#silently-mad

[clockworkapothecary]

(( @silently-mad whoops I made the thing we were talking about))

The hospital waiting room was crowded that day, the dull murmur of conversation punctuated every now and then by a cough or a child laughing or crying.  Melissa had paid little attention to the buzz of activity in the lobby on her way in - it was some sort of charity event, some celebrity or sports team come to visit the young patients and sign autographs.  At the moment, she couldn’t care less who was there.  She had much more important things to worry about.

She was settled in one of the uncomfortable chairs with a picture book in hand, reading softly to the toddler curled up in her lap.  The little girl couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, and she was clutching a stuffed toy cat that looked like it had seen better days.  Both the child and her mother looked exhausted - the doctor was running late, and they had been waiting for nearly an hour.  It had been at least a week since Melissa had last gotten a full night’s sleep, between studying for midterms and worrying over a sick child.

Perhaps raising a daughter alone while going to college full-time had been too much to take on, but even at times like this she didn’t regret any of it.  She had been so young when Lily was born, barely out of high school, and her father... well, she hadn’t spoken to Lily’s father in years.  And that, she had to believe, was for the best.  It wasn’t always easy, juggling parenting and school, but she had always managed to get by somehow.  Lily was her world, and she wouldn't give this life up for anything.

She had hoped Lily might be asleep by the time she finished the book, but had no such luck - by the time she reached the last page the child was coughing again and whimpering.  Melissa set the book aside to wrap her arms around her, kissing her forehead and stroking her tangled hair reassuringly.

“Shh, shh... I know, sweetie, I know.  You’ll feel better soon.  I promise.  How about some apple juice, hm?”  She reached for the bag next to her, full of everything from textbooks and lab reports to toys and crayons.  Somewhere in that mess, she was certain there was still one more juice box.

She was so preoccupied in her search that at first she didn’t notice the man across the lobby watching her.  It wasn’t until she looked up, juice box in hand, that she caught his gaze.  The sudden rush of familiarity stunned her for a moment - what was he doing here?  It was no use pretending she hadn’t seen him, but she looked away quickly anyways.  Maybe, she thought, just maybe he wouldn’t recognize her.  She had no idea what she would say to him if he did.  As far as she knew, Logan must have hated her.  And she couldn’t blame him for that, considering how suddenly she had dropped out of his life.  She’d always meant to contact him, someday - an email, maybe a phone call.  But she had never found the courage to look for him, and she knew she would never be able to tell him the real reason why she had to leave.  Now he was right here in front of her, and she found herself praying that he hadn’t noticed, that he wouldn’t try to talk to her.  It would be so much easier that way, even though part of her wanted more than anything to see him again.

[clockworkapothecary]

(( @onbronzesails whoops my hand slipped. I know I talked about doing this one forever ago but I finally got around to making the starter))

“It’s no use. We’ll never make it across the mountains in this weather.” Jack almost had to shout to be heard over the gale, standing next to Logan at the helm. She was bundled in as many layers as she could manage, her hood pulled down over her face and a scarf pulled across her mouth and nose. “We’ll have to find some place to touch down and wait it out.”

The winter storm they were caught in was a vicious one, wind howling through the rigging and tossing the small airship like a toy boat on the ocean. The snow fell so thickly it was almost impossible to see what lay ahead of them, leaving the deck slick with icy slush. The ship’s prow was encrusted in ice, and the frost on the ropes had to be constantly cleared to keep them from freezing in place.

They had flown far inland, following the map across the continent to the mountainous regions of the north. Their goal was close at hand, Jack was certain of it. It wouldn’t be much further now. But that small distance might as well have been a thousand miles, in this weather. There would be no way to make it any further until the storm cleared.

"Do you have our current heading?" Jack looked down at the map in her hands - largely useless out here, where the wind threatened to tear it from her grip and the frost forming on her goggles made it impossible to see in any detail. "All these damn clouds, I can't tell how close we are to the cliffs. I need you to find us a clearing and take us down. We'll drop the anchor and wait for the storm to pass, and I don't want to hear any arguments. Not even you can navigate through this kind of weather."

