Slumbering Connections

Chilly Autumn Day

A chill autumn air ruffled the sheer curtains over the kitchen window, gentler than the gusty sigh that left the mhoat working at the counter directly in the path of the breeze. Bleet always felt a twinge of melancholy during this Slumbering Feast season, nostalgia for a time years ago, and the memories of familial warmth that she knows were never quite as intense or true as her mind seems to recall. Despite having carved out a much warmer, gentler life for herself with the homestead and her market stall she still lives under the burdens of memories, both good and bad.

She has been working through these feelings with Andora and most days she finds joy, but this time of year when memories linger and the spirits rise she finds it especially difficult.

A quiet clatter at the window draws her out of her wool-gathering. A pair of angelfly unbalanced the small dish of fruit she had placed there when she began pickling the remaining harvest. Winter is soon and she's loathe to waste even a scrap of something that will prove a treat during the cold season.

Chuckling at the antics of the insects, she rights the bowl and holds out a piece of cut fruit to the closest one, the other climbing back up to grab its own. It steps forward tentatively, looking up at her before quickly snatching away the bite-sized piece of pippom. A young one, from this year’s hatchlings then since the older angelfly are familiar with her and often flock when she works in the garden. She reaches out to the other sitting on the edge of the bowl and runs a finger over the crown of its head getting a little buzzing vocalization, almost a purr. It brings a smile to her face and she turns back to the task at hand.

The last of the plum harvest came in and a sudden vine of pippom sprouted in the forest nearby. She has been steadily cutting them up, pulling out the seeds on both, and tossing the cut fruit into a steadily growing line of jars in front of her cutting board. Some she plans to make sour, others sweet, and some she will experiment with purely for fun and to trade at the local market. The extra pieces she throws into the scrap bowl for the angelfly who arrive and flitter off at a steady pace as she works. Her friendliness with the insects before their hibernation through the winter pays off in the spring in the form of honeycombs fresh from the hive. Beyond that, they often lead her to various flowers, fruits, and mushrooms in the nearby forest; precious little bloodhounds for anything edible. So sharing a bit of food is the least she can do to repay them for tolerating her presence and filling her pantry for the winter.

A few more plums chopped into chunks and pippom into their thin slices; pits and seeds set aside to be washed and dried for planting or sold to others. Bleet breathes out a sigh of relief at the neat row of jars, grouped off according to her plans for each, both regular and experimental.

Several large jars of vinegar are pulled from the cabinets below where she works and then off into the pantry where she grabs sugar, salt, and a variety of spices and flavoring agents. Some onions even join the cutting board for the savory mixes. The onions she cuts quickly, blinking rapidly to clear the rude effect of tears they always cause. The slight breeze from the window helps clear the air quickly enough especially once she tosses them into the jars of plums that are meant to garnish meals rather than be eaten as a sweet treat.

Next, she pours vinegar into each jar, filling it until just the top of the fruit is covered with generous measures of sugar or salt following into the specific jars. A few spices, cinnamon for the sweet, peppercorns for the savory, and several other odd mixes for her experimental flavors. A lone jar set aside with the pippom slices gets a generous dollop of angelfly honey, some sugar, and vinegar just as the rest did to make honied pippoms. The last is a special treat for Andora, whose constant presence has kept her mind from its worst wanderings during this time of year.

Like so many things, her troubles circle back around to family. A constant trouble, from the family she left behind ten years ago, to the one she hopes to build around herself now. Finding Andora is her greatest treasure, at first a source of comfort, then a friend, and now as a romantic partner. Her kindness and understanding have been a balm throughout her efforts to reshape herself, and the acceptance of who Bleet once was and the person she has become even more so. Being with Andora has shown her what family can be, someone to lean on, whom you would do anything for, and above all who you can tell the deepest truths without fear of judgment. Yes, there are very few things she wouldn’t do for Andora and that fact is what she holds onto when she doubts herself during a season where one is meant to be surrounded with loved ones and reconnect with ancestors. It has been some time since she left her old life and every year she misses some aspect of it be it the companions, the meals with ancestors, or even just the memories she has of her favored relatives.

