Marmalade's Love Potion

Chapter 24 - Paths of Power - Part 3

"Hm? Oh! Yes..." Steph grinned sheepishly as he realised what Penelope was looking at. "You dropped your handkerchief that day we met, in the Upper Village gardens... I meant to return it when I picked it up, but I forgot about it in the chaos. I found it in my pocket when I returned home and thought it might be... an auspicious touch..." Steph trailed off, looking shy.

Penelope smiled up at him. Then, struck by sudden realisation, she looked down at the skirt of her gown, billowing around her in airy folds as they spun across the stone.

A memory surfaced of a violet crystal ball, and a vision of two figures dancing in a hazy whirl, one dressed in a gown the exact match of the dress she now wore. Penelope threw her head back, cackling in helpless laughter.

As they spun to the music and the ceaseless roar of falling water, Penelope told Steph of her vision in Whistleweather's shop, of the Fate token and its wily, poetic magic, of her choice to change the design of her gown in protest of Fate.

"And yet..." Penelope finished, wiping beads of moisture from the corners of her eyes as she continued to giggle, her chest aching. "This night unfolded exactly as I foresaw it... though not at all how I expected."

Steph touched his brow to hers as he drew her closer. "Fate seems spectacularly cruel. How many choices are our own?" He spoke this last part almost silently, as though to himself.

Penelope had no answer regardless. Was her vision simply the culmination of choices she would come to make? A glimpse into a future brought about by her own intent and agency of will? Or was she impelled by a greater force, making choices consistent with the whims of Fate?

Would she have made different choices had she Seen nothing at all? Or would she simply have been walking a fixed road she could not perceive?

She felt another flare of anger at her family, braiding the lives of others into a tapestry of their own design. Yet how much power did they truly have to change its course, if the future was indeed immutable? Was choice at war with Fate? Or was Fate the servant of choice..?

Penelope, in that moment, was tremendously glad she had been spared from her family's legacy; she had no doubt that joining her mother and sister as a Starwood Seer would inevitably fray her mind. She shuddered, shying away from that thought.

They spun in contemplative silence for another song before Steph remarked, "You asked Ivy to tell everyone you work on commission..?"

Penelope hummed through a sleepy smile as they twirled. "Yes, I intend to return to the cottage tonight... The Faewood is my home, and I intend to continue living there, at least for the time being." Penelope glanced at Steph, who nodded in understanding. "I hope the Sisters will stay with me... although I haven't yet spoken with them..."

"From what I've seen, after tonight, I believe you will have to pry them from your side with a chisel."

Penelope grinned, her chest warming with hope. "You've spoken with them? I've been trying to find them all night..."

Steph nodded. "While you were with your family. They were anxious to hear the outcome of that conversation, to say the least."

Penelope nodded, frowning. "I don't expect I will ever receive material support from the Starwoods again, and so... I... we will need means to make ends meet. When Ivy needed a gown, it seemed such a good opportunity. I've always made dresses, scarves, gloves—" Penelope flicked the square of cloth in Steph's pocket—"handkerchiefs... We sell most of it all at market, along with Sister Heely's concoctions and Sister Rosin's carvings. Except for the occasional ballgown for the Sisters' friends... More gown commissions would bring in a better income than what we sell at markets."