Far Cry The Silver Chronicles September Prompts
Coffee Smell
January 7th, 2013, 9:02 AM.
The rise in temperature was by far the most positive change that Sylvester found herself appreciating in her new life.
There was no sun back on the Archipiélagos, or at least not one that ever broke through the dark clouded sky. Never had there ever been natural heat that warmed the cobblestone paths. It had never been hot enough to air out their casas and remove layers of clothing. Neither had it been safe to do so.
The environment Sylvester and Elsa had shared held a cold disposition that never cared for their passions, desires, and needs. On those islands, the temperature would freeze to dangerous degrees, at an unbearable point that a person could simply succumb to its brutal force if caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Any bodies found by patrolling Enforcers would have been thrown into the arroyos del río until it sunk to the bottom or preferably dragged by the water and guided into the sea.
Back in what was once home, heat was a luxury few found themselves accessible to. Whether it was fire, blankets or even steam, such comforts were mostly given to those in high positions of power, and rarely shared. Father only shared if Sylvester and her hermana were good, even when he rarely used such luxuries himself.
I often wondered if he preferred the cold.
Looking back, it was a rather big sign Sylvester cursed herself for not spotting sooner. What parent would withhold such a valuable resource necessary to their children's survival?
Paul never did.
Sylvester's lips drew up into a solemn smile. The reminder of the man she considered her true padre never ceased to lift her mood. He had sacrificed so much for her to make it this far. Him and so many others.
He was the one who had taught her how essential heat was. How heat meant survival. Heat meant safety. Heat means you're still alive.
Which may be why, despite knowing the local's reasoning, she was always surprised by the number of patrons who complained about the temperature in the stuffy diner in the Henbane region.
Sat at a table reserved for two, in a restaurant owned by a local named Aubrey, Sylvester observed the sweat-soaked clientes stream in and out of the diner as she waited for her hermana to make her grand entrance, with her hija in tow,so they could order morning tea. She had a notebook wide open with a pen at the ready, unbothered by the heat that persisted inside the diner as she passed the time.
Grey eyes focused on those who ordered and those who were still waiting for their meal, fanning themselves as some leaned against the red wood that made up the diner. She also took notice of the grizzled loners who either held grim faces or seemed content with their peaceful isolation.
She shifted in her seat, adjusting her legs to become uncrossed, the stiff fabric of her pants having pinched against her under the uncomfortable position. How does Elsa stand to put her legs through such pain?
Sylvester already knew the answer to that question, considering Elsa preferred the looseness of dresses and skirts, a difference between the two hermanas that most of the locals seemed to accept with no trouble. It was as refreshing as it was baffling to her; such a matter as simple as fashion would never have gone unquestioned nor unjudged by the congregation back on the archipiélagos. If anything the lugareños seemed more puzzled by the hermanas' legitimacy as familia.
Even more reason to cherish this.
The humid weather did nothing to deter Sylvester, wiping away the sweat from her forehead, tucking a loose strand of her flowing dark hair back as she tried to make effort in writing down words and attempting to decipher the clutter of sentences the lugareños chatted in - a challenge Elsa had tasked her with to improve her weak English.
Prepper… preparador. Hike… caminata. Flowers… obviamente flores. Pilot… Piloto. Con-construct…Construction? Qué es eso?
Sylvester's brows creased at the word. She took a glance over to a group of men sitting at a table, one in a three-piece suit, a professional choice that matched his stoic disposition, while the other man, one she could only see the back of, was wearing a blue shirt and vest. Blue-shirt's two companions had clothes that were shaggy, plain and they seemed less well-kempt.
She didn't know many of the words they were saying, so she chose to move on. She listened to more conversations, writing down as much words as she could, until she heard the familiar voice of her hermana.
She looked up from her notebook and saw Elsa at the front counter of the diner, making idle and practised conversation with the clerk, her blonde hair locked into a course style that laid at her left shoulder, though there were still bangs that unavoidably stuck to Elsa's forehead. Sylvester noticed she was wearing a regular blue checkered blouse with a plain green skirt, which wasn't consistent to the eye-catching wardrobe Sylvester knew her young hermana had at her lodge. Even her leggings and flats were tame in comparison to Elsa's usual… promiscuous tastes.