---------

Melissa had been lucky enough to be assigned to the galley that day, and was quite glad to stay close to the warmth of the stove.

Even below decks, the wind sent gusts of cold air drifting through every door, every gap and crevice.  The ship shuddered and creaked in the wind, nothing but ice visible through the small porthole in the galley.  From the looks of the snow-covered and shivering crewmen who came in at the end of each shift the storm outside was only getting worse.

A worried frown remained etched on Melissa’s face as she handed out steaming bowls of soup.  As much as she had come to trust this crew, she didn’t like the idea of flying in this weather.  Not knowing what was ahead left her with a vague sense of uneasiness and hopelessness that wasn’t easy to shake off.

A tall, lanky man entered the mess hall, shaking the snow from his jacket and nodding politely in greeting. “’Evenin’, miss.  Any of that soup left? I could use somethin’ t’ warm up.  Just about froze t’ the bone up in the rigging.”

“Evening, Tobias.  There’s plenty left, don’t worry.  Here, come and warm up by the stove.”  She smiled as she handed him a bowl of soup. “How bad is it out there?”

“Oh, thank you, miss, you’re an angel.”  He hunched over the bowl as he ate, warming his hands. “ ‘s a rough one, miss, tha’s for sure.  Can’t hardly see your own hands in front of ya out there, and can’t feel them neither.  Capt’n jus’ gave the order t’ drop anchor an’ batten the hatches.  We’ll wait it out on the ground so’s we’re not dashed to pieces on the mountains.”

Melissa nodded. “That’s a relief.  It’s a wonder we’ve managed to stay in the air this long.”

“Aye, but here’s hoping we can get back up again when it’s over.  Might be stuck out here a while, if it keeps snowin’ like this.  Anyways, miss, I’d love t’ stay an’ chat, but the Capt’n wants all the hands she can get keepin’ the engines in order. Wouldn’ want the propellers freezing over, tha’s for sure.  But thank you for the soup, miss.  Oh, an’ a merry Christmas.” He grinned.

Melissa paused. “...What?”

“‘s Christmas Eve, miss, isn’ it?  ‘Less I’ve got the dates mixed up.”

“Oh... no, you’re right, it is.  I just hadn’t realized.  It’s been so busy, I forgot.  But... thank you.  Merry Christmas, Tobias.”  She smiled as he left, but it seemed bittersweet now.

After everything that had happened, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she might not have been able to return home in time for the holidays.  She couldn’t help thinking of her family, how worried they must have been.  She ought to have been there with them, but instead she was miles away, stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere.  Somehow the thought made it seem a little colder, the wind outside a little more mournful.

[clockworkapothecary]

(( @onbronzesails look I finally made one of those starters we were talking about))

The morning was brisk, dark clouds overhead threatening rain and an autumnal crispness to the air. Though it was cold and dreary outside, the little coffee shop couldn’t have been more cozy. The morning rush had more or less ended, and only a handful of customers lingered with their drinks and books, most of them students from the university only a few blocks away. It was a popular place to study and refuel on caffeine and sugar, especially with midterms approaching.

Melissa stood behind the counter, restocking the little glass case of scones and muffins. It was close to the end of her shift - she had been working since the cafe opened, long before dawn. It wasn’t always easy, balancing work and school, but she loved her job, even if it did take up much of her free time.

She glanced at the clock, then started a fresh pot of drip coffee - the house blend, a medium roast arabica. She had the timing almost perfect now. Just a moment after the percolator finished brewing, the bell above the door jangled. She glanced over at the customer who had entered, a grin spreading across her face.

“Well look who decided to show up. I missed you yesterday. I had your coffee ready and everything.“ She poured a cup for him and set it on the counter - she didn’t have to ask for his order anymore.

