Dear Ms Lady Demigod: Twelve Days To Doom

0 2 What Is Your Sila

Meeting Ariel was a shelter from the rain of loneliness, it was a soothing rescue from the pains she didn't know existed in her dried wounds.

However, Ariel seemed rich. He wore a white silk, frilly, shirt and brown leather trousers with black leather boots and a red feather hat over his head. The corners of his cat green eyes were decorated with tiny gem stones and his shirt buttons were made of pure pearls. He had a pretty face, not handsome like a man, but pretty like a young girl. He was young like Jevelene, most probably fourteen, had just hit puberty.

He had tiny blonde hair on his face and dark brown hair falling on his forehead.

"Ariel? What an ass name, woman," He crossed his arms. His accent was not that of a native Italian.
She giggled, "But it's so pretty! Ariel!"
"Goddammit. What a boring name,"
"Oh, then...Poppy? Fleur?"
"I guess Ariel is better,"
She laughed, "Certainly,"

Ariel and Jevelene sat beside the brook.
"Where do you live?" She asked.
"I don't tell that to strangers,"
"Well, then, tell me more about your sila,"
"No, I don't tell that to strangers,"

She laughed, "Okay. Oh, I have to go now. Grandma must be waiting,"
She trotted away with the bucket in her hand. He looked at her and then back into the water.

Meanwhile, Jevelene watered all the flowers, cooked food, cleaned the house, did the dishes and went to the market. She decided to buy some fish and potatoes. The market was packed with people and sailors from distant land. Costiera Amalfitana had always been an intimidating coast to her. Filled with foreign and Italian voices, all mixing and intermingled into one melody.

Her feet played playfully over the pink stones, as she hummed a melody, her petite figure walked through the crowd of huge men and fat, jolly women. Her skirt frilled in a controlled motion, her face turned red under the sun. She looked at various shops, and finally stopped at a jewellery shop, with a crown kept at its center.

She looked at it for a while, knowing she could never buy it.
"Well hello, Jevelene," She turned and looked at Beatrice, the prettiest girl in the town, a rich merchant's daughter, just like Jevelene was a few years back.

"How are you?" She asked.
"I'm good," She bowed.
"Ugly as always, huh. You've been looking worse ever since your father died," She said as she fixed her hair while looking into the mirror of the jewellery shop.

Jevelene laughed it off, "I haven't been getting proper rest,"
"Well, as if you were any better when you did get proper rest. Am I wrong?"

Jevelene looked down, "I think," She giggled nervously. Beatrice looked down at her, "So, you are coming to the festival?" She asked.

"Yes, I'll be selling some flowers," Jevelene smiled wickedly, "Well, that's what you are made for, you know. Sell flowers all your life," She laughed.

Jevelene looked aside and saw Ariel in the crowd. He was well dressed and his hair was nicely done. He wore a white tunic with slashed sleeves, a red cape around him, and gold bracelets on both his wrists, a golden band wrapped around his left arm, and sandalwood slippers in his tiny feet.

She looked at him, standing in the sun, his long brown hair reached his nape, the blue and pink gems around his eyes shining under the sun, with his green eyes. That's how beautiful true demigods were.

Beatrice traced her eyes and looked into Ariel's direction. She was breathtaken, "Oh wow, that foreigner is beautiful!" She said.

He looked at Jevelene, she smiled at him and looked away. A young man, about twenty two, came towards him and held his hand. Maybe that was his guardian, she remembered her father in him. They used to walk around the market just like that.