It's been awhile since I've written anything for this fandom. I don't know where this came from, but I wanted to write it anyway. I'd like to do more Simoun stuff, but we'll see how that one pans out.

Edit: I just realized that this was uploaded on my 11th anniversary on . I'd nearly forgotten about that! So... here's to 11 more years?

She stood on the edge of the forest, looking at the ranch-style home in the distance. She was torn between staying where she was and going inside the home. From what she had seen already, many years had passed since she'd last been here. It had been her home, her one place where she'd felt safe after a turbulent early childhood. It was the place where the one she had loved most had lived, worked, and taught her ideals that had stayed with her. As a child they had merely been fanciful stories, but as she had gotten older they were lessons to live by, a sort of moral code.

"Grandpa…" she murmured softly, feeling her heart contract. It still hurt so much at times to think of the man who had raised her. He had never seen his dream realized, and she wondered if somehow, he knew that she had accomplished it. Was there a way for the dead to know? Religious teachings said so, but she wasn't sure how much of that she could believe. Where did one draw the line between truth and fancy?

Her feet made the decision for her. Without thinking, she had begun moving forward, climbing the slight slope. She could easily turn back now. She could hop back in the Simoun and fly away, hoping to return at a later time. Perhaps she'd be able to handle her emotions then. She shook her head. No. She had to do this now.

She kept careful watch for anyone who might be around as she climbed the steps onto the front porch. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the wooden posts and the steps creaked under her weight. Old leaves were scattered and crunched beneath her feet. It seemed as though no one had bothered the place since she had left. She crept closer to the door and brushed the grim off of the window, peering inside.

The inside appeared to be just as abandoned as the outside. Placing a hand on the door knob, she turned, but found the door would not open. Of course, she'd locked the door the day she'd left, and the key had since been lost. It seemed wrong to break the door or a window just to get inside. Instead, she looked more closely at the interior.

There was the fireplace and her grandpa's rocking chair. He'd told her story after story each night. She begged him for more, and often fell asleep in his arms. Her favorite stories were the stories that involved the Simoun and flying. She couldn't recall a time that she didn't want to fly. The sky called her name, and she had readily answered that call, doing all she could to make it a reality. She was at peace when she was in the sky, and more so because she her pair had helped her fly higher than she had once imagined possible.

She turned her head to the left and recalled the many dinners shared at the small wooden table. Her grandpa would often allow her to open the nearby window to let the breeze in. Of course, she remembered the dinner she'd made just for him. They'd gathered at the table and her grandpa had dug in. He had no sooner done that than he spit out the food he'd eaten. She remembered that she'd added sugar instead of salt. Green beans had never tasted quite the same to her grandpa ever again.

Though she couldn't see it, she remembered the little hallway that led to her bedroom. A rather large window rested beside her bed, which she kept open as often as the weather allowed. Every night, her grandpa left his music box with her. If the wind blew just so, she would leave it on the window sill and fall asleep listening to the soft notes. The music would comfort her if she awoke from a nightmare or couldn't sleep. It was always there with her, a security in the darkness.

Across the hallway from her bedroom had been her grandpa's room. It was not a place she often remembered going. Her grandpa always kept the door closed and even in later years, she had not crossed the threshold, fearing that she was trespassing on something that would better be left alone. She could not remember much about the room, except that it was always dark if she ever went inside. He never opened the curtains to let the sunshine in.

The one room she had avoided on her mental tour of the house had been the kitchen. It was her least favorite room, for it held the least favorite of all her memories. She could still remember the day she'd come home, looking for her grandpa. He hadn't been well then, but she'd always figured he'd get better. He had always taken care of her, and she was happy to do the same for him. She never thought that she'd open the door and find him sprawled on the kitchen floor. The day she lost her grandpa was the day she'd never forget, no matter how many years she traveled through eternity. For a long time, she didn't want to believe that he was truly gone. He was just away for a time, and would return soon. It was delusional comfort at best.

She jumped when she felt a hand upon her back and turned quickly, uncertain of what she'd find. After all, she was in a place that she hadn't been for years. A villager may have…

"Did you find what you were looking for?" whispered a soft voice. She recognized it as Neviril immediately and relaxed.

All she could do was nod in return. Her eyes looked toward the sky, and she wondered if her grandpa could see her. The priestesses all said something about loving ones watching over the living, but she wasn't sure if she believed that. It did, however, feel comforting to think that her grandpa might be watching over her.

"Let's go, Neviril. I just want to fly."

As the Simoun hovered over the landscape, she looked down at her grandpa's house, now just a speck on the horizon. It had been her childhood home, and even after today's visit, it still felt as though she belonged there. The place was tied to her, and she didn't want to let it go just yet. All she could hope is that it would remain and survive the passage of time so that she might return home, just one more time.