The food, delicious and still hot is waiting for us as we enter the room once more. We sit down and I stare at my plate wondering what could possibly be important enough to bother me with it. (not that I can't be bothered. I am a bother most times so I must be able to be bothered)
"I'd like to announce that Eliana is visiting us once more." Sostrate says excitedly.
"Seriously? How long is she staying?" Thrjel groans in response.
"About a week or two, we will see." She says excitedly. "This time her mother won't accompany her. Which is a shame, but we should be happy with what we got..."
"We got an obnoxious know-it-all living here for a week, I can't be happy with that."
"You guys have a know-it-all living with you all the time." I say with a chuckle.
"But you're not obnoxious xad, she is a real snob." Thrjel answers while taking a swig of wine.
My face drops. "She's an Awnlund?"
"Of course." Sostrate says as she pours a glass of wine. I grab it and take a big sip, my eyes seem to turn unfocused while they keep talking.

I wonder how the people I love can willingly invite evil into their home. But then again, they have never seen the evil, it has just been told, and only imagining blood dripping down your forehead whilst sweat mixes with it, stinging more than the exhausted muscles of your shoulders is far less real than feeling it. It might even be a lie to them, or a truth they willingly close their eyes for. Because who wouldn't when children die, when they kill you at the exact same place where you should be getting your food, where you are shot still clutching the loaf of bread, and do you have another choice but prying it from those cold dead hands to survive? No. So you will have to make good use of it, you will forever remember the metallic taste of death soaking through it like the wine the disciples would dip their bread in.
I am no longer safe. I look up and Thrjel is smiling, expecting a laugh from me. I just nod. I cannot believe this, and I cannot blame anyone but my home, my safety net, my light in the dark is invaded by the very thing I am frightened of. And somehow I don't like knowing that the people I love don't understand that.

The sunrise is upsetting now that I know that a threat can be here at any moment. The security that has sheltered me here has been torn apart. A threat, what exactly is that? I don't know, supposedly it is something that releases adrenaline into your bloodstream. But my body doesn't know the difference between coming close to death and a harmless snobby girl. I stare at the air, wondering why we cannot see it, and if it would make a difference if we could. Perhaps we would be more aware of how fortunate we are to live and breathe. It's a silly thought.....but it disctract from thoughts that are the opposite.
The wind makes my hair dance as it tries to do the same with the tears on my face. The branch I am sitting on sings with the wind as the green leaves expel the same smell as a freshly mowed lawn. I wonder when I will finally resign enough that I will be able to float. Just like the air, just like the wind. The humming reminds me of the sea, everything in nature can be alike when we look for it.
I stare at the bevy of deer, the young one jump through the fields, making fountains of the dew that is left in the electric green of the grass. They must be young, they must not even know that they should be afraid of humans yet. They still believe in kindness, how naive those beautiful beasts are. The dark brown of their skin looks as soft as the last hug from your mother before you leave the country, the mothers that pay attention to their young seem to be worried. Their ears up, and their beautiful dark eyes wide, of course they're nervous. They know the cruelty of the world. The complete devoid of sounds almost makes it feel like a vacuum. I finally understand how Thrjel could hide from the problems of the world, here everything seems fine, the world looks like it is in tune. But the difference is that even though the deer will have fun and remember this time for their whole life, they are not aware that someone is slowly loading their rifle to make an end to it. I already know that there are hunters, and I cannot ignore it, but I am only a deer. I cannot warn my herd, I am no dog, I am no fox, I do not have teeth. Or at least not yet.

