A/N:
Written for the Caesar's Palace Prompts (stained glass, sea glass).
Written for Caesar's Palace's Challenges by the Dozens challenge (write about your favorite character[s]).
Written for Caesar's Palace's Ship Week, Day 1 (Love).
Word count: 505
They're standing side by side in church as their parents surround them, singing hymns that echo off the ceiling, back into their heads, and right back out. Fynn's tugs on her left pigtail before quickly clasping his hands in front of him and turning his head to pretend that his sister did it. Anna gives him a one over, decides he's not suspicious, and turns to Sandy to start to start something. The two barely get a word each out of their mouths before both Anna's parents and Fynn's parents turn around to hush them both. It's routine now.
Fynn smiles mischievously and wonders if he should ever give away his little secret, all the while mouthing vowels to words he doesn't understand. He would sing, but he doesn't like to be out of tune, and he always is. Anna sings loudly, unafraid of wailing. Fynn supposes the rest of the congregation wouldn't mind too much since they had once dealt with her shrieks as a baby. It's routine now.
A little further into the sermon, the children stare at the stained glass as the minister retells the stories painted on each one, and today, the star in focus is the purple one that glows like the outer rings of a sunset.
"And Jesus asked, 'Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?'"
Each consonant rattles Fynn's ears, and he hears half of the stories being told; sometimes he can't be bothered to understand more. Fynn snorts; he can tell what's right from wrong, before he gives Anna's dress a little tug. It's routine now.
Then the storm comes with angry arms that swipe everything into the sea. It breaks the shore; it breaks the church; it breaks the heart of the congregation. But when the storm finally breaks, the church is gone, and that isn't very routine at all.
Two hundred years later, a small boy and a small girl very much like Fynn and Anna, him with a quick hand keen for picking out the sparkles between the rocks, and her with a pouch woven like braids, stroll the pebbled beach to look for sea glass. The sun is only a few finger or two widths away from the shoreline, and they know they need to be getting home soon. It's dinner time, and shells aren't too edible.
"Look at this! It's so pretty!"
The sun is high when he spots it, and this piece is no ordinary piece. It's not green like the remnants of a beer bottle or brown like the fragments of a pop drink. It's a gentle purple that reminds him of hugs and flower petals.
His partner in crime runs over to see what in the world the commotion is about, and he tugs on her basket to put in the newly found dragon scale.
