The morning light soaked through the gaps in Ana's velvety curtains like melted butter soaking into a slice of warm toast, waking her from her blissful sleep. Tousling her cropped, scarlet hair, Ana let out an almighty heave and stood up, pulling out whatever was on top of each of her drawers of clothing and throwing it atop her porcelain-smooth skin. As her eyes adjusted to the half-light, she noticed her mother had left a note in her trademark spider-scrawl handwriting; if Ana wasn't already used to the jumbled mish-mash of ink, it would have taken some sort of detective to decipher her mother's letter.
At work, sweetie. Breakfast is being kept warm in the oven. Sorry I couldn't be there to wish you luck, boss needed me to come in early. You can always write me a letter if you need me. Love you, my little rose.
Love, Mom.
P.S. please don't worry yourself looking for your viola. I've had it sent over already, marked as fragile.
Ana nodded sagely at the letter, and stuffed it into the chest pocket of her black denim jacket, covered in countless patches and badges of all sorts of bands and causes. "Faunus Lives Matter", "Trans Rights are Human Rights", and "Enter Shikari" screamed her left lapel, while her right offered the sage words of "Fuck Capitalism", "I Want Hugs", and "Halftones". She put a little gel in her hair, slicking it back into a rather business-like style, before hastily throwing on her eyeliner in the mirror, and heading downstairs to eat breakfast and make her way to the field she was getting picked up from.
Ana's stop was the second on the flight, coming straight after the stop on Patch. Truth be told, it was little more than a short hop over the Strait of Anamacha from Patch to Ana's town of Todoro, but it still was due to take the ship twenty minutes to go between the two stops. With that sort of glacial pace, Ana thought to herself, I might not even make it to the three o'clock welcome assembly. I see this as an absolute win.
Before that, of course, she had to get herself ready to leave the house. She opened the black glass door of the modern oven, and found a warm plate of griddle cakes inside. She pulled the plate out and onto the kitchen worktop quickly, but not quickly enough to stop the tips of her fingers turning an angry red. From the cupboard, she grabbed a bottle of syrup and icing sugar, and from the fridge, a few raspberries. She sprinkled the raspberries on first, before spreading a little icing sugar around and drenching the whole thing in syrup before setting herself down at the table to fill her impatient stomach.
With her first forkful of griddle cake, the pure sweetness rippled over her tongue in a way that would be overbearing were it not for the tartness of the raspberries cutting through the sugar and syrup. Of course, breakfast alone was something of a non-event for Ana. Breakfast alone, as you may or may not know, tends to be something of a non-event for all of us.
After scrubbing her hastily finished plate in the sink and leaving it on the wooden rack to drip-dry, Ana put her leather backpack on, sliding the straps under the jangly, heavily-badged lapels of her jacket, and slipped her weapon- created by the local blacksmith Milan- into a leather holster over her shoulder, leaving it fully transformed into shotgun mode. She opened up the door and plucked the head off a rose in her front garden, placing it in her hair. I look good, she thought to herself as she admired her slightly distorted reflection in the living room window.
Ana had made sure to make a note of where in Todoro she needed to go in order to catch the ship bound for Beacon Academy- namely the large patch of brownfield wasteland behind the local brewery, named "Schitt's Field" after brewery owner Leonard Schitt, and nicknamed something very easy to imagine by the locals, who were not pleased with the waste of good ground. Indeed, the debris and asbestos from the building that previously sat on Schitt's Field had, for the most part, just moved into the immediately neighbouring Tamnoplava River, which- much like a baby's eyes- had changed in colour from an inviting, gorgeous blue to a distressing, deeply unpleasant brown colour.
Luckily for Ana, Schitt's Field was little more than a five minute stroll away from her family's modestly-sized home, and allowed her to take the pedestrian-only tracks she so loved to walk along on her own, especially when looking for inspiration for either art or lyrics for her indie band- she was the singer of a local group known as Balkan Buddies, with her friends Milan Inte and Calista Fengarilou. She made her way along the dirt tracks, looking at the way the low morning sunshine shone through the gaps in the trees, and made abstract shapes dance around her double denim pants and jacket combo. Whistling a tune of her own invention, she made good time toward the field where she had previously led a protest against the continued dumping of asbestos, concrete, and other assorted crap into the Tamnoplava.
Rounding the last corner, she came to the old, but still sturdy, wooden stile that allowed access into Schitt's Field whilst still keeping it fenced off, as it had been when it had housed the bottling plant of the brewery. Nowadays, however, the bottling plant had been moved a few miles away to the neighbouring town of Hatari, where it had been immediately pelted with rocks by the vehemently anti-corporate residents. Reaching the middle of the field, close to where one would logically expect the ship to land, Ana sat down and stretched out her long legs, closing her eyes and simply listening around her for inspiration.
YOU ARE READING
Call Of Destiny
FanfictionIt's time for Beacon Academy to take in its new students and, as is the case every year, there are liable to be some teething pains for the new students, be they rich or poor, black or white. Destiny, of course, will sooner or later claim them all.