"Xad?" Thrjel screams, he sounds beautifully confused as he looks around him in the big field. Most deer scurry away but other's don't mind the noise. I smirk as the sun dances on his hair, envious of the colour and tanning his skin in an effort to steal his beauty but only making it worse. He rubs the nape of his neck, genuinely concerned.
"I'm here." I yell.
He looks up "Are you dead? Are you in heaven???"
"You DIMWIT! I am in the tree!"
"Oh..." He walks towards the tree trunk, hiding his embarrasment surprisingly well. "How long have you been... looking?" He asks.
I chuckle "Don't worry, I saw nothing embarrassing, love." I lean forward so he can see my face.
"Isn't that quite dangerous?" He asks.
"What? Climbing trees? It's childs play, I used to climb worse things. Come on up!"
He hesitates for a moment. "I don't know if I can."
"You can always try." I say with a smile.
He sighs "You won't come down?"
I shake my head "Not yet."
"Alright then" he takes a deep breath "Here we go."
I narrow my eyes lovingly as he struggles to find the best way to start, his hand trembling full of uncertainty and I hear my own voice softly saying words of encouragement. His eyes focus less on the branches as he narrows the top of the tree and more on me. He puts his leg over the last branch and I help him up.
"So those muscles do work. I am pleasantly surprised." I say with a smile.
He shakes his head "They can't be there for nothing right?" He looks at the sun and back at me, his face a mysterious expression I can still not quite figure out. "You're right, it's very beautiful here."
"I told you so...." I say as I open my flask.
He stares at me, I don't quite know how to react to the loving hand that straightens my hair and a face that is moved to tears by mine. But my instinct responds a lot faster than I do as I leans into the hand and looks down knowingly. (even though it is not sure of anything.)
"Your eyes have the same colour as the leaves here. And the sun... maybe you'll finally get a tan." He jokes, to hide the fragile remark he started with. But my mind is stuck on that, and it doesn't want to hear anything else. I think he thinks I have something that is beautiful, maybe he sees his brother, maybe he sees me, maybe he sees the trees. Maybe, I won't ask, so I will never know, and how beautiful that is.
"it's kind of funny that the one who grew up in the city is better at climbing trees." He says with his delightful smile.
"I used to live in a village first, but yes, I learned how to do this mostly in the city. It's not very different from climbing streetlights." I say as I give him the flask but he politely refuses. "Lily-livered pigeon." I chuckle as I take another swig.
He chuckles "This is the first time I ever refuse you, don't be so moody." He scoots closer to me.
I take a deep breath, he smells like vanilla today, vanilla and lavender. I never liked lavender, normally he smells like honey: vanilla, honey and oranges. A combination of warmth through the summery confidence of somebody who can pay for those things, but also a bunch of the best childhood memories I had consist of those smells. Lavender smells like somebody is forcing themselves to like it, because it is tradition, or it is common. The same goes for roses, the mere smell reminds me of somebody who would eat the petals with sugar and pretend they do not taste like soap. I lean back and let my body fall, my legs hold on tightly to the branch as my arms and shirt dangle just as freely as my hair.
"YOU MANIAC!!!" Thrjel screams. "What are you doing!"
I laugh, concern for one another is something beautiful, it shows us that people care. But it should never go too deep, I will settle my problems by myself, I do not needs advice or guidance. I will make my own mistakes, even if it'll be the death of me.... At least nobody will feel guilty at my funeral. (If I am lucky enough to have one.....)
"Get up!!! You are insane Xad!" He complains.
I laugh and get back on the branch "I've done that so many times, I wouldn't do it if I weren't certain I could."
He shakes his head "You're dramatic."
"Proudly so." I say with a smirk as we watch at the green blanket trying to cover the rays of the sun, but failing miserably. I sigh and bite my nail, before asking the question. "Are you.... Happy she is coming?"
He looks at me and slowly stares back at the sky, his lip trembling in doubt "I...." He shakes his head "I cannot predict it. She is beautiful, she is my age, she comes from a good family. If I were any other Awnlund I would jump to conclusions and be more than happy to see her..... But I don't know."
"You don't know what?" I ask, tilting my head slightly.
"She grew up alongside me, I've known her for years, I am privileged to be as close to her as I am. Any normal guy might have caught feelings. And I don't understand why I haven't, she is perfect, and I am certain her family would be quite pleased if there would be any chance. But I just look at her and see the same kid I grew up with..."
"Don't talk about a woman like that, being friends doesn't mean you will have to marry her Thrjel." I say as I put a hand on his back. "She isn't an object to be distributed. She is your friend."
"Lines get blurred within Awnlund society." He sighs.
"I am certain, just make clear those lines are drawn in your case. It's not like your irresistible." I say as I punch his shoulder.
He laughs "It just feels like something is wrong with me. I... I.... I shouldn't feel all that I do...." He chokes on his tears. But immediately takes a deep breath and shake his head. "I am probably thinking too much."
"Certainly, we are young. Life doesn't move that fast...... What is she like?" I ask.
He takes a deep breath. "She is.... A lot. She is smart that is one thing. She can be too much sometimes, she never thinks before she speaks. She is actually not bad, she can be very poetic and very insistent. She's a bright young lady that is certain."
I shake my head "I'll treat her accordingly."
"I don't like it when there are visitors in our house... it makes me feel foreign." Thrjel says with a sigh.
"I am glad I am not the only one." I say with a laugh as I look at my pocket watch. "We should go back into the house she'll be arriving soon."
"Two minutes." He responds.
"What?"
"Two minutes, of tranquillity. Here, with you." He says looking me deep into my eyes.
"Whatever you wish, my darling." I say with a sarcastic tone. "As long as we won't be late."

