FIY: The way I spell Ceres rather then the Romanji version of Seras, is the Greco-Roman English way of spelling her name! So sorry for any one who was confused
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Its was a small book, more precisely a journal, with a fine leather binding and embellished designs of sweet flowers. Its was quite humbly packaged as it had laid on the table, unassuming and demure. If she hadn't been reminded of her birthday, the package would have sat quietly and unattended. She gently caressed the spine of the journal, opening the thin pages with care to not tear the delicate paper. The book smelled of old parchment and ink, but also faintly of the sickly sweet scent of her mother's favorite brand of cigars.
It had been one year, since her mother had passed away and many since her father had died. One year of living alone in a house, a manor, that was far to big without them. It had been many days of staying in her room, only venturing out to eat alone, to go out to garden alone, and to the cemetery alone. Only occasional had she afforded time, to go to the council meetings as her mother had before her, and as her grandfather had before her mother. Old men gabbing like housewives about nothing, they rarely had much to say then chauvinistic ideas and comments.
Truly the only person at her side, had been the woman she had know since her childhood.
Ceres Victoria, was quite the older sister to her and if it had not been for her, life would have been intolerable. So as of today it was her 14th birthday, and as of today only three things were quite unmistakably clear; Besides only having one person to cling onto in this world, she was alone; She meant nearly nothing to the people in this world; This one last gift, a mere journal, was the most valuable possession that could have existed.