“Sure you don’t want to try something with actual flavor today? It’s pumpkin spice latte season~” she teased. “I can make you one with extra whipped cream… a drizzle of caramel syrup on top…” Her grin widened. It was only fair, she reasoned.  Such teasing had become something of a game between them - of all her regular customers, Logan had to be the one with the most boring order, as she was fond of pointing out to him.  But, even if she might never admit it, he was also her favorite customer.

[clockworkapothecary]

(( @silently-mad liked for a starter))

A gentle rain tapped on the windows that afternoon, a fire crackling cheerfully in the hearth to chase out the chill from outside.  The apothecary had been quiet for most of the day, but now the shop was busy as ever.  Melissa had left Ava to watch the shop while she kept busy in the kitchen, preparing tea for herself and an old friend who had stopped by, but now she had been called downstairs as well to handle whatever small catastrophe had occurred.  It wasn’t at all uncommon for customers to show up in a state that required considerably more than a simple salve or tincture, and though it was hardly ever a serious emergency it did often occupy much of the shopkeeper’s time.  That seemed to be the case today, and Melissa had disappeared into the shop with an apology to her guest and a promise to be back soon.

She had been gone for some time already when someone else entered the kitchen - a small boy of indeterminate age, carrying under his arm a heavy book and a tidy stack of papers.  He had spent most of the day hidden away in a cozy corner of the living room, drawing and enjoying the sound of rain on the roof.  He had heard Melissa making her way downstairs and wondered what had caught her attention, but didn’t dare follow - the boy disliked spending too much time in the shop itself, especially when Ava was working.  She had never been anything but kind to him, but there was still something about the apprentice that he found very frightening.

It was not uncommon for Milo to spend the day in the house above the Havenwood Apothecary, when his brother was called away on business.  While he didn’t exactly need a babysitter (at least in his opinion), he knew the fact that he was with an old and trusted friend of the family was a great reassurance to his brother.  So he was happy to stay with Melissa when he was asked to, helping out with chores here and there and enjoying the cookies and lavender tea that always seemed to be ready in the kitchen.  Besides, he liked it here - there was something distinctly comforting about the old house, and the kind of peace that could be found here seemed to be rare in his life these days.

It had taken him a while to grow used to the apothecary’s other residents and frequent guests, and oftentimes the presence of others still caught him off guard.  So it was a surprise, then, to walk into the kitchen (drawn there by the aroma of the chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter) and find a stranger settled at the table with their own mug of tea and plate of cookies.

Milo stopped near the doorway and stared at the stranger with wide, curious blue eyes, a little hesitant.  He remembered Melissa saying something about expecting a visit from a friend, but he had expected it to be one of the friends he had met before.  A moment of awkward silence passed before the boy decided that it was probably alright to venture further into the kitchen, still watching the visitor even as he stood on tiptoe to reach the plate of cookies on the counter.  He took one carefully and stood nibbling at it in silence, careful not to get any crumbs on his precious papers.  He continued to give the other that same mildly disconcerting stare for some time before finally glancing away, seeming to have come to the conclusion that they weren’t any threat.

[clockworkapothecary]

(( @silently-mad whoops I wrote a thing for that plot we were discussing…))

The old warehouse might have seemed abandoned from the outside, but Alexander knew better than to believe the facade of the rundown exterior.  The air around the building was thick with magic - he could smell it, taste it, even if most humans might not be able to.  This was the place, he was certain of it.

It must have been near midnight as he circled around the building, sticking to the shadows.  The desert was washed in moonlight, nothing but grey shadows of mesas and sagebrush for miles.  It was a long way to the nearest city - he had been camped out here for weeks, wandering, following the trail.  After tonight, he was certain, it would all be worth it.

He had checked the perimeter a dozen times - no guards, but that didn’t surprise him.  His target preferred to work alone, and it wasn’t as if she needed protection.  The whole building was bristling with defensive spells nonetheless.  Clearly she didn’t want anyone getting in, and there was no doubt in Alexander’s mind that she would know the second he stepped inside.  But that was exactly what he wanted.

He crept silently closer, letting the darkness wrap around him, seeking strength and stealth in the shadows.  As he walked, the darkness moved with him, curling like mist across the rocky ground, leaving him undetectable until the last possible moment.