Silence between us will remain beautiful. Something you hardly should need to ask for, but something we humans tend to forget far too much. Words hurt sometimes, even if it's beautiful, even if there's nothing bad about them, but the thing that hurts is just the way they form in your mouth and they do not say much. It's always just a construct of understanding, silence is different, if you have silence that feels good it's more than understanding, it is the fundamental belonging with being together. It is a blank slate of love. A sigh is enough, a hand that grabs yours, a hand on a shoulder, a small smile, a slow blink. It can mean so much not to talk.... Or maybe I think too much.
I look at Thrjel. His eyes hopelessly beautiful with the morning sun, his skin unfairly fair, and his hair preciously gold. Even if I tried I would have no words for this man, and I don't need them either. Because he is here, he chooses to be here with me, and I don't need to ask, he just knows....
And I know, I will make sense of this.

I look at my pocket watch.
"We have exactly eleven minutes. I think we should hurry back. It doesn't seem like you are wearing the appropriate clothing." I say, looking him up and down. His dirty riding trousers look flattering, just not very formal, not to mention you can look through the thin linen shirt he is wearing. And then I don't mean it is a little see through, then I mean I could count his freckles if I wouldn't be too lazy for that.
He chuckles "Sometimes you're too serious."
I jump out of the tree, realising it might have been a bit too high to do that when I land. (But not having the guts to admit that.) "And that's why I have you to be funny and dumb." I say with a chuckle.
He climbs down "You do have a point there."
We start walking back to the house. I think about the beauty of this place as we pass the fruit, the greens, the wildflowers, it is a ground to grow. But is it really true that the easily breakable things are protected here? Or are they helped to grow, but not protected, maybe it's a way of teaching something, maybe it is a way of telling them that they believe in us. Maybe it is neglect, or maybe the trees don't have voices to tell what they need. Maybe the wind will finally bless them with their truths during a storm, but then half of their leaves will be gone already. At least I have a voice, now I only need to have the courage to use it.

We enter the kitchen to a stressed Sostrate. I smile as she complains about the frosting of a cake she is making, she reminds me of my mother when we would host big holidays. Even though we didn't have the most money in the world we would celebrate it as big as possible, the house would be full of family and friends, we would start cooking two days in advance. And the noise, I chuckle, the noise was incredible. The loud conversations drowned out by the old traditional songs they would sing as soon as they had had enough ale. The stories of what our country used to be, and the wishes of what it was going to be even louder..... I silently step forward and grab the piping bag.
"You should go change, I'll fix this." I say with a smile. She looks at me, gratefully, as she wipes her hair out of her face.
"You have no idea how grateful I am for your help Xad." She says as she takes off the apron and puts a hand on my shoulder.
I start piping the light peach buttercream unto the cake, I see Thrjel looking at it. Hungry for a lick, I look and him and raise my eyebrow. I takes a step back, I just chuckle.
"Stick out your finger." I say, he does, I pipe a small amount on it. "Now go change you moron."
"Alright alright, calm down you control freak." He complains.
"It's not my friend who's coming!" I scream as he leaves the kitchen.

