Fairy Tale in Blue
by Cryptographic DeLurk
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AN: I decided to come up with some Leena crackships because I wanted to try to move away from the Kid-Leena-Serge triang a bit, so I listened to my heart and my heart said 'milfs' so here's some of Leena and Macha in Guldove. Read & Relax.
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Once upon a time, when Leena was a little girl, a tropical hurricane came in to buffet Anri with wind and rain. The straw rooves of the huts, and a good chunk of everyone's personal belongings, were pulled up from the village into the maw of the storm. But there was an earth to Anri that could not be carried away. Her mother had wrapped a tarp tight around them, and they huddled close to the ground. Leena hugged Una, and her mother hugged her stomach, where Leena's unborn brother was resting. And Una cried and then fell silent, and Leena's mother told her the story of how she met Miguel – who was Leena's father, and Leena's alone:
It had been in a storm much worse than this, her mother said. Everyone in village had to evacuate inland to higher ground, in Fossil Valley. And there she had met Miguel, who was an archaeologist working to excavate the valley's stratums. And afterwards he had come back with her to Anri, which had survived that storm, as it would this one. And Leena, who was crouched to the ground with only the tarp and her back to shield herself and Una from the hurricane, pressed her mouth against the muddy earth, like a kiss. Her father must have loved dirt and stone too, if he had dedicated his life to digging in it. And it was all Leena could cling to then – all that held her back from being pulled up into the vortex of water.
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Today, the sun was shining yellow, and the sky was a clear and calm blue. The tower of the 'Cha family household was dwarfed in height only by that of Chief Direa's and, over the rocks and coral of the shallow Guldovian reef, you could see into the distance for who knew how many nautical miles. There was not a cloud in sight, nor the slightest edge of land, even at the edges of where the horizon curved away. The homes of Guldove were nothing but kindling piled on wooden stilts above the reef. They had seemingly nowhere to hide and nothing to cling to, if the water and winds came in.
"I wonder how long Guldove would last in a storm," Leena said.
Korcha huffed at the question. He had finished scaling the last fish, and scraped the translucent flakes off his hands. Leena wondered if he had caught them himself, or had just given up and collected money ferrying with which to buy them.
"I wouldn't expect someone like you t' understand," he said gruffly, before descending the tower.
He didn't really like her, but Leena kind of expected that. He really liked Kid after all, and Leena did not.
"Don't'cha talk to my guest like that!" Macha called down the ladder after him. She sighed and shook her head at her unruly son. Then she smiled at Leena, in a kind of soft way. "Although, you are wrong thinking Guldove wouldn't, and hasn't, lasted through many storms. How many storms do you think I, alone, have lasted through?"
"Ah-!" That was quite the oversight. Leena blushed as she turned away, and declined to answer. Macha had probably lived through many, many more storms than her. But she didn't really want to play along and draw further attention to the number of years between her and her new friend.
Leena concentrated on frying the yuca in the pan. She stirred the wooden spoon that sat in the pot of black beans. She'd stir in the bowl of chopped green bell pepper, closer to the time they were ready to eat. There was still the fish to fry too. She attended to her work silently, just as Macha attended to the washing, until she worked up the courage to ask.
"Tell me about the storms that have happened here, before now."
"Mmm," Leena heard Macha hum softly behind her, and then Macha spoke. "My memories of them all blend into one another, but in some ways they're all the same. You are right that storms make for perilous times here on Guldove. But they're easy to spot comin', and from what direction. With the sea all around us, it's easy to spot the mist and grey clouds movin' in. And what we can't see by our own vision, the village chief reads in the movements of the celestial bodies and the Dragon Gods.
"For as long as I've been alive, High Priestess Direa has been the village chief and, when the storm is upon us, she comes about the village knockin' on peoples' doors, tells them to board up and calls for volunteers. Everyone who's good with wind and water elements bends the storm with their magic, shielding the rest of us. And then, when it's past, the rest of us rebuild whatever has fallen apart."
Leena thought about these cruel whims of nature, and anticipated the next part of this before Macha could say it.
"I lost Korcha's father in one storm, and Mel's mother in another," Macha admitted. She said this as if she were, indeed, only speaking of the weather. "They were on the front lines, and exhausted themselves working their magic before being carried away. Water for Bancha, wind for Melinda… Must be why those kids are so handy with elements – they inherited their skill naturally."
This was said with a scoff that didn't quite hide Macha's pride in her children. And Leena thought about this – Macha didn't often mention her former lovers, but the effect of their presence was always felt through Korcha and Mel. It gave things a tangibility that Leena didn't feel with Serge. Although Serge had been the same for her – in a childish but still undeniable, genuine way. Leena wondered if- when- she would find the strength to verbalise that to Macha.
"But it's okay," Macha said sadly. "So long as there are people the sea can't carry away, Guldove will still stand. Ain't it the same with Anri?"
