Corbie would like to say that after so many arrival days, you got a sense of when someone was coming and when they weren't, but the truth was, you had no damn idea. That and the possible stimulation of meeting a new person, it got a body busy. People were in their usual places even if that meant ‘the hell away from the inn’ because some just didn’t want to do the new people thing. Today felt different, though. And after a moment, she realized why.
It was May fifteenth. The anniversary of when she’d stumbled through to this tiny, enclosed world.
She had been here for an entire fucking indiction.
Already feeling off, from there Corbie became downright listless. Gran would be ashamed, she knew. Corbie had been raised to believe that working was better than worrying, that staying occupied at least filled time with something useful while idly moping or fretting was an indulgence they couldn’t afford. And it had been. At home, she would never have been able or allowed to sit idle when there was so much to be done.
Today, though, the weight of ‘what’s the point?’ had gotten to her. She was sitting in the cafe with what was supposed to be lunch—technically breakfast, since she hadn’t eaten yet today—and found she still had no appetite. She wanted to eat. But just the thought of swallowing around what seemed like was becoming a fixed lump in her throat was tiring.
She pushed the plate away, folded her arms, put her head down, and closed her eyes. She missed her friends and her teachers. She missed church and the crowds of cities. She missed knowing where she was and what her place was there. She missed Felix so much, it felt like she’d never breathe right again.
After a while her fingers began to move as though over a string of beads, over a coraline she’d left behind, lips moving in murmured prayer, “I believe in the great Lady, She who waits behind all things...”
Corbie - OTA
It was May fifteenth. The anniversary of when she’d stumbled through to this tiny, enclosed world.
She had been here for an entire fucking indiction.
Already feeling off, from there Corbie became downright listless. Gran would be ashamed, she knew. Corbie had been raised to believe that working was better than worrying, that staying occupied at least filled time with something useful while idly moping or fretting was an indulgence they couldn’t afford. And it had been. At home, she would never have been able or allowed to sit idle when there was so much to be done.
Today, though, the weight of ‘what’s the point?’ had gotten to her. She was sitting in the cafe with what was supposed to be lunch—technically breakfast, since she hadn’t eaten yet today—and found she still had no appetite. She wanted to eat. But just the thought of swallowing around what seemed like was becoming a fixed lump in her throat was tiring.
She pushed the plate away, folded her arms, put her head down, and closed her eyes. She missed her friends and her teachers. She missed church and the crowds of cities. She missed knowing where she was and what her place was there. She missed Felix so much, it felt like she’d never breathe right again.
After a while her fingers began to move as though over a string of beads, over a coraline she’d left behind, lips moving in murmured prayer, “I believe in the great Lady, She who waits behind all things...”