Sister

1 - In Which Sister Turns Eighteen

"Happy Birthday to me," Sister Salcedo blew out the eighteen candles on her lopsided birthday cake. Honey brown eyes blinked as she watched the tails of smoke waft through the tree and out into the countryside. The young woman sighed as she rested more comfortably on her red cushion and rested her elbows on the birch table, chin plopping onto her knuckles. A fresh breeze rustled the leaves softly overhead. 

Sister lived in a treehouse. Not one of those tiny, backyard treehouses; her home was a comfy two story wood-plank house with a thatched roof and a balcony overlooking the flower fields below. It was a tranquil location, bordering the forest on one side and a beautiful view looking out towards the mountains on the other. The inside of the treehouse was cozy. The living area littered with rugs, throws and pillows of all colours and shapes with no cohesive theme in sight. The place, for all accounts, should look disorganised and chaotic, but Sister had somehow managed to make the colours work in the space. The kitchen, to the left of the entryway and the living space and equally as filled with colour, was at that point scattered with dirty utensils, pots and pans. The bathroom was located on the opposite wall, while a single bedroom occupied the top floor. All in all, the home was quaint. It had enough windows for Sister to enjoy the view, electricity and running water. One could be contented with less.

Discontented, Sister ran a hand through her dark blonde pixie cut, making the ends stick up, "Well this is just depressing," she shook her head and grabbed the fork off the table, digging into her cake. Shoving the huge serving into her mouth, Sister chewed thoughtfully before nodding.

"Not as underbanked as usual," she decided. The new eighteen year old looked out over the fields towards the setting sun. It was getting colder, any day now the first snow of the year would fall and Sister would have to travel to the Capital, Anchora, to take part in The Sealing. With one hand Sister twirled her fork, lost in thought, leaning her chin on the knuckles of her other hand. She really didn't want to go to Anchora. It was noisy there. And crowded. But as a Blessed Child, it was expected for her to go and participate in The Sealing. Just as she was starting to get lost in her brooding, the fork fell from Sister's hand and slipped off the balcony. 

Sister startled, "Dammit!" She rushed to the rail. Without a second thought, Sister dove after the fork. The wind whipped at her ears. The ground got closer and closer. Sister spotted the fork. Reaching out her fingers, she managed to catch it barely a meter before it hit the flower carpeted ground. Sister quickly stopped her fall. The young woman's body screeched to a halt in midair. She breathed a sigh of relief and kicked her feet to flip herself upright, hovering just off the ground.

When she was younger, Sister could remember the other children asking her what it was like to have the Flight Blessing. The only thing she could liken it to was swimming. When Sister flew, her body felt like a mermaid would feel in the ocean. It was as easy and unconscious as breathing.

Clutching the fork to her chest, the girl floated her way back up to the balcony and landed gently on the wooden planks.

"That could have been a disaster," Sister informed the fork, holding the object in front of her, "I almost lost you. If you had fallen in the haulberries I was not risking my hand rotting off in order to fetch you out." The young woman nodded decisively. A moment passed. She sighed again, dropping the fork to the table and moving to lean on the balcony rail, looking out across the fields. The sun dipped lower behind the mountain. Without the light, Sister shivered.

"Another year gone," she murmured before turning and collecting her cake to take inside, "Happy Birthday to me."