The rusty padlock on the door was no deterrent to him - it was easy enough to pick the lock, letting the chain slide free and slither to the ground with a soft clink.  A sign on the door, chipped and faded, read “BUILDING UNSAFE - DO NOT ENTER.”  Alexander smirked at that, pausing only for a moment before tugging the doors open.  The low groan of metal on metal echoed through the warehouse as moonlight flooded in, illuminating the scene within.

He had expected more of a challenge in getting inside, but found little resistance from tha magic woven through the walls. Strange, he thought, but he couldn't give much time to those concerns now. His footsteps were soft against the concrete floor as he crossed the room, tense and on high alert.  He stopped where he was for a moment, listening, watching, breathing.  In the darkness, his eyes flared yellow, reflecting back what little light there was to see the room in perfect detail.

Before him was a rusty circle on the floor that took up much of the large room, enclosing a pentagram and numerous other symbols that Alexander didn’t quite recognize.  From the bitter metallic smell filling his nostrils, it was clear enough that it wasn’t paint.  He stepped around the circle carefully - he didn’t want to find out what would happen if he stepped inside.

Beyond the circle, a strange mix of objects cluttered the room - rusted machinery and crates covered in tarps that were likely left over from the days before the warehouse had been condemned, other, newer crates holding what seemed to be food and water rations.  There were papers everywhere, some scattered, some neatly arranged in relation to one another, pinned to the walls, laid out on the floor.  Texts in unfamiliar languages, diagrams of the human body, arcane symbols, some pages Alexander recognized as belonging to spellbooks and still others he count’s even begin to comprehend the meaning of.  Many of them looked very old.  A long, low metal table stood at one end of the room.  The surface had been kept meticulously clean, but the restraints and the soft wash of old bloodstains on the floor beneath the table left no question as to what it was used for.  Beside it was a tray of tools, glittering and well-cared for.  Alexander bristled at the sight, shoulders tensing.

There was no sign of Angela.  Maybe she had known he would be coming, maybe she hadn’t.  There was no telling for certain.  It seemed she was always one step ahead of him no matter what he did, and he had walked in knowing full well that this might be a trap.  Or maybe, maybe, against all odds, he had caught her unawares, stumbled onto something he wasn’t supposed to find.

Either way, he wasn’t alone.  The softest sound from a shadowed corner of the room caught his attention - a cage, and inside a figure chained at the ankles and wrists, hunched over, unmoving.  Unconscious, maybe, he couldn’t quite tell. But breathing.  The sight of those bars was so familiar it ached, but his curiosity got the better of him this time.  He stepped closer, leaning in for a better look.

The girl was battered and bloodied, skin marked by both fresh wounds and older scars.  Clearly she had been here for a while.  Alexander glanced again at the diagrams and drawings on the walls, the pentagram on the floor - what had she been doing here?  This did, at least, answer the question of where all the blood in that circle had come from, and from the state the girl was in he doubted this was the first time it had been drawn.  And whatever Angela needed the girl for, it must have been more important than just a blood sacrifice.  It wasn’t like her to leave her victims alive unless she had good reason to.

It would be safer, he knew, to leave her behind.  He didn’t know what protections Angela had placed on the cage, what the girl would do when she woke up, if she would be a threat to him.  He wasn’t even certain what she was - she didn’t smell human, but he couldn’t quite recognize what she was.  But he might not get another chance like this, and if the girl really was so important then he knew she might be the bargaining chip he needed.

The lock on the cage was a little more complicated than that on the door, but nothing he couldn’t manage.  He exhaled softly, shadows curling around him where he stood, then reaching outwards, snaking up the bars of the cage and meeting no resistance from the spells placed around it.  An easy trick for his kind, at least in darkness.  Little tendrils of shadow slipped inside the lock and his eyes narrowed in concentration, fiddling with the mechanism until the lock clicked open.  He was cautious as he reached for the girl’s restraints, watching carefully for any sign of movement.  With any luck, he could have her out of here before Angela even knew that anything was awry.