She gave it all up long ago, certain those she once called family would hardly know or want the person she has become. That thought hurts and brings her pride in equal measure, to be so different that those who once knew her might not even recognize her. There is something freeing in it, even if it whispers a quiet panic that if those marked by blood could not recognize her, then what must her identity truly be? A remnant of that world where bloodline and connections are everything, a world that in these chilly autumn days she realizes she hasn’t fully shaken.

“My dearest, I can hear you thinking from the next room. Now, I know you like your time to contemplate, but I’m quite certain you would usually have finished this task by now.”

Bleet jumps, making a startled noise as Andora enters the room and quickly comes to her side to peer at her progress. “O-oh yes, yes I am almost done,” Bleet stumbles, giving away that Andora has caught her out even if she has been diligent in her work.

“I will help, then we can sit and enjoy some tea. I’ve made this lovely new mix I think you will enjoy,” her words are gentle but Bleet knows a command from her girlfriend when it is given. If she refused, then Andora would keep her company in some other way until she spoke of her troubles. A habit quickly formed when they first met years ago at the temple of Livinia and maintained even more now when together.

“Your preference for sweets suggests this new mix will be more to your preferences,” she teased lightly, passing off a set of dried mushroom caps cut to fit the various jars lined up along the counter.

The amused hum from Andora let her know her words were well received and both set to work, stoppering the jars and giving them a shake to mix the contents. The dried mushrooms will absorb some of the contents over time, changing color when the pickling process is complete and making for an additional snack whenever she consumes the contents in the jar.

More familiar with the process and far quicker Bleet finishes before Andora, plucking up the pits and seeds collected from the fruit and tossing them into a small bowl of water set aside to quickly mix and work away some pieces of the fruit before being set on the window sill to dry. A few curious angelfly wander over to inspect the seeds, nibbling off the stray bits of fruit she missed in washing but otherwise leaving them be.

Once done with that and confirming all the jars were properly stoppered, she pulled a stack of square cloths from the drawer below her cutting board, some twine, and a small knife to cut it into sections. She directs Andora to return the vinegar below the counter and the various spices, honey, and other flavoring items to the pantry as she efficiently cuts the twine into consistent lengths for tying around the jars.

When Andora returns she shows her how to cover the top of the jar with the various checkered cloths, blue for sweet, red for savory, yellow for the experiments, and a lovely pink pattern for the treat made just for Andora. The knowing smile Andora gives her has her looking aside, flustered as her fingers tie a length of twine around a jar with practiced ease. Andora takes that as her cue, grabbing a length of twine and mimicking the process though with less muscle memory aiding the process, both mhoat falling in companionable silence as they work.

“Done, into the pantry,” asks Andora and a nod confirms it as Bleet quickly gathers up an armful of the jars and makes her way into the small space to place them on their designated shelves. She places these newest jars on the highest shelves to avoid overlooking some of her jars from prior seasons. Andora brings the rest and she helps move the jars from her arms onto their proper shelves, moving in when arms are empty to place a gentle brush of lips against Bleet’s in thanks for the assistance.

Bleet lingers a moment in the pantry, still pleasantly shocked every time Andora shows a casual bit of affection. Almost a year together and she still acts as if they have barely kissed at all, she wonders if that will change and often hopes it doesn’t. The titter she hears from the kitchen draws her out of the small storage space where she finds Andora already up the utensils she used, setting them in the sink for later. The bowl of fruit still half filled is left for the angelfly to continue feasting.

A tea set and kettle of boiling water are produced, leaving Bleet confused about when she has the time to orchestrate such a thing. She must have been more distracted than she realized for Andora to enter and ready these items while she was lost in contemplation. Not quite so subtle, she muses with some chagrin.

She follows as Andora leads her into the small room decorated as one might a parlor in a larger home. Small touches of finery in a home otherwise filled with simple, understated fare. A room mostly meant for company; however rare that may be outside of Andora’s regular visits. Even the tea set put together on the tray has little flourished touches on its ceramic surface, something pretty meant to be appreciated by guests.

She watches as Andora measures out the tea, a mix with various additions she is unfamiliar with but that seems rather floral. A bit of sugar is tossed into the hot water to melt away and gently sweeten the mix, all added to the cups after it has had a few minutes to steep.

