conformity- compliance with standards, rules, or laws
The small bench is half rotten wood and greenish tinted metal. Someone ought to replace it.
Down to my feet, one of my uncle's dogs has rolled together content. The one missing an ear. I see the torn tissue twitch while he dreams for himself. I let him. For now, there is little to no reason for any safety measures and caution.
They follow me whenever he lets them. Perhaps it is because despite all my bitterness I treat animals mostly well. They give me something easily, without me demanding and using too much force, and they don't ask for more than the basic needs to survive in return. Commanding them is my second nature, and the dogs know it. The spiders are accompanying me today are the same as the day in the arena. One sits on my shoulder, the other has found its way into my lap.
Behind me lies the respectable sized house we all have taken in as our nest. Just as the bench, it needs some replacements here and there, but all in all, it is a pretty building with enough space to spend the summer in, when we all flow away from the capital.
I would rather be inside, in my own rooms as long as I can, but a duty is a duty.
There is some everyday business going on in the courtyard. I see the lurking security in the distance. No reason to overstep any lines here, but we do have visitors, and they ought to bring their own forces, just in case. If I had to choose an unassuming, save place, I would most likely choose Summerton and its surrounding province. Because nothing has happened in my time here except some humiliation and buckling at the feet of people.
Now though, only a few days from Queenstrial, I can almost taste the anticipation in the air.
I don't care too much wandering through the city itself, because I may be interested in some social activities and in partaking them, but I am not very capable to simply stroll along or sit somewhere and enjoy the oh so beautiful day.
The sun burns merciless and mocking on me.
Even with one layer of clothing less, I feel the sweat under my long sleeves and the upturned collar. My exposed skin feels burned already, my scalp tingles.
The girls are almost ethereal in their flimsy dresses and light shoes. My cousin wears her dark hair open over her shoulders. Her dress is a yellowish green.
Heron Welle is pretty as well, fine structured face and graceful limbs.
I watch them with a certain interest.
I never had many friends, really. Most people are going to try and befriend you for the benefit, not because of genuine interest. And who needs them?
Two, three close relationships, that was all I had my life long. By now, they have all been broken to pieces. I have nothing. And I don't need friends. I need someone I can rely on to be allied with.
I have no siblings. Maybe that just seals my deal as the lonesome widow. The closest I have come to an ally will perhaps be my cousins, but I can't count on them now. Half of them are Samos, Atara hates me and Larentia may have given me a loan of her time and patience, but I am far from restored to her grace.
Atara says something, Heron lets some green life flow out of a crack in the pathway, smiling and lazy. A pretty little flower.
I want to stab it with my heels, trample it into the ground.
They truly like each other, or at least they are good at pretending to. Atara is not as opposed to her as she is to me. I am burdened with their sheer mindlessness. But I let them. They spend time together when they shouldn't. They'll be no longer friends when both of them try to meet their Houses expectations.
Somehow that makes me satisfied. A little.
After a while, they notice me, sitting silently and sullen.
They could choose to ignore me, but perhaps they do have some respect left in their bones.
The dog opens one eye slow when Heron Welle comes closer, but shuts it again when he smells my cousin.
Atara wrinkles her pretty nose. She doesn't sit down beside me. "Putting spiders and bugs all over yourself again, cousin?"
"What can I say," I smile at her. "They make me feel irresistible."
Her eyes are vicious and slightly mocking in the light. Really, she can be a darling. "A good thing your fiance doesn't mind to share you with animals that have more than four legs."
I leave that unanswered.
Heron jumps right after Atara, but she sounds softer. Her eyes are blue and fluttering, large.
"I thought with the kind of animals you are surrounded, you'd like the heat."
Spiders can live in warm weather, and they aren't opposed to heat. I am .
"Spiders are cold-blooded." I look at the creature tingling on my lap up and down. "That much is true. And maybe you think they are useless."
She probably doesn't care about it, so I spare her the details.
The reason I like spiders of any kind, as much as most other insects are easy.
They have their methods to survive somehow.
The basic needs of survival and the very primal, but also the patient way they can act. I always wanted to be like that.
" But don't underestimate things in life, not spiders, not anything else," I sigh. No one ever listens to me. They should, especially after yesterday. "Just because something is small never makes it less dangerous."
Her sleek dark hair falls in flowing, elegant strands over her face when she moves her hand upwards. The dog makes a low noise at my feet.
At first, one crow lands in the tree. Then a second. A third flutters down on her arm. A murder of crows, I believe it is called when many birds gather.
I am unimpressed by three of them.
It takes a moment longer, and the whole tree croaks and makes noise.
"Birds eat bugs and spiders though," Atara answers too proud, hand caressing the dark sheen of feather.
"And sometimes it is the other way around," I answer, watching the black spider rubbing its legs on its underside, and I know if I wanted to, I could just let it jump in her face and her bird could do nothing. If sitting and watching Samson fight has bored me, this is even worse.
"We plan to visit the town later," Atara answers. "I don't suppose you want to join us?"
I am blinking into the sun like someone that has never seen it before and wants to forget it exists again, half blind. The dog growls. The spiders jump up, climbing on top of me again. I force my body up with the most grace I can muster.
"Let me have some words with your father, and then, maybe, after I have changed, I will reconsider the offer."
The small council of pettiness and anger, as I choose to call my elder ones, has made themselves comfortable in air-conditioned, confined seats.
One dark uniformed security officer gives me a long look.
"The situation is under control, I heard."
"Well, it is a good thing there have been no major damages to neither the palace nor in this...small incident in Summerton."
I listen closely. Something clearly is not right. An incident? I guess their little trip falls flat. What a shame.
Above my uncle's head hangs a banner in green and black, and the two remaining dogs let their tongues hang out when the third one joins again. Normally a good sign. It means he and my father have not yet started smashing their skulls on or hurl thinly veiled insults at each other.
"Daliah," I am greeted. "I suppose our guest and her host are fine?"
My heels click over the wood and stone.
"Enjoying one last breath before getting prepared. Father," I nod, take the empty seat to his right. "You don't look so content."
"A terrorist attack and some small incident in the city causing trouble," He simply states, rubbing above his temple with one ringed set of fingers.
"A terror attack?" I can't imagine what flurry that must cause, especially so close to our own special event.
A terror attack. Unlikely I ever thought that would be possible. Who would dare? It is madness. We are supposed to be untouchable.
"It is not like we know too much yet, so we may as well sit it out and watch for damage control if needed."
Since I am good at waiting things out, I agree.
"Keep watching Atara tomorrow. And make sure she's focused." As I wagered, just a watchdog to make sure the pride and glory of our family makes it through without damaging reputation. "And please stop wearing your widow's attire."
"I stopped wearing a veil and time for grieving is over," I answer. Easy truths. The next words are harder. They hurt my gums when I force them out. "I am agreeable to marrying Samson Merandus. So I am not sure what more you expect me to do."
"True, you have made remarkable progress back to your old self. Almost as if you didn't loose your mind and start that small feud with your deceased husband's family." My uncle sneers a little. There is the anger again.
I blink, wait, don't answer.
"You met with Larentia yesterday." My father has stopped massaging his temple.
It feels like an interrogation. I don't like that at all.
"My favorite cousin invited me. A little reunion."
"Well, it is good to know you are finally back. You are reasonably keen and calculated. Keep it that way."
I simply nod.
I get another almost ceremonial gesture from my uncle, the wave of a hand. Who knew someone could try to look regal doing it and fail. "You are dismissed."
"Of course," I only say.
"Get the girls in front of the screen, I am sure they want to watch the latest news and information too."
"Of course," I say one more time.