Her mother slept for long periods of time.
It happens a few times in one year—each year as time passes.
Time—time wasn't a constant thing. Time in this subterranean society was useless. No longer could you tell what time of the day it was. There was no sunlight, no vast blue sky with ridiculous shaped balls of fluff.
Time went by faster than normal. Everyone had something to do, as there was nothing to stop them.
Calendars still existed—thankfully—only to keep track of the days and events to come.
It was useless, Maquia realized.
Her mother becomes ill during her slumber.
No longer did her skin glow when she was still awake. No, she was reduced back to the bony, gaunt husk she wore years ago when she opened her eyes.
She was like a dying tree without its sunlight.
The plague doctors—the mages get frustrated when her mother sleeps. Maquia is left alone in their care.
They isolate her like a disease.
"Why can't I see Mommy?" Maquia asks, tugging on the hem of the dark robe that one of the many mages adorned.
The would say, "She's sick." or "She needs time to rest." or the regular response: "Her crest is failing."
She wishes that they could've said that her mother was dying but they didn't have the heart to tell her.
They never did.
When being raised by her mother, Maquia had mixed feelings in the bag on how to feel about the situation at hand.
Her mother got looks whenever they went out. Bodies that would walk by flinching as their eyes landed on her mother's face; whispers and pointing at the out-of-place duo that was mother and daughter.
Her mother was beautiful. Beautiful like the fairies in storybooks and fantasy novels she'd read in her pastime. She was like the ethereal elves in the Tolkien series.
The mother that she knew and loved in her past life was nowhere near this new woman. Short and small. The ordinary human features, normal ears, and carried herself with her own confidence. This new woman's choices were decided by the mages that dictate wherever she went.
Maquia would've died for her mom, her old mom. This new woman, her mother, was a stranger.
But this woman—this ethereal beauty—owned a small place in her heart that carried her daughter's mixed feelings for her.
She barrels into her mother's containment once she's heard that she's woken up.
Her mother is there, open-mouthed and hunched back. Her green eyes murky and blank as they stare holes into the plain white wall.
The mage yanks her back. Something's wrong. Something's fishy. She struggles out of the strange man's grip on her.
He drags her into a fine white room with a mattress and simple beddings, flicks the switch and says his parting words:
"Your mother is unstable to be seen by anyone right now. You will be watched by another."
The mage closes the door shut. Maquia finds that the door is locked.
Time spares nothing.
They—as in the dreaded bird mask people—came in and dragged her out of her confinement to another room.
"We're here to check your crest."
She didn't know what they meant, but the delighted noise and furious writing from pen to paper spoke something aloud to her.
They had taken her blood and smeared it onto a tablet that beeped and—voila, a holographic symbol flashed in the air.
Maquia hears their mutterings and ignores them out of ignorance.
"—Macuil's Crest of Magic…"
"A success—"
She ignores them.
"I have a crest."
No response. Her mother sleeps like the dead.
"Is that why I'm special?" A pause. Then, "...I love you."
She's under her white blanket when they open her door. She unfurls herself, craning her head.
They brought along another girl, older than her.
Orange hair curls at her neck and drapes over her eyes. The odd look in this girl's eyes tries to tell her something when the teen's eyes roam all over her.
The girl skips over to her and grabs her hands.
"They told me allll about you! I'm Kronya, and I'm gonna be your best friend!"
Okay, lemme explain.
I've got a personal headcanon that the Agarthans somehow had created to a way to live a long life. And what is this way? I've no clue.
Anyway, I've wanted to try something new with my writing style when I posted Kalmia. I plan for this to be dark and weird. Dark on the graphic side, and Weird on the characters and how their own minds and morals clash with each other. It might start out boring at first, but I want to progress deeper into this until we get to canon.
I like the theories in the reviews, might I add. Though, I forgot doesn't have tags as ao3 does. Timeline wise, Kalmia takes place a hundred years before the series.
-directorzakuro