Calla Juniper- The Ever So Enchanting Graceling
Breathe, Calla, breathe. These people don't intend on harming you. Your grace has just cursed you again. No need to desperately hyperventilate. "You, with the pink and grey eyes, your name?", he almost shouted. "Calla, but it means nothing, I come in peace. My grace is of no harm to you." His gruff tone lessened, "I suppose you would like a room for the night? Lady Calla." "Yes, I do suppose that would be nice", my fast answer was carefully worded, for I was determined to harm no one with the nature of my grace. I just wanted to not be harassed by strangers, so they believe I mean no harm. Which I don't, it just isn't that believable for a graceling. His blue eyes reminded me of my very own before they settled. Ashy blue like the juniper berries, my original first name. My mother tended to name her children as plants, based on the color of their irises. My original name, Juniper, was replaced by Calla on my first birthday, and moved to my middle name. Calla symbolized the pink of the Calla Lilly found in my left eye; it was quite the rosy sunset color. I abandoned my last name. It had always sounded foreign when sounded by my tongue.
I realized I had hopelessly been staring there into his eyes, reminded of a past where I was normal, could live without being despised by the public. A Lienid outcast. "Sorry, your eyes reminded me of my tragic past. No need to question, for you will get no answer. Will you be kind and show me to my quarters?", I abruptly stated and watched his quite confused reaction. "Yes, Lady Calla, I will be more than happy to." , Raben stated back generously. "Raben, the hand maiden told me your name. So don't be confused. And you may call me simply Calla, for I do not acquire the manners of a lady." He stared at me dumbfounded and I took that he didn't feel like answering. "Raben, my grace is quite strikingly similar to that of King Leck's fifty years ago. But his was terribly stronger, as it was often practiced. I remain hostile in the purpose of not enchanting people." I pressed for an answer in my gaze that met his cobalt eyes. Shorter than him, I wasn't very intimidating. With my light reddish brown hair and slightly curvy figure, I was quite the opposite. People considered me beautiful, but I always rejected it. I hated the fact that my grace was controlling my appearance. "Simply Calla, you are quite generous in the way that you could do tragic things and choose not to." I nodded in approval and sunk into the depth of my assigned quarters. Not acknowledging my surroundings, I plastered myself onto the cushiony bed and yanked out my diary, pen, and dagger; just in case somebody intruded.
Dear Myself(Calla Juniper of Lienid),
Great seas, this is the only way I can talk without my grace being involved. Raben is quite nice and well mannered, but easily enchanted. I will need to fix that if he is to be told about Ferns murder. He will be enchanted to pity, and that would be a pity for I feel like pitying, for he will not be able to think apart from his mourning. Fern. Seas, I miss her as much as my Juniper eyes, multiplied by the number of people in the seven kingdoms. Her murder drove me to insanity; I actually talked after it. Talking is insane. When I was younger everyone was lucky if they got a singular word out of me in the whole day. Oh I remember when I was younger, eight years ago. I was seven and so was Fern. Fraternal replicas, they called us. Same day, year, time, but everything else was different. We were both quite outgoing, we were. Then soon after we both turned five, the nature of my grace shocked me into muteness and introverted me. Fern was the loud outgoing one and I was her opposite. With her mossy green eyes and her ivy like black hair and olive skin she differed from my auburn hair, mismatched eyes, sharp features and fair skin. She was my everything. And I was her company. Though many seeked her company, she sought for me, the mute. I enjoyed listening to her stories, her adventures, but she was delicate; she wouldn't harm an ant. We galloped on our fantasy horses through the Lienid beaches. I would give anything for those days again. Laughing on the beach and coming back caked in sand was our reputation to our mother. One night, ah I remember that night. The night I found comfort in almost drowning myself. When the murderer entered our household, I was at the sea, retrieving my dropped hair ribbon. Fern and my mother were supposedly having tea, but when I returned, not one breath left in them. They died a tragic death, strangulation was cleaner than others but longer and more agonizing. I wept for them, lying there on the floor. I summoned the police to further investigate, and me, the graceling, was charged with murder. Murder! I had thought to myself. If you had only known the way Fern and I were. Inseparable. She was like my left, pink eye, strong and bright. Me, still smart, was the gray one. I had no character. The agony of my diagnosis drove me to suicide, the ocean seemed the only option. My reflection was in the water. And the effect my grace had on myself enchanted me to stay alive. I rewrite this story every night, remembering my will to avenge my sister's death. She deserves it. The murderer has probably not met the likings of my grace. And I will not be ashamed to use it on him.
And then I drifted to sleep, gripping my dagger so hard purple marks formed on my fair, fraternal hands.