[clockworkapothecary]

(( @silently-mad liked for a winter/holiday starter))

Snow fell in flurries in the streets of Caeltera, blanketing cobblestones and rooftops.  Frost clung to the windowpanes and a bitter wind cut through even the warmest of coats and scarves, rattling the skeletal branches of snow-laden trees.  Though the sky around the island was awash with dull grey fog, the island itself was nothing if not shining.  Lights and garlands of evergreen and holly hung from the eaves of every building, and from the windows a comforting golden glow eased the chill of the afternoon.

The Havenwood Apothecary had closed early that day, leaving the remainder of the day for friends and family.  Though the shop itself was darkened, the home above was aglow with activity.  No corner of the house was left untouched by the holiday spirit, and even in this harsh winter life seemed to blossom everywhere.  Poinsettias and holly, evergreen and mistletoe, garlands of berries and wreaths of bare branches, pinecones and camellias.  In the living room was a massive tree that seemed inexplicably alive and thriving, glittering with ornaments of red and gold.  The room was lit only by candlelight and the warm fire crackling in the hearth, still bright as day. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and cloves filled the air, mingling with the crispness of evergreen needles and the warm richness of roasting meat for that night’s dinner.

Standing by the tree, a man in a clumsily hand-knit sweater (dark red with a pattern of white snowflakes) fussed with the ornaments, straightening a strand of tinsel here and there.  The woman supervising him was majestic in a deep green dress that trailed along the floor behind her, a sprig of holly tucked behind one ear and a bright twinkle in her eyes despite the weariness lingering in her expression.  Linnaea’s attention flitted between her husband and their guests for the evening, the Cigno family from down the road.

“We’re so glad you could make it, especially in this weather... August, dear, you’ve missed a spot, just there,” she added, gesturing towards a vague area of the tree that seemed to be lacking in tinsel before looking back at the guests with a soft, warm smile. “Elena, you simply must give me the recipe for those biscotti - they were absolutely wonderful.”

“Cider’s ready!” Melissa chimed in, making her way carefully across the room from the kitchen, balancing a tray laden with mugs of steaming amber liquid.  Her sweater matched her father’s, green and patterned with holly leaves and just a little too big for her.  The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows to keep them out of the way while cooking, and her hair, pinned back in an elegant bun when the evening started, had very nearly become completely undone, curling around her face in loose strands,  She wore a loose skirt and warm stockings - hardly formal and hardly the customary fashion for young women in that day and age, but Melissa didn’t mind that in the slightest.

“Dad, you’ve been fussing over that tree all day,” she chided, handing the man a cup of cider to distract him from his endeavors. “It looks perfect already, leave it be.”  She glanced over at the Cigno siblings, handing them each a mug with a bright smile. “So Niccolo, I hear you’re more or less in charge of things over at the restaurant these days.  They must be keeping you busy.”

“Must be a load off your shoulders, though,” Linnaea added with a wry grin in Elena’s direction. “We’ve been thinking about retiring ourselves, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get August to turn his shop over to anyone else.”  She laughed softly, giving her husband a sidelong glance.

[clockworkapothecary]

✖-A repressed memory--Trinidad

((whoops forgot this was even in my ask box.  This is really old but here you go))

“This is crazy, isn’t it?”

They were lying side by side under the stars, the little clearing around them filled with the sweet scent of pine and grass.  A campfire crackled next to them, ensuring that even on a night as frigid as this one the two of them would be warm and comfortable.  Above them, the dark silhouettes of branches cut jagged lines across the expanse of stars beyond.

“What do you mean?”  Trinidad finally tore her gaze away from the sky to meet the gaze of the young woman lying next to her, her mouth going dry and her heart fluttering again as she wondered how something as simple as a look could hold even more wonder than the sky above them.

“This.  Everything.”  Rose laughed softly, reaching over to brush away a few stray leaves that had become caught in Trinidad’s hair.

