3,000 Years

November (Those Rainy Days)

A/N: Some good, old Ed Sheeran is suggested for here. This piece was inspired by 'The Night She Disappeared' by Lisa Jewell.

.....

It was November - dark, dreary, rainy November.

The life of Britannia was beginning to dull, winter storming in with its bitter and powerful gusts. Frost and frothy fog began to swarm each morning, temperatures dropped to an aching freeze and trees were now bare and skeletal for the eventual snowfall that would arrive. Not a thing boasted colour - not a single plant nor animal could speak of the autumn and summer seasons that had passed - and it fit well for the time of year: winter was well on its way, cold and miserable and frosty.

But even so there was still a bright face, a kind smile, that although flushed from the gelid weather, was positive in the face of the rain.

"It's November," Elizabeth whispers. Her delicate fingers reach out to touch the icy pane of glass. Her other hand rested against her lips, a bashful blush forming as she thought back to the significance of this month. Of this final month of autumn. "November..."

She had not forgotten. How could she? That first November evening, that time when she had first seen the glimpse of the treasure hidden within, would always be carved into her heart. It would forever stain the blush that coated her cheeks; it would constantly be the thing that caused her legs to quake and her lip to be bitten; it would always be what made her logic numb and her heart race, everything lost in the emotion that came with this month.

The sensation of that November eve.

That November eve...

.....

She had never seen herself as beautiful. Gorgeous. Elizabeth had always known herself to be pretty, plain, the average goddess you would see. She knew that apart from her silver hair, she had plain Jane features that easily melded within a crowd of lookalikes and similarly modeled people. Her blue eyes were nothing special, her clear skin was something easily obtained, and her pink lips were only due to her naturally pale shade. Plus they were too dull, not plump enough or just something plain and ordinary.

And yet she still toiled to look beautiful - stunning. She still tried to be amazing.

But every time it would fail...

Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes as she tossed aside the liquid eyeliner she had failed to apply once more. Her mother, other goddesses, had made it look easy. They made such an act seem flawless and effortless; but when she tried, Elizabeth failed. Her liquid wings would always tremble, come out deformed, causing the goddess to huff as each failed attempt cut her patience short.

Everything else seemed to go right: her hair, her clothes, her mood. They all worked together to try and make this night, this one small moment of calm, memorable. But then the wings had ruin it; damn those wings. They ruin everything.

"You look amazing," A gentle voice spoke from the doorway. A smile was paired with it, warm and loving when matched with those warm cinnamon eyes.

It was her sister, Margaret, the lavender-haired sibling being spectacularly dressed for the evening. She donned a simple blue dress, her hair styled to support vivid, sweet-smelling flowers. Unlike Elizabeth, her makeup was flawless; Margaret was always flawless.

"I keep messing it up," Elizabeth sighs, turning to face her amused sister. She sheepishly, shyly, extends her hand, offering the makeup to her sibling. "Can you...do them for me?"

Margaret's lips twitch at the reddening of her sister's face, used to her bashful nature. It was often that she would ask for help.

"Of course," Margaret grows a grin, much like that of a maternal figure, and strides across the room. She easily opens the eyeliner and begins to apply it, the light pressure of the nib gliding gracefully over Elizabeth's eyelids.