The process is comforting, Bleet having seen Andora gracefully put together tea more times than she can count, a skill developed over years before she had even met the mhoat. The process had quickly become a familiar part of their meeting once held at the temple of Livinia and now is just as common during their time spent together. Her attention is drawn away from her musings when a cup is placed in her hands, eyes trailing over to Andora who seems calm and patient but is waiting for her to speak. For all that Andora can talk and fill the air with charismatic energy, she can find silence and use it to draw out the words Bleet often hides away.

“I…”

A raised brow finds her quick to bleet out the words.

“I find myself contemplating on the past, on family…again.”

“You often do this time of year, we have known each other long enough that I can tell when your mind goes back in time dearest.”

A blush colors Bleet’s cheeks, eyes ducking down to stare at the steaming surface of the tea in her hands.

“Y-yes, I find myself…wwoo-wondering, wandering really, down old pathways.”

“If you are the person you once were, if being different makes you less. You have said before, that you took pride in your parent’s validation even when you knew it hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder, if it is your parent's validation that matters or if there is someone else in your family whose disappointment is the core of this lingering doubt,” Andora mused quietly.

Bleet froze, tears suddenly threatening at the corner of her eyes. She hastily took a sip of the hot tea in her hands, thankful for a moment to hide behind the steam rising off the surface of the drink.

“Bleet…”

Concern, Andora always sounded concerned when an observation brought about strong emotions. So compassionate even when her words were meant to stab right into the core of a problem. Admirable, but the gentle tone threatened to turn the tears from a mist into actual drops. She waved lightly at her, letting her know she needed a moment both familiar with the way words often left when Bleet grew worked up by intense shifts in emotions.

After a few moments of careful breathing and slowing taking sips of tea, she felt the emotions ease and slip away. Finding a clearer mind once they had passed, Bleet was able to admit the thing Andora had so ruthlessly pointed out.

“My sister, she’s the only one who ever truly mattered.”

“You talk so little of her, for someone so dear.”

“It hurts far more than the rest, she was…my reason for staying in that life. I thought I could be her shield, let her have the life I didn’t, but I grew so jealous. I had to have it for myself and often I wonder if that was selfish,” the tears returned at this admission, falling properly now that she admits the pain she had been circling all these years.

The silence that followed was ringing, quiet sniffles the only sound as Bleet let the emotions bleed out of her, leaving her empty.

Eventually, Andora broke the silence, “When we first met, you confided that your selfishness is what drove most of your actions. You don’t often act for yourself, but when you do it is often to protect or give yourself the things you need. I find no fault in that, nor should you,” the certainty of her words didn’t erase the doubt but it did ease them as her words so often did.

“You have hurt people and we have discussed that you cannot make choices for yourself without displeasing someone,” she continued, “If you hurt your sister, but you still miss her so dearly then perhaps it is time to consider reconnecting. When you are ready.” The last added on as she saw the panicked expression flit across Bleet’s face at the prospect.

“I don’t-”

“Think on it, do not dismiss it when it already dwells on your mind.”

A nod, agreement though with a tinge of bitterness. A familiar feeling whenever Andora asked her to consider something she thought herself ill-prepared to tackle, no matter how right she often was in the recommendation.

“Finish your tea, then a nap I think,” a small warm smile that suggested they would both be taking that nap which had Bleet giving a little indignant huff at the presumption. Andora was right, but still!

She quickly finished her tea, taking her girlfriend's hand and pulling her along to the couch set by the sunniest window in the house. Andora collects a blanket as they pass the armchairs set around the tea table. A little pleased noise comes from her as she is pulled down to the couch, lying across the cushions. Bleet takes the blanket and wraps it over top of them and cuddles into Andora’s side, head on her shoulder and face hidden against her neck. Arms wrap tightly around her, holding her close as they settle in for a warm nap on an otherwise chilly day.

A Chance Encounter

"Iridina?!?"

The flinch that follows from the mhoat tells Rogi that he guessed right, but the the confirmation that this individual is the  Iridina he once knew leaves him reeling. This stranger is all softness, fluffy mane, gentle demeanor, and even now a look of despair that would never have fit on Iridina's face. There isn't even a suggestion of the sharp gaze, the cold stare as if everyone was beneath her, or the severe styling to maximize intimidation.

"It’s Bleet now, please."

The emphasis on the please, the pleading tone. Iridina is a name tied to pain, he's always known it, but he'd never known it to be pain for the bearer. He wants to be sympathetic, he really does but...she left.