A blessing from Jannah, she supposed, considering Persephone was clutching at the hem of her tía's skirt. Her hija of tres years looked around the diner with interest as the smells of hot food and warm beverages tickled Persephone's nose.
Once Persephone spotted Sylvester, the toddler's head perked up, then giggled as she ran over to her madre with a bright smile creased across her face, red curls bouncing. Sylvester got out of her seat to kneel down and catch her hija in a hug, nuzzling her little girl.
She saw Elsa cut her conversation with the clerk short and made her way from the counter over to Sylvester and Persephone.
"And how have you been mi angelita?" Sylvester asked, picking up the girl to rest on her hip, face-to-face.
"Good, Mamá," Persephone replied with a smile, "Tía punched a pasta."
Sylvester blinked, raised a brow at her hermana, hoping Elsa could give her context. It wasn't unlike her hermana to get into physical alterations, much to Sylvester's worry, but usually it was in defence. Though when she saw Elsa suck in a breath and cringe at her sobrina's words, Sylvester got the impression it was a very different story.
With a guilt written on her face, Elsa confirmed Sylvester's suspicions when she raised her a wrist braced hand into view, rubbing the back of her head, "So… you know Jerome from Fall's End?"
…Ah.
With a sigh, she gestured to the seats, "Tell me about it over coffee."
Upon taking their seat at the table, Sylvester adjusted Persephone to sit on her lap, with Elsa handing her a colouring book much to the delight of the youngest of their small family. Putting her notebook away into her handbag, she faced her hermana.
Before any conversation could begin though, Elsa caught the attention of a clerk walking by. A rather convenient distraction for the younger woman to use in evading this talk.
"I would like to order a dry cappuccino with buttermilk waffles covered in that wonderful maple syrup of yours, thanks," Elsa stated, with the clerk writing down the order then looking to Sylvester and Persephone next.
Sylvester looked between an expectant Elsa and Persephone before realising it was her turn, "Oh! I'd… like to order a black café- no, coffee and pancakes for the little one. Uh, gracias."
The clerk nodded and wrote down the order, before wandering into the diner's kitchen.
Elsa beamed at her older hermana, a sight that would put Sylvester at ease, but her focus was on the brace wrapped around her younger hermana's wrist.
Elsa seemed to have read this, and hastily tried to brush it off, "I must say your English has improved as much as your people skills have."
Sylvester's gaze was unimpressed with the futile attempt at evading the subject, and Elsa knew it as she chuckled mirthlessly.
"What happened?" the older woman asked with a level of protective sternness. The information of Elsa getting into a physical altercation with the local pastor made the older woman wonder if the pastor had been less than honest with his ideals.
Pulling her chair in so Persephone could get closer to the colouring book. Better than having the small girl dig her shoes into my knees again.
"It wasn't anything bad," Elsa quickly waved her hands towards Sylvester, as if trying to physically shoo away any impulsive thoughts she knew Sylvester would be having about the pastor, "It's quite embarrassing honestly. Nothing that needs to be talked about honestly-"
"Elsa," Sylvester gently interrupted, breathing in as one of hands let go of Persephone to reach over to her hermana's free-braced one, "Just… tell me what happened. And if there's anything I might have to do."
Elsa interjected, though she seem touched by Sylvester's words, "While I appreciate your concern and readiness to murder in my defence, it's really fine. I'm still here, Persephone is still here, we're all well and good. Just an embarrassing misunderstanding. You see, I took Persephone over to Fall's End to have a browse of what was there-"
"They didn't have any bears," Persephone added as she pouted, drawing the celebrity oso pardo from the F.A.N.G Centre into the cast of anthropomorphic characters in the book.
