Chelsea rose early to begin her chores-today included chopping up lumber.
Her forehead beaded with sweat with every swing of the axe, but each one guaranteed more lumber for her, so she merrily did the work. Before long, she was humming a sweet melody. Not certain of the entire movement, she created each verse as it came and drew it out softly. Even in this lack of knowledge she found no oddity to how severe her amnesia really was. She'd forgotten everything, even simple songs.
On and on she worked until the sun had passed its zenith and her weary body gave way to the pressure. Axe in hand, she crumpled onto the dirt, lucky that she'd finished storing the lumber she'd cut.
Thank goodness Gannon set up plumbing, she thought as she imagined the bliss of a shower. He'd installed it for free, insisting she was one of the nicer folk in town. Now she dragged herself back to her home and flopped into the shower immediately, eager to wash away her engulfing torpor. As cold as possible, she stood in the shower until her body had emitted the extra heat of exertion and gave a slight shiver. Then, simply, she wrapped herself in a robe-a gift from the others due to her 'traumatic' situation, as they called it-and washed her hands deliberately in the sink.
Julia smirked, heading up to Chelsea's door with her stubborn companion, a cynical man who rarely offered so much as a smile. The blond was eager for him to meet Chelsea and had forced him to come after brief threats to his mental health.
The white-haired, amethyst-eyed cowboy sighed often, but never gave a word of complaint, knowing what Julia was capable of. She was sickening and manipulative when she wanted to be.
Julia rapped on the door only twice before just barging in, leaving the cowboy in the dust behind her swift figure. He dared not go in-he hadn't planned to anyway. All he had to do was glance and leave.
Almost instantaneously, a shriek sounded from inside, followed by a mortified, "JULIA!"
He waited absently, frowning distastefully. He could relate to her barging in, and he'd screamed at her on multiple occasions. Julia laughed from inside the house evilly.
"Sorry, Chels. That was too funny!"
"That was not funny," a dark voice growled homicidally. Chelsea's tone amused him ever-so slightly. "If you ever, ever do that again..." She didn't finished her comment. "What was so freaking important?"
"I wanted you to meet someone!"
"Now?"
"Yeah, come on, you're decent enough."
"Fine."
Chelsea walked out the door and nearly rammed into the cowboy.
"Whoops," she stated blankly before looking up at him and regaining her footing. He enraptured her attention effortlessly and she stared at him meekly. She swallowed the saliva in her mouth.
"This is Vaughn," Julia informed, swaying back and forth with his hands behind her back.
Chelsea was a mess. Her hair awfully fell around her face, neglected completely. Dark bags shaded her eyes and her entire face was dappled in red from her constantly wiping away sweat. Frail and only wearing a bathrobe, Vaughn glanced skeptically at her. However, to her, his glare was wrapped and presented in ice.
He was marvelous. More than marvelous. His hair was silvery yet thick, a sign of youth despite the shaggy gray ends. His eyes gleamed daringly in the lack of light, due to his black Stenson. He pulled it down to cover most of his eyes.
"I'm leaving," her pronounced. His voice was low and untamed. Chelsea's breathing faltered at the sound of it.
"Oh, no you're not!" Julia countered, catching him by the arm. "I said visit, not just look at her. Trust me, you'll love her."
He grumbled distastefully as she lead him inside Chelsea's house. The unaware hostess sullenly murmured under her breath.
Julia sat Vaughn down at the table. He looked intensely in pain or if he were being tortured by her as he complied. Chelsea weakly circumvented the small table, keeping her distance from the ominous man.
Meanwhile, the peppy blond danced around Chelsea's kitchen like she owned the place, searching for glasses. She'd known her for what, four days? And this was the second time she'd ever been in her house? Goddess, Julia was demanding. Furtively, Chelsea's attention returned to the cowboy.
"Stop," he demanded roughly.
Chelsea didn't reply, startled.
"Staring at me." A narrowed amethyst eye glowered at her through his silvery hair. Her own eyes darted away obediently as Julia complained, "Vaughn, you're a horrible guest."