"Why," all his hurt poured into the words. Iridina may have been cruel to many, but he'd never thought it would extend to those she held close. So why, why did she leave? Why run and leave them all in the dark, why?

"I-," a pause, "I needed to see who I was without my past haunting me."

It hurts, a dull ache at the suggestion he could haunt her in any way, but the anger is quick to follow. Not for himself, but instead for the one person he knows Bleet had always been gentle towards even in anger.

"Milla, of all the people to leave behind, why her?"

Sorrow before her eyes are averted, shame in behavior even if he can't see her expression. She hugs herself, hands squeezing each arm as she seems to collapse into herself.

"I didn't think- she's too good...she was too good for- being better in her presence would have felt empty," a stumbling quiet admission, a vulnerability that goes against everything he understands about the person before him.

"You should have been better for her, with her," Rogi adds coldly, not impressed by whatever justifications Bleet may have woven, "Whatever you tell yourself, it's all for your comfort. You may be different but that doesn't make you better, not to the people you left behind."

Bleet's gaze returns to him, utterly helpless, and as the silence drags on he riles a bit more.

"She's your sister."

"I know."

"You left her to fill your shoes, there was a time she would have given all of herself to your parents just to appease them. She would have given up happiness just to meet their expectations. Thank Espe she came to her senses."

"Our engagement?"

"I was never keen on you, nor you, me. When they told me it was Milla, I almost thought I could find happiness. I would have given her the world if it meant she could find happiness too."

"You didn't..."

"No, she found whatever backbone you left behind," a flinch from Bleet, good, "Broke the engagement and told your parents she was going to pursue her passions and make her own choices. They could have an heir or they could let the family line die. Eventually, they realized she was serious and have kept to themselves."

"I'm glad."

"You could have done it; stayed, changed, made your own demands so she didn't have to."

"No, I think we both know that was never an option," her tone was sardonic and Rogi gave her the eye roll that comment deserved. "I don't think I could have changed, living a life where I had to hide aspects of myself. Where weakness of any kind was ammo to gain an advantage."

Rogi knew as well as any living among the noble lines that what Bleet spoke was the truth. One didn't have peers, they carefully maneuvered allies and enemies and the status of either was temporary so long as you kept favor. A mess of petty infighting between one family or another through shows of power in a world where they couldn't vie for leadership of the islands so they had to settle for wealth and notoriety. For that rare moment when a single mhoat could change the course of an isle and mark their accomplishment in history. Another link in the bloodlines of a celestial, confirming the prestige of their lineage and gaining immortality.

"They all thought you might be the one to do it, make a mark on the world with your magic and your social command."

"They are foolish then if they ever thought I wanted that."

"No one could know your mind, someone so interconnected, who had a mind for strategy that threw even the most clever for a loop. You had power and respect-”

“Numerous enemies waiting to plot my downfall.”

“Well…yes,” Rogi admits reluctantly.

Bleet gave a scoff and rolled her eyes, it seems even Rogi struggles to see the cage that is high society. “I cloaked myself in a sharp tongue and careful wording so no one could know my weaknesses, but that was a matter of survival. Whatever everyone believed, I felt no joy in it.”

“You are different,” Rogi sighs, troubled by this conversation, this encounter, “So different, I think you must not even be the person I once knew. Would Milla even recognize you, I wonder?”

“It would be for the best if no one could recognize me again, I can’t go back to being that person. I couldn’t survive it.”

He pauses to look at her, really look at her. The Iridina of before was sleek, intimidating, unapproachable; she shaved her soft mane, a collar of dark underfur so different than the soft pale ruff around her neck now. She would wear intense colors, dark eyeshadow, bold kohl, and other makeup meant to increase the intimidation factor with clothing often worn to match. Every part of her was a statement, an indication of the danger she could present to those who slighted her. Now she is soft, bright, and her expression is open and the worry she would have hidden before is clear on her face. It is such a jarring difference he almost wonders how he even made the connection between these two sides of her.

Ultimately, she looks like a burden has been lifted from her shoulders like her life is not constantly dragging her down and that she has to force her spine straight under the weight. Rogi decides he prefers that, that even if she disappeared it is better she found something good, something that could make her happy.

“Life is treating you better.”