Both of them were a mess, covered in mud and bug bites, clothes tattered and grass-stained.  The ground below was rocky and frigid, the prickle of grass and stones and thorns uncomfortable and unfamiliar to the girl who had spent her whole life up until this point safe and cared for inside the walls of the temple.  So much of the world outside, Trinidad had found, was painful or inconvenient or messy, and this hadn’t been an easy life to get used to.  But the newness of it all, the adventure... she wouldn’t trade that for the world.  And meeting Rose... that had made it worth every moment of it, every scrape and bruise, every cold night, every stumble along the way.

“Running away, I mean,” Rose continued, her voice a low murmur as she let her hand linger in Trinidad’s hair, toying with a few dark strands and gently brushing through the little knots and tangles.  “It feels like we only just met, we barely know each other... Look at us.  We’re eighteen and ready to give up our whole futures for someone we barely know.”

“That’s not true!” Trinidad sat up abruptly, a worried frown crossing her face as she stared at the other, stubborn and insistent. “I know you.  Your favorite color is purple - but not just any purple, the rich, deep shades, like velvet and the night sky.  You love sweet potatoes and fresh bread and fruits picked on hot summer days- you used to sneak out to the orchard and spend whole afternoons there, eating all the plums you could in the shade of the trees.  You hate wearing shoes and being in rooms without windows, and you won’t go into caves because you’re scared the earth might swallow you and never let you go.  You think birds are the most beautiful creatures on the planet and you’ve always wished you could have a pair of wings.  This is the first time you’ve ever been on a sky island.  On the ship coming here you spent hours at the prow, just sitting there, staring out, with the most serene look I’ve ever seen on anybody’s face before.  You hate spiders.  You think chocolate is strange but you love sweet things and you miss good food more than anything except your little sister.  She’s ten years old and her name is Kyla and she means the world to you, and you want more than anything to keep her safe.“

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Your father scares you.  I don’t really know why and that’s okay but I worry sometimes that he’s hurt you, or that you’re afraid he will.  Your mother was strict, like my mother, always telling you who to be and what to do.  You don’t always want to listen to her but you want her to be proud of you.  You love dogs and think that the world’s most pure and true form of happiness is the look on the face of a dog running on the beach and playing in the waves.  And I’ve never seen a beach and I’ve never met a dog up close but you make me want to.  I want to see that kind of joy.  You hum sometimes, under your breath when you think I can’t hear you, little bits of songs I don’t know.  I think you would have a beautiful voice, if you would let me hear you sing. You worry sometimes about how you look, but I don’t know why.  You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You like salt on watermelon and you don’t think that’s weird at all.  You love summer dresses and ribbons in your hair, but you also love rock climbing and mud under your feet.  Thunderstorms are your favorite kind of weather. You always act strong, even when you’re not.  And I think that’s beautiful.  I admire that, so, so much.”

Silence hung between them for a moment before Rose spoke. “...You remembered all that?”  Her eyes were wide, that quiet bell-like laugh escaping her lips again.

Trinidad simply stared at her - of course she remembered.  How could she forget?  Every detail was beautiful and wondrous to her.  “...It’s okay if you want to go home,” she said finally, softly, the energy and passion that had been in her voice a few moments ago quietly dwindling. “...I understand.”

Rose sat up, still staring at her, still smiling softly. “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she whispered before leaning in. “Promise.”  The last word was murmured against Trinidad’s lips, soft and gentle before she pulled her in closer and kissed her.

And that, Trinidad was certain, was the purest form of joy she had ever known.

------------------

Trinidad shuddered, eyes fluttering open as the memory faded, tucked safely back where it belonged out of sight and out of mind.  She ran the back of her hand across her cheeks, hastily wiping away the tears leaving tracks down her face.  She was alone at the prow of her ship, the deck swaying gently beneath her, an expanse of blue sky stretching out ahead and brimming with possibilities.  She ran a hand along the railing, gently, fondly, almost a caress.

“I’m sorry, Rose.”  The words were barely a whisper, almost inaudible over the wind and the thrum of the engines. “I’m sorry.”

