Line of Majia

Suneta

        In my dream, I'm a young girl again. Around the age of ten, before everything familiar to me had become a distant memory a few years later. My sister, her face vibrant in the sunlight, had her usual playful smile about-- a constant feature that I had always envied. She leaned in close, her hair surrounding us in a dark halo. I remember how my young fingers had always found a way to get stuck in its curly masses.

      "Do you know what lies --in your heart-- right there?" I cocked my head, in awe and confusion. "Don't worry Suni, because I believe you'll find it." The teasing echoes of her voice caught in the air, mingling with the scent of blooming calla lilies. The garden had always been a haven for us, our emotions being able to run rampant in its careful boundaries. I had shared bountiful fits of laughter as well as countless tears underneath the growth of towering oak trees. When I had the royal crest tattooed on my wrist, I had hidden in the garden for hours on end. Upon Myilla finding me crouched behind the fountain with hot tears streaming down my face, she took my hand. That day she folded my chubby fingers around a coin, the bronze ones used to tip the maids. Myilla had always kept a surplus of them, handing them handfuls at a time and whispering her thanks when the nobles' backs were turned. The coin was warm in my tightly clenched hands. We walked together to the fountain, and she unfolded her hand to reveal another bronze coin.

     "Make a wish." I spied my sister closing her eyes before flipping hers into the water. I had quickly dunked my coin into the water before she could open her eyes. In my haste, I forgot to make a wish and knocked a chip off the fountain loose in the process. I don't know why I pocketed it then. I still don't know why I have it now. But all too quickly she opened her eyes and tapped my nose to hers. I held tightly onto the chipped piece of concrete when my mother told me the next day of my sister's departure. That was when I realized that was her way of saying goodbye. Anger stole me, then confusion. As soon as my mother had seen the displeasure in my face she clicked her tongue at me.

    "No reason to cry over spilled milk. What happens, happens and life goes on," her rigid voice was relentless, even to her young child. I clutched the rock in one hand as my other was held by my maid. That was the last day I saw that garden; the garden with the beautiful fountain where my sister had taught me to wish upon the water, two shining coins held and wrapped tightly with the lost dreams of royalty. At least one of the dreams was followed. Years later, I had quietly gone back into that garden, my hand fishing through the water for the lost coins. With the odd collection of a chipped rock and two rusted copper coins, I had left with half a dream. My sister--the most important piece-- still missing.

    My eyes slam open, the dream leaving me drenched in a cold sweat. With a weary sigh, I climb out of my bed, the shock of cold floor against my bare feet bringing me a sense of reality. Across the room my roommate--Tunrola--breathes in and out lightly, her carefully tucked headwrap nearly falling off her thick curls of hair. She shifts in her bed, her eyes opening only slightly to squint at me.

    "Are you okay? You need anything?" she murmurs. Tunrola had noticed my sleepless nights as soon as she began to share a dorm with me. Sometimes when I couldn't sleep she would bring me water, or tell me stories about the village she grew up in. But this time I don't want to trouble her. This time the dream was more personal, and when I'm with Tunrola it's easy to talk about my old life. And once it's spoken, it's like a wound open to the sting of air.

   "No, no I'm ok. Sorry for waking you. I'll just...be outside." I say tightly. Tunrola fixes her eyes on me, sensing my distress even through the darkness of the room. But she just sighs and rewraps her scarf, turning onto her side in her bed. "Alright. Don't be stupid while you're out there."

     I manage a small smile at her bluntness and close our bedroom door with a soft thud. Away from the familiarity of the room, the sudden silence of the hallways chills me. I wrap my arms around my bare shoulders, wishing for a sense of warmth. I reach into the pockets of my sweatpants, pulling out a bundle of neatly stacked cards. I gaze at the blue hue of the student IDs I received just yesterday. In the moonlight, my squad smiles confidently back at me. I file through the cards until I land on the reaper. Alana Alveriti. In the picture she looks slightly confused, pointing off to the side with a question on her lips. She somehow still makes it look graceful and elegant, and I can just imagine the photographer snapping a picture and going; to hell with it, she looks good anyway. I flip the card and study the Billowist's face. He's a people person, with the way he's grinning at the photographer. It draws the attention away from his hands fiddling with something out of the frame. The Burner is the next face I see, his polite smile and focused gaze on the camera. He carries a poise about him, reminding me greatly of the nobles of the palace. All refined and quiet around me. I hated being the odd one out. And finally the Drafter; the card reads Eliza in a swirly font. Underneath, in a less showy print, it spells out Elisabeth Zequi. The girl's smile is soft, but her eyes knowing. It takes me a moment to realize that her face isn't freckled. I trace the light spots of discoloration framing her chin with my finger. It brings back the memory of the maid with vitiligo who brought me warm milk when I couldn't sleep. I'm admiring her smile when the moonlight flashes on the darkness of my tattoo. My concealer came off... I sigh, knowing that anything could happen with just one wrong glance. I take one last breath before tucking the portraits away and opening the door to the quiet of my dorm.

❃❃❃

     From a glance, the mess hall may seem a bit unorderly. Upon closer look, it is filled with a calm sense of belonging. The morning air outside whistles silently against the glass windows spanning one side of the hall. The rest of the hall is filled with long oak tables, and a small bar pushed to the side for those who want a quick brunch. I usually sit alongside the huge windows, enjoying the view of the Green while I eat. Now, with the bustling sounds of the staff making multiple trays of breakfast food, I gaze at the stools in the corner longingly.

    So far, all we've received of figures of authority are stern looks from instructors and dormitory advisors. It's been only two days since the last of the last cadets were filed into the registry, but I haven't heard a thing about the squad I will be working with in the future. And it's seeming to be more and more of a joke each day. Day in, day out all I'm getting from the noble Majia daughters and sons alike are

      "How come I don't recognize you? Where are you from? You have such tan skin." The idea that there are colored wealthy peoples that they don't know of startles them greatly. I was able to smile with satisfaction for only a few moments before an armada of even more prying questions was fired at me. There is a certain air around nobility, I can't quite explain the feeling, but the right word is surely entitled. They don't ask, they demand; which isn't a terrible trait, but with this group, it's blown out of proportion. That is usually how I find myself eating at the break of dawn when people are still tucked in comfortably in their dorms. The quiet lull of the mess hall mixed with the light chattering of the school chef is where I feel most relaxed. On the occasion that Tunrola wakes up with me, we make a team of two and breakfast together. Much to my dismay, Tunrola takes her sleeping time seriously.

    "Why should I wake before the sun? It is its job to wake me." Tunrola laughed and tossed her head back when I had asked her. Nevertheless, I was learning what comfort means with her help. Her presence is warm and acknowledging, a silent nod confirming that she sees me. Something I haven't felt in a long while.