I put the cherries on the cake, staining my fingers. I finish the last detail and like clockwork Sostrate enters the kitchen. Her long skirt is more feminine than usual, the colour reminds me of foxes and her white blouse gives her the signature pigeon breast my mum would make fun of when we were watching rich awnlund ladies. I can't help but chuckle, normally those two animals would eat each other. However I cannot deny that it is a beautiful blouse, with the lace on the turtleneck and the bishop sleeves, I immediately recognise the patterns what pattern you would need to make the lace, it must be made by Fianlynds. I smile, I can appreciate that she has a little piece of history on her, the pattern is tied in a way I can recognise that it must've been made by one of the original lacemakers rather than the Awnlunds who have tried to copy it since I can remember. (not that I blame them, it's too beautiful not to try. Just don't claim it to be part of your culture too.) She shoves a pin into the big updo that makes her look like a young woman once more, I tilt my head, I hardly recognise her. She isn't wearing the glasses she uses often, she never seemed to care about what she looks like, as long as she looks proper. But now I sense that she needs to measure up to something. I wonder whom she needs to impress, or perhaps she is trying to remember a long time ago where everything was easier for her.

"Roll up your sleeve Xad, you didn't get your microdose yet." She says. I can see her hands trembling as she fills the syringe. I sit down on the table, she slowly puts the needle in my arm. I stare at her, trying to make sense of the big pearls that resemble a tear she is wearing as earring. I chuckle, perhaps that is a pass to the premium underworld. But some question in me bans me from making fun of it, the expensive jewellery I am not used to, the way she doesn't look like herself, it makes me wonder.
"Are you ashamed of me Sostrate?" I ask.
She looks up. "Why would you ask that?" She asks with a chuckle, putting the syringe away.
I shrug, "I am dependant on drugs, I am an insubordinate, I am a reminder of the son you couldn't give what he wanted." I say with a sigh.
She shakes her head and takes my hand. "I would never be ashamed of you Xad. You never chose to be any of those things."
"Then what did Syver hate about this house?"
She sighs "I might have done many things wrong Xad. I know that now, but I have fixed them, and I am still trying to fix them. And I have learned so much in all those years. Not to mention that not every fight between a mother and son is rational."
I open my mouth but quickly realise she is right. I hated my mother at times, but once she was gone, I realised how much I loved her. Sometimes the thought that she doesn't know makes me sick. I take a deep breath, maybe it is better not to have that thought, I look at the deep red of my fingers and feel a tear in my eye. I walk to the sink and try to wash my hands of guilt, I mean, cherry juice.
Thrjel wanders into the room, I swiftly put down my sleeve and Sostrate walks out.
"Go stand in front of the door." She yells and Thrjel and I collectively let out a sigh.

I stare at the sun, hoping the sun might hurt my eyes. Thrjel fiddles with the sleeves of his indigo jacket, we both know it's too hot to wear something like that. But I suppose image is more important than sweat when it comes to these things. The sun illuminates both of their face, and somehow forgets to mention mine, perhaps because I do not have tanned skin? Or perhaps because they are beautiful. The rays dangle through they eyes as if they're spiderwebs complete with dew in the bright morning. This silence is not as beautiful as the one I am used to, both of them are tense and seemingly nervous. I wonder why, but I would never ask, so I keep staring at the sun, wondering why I am not good enough to be blessed by it.
My eyes can hardly make out the grey car as it nears the house, (mostly because I looked directly into the sun you dimwit) the gleam resembles a fake smile as it comes to a halt. I look at my leather riding boots, hoping I won't look too strange to her. I look up, why do I care what an Awnlund thinks of me? I look at Thrjel and sigh, because he cares what she thinks of him. I understand the need to belong somewhere, and perhaps this is the way he gets to be in touch with both the parts of his nationalities. I must take the people that come with Thrjel, I can't stand the thought of isolating him because I am afraid of the people he once loved. I take a deep breath, do not judge Xad, she doesn't know better, she will do things wrong, but he is worth it. Pride is a sin after all.

