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NYX (gxg)
After the tragic death of her parents, Victoria Valentín seeks refuge
in the gentle arms of her aunt in a small town by the sea; hoping
that grief won't plague her forever.
Olive Rios has trouble fitting in...
It was early morning and the sun had just began to rise. Victoria Valentín was sketching in her room for a while now and had been up since five in the morning. She hadn't heard, however, her aunt leave Lila to run a very important errand at the town station.
Lila is surrounded by green and sunflowers and ocean, yes, but a little north of Lila is a town that is often bustling and busy. The people there may seem little and insignificant to the rest of the world, but they provide their catches of the sea and subjective goods and flavorful vegetables. They carry a culture from across the seas, but also the evil that their ancestors had created; the very evil that has to do with the namesake of house Lila. Victoria was very oblivious to the town, for she hadn't visited it yet since she had come to live at Lila.
As she sketched, sitting with her legs crossed on her comfortable bed, she looked a bit like a statue. Her hand was, of course, moving with her pencil, but her form was completely still. Her gaunt and tall figure was hunched and her frizzy ringlets of honey colored hair were almost slightly moving with every pencil stroke. The light caught her face gently and emphasized her interesting, angular nose and her almond eyes. Her skin was deprived of the sun and a bit paler than it should be, but she was still beautiful. Especially when she was drawing.
She had been recollecting her parents and applying them to paper. She had been studying them through her memories for hours now, in complete peace of solemn remembrance.
Watching her was the cat, Sol. Sol; a four year old feline with gentle brown spots on her white fur and honey brown eyes. In a way, she was just like her owner.
By this time, you might have noticed that I am speaking in past tense. I am here to inform you that this specific story is not a tragedy, not like the one before.
Lila was quiet and waiting. The house stood on an elevated ground, overlooking the sea-green water that protected the town. Then, for a moment, the whole town seemed to have been holding it's breath.
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Irene Valentín has been to many funerals, unlike her artistic niece. A funeral that she had gone to the year before her niece came to Lila was the funeral of a very dear friend of hers; Rios, they called him. He was very gentle and an artisan who had built a lot of Lila's unique furniture. At this funeral, Irene met Rios' daughter. Olive Rios stood out to her, even before they were introduced. A tall girl with a masculine sort of energy and a hooded gaze, with a black mullet of thick hair and hazel eyes that seemed almost like broken glass. The only time, since that funeral, that Irene had seen Olive's eyes look less like broken glass and more like a repaired teacup, was when she offered to host her at Lila.
Olive was waiting for Irene at the town station with a backpack and a suitcase, everything she would need to capsule herself in the house of Lila in order to escape the knives of her mother's prejudices. She was on a train for about twelve hours, which she Olive felt she survived only barely (considering her extreme lack of patience).
A red convertible came into view and Irene, in her red lipstick glory, waved her weathered hands in the air when she spotted Olive Rios. The fractured gaze disappeared.