"No, no they didn't," Elsa playfully mourned with her sobrina to Sylvester's amusement before the younger of the hermana's continued, "So after that bust, we visited the church there. And Jerome was performing a sermon, and you know me, I couldn't resist the siren call of a man with a baritone as deep as the ocean's depths, one that commands any girl want to go down hard in the bed-"
"Elsa!" Sylvester hissed, bringing attention to the youngest one present, her gloved hands covering a confused Persephone's ears.
"-room and play dress-up and tag, yes, absolutely what adults like to do," Elsa tried to save herself, though from the perplexed judgemental look Sylvester and Persephone were giving her, Elsa knew she failed.
In that moment, the clerk came down with their ordered breakfast and placed them onto their table. Sylvester gently put aside the Persephone's colouring book to replace it with the pancakes, much to her hija's absolute delight. Giving her the small plastic knife and fork from her bag, Sylvester handed both to Persephone as the little girl dug into her meal, while the eldest Omar herself settled for the black café she ordered.
Elsa had begun munching into her waffles as soon as it was set in front of her, her cappuccino to the side.
Sylvester on the other hand took a long look into her steaming cup, the aroma from within hitting her nose. The smell of coffee reminded her of the charcoal Paul made; he always allowed her to put the wood into the furnace while they had secretly forged weapons together down in the Minas.
Freeing herself from memories, she brought the cup to her lips, not minding how the beverage stung her lips.
Sylvester waited for Elsa to continue, sipping on her bitter beverage as both the most important people in her life savoured on meals she herself couldn't stand. Besides, she already had her fill at five.
Elsa continued to down her waffles, focus lost from the conversation they were having beforehand.
Sylvester had to clear her throat to get her younger hermana's attention. The young woman looked at her, hazel eyes blinking back with a mouth full of the cooked dough.
Seeing her hermana's attempt to avoid further conversation, Sylvester brought on the most crucial question, "And how did this sermon end with you punching the Pastor and stopping by the clínica on the way here?"
Elsa swallowed her food, dapping a napkin onto her lips as she brought the cappuccino to her lips, mimicking her from the way she sipped from the contents within and the way she held the cup.
"Well, like I said, that's a little more embarrassing. And don't laugh but, you see, after Jerome's very se-," Elsa paused as Sylvester gave her a stern gaze for the word Elsa was going to say in front of the hungry youngest Omar, "-ermon voice finished, I had been prepping Persephone to leave the church, when the Pastor himself snuck up from behind to say hello us and he, well… he spooked me."
Sylvester stared at her hermana with bemused grey eyes, imagining the incident that occurred, which put to rest all the other incidents that she had conveyed beforehand, and visualised the moment the Pastor made the mistake of catching Elsa unaware, and unjustifiably getting punished for it.
"So he made his way towards you while you weren't paying attention… to greet you and Persephone with a hola… and you greeted him with your fist. Am I correct in this assessment of information that you have provided?"
Elsa was silent, uncharacteristic for her usually chatty hermana, before the young woman let out a meek, "…yeah."
Usually, she frowned at those who laughed at the expense of Elsa, given the severity of her condition, and she'd kick herself for even the thought of doing it herself.
But Sylvester was human, and the combination of the relatively harmless events recounted to her as well as the sheer embarrassment her very haughty hermana was showing were enough to break a small giggle from the eldest. As expected, Elsa was not happy with being laughed at for once than the one starting the laughter.
"I said don't laugh!" she whined dramatically, pouting harder when Persephone joined her madre in the silly fits of laughter.
"I'm sorry," Sylvester chuckled unapologetically, much to Elsa's faux misery, "I, uh, I assume you explained to the Pastor-?"
"Yeah, yeah, I did, he fully understood and kindly took most of the blame from me," Elsa elaborated, "Hell, he was more worried about me once the shock wore off, seeing the bruises forming around my wrist."
Swiftly, Sylvester's amusement disappeared, and she looked to Elsa's braced wrist again. Leveling her young hermana with grey eyes full of worry, she spoke what needed to be said.
"Elsa… you need to be more aware of your surroundings. This occurrence may have ended with less harm than the other's had, but I want you to stop being so reckless. Have fun, go party and socialise as you do, but don't be impulsive and rush headfirst into whatever risky new dare has caught your eye. I don't want to lose you before you reach your vigésima this year. Please think of your own health first and foremost."