“Yes, yes it is,” she responds with a genuine smile, the worry melting away as warmth fills her person and steals Rogi’s breath away. This expression is one so familiar to him, Shimmer’s smile, a family resemblance that he didn’t even realize was there.

“See Milla, let her know you.”

They both share a moment of surprise, Rogi at making the request and Bleet at the prospect that he thinks her sister would want to see her at all.

It takes Bleet a moment to gather her senses, “I-”

“Bleet I found the books we were looking for, the merchant two rows over was so helpful. I had to go on a bit of a trip to find the stalls he mentioned, but- oh who’s this?”

A titter of laughter leaves Bleet at the whirlwind that is the bubbly new mhoat, the intensity of her attention turning from Bleet to Rogi so quickly that he wonders if he can escape before Bleet introduces him.

“This is Rogi,” the scrutiny in her gaze makes him want to escape especially when recognition flashes across her face. Surely she has heard nothing kind about him.

“Oh, of course! I’ve heard so much about you from Bleet, she’s quite fond of you, did you know?”

No, Rogi didn’t and he is shocked at the information. He had never felt a sense of friendliness around Iridina, spending time only to appease their families' hopes of a successful engagement and to see Shimmer when he was freed from the obligation.

“I can’t say I realized, no.”

“Oh well, now where are my manners? I’m Andora Livi, I met my dearest when she moved here and we’ve been properly together for a year now.”

The shock on his face must be clear, Andora’s amusement is clear and the flustered blush coloring Bleet’s face is a sight to see further stilling his tongue. Bleet, in a relationship? Bleet happy and carefree, no longer confined to the expectations of wealth and power? It’s all so much to process that any social niceties he may have had trained into him from a young age are suddenly beyond his grasp.

“L-lovely to meet you,” he stumbles, as his brain latches onto the secondary name Andora offered. One under the service of Livinia, the celestial of love is in a relationship with Bleet?

“I fear I’ve broken him,” Andora muses quietly and the strangled laugh that pulls from Bleet shows that she isn’t much put together either.

“A-andooora, sweetest. We should let Rogi get back to his day I am sure he’s quite busy,” the vocal bleet that warps the name is clear to Rogi and he can see the way Bleet tucks her shoulders up and averts her gaze. The sharp look he receives from Andora makes it clear that he isn’t to comment on the stumble either. He merely nods and pushes on.

“Y-yes I was looking for some ingredients for a new experiment, so I must move on before my assistant hunts me down. Consider my request Bleet, I will be in touch.”

Rogi turns and hurries away quickly, missing the curious look Andora gives and Bleet’s surprise at the promise of continuing their past connection.

Confronting The Past

Bleet paces, Andora watches from her seat in the parlor as a sheaf of papers is tossed onto the tea table, a letter from Rogi. She had hoped there would be time, that the letter would not come so quickly, and that she would not have to respond. If she waits, she will leave the impression that she is reluctant but if she responds too quickly, and carelessly then she may kill the arrangement before it can even be formed. So she paces and panics, while Andora watches and waits.

She stops, chest tight with anxiety as her gaze flickers to the letter.

“What do you fear?”

She jumps, eyes snapping to Andora who she looks at as if she has sprouted two heads. The snort she receives draws a glare, leading Andora to laugh and Bleet to huff. She paces some more, back and forth until the irritation simmers into something controllable and she can force herself to stop once more.

"That I will make a mess of this."

Bleet stands, waiting for some response from Andora who just studies her. Throwing up her hands she begins to pace again as the nervous energy grows too intense for her to remain still.

Rogi seems eager to have me reunite with Milla. The thought flickers across her mind and words quickly follow the thought, "How can he be so sure that she'd even want to see me again?"

Andora shakes her head and Bleet stops and gives her a sour look knowing the other mhoat has picked up on something. Will she share it? Bleet never really knows until she sees it as relevant to bring up.

"He saw something in me, something that made him believe it was the right choice. I know that" she emphasizes the last, looking to Andora and then away as she says in a more subdued tone to herself, "I do." She just can't figure out what it is and that's infuriating. His letter didn't seem to hint at the reason either, but his offer was sincere and all she had to do was take it.

Why did the entire arrangement leave her hesitating?

