Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040,
The moon sleeps alongside the rest of the town, few critters chirp, stores fall shut, children sing lullabies to themselves, and adults weep themselves to slumber.
Albeit conflicts a house near the many hills.
"Why did you think it was a good idea?!"
"You conformed to it?!"
Freya tramps to the table, smearing the fruits off its surface, " You immediately believe everything I say! I never really said yes! "
"Well- yeah, I do! Aren't the oldest one here?"
"Even if we switched places," her voice wobbles, "you would do the same."
The youngest spins in their position, groaning a cloud of aggravation; how could one maneuver thwart their success?
They whip their head to their sister, their breath escalating, and they shake their head urgently. "If you never wanted me to adopt you as my sibling, you could've said so." Freya sobs, kneeling to the level of her table, losing balance, "ah!"
"When did I hint that?"
"When did you try lowering your pride?" She shouts immediately, creeping fingers around her waist.
...
What have I done?
Milo, you imbecile! You could've planned this!
A dull cloud sprinkles droplets of turmoil, tickling his skin as a tease to his rationality; the rain boils the sensitive areas of his body, creating a similar effect to the tears streaming down his cheeks—so destructive, so destructive!
He pinches himself, squinting his eyes open, remorseful of this act.
Azrael hunched back staring over their hands like they caused the abuse, Freya frail on a table, and condiments scattered across the floor.
What have I done?!
In a predicament, the child palpitates in their position before fleeing off the front door.
"Azrael!"
"Azrael?!"
"A-..."
...
They throw their embodiment on the muck-lathered surface, their fingers gripping the dirt to rip out a flock of grass and roots; they knock their head against the floor, watering a specific area as tears spew out their eyes.
The child allows themself to spread around the filth, pouring most of their sentiments and passions—they've never felt this before.
They roll around and often play, lasting in this puddle longer than expected.
"Uhm, okay..."
A woman wipes a trinket repeatedly with a delicate substance, snatching miniature glances over the window; she cares little about the child outdoors.
She finishes this process, utilizing a protrusion and thin wooden plates to become a variety of shapes, exploring her location, holding tattoo ink, and drawing on the pieces.
The woman leaves in a call for assistance, returning soon with her favorite mates, who come to assist her with spreading the ornaments.
She parts ways with them, attaching decorations to places requiring diligent and intelligent work, struggling to knot two separate leashes of decorations, her fingers suffocated by the intricate holes. She throws the items off, leaving the new room to ask for guidance; she finds at least a thick mist of air and a location full of ornaments, exploring her surroundings to rediscover the child outdoors, recognizing their frustration; and their tedious fingers.
"Azra?"
The child whips their head upward, revealing quite a repulsive youth and a forthcoming royal.
The woman sighs as she takes them in, ordering them to clean themself.
"You're back! I missed you since- last day!"
"Lady, you keep forgetting to treat me like a stranger," Azrael replies, removing the string of ornaments off her finger.
"Oh, sorry, it's hard to remember I only have one kid now!" The woman chuckles, "anyways, the ceremony's starting the day after tomorrow; relatives wanted it to be ready early... so could I have some bonding with a stranger?"
The child nods.
...
Azrael, Pre Colonial Philippines, 1040, This "bonding" will be an abomination.
"So..." They whisper-yell, hopping on a platform, "how long will these decorations be here?"
The older tramps, holding a bucket of massive decorations, silently exchange another leash of wooden ornaments with the other's mismatching flower-like ones, "A few hours now... we only have tomorrow left."
"Tomorrow already? Wow, I haven't slept in long!"
"Yeah, anyways, there are many empty spaces around the threshold, be sure you've filled them up before the ceremony starts!" The lady orders, leaving the room shortly.
Azrael continues their labor with a smile, fading once they notice the distinct patterns of the decorations; finding themself brushing this off.
Soon, there appears the lady's voice from the other side, "Oh yeah, I hope you two would at least congratulate them before your execution, it would be an honor as a former relative of a soon-to-be royal."
"We'll try our best."
Azrael rips their ear off the small hole, creating a sting in the back of their head.
Gosh, I hardly remember any of that.
YOU ARE READING
DOmI
Historical Fiction(don't be fooled by the cover the drawings in this are random doodles) Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo this is my first book im sensitive anyways, description: Azrael's family has always gone through bad things like tragedy and poverty and stuff l...