"Guess I shouldn't have come then," he replied brusquely, gruffly. Chelsea gawked at Julia, choking on a lump in her throat that appeared with his words. His figure vanished behind the doorway incomprehensibly swiftly-in only a second-with a tense, lanky stride.
He had a deep, intense voice that made her shutter. And his appearance wasn't exactly helping with that; he looked brutal with that lancing amethyst gaze of his.
"Is he always like this?" she asked numbly, running her stone-cold fingers up and down her arms.
"He's not usually this bad. Guess he's not really into this whole island thing."
Chelsea pursed her chilled, chapped lips. "Where does he live?"
"With us," the blond explained. Noticing Chelsea's composure and pale complexion, she added, "Only on Wednesdays and Thursdays though."
Chelsea breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief. Something about that guy. His glare, his body language just terrified her to the core. She trembled viciously as she imagined his strange purple-hued eyes, glaring, boring into her like a drill bit entwining itself into soft pine, leaving a large, uncomfortable wound. For the first time she felt fear, and she wandered over to her bed before coiling herself tightly in the covers.
"He really did a number on you that quickly?"
She put on a passive expression. "I'm just cold, Julia. But I am sort of rattled. I've never met anyone that blunt."
Julia chewed her lip and placed her hands sassily on her hips, contemplating. "I don't think I've really seen him act that badly in a while. Sorry. I just wanted you to meet people."
"S'alright," Chelsea murmured, blank.
Despite the strange encounter, Chelsea recovered within the hour and retreated to her fields to water the turnips. (She'd done this earlier in the day too, but after testing the dehydrated soil with a fingertip, she decided another watering couldn't hurt.) It was tedious, going back and forth from the spring to the field to refill and water, but hey, she had all the time in the world.
As she watered the plants, she smiled without regret. The little things had begun to poke their heads out of the soil, and they were a lush verdant hue. She imaged once she began harvest, she'd be overjoyed. She could tell they would be perfect. Before long, she'd finished watering the few of them.
Now today was particularly hot, especially for the early springtime. Perhaps she was a person better adapted to the cold? Anyway, she wiped the sweat from her brow and peered off to the run-down coop and barn. It intrigued her that they were still standing in their condition, but that was just fine-sturdy foundation couldn't be a bad thing.
She frowned at the thought of herself being penniless and not being able to afford a revamp for the buildings. For the past while, Taro's family had been aiding in feeding her, but she often skipped meals, insisting they were too generous and went to forage. She'd yet to find anything, but at least she had a start, and once the nuts and berries had begun growing, she could make a little money by shipping them in the bin Taro had set up on her farm, next to the house. Sure, it wouldn't be enough to support herself properly, but any was good in her mind.
The sun barely shined through the trees bordering her farm now, and it seemed as if they were ablaze with the unique crimson-copper fusion the sunset emitted each day. She really adored the colors, and laid down on the grass to watch the pink clouds until they faded into the midnight blue of the evening.
But here, even the moon shone wonderfully. And all the stars. Chelsea wondered what it would be like to see them in the city. Would it be the same? Bleakly, her mind brewed an image of a crude, starless night, one where she couldn't pluck out the gleaming constellations. Quickly though she shook away that thought and focused on drawing imaginary lines in the sky.
Chelsea awoke dizzily the next day from dozing off on the rough, hard ground without support for her head. Yawning groggily, she propped herself up and rubbed her aching muscles. However, she couldn't do so for long. She had grown extremely tense and tender along her back, so her massage seemed to be more of a pain than an aid.
She knew better. Sucking it up, she limply made her way back to the house and thoroughly rubbed her back wherever she could reach, but sadly, her arms were only so flexible and she settled.
Today seemed much more sullen than the previous. She loomed rather than skipped around the farm, re-watering the crops which were again dry. And she hummed to the sky, wondering why the world felt this way.
A/N;
Who am I writing for? Myself? Well, I have a great many things now circumventing my interest. Harvest Moon lingers far though. I've lost motivation.