"Bleet, you know that if you don't take this opportunity you will always wonder. Could you have reconnected? Could you have a piece of your family returned? It will haunt you. I know you want this, you just have to face the fear."

The statement stills her pacing, leaving her frozen in place for several minutes before she finally collapses into the seat across the table from Andora. She leans forward, shaky fingers gathering up the sheaf of paper as she stares down at the elegant loops of Rogi's handwriting. Tears sprung to her eyes and her voice came out weak, "I want this so badly, but I don't know how I could survive the worst outcome."

"Does anything you know about Milla make you believe she would reject everything you’ve become?"

Silence fell as Bleet sniffled, letting tears drop onto the sheets of silk paper in her hands, causing the ink to bleed in spots but she hardly seemed to notice as she waged some internal battle with herself. She could feel Andora's eyes on her, knew the other mhoat would comfort her if she asked but would otherwise wait for her to process the question.

Truthfully, she knew Milla or had known her. A decade ago, so long ago that she could be a different mhoat. Even Rogi had confirmed that she was strong, strong enough to reject their parents' wishes and come out the other side confident and happy. Bleet didn't know if she had always been that strong or if this was something she developed in the time they had been apart.

Would the gentle soft-spoken sister she once knew still be the same person who had taken control of her life and carved out something bright in a harsh social sphere? She hoped, but pragmatically she knew that Milla must have lost something in all she gained. The mhoat who could say no to her parents wouldn't hesitate to refuse anything she found lacking.

Bleet knew with certainty that she would be the one lacking between them.

"She was always the jewel of the family, she shines bright in a world that lacks light. If she could do that, she must always have been strong, for all I considered her gentle and timid. I am left feeling like all my protection was pointless and that she'll take one look at me and know that."

Andora gave a huff but offered a gentle smile when she caught Bleet's eyes. Red-rimmed, sniffling, she was surely a sight to the lovely and composed mhoat across from her.

"For all you change and improve, you still manage to be your worst enemy."

Bleet flinched, looking aside. That answers what the earlier head shake was for, Andora could be tolerant of many things except when someone dismissed their efforts and growth.

Andora continues, "You have told me about Milla, about her gentle heart, her kindness, and generosity. You have told me about someone who will be disappointed, even angry, and never raise her voice. Who finds simple joys and surrounds herself in them even if they are silly and pointless to many others. Nothing about this person you describe makes me believe she would toss aside an opportunity like this."

Bleet hides her face in her hands, letting loose a frustrated noise, knowing Andora is right but still struggling to imagine a scenario in which Milla might greet her with anything beyond disappointment or even anger, as rare as that emotion was when it came to her sister. She misses her, but does she only miss her because her memory has become rose-tinted with the image of a sweet and darling mhoat who greeted her with warmth and a smile even when she was at her most snappish and moodiest? What if she had imagined it all? What if she never got to see Milla smile again? What if?

“I’m scared,” that I’ll see a side of my sister that will hurt. That this will be the only time I’ll see her and it’ll be just a bad memory to add to the others. Bleet left these unsaid, but Andora’s sympathetic gaze showed that she could sense there was more than just fear.

“You’ll always be afraid, but that is fear of the unknown. If you push past it, you could have a new relationship with Milla, more than just the regrets of leaving her behind.”

Bleet drops her hands and breathes out a sigh as she toys with a corner of the letter that had fallen into her lap earlier. Studying the carefully made silk pages, the slightest impression of color matched Rogi’s aethic. It’s a personal touch, a show of friendship that she hadn’t expected from him. The silence lingers, words have pushed the emotions aside but that doesn’t mean the anxiety fluttering in her chest has fully cleared.

“Bleet, write the letter,” a command now. One Bleet had expected because Andora always knew when to encourage and when to push.

“Help me make the paper,” she asked quietly, turning an uncertain look to Andora but feeling it melt away at the warm look she received. It was enough to draw a smile to her lips, even if it flickered away as the anxiety reasserted itself when she collected up the letter and moved to the work table.

—

Several letters had passed hands between Bleet and Rogi until a location and time were set for the meeting, a small cafe Bleet now found herself standing outside of. In the time between, she had learned a few things about Shimmer’s new life, key among them being that she more often went by Shimmer than Milla these days. She has established a name for herself using her light magic and a magic focus that allowed her to capture images, photographs that appeared in fashion magazines across Mynros.