A blue skirt emerges from the automobile before she even sets foot out of it. But when she does I notice how similar her shoes are to mine, the only difference is that the ones she is wearing are white. She closes the door behind her, her stance is beautifully upright, she knows what her worth is, and she won't forget it easily either. She turns around and her paralysed face immediately shifts into a smile, I cannot quite work out if it is genuine. She isn't easy to read. But perhaps I just don't want it to be genuine.
"Thrjel, Sostrate!" She exclaims. She hugs both of them. Before swiftly taking off the white jacket she is wearing and giving it to me whilst she catches up with them, the blue lining is made of silk and more luxurious than any normal garment I could afford in my whole life. I look at my hands and wonder why she gave it to me, but I do not interrupt as she thanks Sostrate for the invite. I tilt my head, so she does have manners. I cannot help but study her face, it looks familiar in some way, I narrow my eyes and wonder what my father would have called a lady that is foolish enough to wear white shoes outside the city. (even inside the city you can't afford to wear white shoes unless they're replaceable.) Her white blouse has ridges of lace vertically sown into it, I can see that it isn't original lace, there is glue in it, and it will yellow with time. Her hair frames her interesting face, she has tanned skin, with freckles sprinkled all over it. Her nose is slightly upturned which makes her seem as childish as the honey golden locks framing her face. Her face has many plains, as if it is not quite ready yet to be serious, but her upturned nose doesn't help either. These characterises make me think of an owl, or something that is not quite ready to comprehend something yet. But as she greets Thrjel I wonder if she uses this innocent face to her advantage. I sigh and realise that I am paranoid as I study the rest of the face, I can't put my finger on it but something about it bothers me. Don't get me wrong, she is a beautiful young woman, her mouth slightly apae when she breathes and her cupid's bow virtually disappearing. Maybe it is the fact that her nose and mouth are incredibly straight, uncannily so. She looks like a doll that shouldn't be handled too roughly. I can't help but chuckle. She immediately looks at me, the sharpness in her eyes surprises me.
"What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you handle my baggage?"
I feel my lip tremble as I start to breathe heavily. I am back to the places I don't want to be, the places he saved me from. I don't want to be talked to like that, but I do not want to be rude either, and I cannot risk upsetting Sostrate.
"This is Xad, he's my friend, not somebody from our staff." Thrjel says as he puts his hand on my shoulder.
"Oh, I'm sorry, you always hire Fianlynds because nobody else will anymore. So I assumed." She says whilst looking at Thrjel, as if I cannot hear her. She turns to me and smile, reaching out her hand. "My name is Eliana, nice to meet you Xadrian. I hope you speak Awnlunds."
I take a deep breath and kiss her hand elegantly. "Most certainly miss. You may call me Xad, It is a pleasure to meet you too."
Thrjel looks at me as she passes us, he shakes his head with a look of regret.
"I'll be courteous to her. Perhaps I am not likable to some people." I say with a chuckle, as we turn around and follow Sostrate and Eliana.
"I don't think she means it. I don't think she knows better." He says as he looks at the ground.
Why is it always the one who is being hurt who needs to teach the oppressor manners? I thought empathy was something a human needs.

"I can't express how much I love your house Mrs. Sion!" She says with a smile.
"Thank you so much Eliana, but you don't have to say that each time you visit."
"But I want to, it's such a quaint little house."
I breathe in through my teeth and feign a smile whilst I try to ignore the small insults veiled so carefully in positivity. "We should go to the orangery, we have prepared a magnificent afternoon tea." Thrjel says with the fakest smile I have see till date. And I can't help but be amused by that fact.
"I mean, it's so sweet that you would put so much effort into it."
"Catch this, we made the pastries ourselves." I say in a sarcastic tone, before she can comment on it. Thrjel looks at me, quiet panic reflecting back as me as the ice cold blue eyes of the girl scorch my skin in a way blue skies aren't supposed to do. I laugh charmingly "Quaint, isn't it, miss."
She takes a deep breath and smiles just as charmingly, but her pursed lips tell me something else. "You can call be Eliana."
"Understood." I say folding my hands over each other like a good servant.

