Order

Change of pace

A coin has two side. Same goes for a vision. There was one and another, existing at the same time.

A wise person once said, seeing was believing. For her, it was an elderly. For him, perhaps someone else.

Either way, she leans an ear, soaking up the information like a sponge and files it to her memory, just next to the bedtime stories her mother would tell to lul them to sleep.

×

The first time around, Amaryl admits, she was embarrasingly taken off-guard, much to her companion's enjoyment.

She frowns at the memory of their chuckling and mirth expression.

In her defense, it's been a long time since the last time she visited a place so lively, bright as the sun, full of chatters and smiles like it. She was copped inside the Roselle Mansion for 4 months. It didn't quite cross her mind to venture out. She never did have a shortage of anything.  All was well in her grasp.

Quite the mistake she made. Perhaps not. It was… difficult to decide in her mind.

Still, the warmness it projected ease her muscles to relax.

×

A ghost town.

Amaryl nods at her own assessment of her surrounding. It didn't seems far from it.

The lack of roaming, dim lights and the wind's howling, tickling to her ears. In contrast to its usual atmosphere, it gave out an unwelcome vibe yet a scent of serenity. A unique sight which pulls her in as if she accidently fell down a rabbit hole and entered a different realm, where she was staged as the irregular, breaking down the fragile harmony it holds.

It gave her a new insight of the town. Another side of the picture. A piece which was both hidden and not.

All because the clock hasn't been set yet.

The musing lingers as Amaryl soldiers on to her destination, paying no further observation of her surroundings. There's no meaning to it even if it turns out true. What matters was the insult it would be, to her pride if she couldn't do one simple job.

She stops in front a certain building, knocking onto its door and steps back for someone to open. Moment later, the door creaks.

"Who's knocking so early before the mor— Amaryl?" A familiar face furrows and frowns before ushing her to come in.

×

Amaryl haven't been to many carpenter's workshop before but as far she seen, for a big name (around the community), the interior leans to the humbler side of things. She took her scarf off and sat on the stool given, thanking the woman for the hospitality.

"It's the least I could do," Madam Sherry waved it off and huffs, "Heaven knows why he sent you out at early dawn. You could have gotten a cold!"

"It was urgent." Amaryl cooly said. "As I volunteered to go, I would also bear all the faults if encountered any difficulties."

"That's not what I mean, Amaryl." She pinched her nose and sigh, "the fact is, you're a child. No matter how mature you are."

Amaryl frowns throughout Madam Sherry's chastising, holding her tongue on the issue and waited until she was fully satisfied with herself to voice. "Sir Darryl inclined the items he requested be ready by now?"

Madam Sherry blinks, pausing for a moment. "Ah, yes. My husband finished it last night. It's in the back. Just wait a moment."

Only after the older woman disappeared into the storeroom, Amaryl finally felt breathing came much easier to her.