The Vices of Justice

Basket Weaver

"No."

"You didn't let me finish, dear."

"I don't need to hear the rest of it to know that this is not a good idea."

The soft crinkle of small strips of wood being weaved together fills the air of the small cottage kitchen. 

"My love, hear me out. You know that the others have done similar things."

"The others are not directly tied to the strings of Fate." The stern woman's voice retorted. "And the others are not married."

"That has not stopped them before-"

"You know what I mean."

The other woman lets out a soft sigh and sips from her tea. Her pitch black eyes look at her wife at the other end of the table, who is sharpening two katanas.

"Love, please do not sharpen your weapons at the dinner table."

Her wife looks up at her, her pearl eyes staring back at her and slowly puts away her weapons. "I do not want any mortal to have our powers. I do not care what the prophecy says. This is just destined to be a disaster."

"But do you not want a family?"

"This isn't about a family. This is about saving the both of us."

The woman sighs again, massaging her temples as she takes a break from making the basket. She falls quiet, thinking over everything. Her white hair falls past her shoulders and curls softly. against her pale sundress. The wide brimmed sunhat she wore on her head tipped as she started to weave again.

"I don't want to die..."

Her wife looked at her softly, her stark-white eyes contrasting her dark skin. Light freckles dotted her skin like stars in the night sky and she wore a small scarf that pulled back her dark braids that fell past her shoulders. She let out a sigh and stood up, moving closer to her wife and gently taking her hand from the basket. She gave her wife's hand a soft kiss and looked at her.

"We will figure this out, I promise."