The Red Nobody

~ Thirteen ~

My heart sunk, a feeling that would never leave me. I knew deep down, and will never forget, that I somehow knew, father will come home to me. I wanted to cry, but I am a warrior, warriors don't cry. We are tough.

"Dear child, you can cry. I understand you want your father, but you can cry." She sat down on the floor in front of fathers chambers, still holding me. And I cried. And Braixen held me, tight and safe.

ROBYNS P.O.V

And now I remember, mother never told me that, it was Braixen. I never spoke to her after what she said to me, she told me I would be okay, that father leaving was just what was going to happen. That we would all fly off and never return. As I grew older, as did Braixen, and just after my eighth birthday, she flew off, and never returned.

I remember her death ceremony, it was upsetting. Father would of been devastated over the loss of a great friend. He had known Braixen since she was thirteen, and he was she was found wounded outside the forest. So he carried her back to heal her, and since then, they were best friends. But at least I knew, that they could be together once more.

Now they lie next to each other, both name plates in the Hall of Fallen, they each read:

Superior Zenüas Móxuż. Place of passing: unknown. Age at time passed: Forty. Linage: full Nijòran
Braixen (unknown). Place of passing: unknown. Age at time passed: thirty one. Linage: unknown

Father had always had feelings for mother, ever since they were young, he knew that he longed to be with her. Which made Braixen out of the question. They had known each other for years, and spent any time together when possible. Their mothers were the best of friends.

I remember the way father would hold me and kiss me goodnight on my forehead each night. He would tuck me into the quilt and put pillows all around me. He would sit at the end of my quilted bed, and tell me stories of the past, present and what the future holds for Nijòry, and the angels that live here.

My favourite story was always the one about the two warriors of Azarath, Singüo and Mijaire. They were brother and sister, and together, they would rid the world of the evil and despised. They too were angels, with large white and black wings, golden eyes and deep brown hair. Their stories always made me feel. So much better about myself, knowing that even the greatest warriors can look different.

Mijaire was my idol as a youngling, she was so inspirational to me, I longed to be as great as her, a noble warrior with the respect she deserves from almost everyone. It's exactly what I wanted for myself. But something I could never have.

I never understood why I was so different. Graiy has her small differences, there are angels in the village with brown or black hair and darker wings, or different eyes.

I can remember fathers white eyes, so bright and beautiful, they would shine in dark times. His deep brown hair that reached his shoulders, and was always clean, it was always tied back in a slick bun, tied with vine from willow trees. His large frame and huge white wings didn't do justice to his kind heart, and soft nature.

Father would wake me up on those mornings where Graiy would forget. He would come in and lightly rub my back until I awoke as slowly as I pleased. It was always my favourite way to wake up.

I remember the way Braixen would cook me breakfast on the winter mornings, it was always either nutmeg porridge or fresh buttered bread. Bread is a royal delicacy, it was my most favourite thing to eat. Braixen would cook it to perfection, and spread her homemade butter all over the hot bread.