The Orphan of Saint Olette

One

Aoife's chestnut eyes stared up at the marble statue before her. It was one of many statues throughout Eturia, her home city, but this particular statue had always intrigued her. While the other statues depicted muscular men and enchantingly beautiful women, this statue portrayed a much more simple being. The statue was that of the first king, Aostre. He was responsible for bringing about the end of the war and had been coronated the day Man settled in the South. Aostre was depicted as a tall man, with curled hair and a clean shaven face, a rare sight in the Old World. Aoife had always been careful to keep her gaze above the man's waist, for like all the statues in the city, Aostre was naked. She'd stolen a glance once and hadn't exactly been impressed with what she saw. She wouldn't know from personal experience, being seventeen and therefore under the age of consent, but she had heard from local gossip that Aostre wasn't very well endowed.

Aoife pulled her coat tighter around her, shivering faintly as a gentle breeze flitted by, carrying with it the last of winter's chill. It would be spring soon, and everything would jump back into life, including the city. The city ran on steam, mostly, and the snow would always close the mines, meaning the city ran on limited resources til the spring. Perhaps that was why she felt the cold so much; because she was used to the city being full of steam.

Eturia was easily one of the largest cities in the New World and was famed for its Cathedral, which Aoife was all too familiar with. It wasn't that she was religious; for the record, she believed the Maker had lost interest once his playthings had separated, though if He had only waited a while He would've seen the lengths Man will stretch to, to get whatever it is he desires. No, Aoife was far too familiar with the Cathedral since she had grown up there, and would continue to live there til she turned eighteen, for she was an orphan. She had been raised by nuns and would be allowed to stay in the Cathedral if she took her vows and joined the convent. The young girl had other plans, though. She spent her days reading about the Old World; of princes and princesses, warriors and villains, love and war. She wanted to travel. To find herself and to find love. But that involved money, and though she had been saving for as long as she could remember, she didn't have enough to get where she wanted to be. She'd heard of women using their bodies as payment, but she didn't think she could sink that far. You see, in Eturia, a woman's virtue was still a sacred thing, and though most women did not wait til they were married, they had still only had relations with the man they intended to marry. So naturally, Aoife didn't want her first time to be with a total stranger.

Another breeze blew past her, catching her long brunette hair, which she had left untied for the day. She scrunched up her features as the wind pushed her hair into her face, attempting to fight back the chocolate curls. She grabbed a deep purple ribbon from her coat pocket, tying her hair in a loose ponytail before pulling her hood up. The royal blue fabric contrasted beautifully with the white fur framing the hood. The coat had been a gift from one of the many Lords in Eturia. His name was Finni, and he had sought to court Aoife, while his brother Adre had sought to court Aoife's best friend, Niamh. Unfortunately, the two young lords had been killed in a hunting accident, though most believed foul play was involved.

The bell in the clock tower chimed, alerting the world of the time and Aoife sighed, saying a polite goodbye to Aostre, before heading for home before the sky began to blacken as day faded to night. She was greeted by Niamh upon her return, her friend's lithe figure wrapping around her in an embrace.

"Sister Ciara was getting worried," Niamh said, her tan skin warm against Aoife's chilled ivory flesh.

"Why? It isn't dark yet," Aoife said, hugging Niamh back before letting her friend lead her inside the Cathedral.

Niamh was tall and thin, with sleek black hair that fell to her hips. Her skin was the colour of coffee with cream and her eyes were like melted chocolate. She had a cute button nose and delicate features, though she had prominent cheekbones. Niamh had always been considered the prettier of the two girls, and it was evident that she knew it from the way she carried herself. Aoife didn't mind, though. She was happy to be ignored by men for the time being, choosing instead to surround herself with books and myths. She was hardly ugly, though. She was shorter than Niamh, and her skin was white as snow. Her eyes were bright and full of life, unlike Niamh's darker ones. She wasn't as thin and her hair was loosely curled, but she was pretty in her own way.