chapter 33

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Kingdom of Tareeya Lacey

The day unfolded like any other in our peculiar haven beneath the ancient bridge. Much like the days before. I had nightmares, from the month before. The wounds had pretty much healed and most had been scared.

Bomb had vanished, as she often did during the afternoons, leaving only a casual "See you later" to me as I headed out, clutching the unique key Krin had given me – a delicate piece of metalwork resembling intertwined vines, a whimsical testament to the eclectic charm of our makeshift family.

Returning from my errands, I found myself with some time on my hands, so I decided to make use of the quiet afternoon to indulge in one of my favourite pastimes – drawing. I settled into the corner of the common room, a cosy space adorned with mismatched furniture and a scattering of worn rugs. The sunlight streamed through the makeshift curtains, casting a warm glow on the aged wooden floor.

My fingers danced over the paper as I brought to life a scene from the meadow – a place of both solace and tension in recent times. The vibrant colours of the flowers, the imposing tree at the centre, and the hint of a distant castle on the horizon emerged beneath my pencil strokes. It was a moment frozen in time, capturing the beauty and uncertainty that mingled in the air.

As I immersed myself in my art, the door creaked open, and Doorlan strolled in with his customary nonchalance. "Hey there, Princess. Whatcha drawing?" he greeted, leaning against the doorframe. I find myself trapped in his green eyes, does he know? All he did was smirk and hide in his room.

"Just a moment from the meadow," I replied, glancing up to meet his gaze. Despite the ease in his demeanour, there was always an underlying tension when Doorlan and I interacted, a sense of forbidden secrets that lingered in the air..

He sauntered over, peering down at my sketch. "Hmm, the meadow, huh? I've always thought it held more secrets than it lets on." I tilted tales and spun some white lies with them.

Our conversation, laced with subtle hints and a lot of stares. Yet, before it could unravel further, the door swung open once again, revealing Krin in the doorway, an apple in hand. The atmosphere shifted, and our unspoken understanding dissolved.

"Hey, what's going on?" Krin asked, his brows furrowed in curiosity as he took a bite of the apple.

Doorlan straightened up, the tension dissipating like mist in the sun. "Just admiring blues artwork. You know, the meadow and its mysteries."

Krin grinned, joining us in the common room. "Meadow mysteries, huh? I always thought it was just a peaceful place."

I nodded, suppressing the residual tension. "It can be both, depending on the day."

With the conversation shifted to safer territory, Doorlan excused himself, leaving Krin and me to share a comfortable silence. The scent of the apple mingled with the warmth of the sun streaming through the curtains, creating a moment of tranquillity in our unconventional home.

Later in the afternoon, Bomb returned, her arrival marked by the distinctive clinking of tools in her bag. "Back to the tinkering," she announced, grinning as she dumped her findings on the table. "What did I miss?"

As we caught her up on the day's events, the casual banter resumed, the tension of earlier dissipating like morning dew. Our interactions, though fraught with unspoken complexities, formed the threads of a tapestry that defined our peculiar, yet cherished, family beneath the arching stone structure.

The familiar air in our haven shifted subtly as Bomb returned home that evening, her demeanour carrying an unspoken tension that didn't go unnoticed by my perceptive gaze. I exchanged a concerned glance with Doorlan, who always seemed to possess an uncanny ability to sense the unspoken currents in our little sanctuary. As he took his customary seat, there was an air of authority about him, a silent acknowledgment that he was the strategist among us.

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