She plops down into bed. It's been a very long day, a very tedious one. It's late, almost midnight, but for some reason, she can't sleep.
She hates growing up. Puberty has taken upon itself the task of draining all her energy, all the time. She's gotten a bit taller, her limbs are lankier, and to cap it off, she's started to see tiny small red dots on her face. And they ITCH. Parts of her are growing at speeds she detests.
Her life is nothing short of a living hell.
She's read about this stage in a girl's life. She makes it her business to read about EVERYTHING. Apparently, something her body starts releasing called hormones could effect her behavior and the way her mind works. She hopes it won't make her act stupid or erratic. She hates it when that happens. O.k, so she admits that the rush of adrenaline she gets during fights is thrilling...but she doubts these high levels of testosterone and other chemicals will do the same thing.
Dark Ace isn't around. Off on another mission, not to return until the next day.
He could've helped. After all, he's already been through this whole growing up business. Granted, he's not female, but he's all she's got. It's not like she has a mother she can talk to...
Her mother. Hm. Lately, for some reason, she's been hoping for more female company. Her Nanny was sent away a while ago; she no longer needs her. Dark Ace is a good person to talk to, but he's a guy. And she's a girl. Even if she is a good fourteen years younger than him, it doesn't...click. She's considered the possibility of Ravess, but every conversation she holds with the female sharpshooter are strained and strictly on a master-servant basis. In hindsight, she probably deserves it after what happened last year at the birthday party.
Lark fidgets. Her entire body and mind wants to move, to fight, to run around like a maniac. She wonders if there are any sparring partners available at this time of night. Dark Ace still hasn't given her that spar he's promised her. She's beginning to think he's avoiding her. And with good reason.
Her father is ill. He's gotten worse, and even though he's carrying on with his duties as boldly as ever, everyone can tell that he's getting older. It'll be a few more years, tops, before he breaks down entirely. And then she'll take over.
Much as she hates to admit it, as soon as she becomes Master Cyclonis, Dark Ace will become no more than a servant. A high ranking one, but a servant nonetheless. And that is what their relationship will become: master-servant. He'll always hold something special inside her; he's the closest thing to a father or brother she's ever known. But there will come a day when he won't be able to call her Lark. And there will come a day when she will no longer be able to smile at his jokes, and he shall no longer be able to make them. No doubt his avoiding her is part of a preparation for the separation.
She's lost count of the times she has begged some unknown and nameless being for release. For a normal life. No imposing throne waiting for her. No high and dark title. She wants to enjoy her childhood while it lasts. She wants to be an average eleven year old. But she was never normal, never will be, never can be. Something inside her gnaws so hard it hurts, aches to be released. Perhaps it's the hormones speaking, but she wants something. Something she doesn't have a name for. And how can you find a piece of a broken heart? Didn't the ashes of a normal life scatter too long ago for her?
Her only friend, and she'll lose him in a couple years.
She remembers the night he told her she had stars in her eyes. The Cyclonis in her knows she's getting too old for such childish nonsense. So why does she still count the specks of light in her irises whenever he's out on a mission?
She's lonely and she knows it.
Wants company, a person who could understand every aspect of her life. And that included being a teenage girl. Would she ever find such a human being? Unlikely.
She pulled the covers over her slim body and listened to her stomach rumble. She remembers she hasn't eaten dinner. But she doesn't want to either. She's warm and comfortable; the urge to move has passed. Soon, her belly shuts up, and all she can hear is the rasp of her breathing, the pounding of her heart, and the rustle of a breeze that's decided to pay her chambers a visit.
She grows warm and tosses the sheets off, only to grow cold again. Mutters a few swear words, and her mind seems to clear. Pulls the covers over herself, but sticks a few limbs out to stay relatively cool.
What time is it? Does it matter? Probably not, but her curiosity is insatiable. She sits up from her comfortable position and looks at the clock. Reads twelve thirty. Only six more hours, and he'll be back. She can last six hours. Lies back down and tries to sleep. Even counts skoaks in her head. Counts backwards from a hundred, a thousand, a thousand five hundred...
Looks at the clock again. One in the morning. It's only been a half an hour?!
She gets up and paces.
Damn these stupid hormones.
Sits down at her desk and rests her cheek against her fist. Whistles some silly tune. Fiddles with her pen.
She gets back up and walks over to the balcony. Opens the rusty French doors. It's been a while since she's gone out there, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Wrapping a warm cloak around her shoulders, she glides out and leans on the railing. Looks up into the dark and starless sky. Sees nothing but red smog and black clouds. Looks down, sees the burning gold furnaces of the always working mines. It's beautiful, in a dark and dangerous sort of way.
Time passes, but she doesn't know how much. Stays out there for hours. Finally, the clouds begin to lighten, and the sun peeks out from the east. An endless horizon brightens with gold and pink. For a few brief moments, she catches a glimpse of the morning stars.
The door behind her opens. She turns to see a smiling face.
"I'm home," he says with a chuckle.
"I know you are." Surprises him with a grin.
They watch the sun rise.