We sit down in the orangery, the oranges and pomegranates shine in the sun as they have the same colours as the cakes that we put so much effort into. Just to be called quaint. I smile, I remember when I first came here, the cookies she had baked, the warmth, the welcome. Now there's so much food, perfect food, intricate food, and delicious, but the warmth lacks in all the people I know. (Not that I blame them) The white icing on the cookies is just as blank as the political opinions left unsaid. Why must things that matter always be left unsaid, my father would say that there is three things you do not talk about with people, politics, money, and intimate relations. Perhaps he learned it from the Awnlunds he used to work for back in the day.
When we finally start eating the sculpted standard of a face finally relaxes, her lips curl into a smile and her eyes dim with love. She looks up to Sostrate.
"I forget how good you are at baking, it always moves me to tears.... Or back to when we were children." She says as she takes another bite.
Sostrate smiles. "I couldn't have done it without Xad."
"You can bake?" She looks at me, her smile seems genuine and her eyes are finally able to see me. And how, she has beautiful eyes. The way she looks at me, full of wonder, full of amazement. I can't help but smile at her too, perhaps she's not all bad.
"The Rhubarb tart is actually my mum's recipe." I say, trying to see if I am able to hand her an olive branch. After all, it is not only the Awnlunds that are prejudiced.....
"I must try it then!" She says as she takes a slice.
"At least you eat, I know girls who wouldn't. It's good that you're not that vain." Thrjel says. I immediately hit him on his head.
"Don't say things like that! It sounds like you're saying she isn't beautiful." I say with a laugh.
He looks at me and back at her. "Does it?"
She shrugs and chuckles "Kind of." She shakes her head. "I don't eat that much. Remember when you ate the whole tray of cookies she made for the whole family?"
"Oh god I was so sick after that." Thrjel laughs.
I look at him and lean on the table, wondering what he was like before I knew him, who he was before me. What kind of a child I miss when I look at him, what I'll never know. I won't be able to tell the embarrassing stories that he still had that childlike innocence. I mean, he won't have those from me either, but how I wish I cold give him. He just knows the darkness that my soul culminated to, why does he still love me? Or does he love me despite it. Does he love me....
"What about you?" She asks, ripping me cruelly from the rumination that might doom my existence if I get stuck on it.
"I'm sorry, what did you ask?" I ask.
"What your favourite food used to be. I didn't want to exclude you dear." She says with a smile, and I join her in it. I am pleasantly surprised about it.
I sigh and shake my head "The only thing I remember very well is that there is this delicacy that I grew up on. So if you thresh the wheat you are left with something and because the wheat would go to...." I look at her and close my mouth before opening it again and not saying what I was thinking. "Other purposes, we would be left with this. We could boil it and mash it till it would be something like porridge. And if we were lucky somebody would have had the luck to...." I take a deep breath. "acquire fresh cherries. And that warm porridge with the cherries, in the dark tavern where they used to make it.... It was utter perfection."
She stares at me, as if I have just said something very strange. "So you would eat scraps when you were younger."
I feel my jaw tightening and I take a large sip of water in order not to hit a woman. Honestly I never got that rule, I hit boys, why can't I hit girls. I will hit girls just as much if they deserve it. Not to mention that the best fighter I know was certainly not a man.
"We make do with what we have. Not to mention that we should never knock something until we try it."
"I suppose you're right about that." She says as she grabs the silverware.
I run my hands over the perfectly polished silver, wondering why they make such an effort for somebody that is just a friend. I think it would be rude to comment on somebody's house, rather than that you would need to have a perfect house so they won't comment on it. I take a deep breath, Awnlund society is strange. I know so much now.
She folds her hands onto the table as she looks at Thrjel. "So how do you two know each other?"
"He was too annoying to ignore." I say with a smirk as I bring my cup closer to my lips.
"I saved his life back in boarding school." Thrjel says as he wraps his arm around me.
"He's overstating...." I say as I push his face away.
"How heroic." She says, visibly amused. She takes a sip of the tea and her signet ring flashes in the light. My eyes widen and my breathing stops, my eyes do not see this room anymore. The bearer of bad news we would call him, if anybody of the insubordinates or prisoners were sent to that mine you knew they wouldn't come back. Young hands are delicate enough to unearth rubies, but they easily die too. I suppose everyone is replaceable...... The eyes of the man were stormy even though they were blue. His silver hair were the clouds of misfortune and his smile, his smile could rip hairs from your skin instead of making them stand upright. Elnatt, Runnar Elnatt, the oldest kids he would hire were 13, only older if he was understaffed, and then he would only let us work for a month and gave us to some other mine. In that time I have seen more mangled bodies than I have in the last three years. Of thirty children less than half would get past the fifth month. But everyone is disposable and as long as Fianlynds will have hope they will keep having kids, and he will have his staff. I am eating with the daughter of somebody who doesn't understand that a childhood is sacred. All the while she has had the best childhood you could imagine, and never had to eat scraps.
I wipe the tears from my eyes. "You're an Elnatt." I say.
"I am surprised you know that! Wow, yeah, I am. My father is Runnar. Are you half Awlunds? I am surprised you know things like that."
"No, I am born and raised in fianlynd, like the centuries of family before me....." I say, my face cold and stuck in a position I would rather not have it stuck in.
"Oh..." She smiles.
"Xad loves history you see!" Sostrate says. "I will start cooking. Would you like it if I would show you how I do it Eliana?" She asks. Eliana agrees and they swiftly leave the room.
"An Elnatt! UÍxse!" I stand up and throw my napkin on the ground "Fucking preposterous."
"Xad?" Thrjel asks.
"Let me think...." I say as I walk away, and we both know that I need this right now.