No answer came from the empty deck, no sound to pierce the heavy sense of loneliness that had settled upon her.  Trinidad sighed, steadying herself.

“You did always say you wanted to fly,” she murmured, smiling softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just you and me, huh?  You would have loved it.”

She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath before turning back to the helm.  No use talking to ghosts, she thought bitterly. Nothing to do now but move on.

In the soft evening light, on a gentle, warm breeze, the Iron Rose sailed steadily on.

[clockworkapothecary]

@silently-mad

The marketplace was bustling with activity that morning, merchants displaying their wares and shoppers balancing parcels and baskets all jostling for space under the slanted rays of early morning sun.  It was the first sunny day after nearly a week of rain and fog, and the city seemed to finally be waking up again.

Among the market stalls, a young woman carefully dodged in and out of the chaos of the crowd, a basket of vegetables and a loaf of fresh baked bread tucked carefully under one arm.  She moved carefully but quickly, pausing every now and then to examine the wares at one of the stalls.

Despite the crowds, Melissa was quite happy to be spending the day running errands.  Anything was better than another day cooped up in the shop as she had been for the past few days, with no escape in sight from the cold and damp outside and no customers to speak of.  Though she had been eager to volunteer to take over the family business a few months ago, she had found it difficult to settle into the routine of things.  Half the time it was overwhelming, the other half incredibly dull.  She had very little idea yet of how to run a business, and she was fairly certain that it showed.

Soon enough she would have to return and open the apothecary for the afternoon, but for now she was taking her time, lingering a little longer than she needed to in the weekly shopping and enjoying the sunshine.  She made her way out of the crowd, just for a moment, and moved to the railing separating the little marketplace from the perilous drop below.  The view was spectacular as always - to her right were the docks, abuzz with activity, airships of all shapes and from all around the world floating and circling like moths.  To her left, the edge of the island curved just within view, and she could just see the outlines of the cathedral, the clock tower, the factory smokestacks.  And ahead of her, an endless and unbroken expanse of blue sky, growing hazy only at the horizon where it met the ocean, glittering far, far beneath her feet.  Melissa leaned forward against the railing, letting out a contented sigh.  She had always loved that view.  There was something peaceful about it, watching the ships as they faded in the distance, bound for lands unknown.

She lingered there for a moment before turning away, back to the bustle of the market square.  There were still a few things she needed to purchase, and she wanted to take another look at the tapestries that had caught her eye earlier.  Not as if she could afford such a thing, of course, but she enjoyed looking at them.  As she turned, another figure brushed past her, not seeming to notice her as he made his way through the crowd.  It wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, if not for the glimpse she caught of his face and the rush of familiarity that followed.  Her breath caught in her throat - Was that...? No, it couldn’t be...

It was a moment before she could move, and by then the man was already ahead of her and quickly vanishing into the crowd. She almost called out his name, but the first syllable died on her tongue.  She doubted he would have been able to hear her anyways.  There was only a brief second of hesitation before she started after him at a run, dodging between passerby and market stalls as she tried to keep sight of him in the crowd.  She ignored the muffled complaints of those she jostled as she ran, finally close enough to catch him by the arm and pull him to face her. Again, she couldn’t quite get that name past her lips, no sound escaping as she stared at the man and that wild, irrational surge of hope fell suddenly to disappointment.

Her gaze flickered across his face, his clothing, the scars marking his skin, lingering for a moment on his eyes and almost praying for some spark of recognition.  Nothing.  It wasn’t him.  It couldn’t have been him, of course - Lucio had been dead for more than three years now.  Three years, and it still hadn’t quite sunk in that she was never going to see him again.

“...Oh.”  Her cheeks flushed pink at the realization that she had no idea who this man was, that she had stopped him for no reason.  She quickly released his arm, taking a hasty step back.. “I.. I’m so sorry, I thought you were... you look just like... like someone I used to know. Sorry.”  She gave him a sheepish smile, trying not to let the disappointment show.