Andora had been ecstatic when she told her, digging up some of the recent fashion magazines they had collected during supply runs to the island’s main city. Unfortunately, they all still used hand-drawn images, leaving both mhoats disappointed. A glimpse at Shimmer’s new life, just out of reach.

The sadness the moment planted must have been obvious to Andora because she had returned from a day of foraging the following week to find her girlfriend sitting in the parlor spreading out a new selection of magazines that she was unfamiliar with, but the sight of the covers left her in shock. Stunning images of lovely mhoats in the newest fashions, all captured in the moment, color and light playing in creative ways.

Milla had found her place, her talent, created beauty in a way Bleet had never anticipated and while she found herself filled with joy for her sister’s accomplishment there was also an old bitterness that had soured the discovery. She had cried that evening, held by Andora, upset at the past she abandoned, that she could never find a place for herself in it like Milla had and at that lingering envy she could still feel for her sister’s happiness.

Rogi’s next letter came several days after this emotional setback and it took her another week before she could even stomach answering him, much less explaining the delay. A carefully written letter that took her the entire day to put down first onto messy scraps of silk and then onto carefully made silk paper had gone out, leaving her anxious. It explained the delay, finding some of Shimmer’s work, and that it had woken up old emotions that she needed time to process. The vulnerability of the admission left her anxious, part of her was certain that Rogi would put a stop to their arrangements while another part almost hoped he would.

Andora had sniffed out that little insecurity quickly, giving her the appropriate disappointed look. Between that and the anxiety, Bleet had been productive and busy up until a new letter suddenly appeared on the table in the parlor. Andora had been present for the messenger where Bleet had been hiding in the garden or the woods, looking for any distraction she could find under the guise of preparing for the upcoming season.

This had been the letter where Rogi admitted that he had told Milla of their correspondence, that her sister had agreed to meet with her, and that he would arrange the location. Bleet just needed to send an agreement, but even such a simple message had put Bleet back into another frantic round of pacing until Andora stopped her, squeezed her wrists, and gave a reassuring smile. A confirmation that she was ready for this had been enough to settle her frantic energy, but it still took her an entire day to write out the shortest letter that had yet to change hands between them.

A date, a time, a location, and a request for further letters after their meeting now found Bleet just steps away from seeing her sister once more.

Andora had offered to come with her, but she had refused that she go any further than the portal to the city, and that support had been enough to get her to the cafe. Frozen at the threshold now she wished Andora had come, but a reminder of the disappointment she’d face for not following through steeled her to get through the door.

Bleet looked around the Cafe, a sweeping assessment of the different individuals present. When her eyes landed on Milla she froze, knowing from Rogi's letters that she hadn't changed much in their time apart hadn't prepared her. It felt like stepping ten years into the past, like she was meeting her sister for just another light meal between meetings her parents had lined up for the heir to the family.

The only thing different was her, no longer Iridina, she had reshaped herself into something new. Their only shared features now hidden below the surface in the form of memories, regrets, and shame. Somehow strong, something Andora insisted upon strongly, but truly just a fragile thing piecing itself together into something brighter, less jagged than that past self.

She must have been staring for quite some time, as she was witness to the moment her sister caught her gaze, and the flash of recognition and surprise that followed. Steeling herself, Bleet cut a path across the busy cafe to join Milla at a quiet corner table.

"M-Shimmer," she greeted, catching herself with the name, uncertain if using her given name would be overly familiar. The look of hurt that flickered across her sister's face quickly reignited the anxiety smoldering away in her chest.

"Milla, you're still allowed that...sister," came the gentle correction. The careful control of her tone, the look meant to disarm. Milla had always had the unique ability to exude a calmness that avoided social slights.

"Milla," said quietly, like a precious thing because her sister had always been that to her. A smile, sad but still present was her reward.

"I'm sor-"

"No."

A flinch, an averted gaze as she heard Milla suck in a sharp breath.

"Please, let me just..."

A nod for Milla to continue.

"I don't want to hear sorry from you. I know why you left, Rogi explained and I can't accept any apologies for it."

Bleet looked on in stunned silence, hands having gone through the motions to unroll the silverware, cloth napkin twisted in her hands instead of smoothed across her lap.