I slam the door of my bedroom and an awfully prejudiced scream leaves my mouth. My throat feels too tight as the scream disappears into the quiet. The whole room stares at me as if it triumphantly tells me that I do not belong, and I never will. I don't need a perfect cake, I don't need an afternoon tea in the orangery. No, a biscuit is enough to make me happy..... I am so easy to please, and so eager to belong. I understand why it is fun to play with that, why it is easy to make me feel better about myself, when I can only see the monster they have taught me to be. Has this all been a cruel cat and mouse game? How lovingly can someone pretend to be?
I shake my head. It's not true, they have been nothing but kind to me. Thrjel could never pretend, even if that is my biggest fear I don't want to accept the possibility. I need to give the credit that is due, but I cannot turn the blind eye that Awnlunds are raised with. Because as soon as I am not enough anymore I am back at the mercy of people like her father. People that do not flinch when they see blood, or at least if they see blood from specific people. I wonder how much Thrjel knows, I wonder how much she knows, if she would flinch at the sight of my blood. Or if she would feel a rush of adrenaline, a rush of power, of perfection. They're better, she knows it, she does. But I do not know whether she is damned by the way she was born, or that she has seen the acts against my people. How much does he know? How much does he tolerate when it comes to someone like me? Does he know you cannot split a human from their nationality? From their morals? From their pain?
I don't want to tolerate somebody who sees me as something other than human. I don't want to see Thrjel with a person who thinks that of me....
How do I know she thinks that of me. Is it possible that she is different from her father? Maybe she has humanity. Maybe I can teach her.

I let myself fall to my knees, as I look up the vines painted on the ceiling no longer seem beautiful. They seem like cursed objects meant to restrain me, the darkness of the room eats away at my confidence that my culture is good enough. There must be a reason. The thirst for crimson cannot be because of the thirst for power, humans, as dark as their mind will go, as deep as their soul will run, there must be something that stops us from being like animals. What set them off to become wolves? What set them off to violence, to the denial of the fact that we are humans, that nobody is meant to be hunted. There must be a time that we set of this destruction, there must've been a reason to all this hate! And if there is.... My god, how can I fix it.

I fold my hands together still looking at the mercy of the ceiling, trying to ignore the cowardice of my voice as it breaks with the heavy words I try to say. "God...... I don't know if I am good enough for you to hear me anymore. But trying can't make it worse..... I am losing it. Losing hope, losing myself, and I feel like I am losing him too. I know who he is, I know who he wants to be, but I am frightened of what the world expects of him. And with that I am losing myself, if I give up my morals for him there is nothing left of me but sin. But if I stand my grounds, I am afraid of being cast aside, or not being heard... again." My words get stuck as my eyes fall back down, their lashes shielding my face from tears. "I am afraid of what I expect of him, I am frightened that I am the reason that he won't have the life he deserves. On one hand I think he needs to know what happens to us when he is turning a blind eye, on the other he has never participated in it. Is he guilty because part of his people are? And when is somebody guilty?" I sigh, knowing that the great soul that is looking down on us never actually answers prayers. He only hears them, and it feels like I am screaming into emptiness, I know that when I was young I would put food into the offerings and I would sit down in front of it. The eyes of the image of virgin mary would look at me as lovingly as my mother would, and she was so determined to forgive the sins I had committed. But now, there is no loving gaze, no invisible hand on my shoulder, no faith in the fact that there is something. Doubt, I am overcome with doubt, about everything. "Show me kindness lord, show me the humanity of benevolence in a world drowned by division. I need clarity, I need the strength to be better than they are. I need to learn how to let live, so I know I am a person that can condemn their actions. I need to be able to.... Live my life without the constant worry of being who I am. The threat of being who I am. And the consequences thereof, because survival should never require violence. So lord stand by me....." I sigh, uncertain if I have said what I want to say. "Amen....."