Falcon 1
"Falcon. Falcon, get up. Falcon, did you hear me? Get up!"
Falcon arose, yawning, trudging sleepily into the corridor. Her long, tousled cedar-colored curls tumbled down her shoulders. Her real name was Cerulean Peace Skyranger, but for her excellent hunting skills was nicknamed "Falcon", and over the years people had gradually come to forget her real name, even her parents.
Now she leaned over the railings that prevented her from falling to the first floor. (Yes, her house was a double storied one.) "What's up, Mom? There isn't school today, nor church."
Her mother inclined her head to face her daughter, arms akimbo, staring evenly at her. Her doe-brown eyes were quizzical. "Have you forgotten? Today is the day of your final apprentice quest. We're going to have some visitors."
Oh, that quest. She remembered, all right. The whole town had been talking about it for ages. She was to escort Emilia, a girl born into a pure-blood line of archers but with no such skill of her own, to Ellinia, where perhaps she might be of use, as people who were not archers were of no use here. Emilia had been the scorn of her family and talk of the town.
Falcon felt just a tiny pang of pity for her as she went to take a bath. She herself did not need to worry, of course. She had been born with excellent prowess in archery, even though her parents were not archers themselves. Her mother was a swordswoman, her father a "magician" (in inverted commas because they all knew it was no more than sleight of hand). They had fallen in love in spite of all odds, and when they had found in their daughter a blazing interest in archery, they had moved here. Most townsfolk were friendly, but there was always the snobbish "pure-bloods". To be born into such a family with no skill of one's own – what misery! She was glad that she had the family that she had.
Her parents looked on with pride as their only daughter descended down the stairs. Seeing her in her full archer outfit was always a source of pleasure for them. The hunter's cap shadowed her innocent eyes, giving her an air of mystery. The ruffled collar lent her a sense of grandeur, while the puffed sleeves, tunic, leggings and hunter's boots were in accordance with the traditions of archers. The severe blues, greys and whites she was clad in told everyone that she was a force to be reckoned with. No longer was she the sleepy, sweet teenager she had woken up this morning. She was transformed into a strong, fierce warrior.
However, her offhand manner clearly gave away the good-humored girl in her, as she sat down to breakfast in the most unladylike fashion. Her father's intense ultramarine blue gaze met her own. Falcon had inherited her mother's unassuming cedar brown hair, but her eyes were her father's. "I hope you will take a more decent manner when our guests arrive," he said lightly.
Falcon laughed, a merry tinkling bell-like sound, and helped herself to breakfast. Breakfast was mint ice cream with white chocolate, peaches and blueberries on raisin bread. They were a family with strange tastes. However, no one seemed to eating much that morning, save for Falcon herself.
Then it arrived.