"You did what you had to, made the choices you had to so you could find yourself. I was so sad when you left, I had hoped you'd send me a letter. At least let me know." Shimmer shook the thought away and continued, "It doesn't matter. You are here now, you are different but still my sister Bleet, you are."

"Oh," a breath more than a word, weak and tremulous.

Tears spring to her eyes and alarm spreads across Milla's face. She is quick to untangle the napkin in her hands and hide her face away in the soft fabric so it might soak up the worst of her silent tears. She has become more free with her emotions, but a part of her still can't accept being seen to cry unless it is Andora.

"I m-m-miiissed you," words warped between hitched breaths. She felt her face heat and took a few moments to gather something like control. "Every year, every m-moment we would have spent together. Reeeminded of inside jokes or when struggling with the desire to share something. You ne-ever left my mind Milla, out of everyone you m-meant the most to me."

Bleet lowers the napkin, tears slowing enough that she feels safe in witnessing Milla's reaction to her words. Her words don't ring true, she can tell from just a look and something drops in her stomach at the realization.

"You never reached out."

"No," the admission was met with silence, the unsaid accusation hanging in the air. If Bleet cared so much about Milla, why had she never reached out? Why had she kept herself frozen in indecision all these years? She could claim fear, she could make excuses, but it had been a choice. One she made every day she didn't reach out to her sister.

"I'm not angry that you left. I can't even be upset that you stayed away, but why now? How did I finally become too important to avoid," asked with all the pain and hurt Milla must have felt when she suddenly disappeared from her life.

"I-" a stop, lingering as Bleet stumbled through a variety of answers. No words could be enough to soothe a hurt that deep, but still she had to answer.

"I felt, safe from the past for the first time in years. I have a life, I have a routine, and a mhoat who loves me as much as I love her. It finally felt like I could face it without being drawn back into it."

"Mother and father would never accept your return, they-"

"They officially disowned me the moment it wouldn't raise eyebrows among their social class," Bleet finished, voice a touch cold but no hurt surfacing at something she expected to be true.

"Yes."

"What I should have done only matters if I hadn't already done it, Milla. I am here, now, and I can't change what has already happened. I can only try to make it up to you, however that may be."

Milla sighs, clearly thinking it over before nodding to acknowledge the truth there.

Bleet continued, " I want you in my life, I hope you would want the same."

"I do, I have wanted that for ten years. I can't turn you away, not after what Rogi has told me. I'll admit, the idea of you and Rogi completing a civil conversation at all was shocking enough. You two were always the most difficult pair to share a room with," a small smile at the memory slid across Milla's face. Something fond hidden there, leaving Bleet surprised. Fondness towards her past self, especially when she was insufferable was beyond her comprehension.

"I wouldn't think the memories of our past would bring joy," she admitted tentatively, confused.

"You were not always the monster you made yourself out to be sister. You could be abrasive and cruel, but at the heart of it you were my sister, cared for my opinion, and held yourself in check with those I held in high esteem," Milla gave a little wistful sigh, "At times, you even protected me with that same behavior. To others, you may have been someone to fear, but I always knew you cared. Much as it confused those closest  to me when I defend you."

Bleet took a long moment to process that, mind struggling to shift her perspective around and see herself how her sister must have. She knew she could be vicious and unkind, so much so that at times she thought that was all she must have been...but by Milla's admission it was something she wielded with intention and set aside where it was safe.

"I didn't know."

"No, but if you did then you wouldn't have felt the need to run, to change."

Embarrassment, a flush at the observation. Bleet didn't regret making the choice, she never could with the life she now led...but Milla saw a different path with a different sister than she was at this moment.

"Would you...prefer that different sister?"

"No, Bleet I want you. Things could have gone differently, sure. I wouldn't trade it for being able to be in your life again. I know I haven't been the most enthusiastic in all of this but don't doubt that I'm happy, right here and now."

That eased the doubt Bleet had felt at those words, about the entire meeting even. Knowing her sister wasn't reconsidering the decision to reunite helped quiet some fear that had been hidden until this moment.

She smoothed the napkin in her lap and toyed with the corner of the menu wondering what next. With the promise of food at her fingertips, she asked, "Should we?"

"Yes, as often as we can I think."

A smile at the promise being made, a future with family at her side left her feeling brighter, hopeful.