Meena's Music Box
A small wooden box was encompassed by Meena's young hands, which were not visible within the long sleeves of the shirt that once belonged to her mother. Holding the box close to her, she climbed up on a chair and curled her knees beneath her so she could comfortably rest her elbows upon the old wooden table. She gently rested the box upon the tabletop before slowly lifting the lid.
Her long Vanguardian ears immediately heard a unique melody emitting from the old box. This melody was very familiar to the girl and the gentle song meant many things to the her, though none of which she could explain through words. Despite this, she was contented to sit in silence, revelling in the inexplicable comfort she felt as she listened to the tune.
The melody was as timeless as the old forested village she lived in. There was a peacefulness and placidity in it that reflected the atmosphere of her village, Whipple. She was accustomed to this peace, especially in the days when her parents were still alive. She felt as though if she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could almost travel back to the time on her birthday when her father first presented her with the music box, and she could still see the smile in his eyes as she held it carefully in her tiny hands, looking at this unique gift that was clearly special. Concentrating further, she could almost be taken back to the times when her mother used to hum along softly with the music box's melody as she tucked her into bed.
It was a soft melody, and it resonated quietly in the girl's mind as she rested her chin upon her folded hands on the table. She related to that softness, as she had always been a quiet and timid girl, blushing at the kind words of a stranger, and hesitating to respond during casual conversation. Even among her family she had a shy disposition, punctuated by a desire to please.
Ultimately, the melody emanated a simplistic beauty that perhaps only a child could truly appreciate. She was reminded of the thoughtful stranger who had taken it upon himself to fix her most prized possession. She was reminded of how her elder brother, Niklas, had tried to retrieve the stolen parts for the music box all by himself, and how he had done it just for her. She remembered how terrified she was of losing him, and how relieved she was when he returned safely.Nothing meant more to her than her brother, and she knew that nothing meant more to him than she. It was the love and beauty in their relationship that made life without her parents bearable.
Sudden tears welled in her eyes and clung to her eyelashes for a moment before dropping silently onto her shirtsleeve. They weren't tears of sadness or of happiness; they were simply tears of the various emotions stirred by the music box's song.
Meena closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, her dreams reflecting upon the thoughts and feelings brought about by her most precious treasure, her music box.
-Fin
A/N: I quite like little Meena, and I wish she had a larger part in the game. I guess you could say this is just my little tribute to her. This fic was definitely on the experimental side for me, I was attempting more poetic prose than what I have used in past fics. It was a good exercise, and though it is by far the shortest fic I have ever written, I think I like it. Feel free to review, thanks for reading!