She dies at the age of fifteen.
A construction mishap that collapsed. Her body is buried beneath the rubble, her consciousness going in and out and—
She screamed, full of anguish and pain. Debris coated the insides of her lungs and the corn syrupy liquid combined with her tears.
The concrete shifts and tiny pebbles pelt her eyes. The rest of the rubble comes crashing down.
It was dark. And wet. And… warm. Her limbs won't move. She couldn't even scream.
She hears the faint muffled voices. Distorted angry and wretched voices.
She falls asleep, exhausted.
The dark, warm, wet state she found herself in bounces—jiggles? It was like, a pocket full of knickknacks bouncing around in one tiny space.
Something thumps from the outside. She tries to move away but finds that she cannot move in this dark claustrophobic space.
Something thin and sharp pokes her. Her liquid prison bursts and her awareness fades once more.
A bandit murders a noble with the intent to rob her, killing her and the unborn baby.
It was dark and wet, and… warm, too. Her limbs were nonexistent, she couldn't open her eyes nor move.
It was the same prison she found her self in but back at the start.
She hears muffled voices. Her underdeveloped ears catch the broken tune of a song.
She falls asleep, exhausted.
Measuring the time that passed was difficult. It came and went. She slept without a care in the world.
She could finally move around. She kicks until she's tired out and tries to scream but is unable to.
She finds something attached to her stomach, tries to get her limbs to get it off and—
Ohoh. It was the tube thing that supplied babies with food—with nutrients to stay alive in the womb.
Her mind tires itself out at the revelation and she's asleep one last time.
Ohnononononono.
She awakes at the sound of a squelch. A cold, compressed air hugs her tight as the warmth of the—her liquid prison gives way. A pair of large hands grab at her body, lifting her up.
Her ears pop and an explosion of noise fill her senses. She finally screams, kicking her legs.
She's given off to another pair of hands. This time, soft and dainty. Bony and fragile. Her cries turned into hiccups then to small sniffles.
She expects to see a blinding light. All but artificial blue lights settle down in her vision. Blurred but distinct.
Like—Like out of a sci-fi futuristic movie, with all its ridiculous machinery and useless but ethereal lights.
She was brought face to face with a gaunt-faced woman. Her viridian green hair was like leaves growing out in the spring, spilling out over her shoulders and clinging to her forehead. Her eyes were green, too. Unnatural.
Tiredly, she wonders if her new body will ever look as beautiful as this woman. Her new mom.
The woman had a tired smile on her face. Pleasant but exhausted. Her face was full of adoration. Love.
Her green hair surrounds her tiny body like vines and the nameless newly reborn babe catches the inhuman points of her new mother's ears.
It was quick and forgettable—a glance. She falls asleep.
Maquia is three years old when she realizes things weren't what she thought to believe.
At first, she thought she was reborn in some kind of dystopian future gone wrong and this was the life humanity lived. But, no, they weren't. Thankfully. Hopefully.
They—her mother and herself—lived underground. Yes, underground. Under where? She's got no idea.
Though, it did explain the ghostly paleness the citizens of this underground city seemed to wear.
Magic also exists too, to her delight.
Maquia retained most of her mother's features. The unnatural viridian green hair and eyes, and elfin ears that twitched. They stood out like the blue lights that surrounded the city. Her skin was a shade lighter than it originally was but not like the grey-skinned people that stared at them wherever they went.
"Mommy," Maquia tugged on her mother's green locks. The woman's gauntness seemed to be getting better. There was at least some meat in her arms but she still looked thin as a pole. "Why is e'ryone starin' at us?"
Her mother gives her a hesitant smile, tight-lipped but an actual genuine smile. "People like me and you are rare. Special." The older woman brushes Maquia's identical green hair behind her ear. She hears the whispers, the gossips, of bystanders that watch them. They walk off once her mother flashes them a grin.
"What ar' we then?"
In the background, they hear muffled sounds of children running around and laughing. Not the jeering and sneers they'd hear whenever they walked outside—no, just normal laughter. The underground city was still a society of people. Children, teenagers, and adults. It was still a place people can enjoy themselves.
Maquia, though childish, still couldn't see how humanity would change over time despite living underground for so many years. She didn't think anyone would thrive here.
She didn't think anyone would survive.
"Do you see the lights, Maquia?" She picks up her head from her mother's shoulder. She blinks slowly, yawning as she stares at the thrumming blue light that powered the city. "This light is special to everyone living here. We're like that, in a way."
"We give light?"
"No, no." Her mother laughs, like a bell jingling and wavering. "We… we are only needed for one thing. Like the light, Maquia. The lights you see around here are used to do one thing. To give energy and magical sources to everyone. We're like that but for a different purpose."
"Is that…" Why we look like we came out of a fantasy book? "Is that why they keep lookin' at us?" Maquia whispers hesitantly, peaking a look at a small orange-haired, grey-skinned girl that stared at her in wonder.
We're like the light, given only one purpose.
She found many things wrong with that sentence. Warning bells ringing in her mind.
Instead of a verbal answer, the older woman gives a nod and doesn't say anything else. They keep on walking, to wherever this narrowing city brought them.
Kalmia is a symbol of perseverance, but it can also be a symbol of treachery.
Maquia is a reference to Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms. It also means, "The one who succeeds and the essence of life"
I put too much effort into this and I don't mean the story. I mean the names.
-directorzakuro