World of Hiroku

8. poisoned flowers

Celeste had a thing for appearances. Her presence dared for people touch or make any action at all. Their words caught in the back of their throats, visibly shocked as she stared ahead. Celeste didn't flinch when they called her a verco. 

"Verco," Willow repeated to herself, unsure of it actual meaning. She only heard the word from Yareli when she talked about Gina. Willow touched the gold plate under her fingers and traced the sharp edges of a ruby embedded into it. The jewels felt ablaze under her soft skin and filled her mind with flashes.

The horse trampled through the snow quickly and took a turn for the port town. Willow shifted from behind Celeste and lowered her head, sliding her arms deep into the cloak. Celeste stayed to edge and avoided the bustling center swarmed with faces. Through and deep dark alley with towering buildings, she halted the horse in front of a dark oak door. Large cargo boxes labeled in print stacked around the door.

Celeste hopped off the horse and turned to look up at Willow. She jumped down with ease as her bare feet hit the cold cobble stone with an eerie quietness. Celeste took the iron handle centered on the door, with a large push it opens into a dimly lit warm room. Willow stepped on to the warmed floor behind her.

It smelt like burning cedar. To her right was a large fire place with a cast iron pot boiling away over it. A fur rug sat in front of it. To Willow's left was a kitchen and a narrow stairway. In front of her, book shelves lined the walls filled with scrolls, books, and charms. Strings of sage and rosemary hung from the ceiling. 

An older man sat in the chair knitting something. With his small glasses he looked up and grinned. "Jenit will be here soon. She went out for moss," he said, then continued to knit. 

Five chairs encompassed the table in the center of the kitchen. The potted plant in the center bloomed blue flowers and curling vines. A lucot flower, Willow beamed. It was missing its tree but there the flower was, living and thriving without its trunk. How? Lucots cannot be harvested or live any where past the jungle islands.

Willow touched its leaves, bumpy underneath. It's dying. Willow lifted the leaves to see the yellow bumps that lined the bottom. The plant caught a bug and needed to be burned before it turned the roots forever sour, poisonous to the soil it grew in.

Someone busted through the door, bringing in a large gust of cold wind.

"Samuel have you prepared the bags? We only have a few more hours before it is dark enough to leave and-" she stopped like the air out of body  had been sucked out.

I assume this is Jenit. Willow thought, observing her wavy brown hair and fair skin. Her amber eyes looked unwavering. She stood still for moment then closed the door promptly behind her, locking it with two iron bolts. An awe struck over her face as she looked at Willow.

"How beautiful you are, my my I didn't believe it when I first heard he dragged you in on chains. But here you are, and alive! Such an honor to finally meet a Well-o-itz." She bowed her head down. The name of Willow's people sounded strange on her tongue. It wasn't something she was used to hearing from others. Jenit slowly walked to Willow and pulled down the hood of the cloak. She gingerly touched her hair and looked at her large eyes. "Truly beautiful," she added.

"I have so many questions to ask about your people. The other jungle tribes you know, how you survive there... How you gain your powers," She all stated in one breath.

"Glad to see the world is still unable to enter and is baffled by its creatures," Willow replied, staring intently into her eyes. 

Janice nodded her head slowly, looking down and turned to the older man, Samuel. He didn't notice and continued to knit away, clicking the metal sticks together as loops seemed to grow to an infinite number.

"Well you all must be hungry. Rumors and news are already spreading and it's hard to tell what is true but with you standing in my house I can now tell which ones are not the lies." She spoke all in one breath once again, barely taking the time pause. It's as if she didn't say everything in one go she'd miss a detail. Jenit smiled, trying to be a good host to her strange house guests. 

Willow's feet and legs are horribly sore as the feeling the pain from running and climbing begin to truly set it. Luckily, the cloak and her velvet dress covered her skin, hiding most of her fear from these people.

They are not your people. Keep your circle small. She thought, quoting the words from home.

As Jenit turned away to the burning cedar Willow noticed the unnatural glimmer of her one brown eye. It's pupil was dark like coal and the the iris filled with the same taupe color ringed with hazel. It was unmoving and seemed to stare just beyond when she gazed.

Celeste moved a chair from the table and motioned Willow to sit, her hand covered in tiny slashes and already beginning to scab over. Her brown hair is tangled and cut bluntly above her shoulders. Willows takes a seat, tireless despite her obvious fatigue. 

Jenit places a wooden bowl full of soup in front of her. A spoon carved from ivory, fixed with purple amethyst that twisted up at the handle, sat inside the bowl. Willow peered at the soup which reflected her green eyes, the broth almost the same yellow as Celeste eyes.

"I'll run a bath. Eat as much as you'd like. And oh here-" she reached on the mantel of the fireplace and picked up two bread buns, "for the soup and to fill your stomach. You'll need all the energy you can get." Her brown eye is large, the other squinted with the rising of her cheek and turn of her lips. She disappeared into the creaking narrow staircase.

Celeste glanced up at Willow who has not even touched her spoon to begin eating and sighed.

Needles stopped clicking in the background and muffled noises of groaning happen as the squeak in Samuel's chair rose. A lock clicked, the soft opening and closing of a door before his coughs disappeared into another room.

"Willow you must eat," Celeste told her, picking bits and pieces from her loaf. Willow had expected as much.

"Something is wrong. I can feel it."She replied, the muffled sounds of flowing water above them fill the silence. Celeste raised a brow and leaned over the table closer to her. 

"You don't have to worry, these people want us safe," Celeste whispered softly. Her breath is warm and smells of yeast.

The lucot at the center of the table grabbed Willow's attention once more, feeling its petals' rough bumps. Celeste watched her, taken aback from her actions.

"Disease everywhere," She said, staring blankly into its center.