometimes Will comes here to fish,” he explained. “Juliette and I come with him every now and again. It’s also a great spot for the fireworks festival next month. We don’t talk about it in town though, Rooty goes off on us hard if we do. He doesn’t want the kids thinking that it’s okay to get this close to the cliff.”
I nodded as if I understood what he was saying while we found our way to a rickety bench against the cliff face. Then I realized I had no idea who he was talking about, apart from Rooty and the kids. “I’m sorry, who is Will and Juliette?”
The man, who still hadn’t introduced himself either, laughed self-consciously. “Right, sorry, I forgot that you haven’t met everyone in town yet.” He opened the box of his dinner and began eating as he explained. “Will, Juliette, and I all work at Charlie’s Inn. Will’s-- well, he’s supposed to be an entertainer, a juggler, but he’s more of a glorified waiter.” He chuckled again. “Juliette helps me with the music sometimes, but she’s more of a hostess. She’s kind of like the face of the Inn.”
“So you’re a musician?” I asked, not really wanting to take my attention away from the best meal I could ever remember having. If Sal’s cooking was this good, then I think any sense of melancholy would be lost with my expanding waistline.
“Mm-Hm,” he said around a bite. “I stick to the piano for the most part-- you should hear Juliette on the violin, though. She’s incredibly talented!”
I glanced at him. The tone in his voice, he was so proud of his friend. He also seemed the type to deflect any sort of compliment away from himself. Again, I wondered, how do I know that?
“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, hoping to finally get his name. “I never introduced myself. I’m Elle.”
He blinked at me in surprise. “I knew--” his face changed suddenly. “Oh! I didn’t introduce myself either, I’m so sorry!” He shifted to turn toward me and bowed slightly. “I’m Hammond, it’s an honor to meet you, Elle.”
“You as well, Hammond,” I smiled at him.
He chatted more about the townsfolk. I heard another half dozen names that seemed to just slip through my mind without any sort of intention of staying there. He was very animated as he spoke, very enthusiastic about all the wonderful qualities of everyone in the town. His voice had such a gentle quality. It was pleasing to hear.
The sun sank past the horizon, setting the mist aflame as it said it’s final adieu. Hammond had been right, it was a very nice spot. The temperature was still chilly, but I could see the summers passing with townsfolk celebrating at the cliff’s edge. It was oddly… idyllic.
“I should probably get going,” Hammond said as the night began to settle in a fair shade of lavender. He collected both of our boxes (neither of us had left enough leftovers worth saving) and tucked them under his arm. “I’ll walk you back to your house.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you for bringing these, the food and company were both much needed.”
Another blush formed across his face. “Ah! You’re welcome!”
I watched his retreating form disappear toward town again. I leaned against the bottom half of the door-- which Hammond had shown me how to separate. I wondered if the townsfolk really were as wonderful as he had painted them to be. I hoped I could see them as optimistically as he did.
