I know. I haven't posted anything in forever. Sorry.
This is a very sad story. The inspiration for it was just as depressing.
It's one week from being a year to the day that my best friend's father died. Her mother was on her way to work this morning and a psychic medium friend of the family stopped her with a message, said that Eldon was watching them and learning to use butterflies to communicate. Kairi told me about it a few hours ago, and she told me of two instances where she broke down (the first time, she found a dead butterfly which she decided on a whim to keep, since its wings were in good condition, and the second, she was distract from her frustration by a large swallowtail). This story was born of that.
This has two (very short) chapters, both of which I'm posting right now. Also, this story assumes it was Luke who returned at the end, not Asch.
I'd tell you to enjoy it, but, like 'To Disappear,' it's a bit sad for that.
The Old Woman
The old woman is tired.
It isn't a new feeling. She's felt tired for more years than she can be bothered to count. So she sits down on the stairs and takes a few minutes to breath. It usually helps.
"Are you alright, ma'am?"
The elder looks up, and smiles at the worried face in front of her. Young, and dressed like nobility, but still genuinely worried about a tired old woman. "Yes, dear. I'm just tired," she says. The girl... no, the elder stops herself. The young woman relaxes.
"I can carry your bag for you if it's too heavy."
The elder lets out a small laugh. "Ah, it's fine. I just need to rest for a bit. But humor an old bag of bones, if you will. What's a young lady like yourself doing down here on the lower levels of Baticul?"
The woman sighs, and sits next to the elder. "My cousin is getting married next week. I should be happy for him, but..."
The elder nods. "I see. And you've no one to turn to yourself, eh?"
The woman pushes blonde hair behind her ear. "He's... in Grand Chokmah. And... Father still hasn't made up his mind on whether to accept his proposal."
The elder nods again, then pauses as something starts to tickle at her mind. The feeling becomes stronger and stronger the more she tries to ignore it, and she sighs. "Someone has a message for you, child," she says. The blonde looks at her in surprise, and the old woman smiles sadly. "I'm a medium, dear. I usually pass on the messages anonymously, but someone is being very insistent."
The woman looks hesitant, but she nods. "Alright."
"The messages come in series of images that make no sense to me, but which are easy for the recipient to interpret," the elder warns. Then she takes a deep breath, and stops blocking the tickling feeling. "A dying fire. Ashes. A bloody sword. An island... Hod, I think. The sun setting over the ocean," the woman says slowly, a pause between each image she describes, before she gasps lightly. "A path of butterflies," she whispers. "I haven't seen butterflies since..."
"Since?" the young woman asks, her voice close to breaking. It seems the message means much to her.
The old woman smiled sadly. "Since my father died when I was eighteen."
The blonde gasps, and then looks away, unable to hold those knowing hazel eyes any longer. The elder hums.
"A path of butterflies... I know what that one represents," she says after a while. "When you need guidance the most, look around. More often than not, there will be a butterfly nearby to set you back on course. But the blue butterfly, especially. If it seeks you out, follow it. For it is also a messenger."
The blonde looks up at the elder after a few moments, and a shaky smile crosses her lips. "Thank you."
The old woman smiles back and stands, slowly, picking up her bag. "I'm always happy to pass on the messages of those beyond our reach. Thank you, child, for listening."