Elsa crossed her arms, lips pursed. Seeming to ponder over Sylvester's words, she took her shot at reassurance, "Sylvie, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm still here, with you, and Persephone. We're all here together, and I promise you that we're not going to be apart. I'll try to be more thoughtful of myself and where I am. I will think before I act. You have my word. That good enough for you, my worrywart sister?"
Sylvester gazed at Elsa intensely, glancing from the sincerity on her face and the brace around her wrist, then back into the eyes of one of the last people she could earnestly call family without shame.
Exhaling, and taking a sip from her black café just to make Elsa squirm in case she wasn't being as honest as she claimed she was being, Sylvester stared at Elsa with a grateful smile, eyes softening, "It means so more."
Elsa let a breath of her own, and just to swing back to normality, jokingly stated, "And I'll have you know, I wouldn't lose to a risky dare until after my twentieth. Because that's apparently when the "real world" hits, from what I've been told."
Sylvester playfully rolled her eyes, refraining from correcting her hermana that general consensus states it wouldn't be until her vigésima primera that reality would hit. How envious she was of that majority, for even now at that age, she still felt the crushing weight of her past and present world persisting in her thoughts.
"Claro, Elsa," she replied to her hermana, shaking her head at the antics. She felt a weight press into her chest, and shifted her gaze down to the red curls of her little one, watching as Persephone snuggled closer into her warm body, eyes rapidly blinking as she fought sleep. Sylvester gave a soft smile towards her hija, the last precious gift that reminded her of Irene.
"Seguro," she softly repeated, placing her empty cup down as she wrapped her arms around Persephone's small frame.
Lost in her sea of thoughts as Elsa began to finish off her cuppicchino, Sylvester reeled in one for her to say aloud.
"Do you think we're doing our amigos' memories proud?"
Elsa's cup stopped just short of reaching her lips, as she looked to her hermana, her hero in more ways than one, quietly holding Persephone to herself, just as she once did with her on the worst of days and the coldest nights, prompting her to ask, "Come again?"
Sylvester paused, realising the question she had posed aloud, but did not deter, "Do you think we're doing them proud? Paul, Ezekiel, Al, Kamski, Irene, Rufus, Talia, the twins. Are we honouring all of them, sitting here at this diner? Having this morning tea, laughing and chatting up on the day's events. Tending your floristry. Raising Persephone. Is this normalcy honouring them and the sacrifices they made, just as Jannah had?"
Elsa stared into the grey eyes that seeked answers from her of all people. Elsa wasn't as close to the Tumultites and their community ideals as Sylvester had been, with the exceptions of Ezekiel and Irene, nor had she looked up to that statue of a woman long dead with only her stories and principles being scraped up and passed down to give some semblance of hope to the downtrodden souls who lived under the cruel boot of a system that her and Sylvester's own father helped worsen.
She wasn't a fool. She knew her hermana was hurting. And while she had never been one used to giving any sort of comfort or relief to others, besides the ones she and Adelaide gave, she wasn't going to fail as a hermana now to give Sylvester release from this guilt that she held against herself.
Elsa reached a hand over and grabbed Sylvester's own. Hazel and grey stared into one another, as both hermanas' connected on a personal level only known to each other. From there, Elsa spoke.
"We've come a long way. You've come a long way," Elsa told her, downing her cuppaccino with one hand like the shots she had at the Fairgrave's bar, "You may not see it but... we're already honouring them, just by being alive. And we'll stick together. All three of us. Always. I'm not cutting back on my words, you hear me?"
She prompted to Sylvester to look at Persephone, the young girl napping peacefully against the only madre she had left in her life.
"By giving her an experience we never got. Will you rest easy on that, you worrywart?"
Sylvester snorted, but staring down at her hija, and looking into the sincerity in Elsa's hazel eyes, the eldest Omar swallowed whatever worried thoughts she had, and gave a short nod with a soft reply.
"Okay."