It was.
"I suppose," Leena allowed absently. As she pulled the last piece of yuca off the frying pan, drained the oil from it, and pressed it down onto the platter to the side, Macha stood and walked to her side.
"Please. Preparing the fish can wait," Macha said. "May I plait your hair?"
Macha was careful, so it didn't hurt when she pulled at Leena's hair – dividing it into sections and weaving them together. She had a bowl of hibiscus flowers, and stopped occasionally to select one for pinning into Leena's braid. Macha's fingers were pudgy, with little dimples near her knuckles, and Leena thought they were kind of cute whenever they danced into her peripheral vision. She was glad this was all she could see of Macha, where she sat. It gave Leena the liberty to be not only her usual amount of headstrong, but also to be a bit rude.
"I guess I wonder what made you invite yourself on Serge's adventure then?" Leena said. If you knew about the kind of tragedy that could have befallen Korcha and Mel in Guldove while you were gone? If you knew about the kind of tragedy that could have befallen then while they themselves were out adventuring? These things didn't need to be said.
"I wonder…" Macha said ponderously. "I always wanted to travel and see the whole archipelago! I guess I just never felt I had the chance before… or I don't really know why I did it. If you're thinkin' that makes me irresponsible, I understand." Macha allowed herself a pause to laugh. "But why did you leave Anri and go adventuring?"
Leena thought about that. She had only meant to guide Serge to Termina. Did she really know what had made her follow Serge far past that point? And when the journey was over, and she sulked in the corner of Korcha's boat, and Macha had said to her- Don't want to go home? Don't want'cha adventure to be over? Well… there's a spare bed mat with your name on it in Guldove, anytime you need to stop by- what had, one day, made Leena decide to take her up on that offer?
She thought too about Poshul, who even now was probably running down across Guldove's docks in the sunset. Playing tag with the local children and aggravating the merchants that Leena would, in turn, argue and barter with tomorrow. She remembered watching Poshul pen the note she hung from her doghouse door: Me have embarked on a rong journey. Pleathe do not come rooking for I. What had made her write it?
They were all searching for something but-
"I guess I don't really know either," Leena admitted. She wasn't chasing a memory anymore.
Macha seemed as pleased with this similarity as she did. She tied up the end of Leena's braid.
"Why don't'cha turn around, so I can fix the front of your hair too?"
And when Leena did, she watched Macha's lower lip – the way it scrunched.
Macha reached up to press back her bangs and, chose one last hibiscus to pin behind Leena's right ear. And then her hand was about to drop away and Leena, feeling bold, caught it, and pressed the back of it against her cheek.
"Excuse me, Ma'am Leena."
Leena startled and dropped Macha's hand. She looked back to Mel, who had snuck up the ladder and approached almost silently. She had become a quiet and pensive girl, at fifteen years of age.
Leena felt herself colour. She must have looked foolish, having flowers plaited into her hair like a child. And simultaneously caught out in an intimate moment with Mel's mother.
If Mel noticed, she didn't seem to spare it any consideration.
"For you." Mel thrust a festive bundle of cloth into Leena's hands and, before Leena could respond, fled back down to the lower levels of the tower.
Leena looked over at Macha, who looked expectantly back at her.
Leena ran her hands across the fabric, before standing and unfurling it to reveal a tapestry of gold and purple and blue. It was the sea in all its glory – blue and purple waves cresting into white. The golden sun beating on the horizon surrounded by mists and gulls. The edge of rainbow reef and land in one corner. The Guldovian Stitch decorated the edges.
"Oh my," Macha laughed. "Do you like it?"
"I don't even know what to say!" Leena gaped at the cloth, thinking of no other way to express her appreciation. Mel was an amazing artist – one whose works seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of words. All she could think was the delicate stitching seemed to capture something of Leena's own magic. The boundlessness and inexpressibility of the power and water she could call forth.
"I told them both to make you feel welcome… shows how much my words are worth with my son," Macha smiled wryly. "But I didn't expect Mel to go so far." Macha walked over to stand opposite Leena. She put her hands up on the top corners of the shawl, pulled it gently out of Leena's hands, and then swung it in a whorl so it wrapped behind Leena's back. She tied the ends together delicately at Leena's collarbone.
"I'm glad my daughter seems to like you. Since it's my hope you'll be sticking around for a while," Macha admitted sheepishly.
Leena thought she might. Or at least, if she didn't, that this might be a place she could feel at home enough to return to. Like Guldove, surrounded on all sides by the sea, Leena felt comforted with her hair plaited in Macha's flowers, surrounded by Mel's shall. She thought about how after the storm – after people and land both had left her – still how easily the blue elements had glowed and taken shape in her hands, swirled around her in protectively. Macha and Mel seemed to understand that, and maybe even Korcha despite his harshness: there was a certainty in having the ocean at her sides and at her back.
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