[Drabble, not related to the plot]

A tender kiss is all it takes to provide me the warmth that I need. Once, my home was a little room, the black kitten I found patiently waiting upon the doorstep. Everything was silent back then. Though staying in that small room could've provoke insanity. The defeaning roar of silence ringing in my ear made me deaf. I could no longer hear anything but the whispers of my own demons lurking. It spoke too much of regrets, and there were loud, cheering noises of failures that replays in my head. The silence was so loud that it crept through my soul and started leaving words enough to leave more scars, which I bear with every skin of skin.

I thought to myself, maybe it is etched and will never be replaced. It came to a point that it no longer scared me, because I was so used to these voices haunting me, keeping me up awake when I should be resting. The missions I accepted were a mere distraction, just to escape the depths of hell that 'that' room offers. But everytime I come back home, I find myself physically wounded. It's like I bring all these scars everytime I go home.

Is it truly a home then? But who am I to ask? I was only an orphan that was taken care of in the monastery. Even that place wasn't home. Perhaps it was only a stepping stone to be able to make it this far. Eversince I was a child, still, I wasn't given the treatment I wanted to have. Even up until now, loneliness never left me.

I started to accept that good things are not for me. That maybe I am a person destined to feel dejected all my life. What a misfortune it had truly become. I was told, "There's a rainbow always after the rain.", but my life seemed like a never-ending storm. We are all forced to live as storms. Maybe that's why we name storms after us. It is only a matter of luck, who would get the rainbow afterwards.

Luck per se is odd as it is.

It is up until I met the woman of red, an eye concealed beneath her eye patch, covered by her own, maroon locks. We had a similar story of being orphaned, and bore scars we brought until now. Her life was far more simpler than the journey I had when I was still young. Adopted, but she's still happy. Scarred, but she's still happy.

It felt like she is a walking trail of luck that brought fortune wherever she is. Once you've got ahold of luck, you must never let it escape.

I found a new place to call home, and for the first time, I felt warmth that erased the hell living inside of me in a swift wave of a hand. Like a goddess that grants care and tender love within her scope. She gladly accepted my scars as though I do not bear any of them. I try so much to hide them, but it is as though she could see through the bandages that lay upon them. They looked ugly in my eyes, how it decorated my skin. But she told me, each scar has their own story to tell, and that she'd be glad to spend the rest of her life listening to it.

I felt lucky, that now, I can finally say I have found a rather lovely home. The home that kisses me whenever I arrive, and tells me I have done a great job. The home that soothes my wounds and treats them with care. The home that I have been wanting all my life. The warmth I need can only be found from her tender kiss.