LUNA SUNFLOWER is a freak. The kind you whisper about on the streets or spare a few concerned glances at. But she is also a dreamer, the kind that'd dream up big adventures of fairies and mysterious assassins kidnapping mothers-her mother, to be spe...
"Xenia is the concept of welcoming humble strangers to one's home and treating them as family in the hopes that the traveller may be the God Xenios in disguise, whom would grant one a wish in return of one's hospitality."
— Umber's "Rewritings of the Lost Manuscript" (Published in the 17th cycle by Ancient World, in Forundan City, Forundan.)
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I stepped into the bustling house. The candles and chandeliers were all lit, casting a warm glow onto the light walls. I shrugged off my muddy denim jacket with sunflowers embroidered onto the sleeves and hung it on the wooden coatrack pa' had carved. I slipped out of my battered red sneakers and made my way deeper into the mansion with my socks muffling the sound of my footsteps.
The mansion's entrance was empty, but I could still hear the loud chatter and the clinking of plates. I held onto the two cartons of eggs and slipped into the kitchens, where flour, butter and eggshells littered the dark vinyl floor.
My gaze floated past the hillside ladies, each and every one of them clad in a white apron with their hands full either decorating dishes or making new ones. They seemed to dance around the litter on the floors, gracefully passing dishes from one person to the other before returning back to their original station.
My ma' had a clipboard in hand, it's edges coated with dried dough and flour as she tapped the tip of a blue ball-point pen against the surface. She walked past the long counters and tables, full of bowls, kitchenware, dishes and a variety of ingredients. There were at least three open recipe-books on each table, the pages held down by the weight of a small fork, spoon or the messy finger of one of the frantic yet skilled women.
Eleanor was inspecting each of the girls as they did their job, checking if the dishes were done correctly and that no one was slacking off. She would take notes every once in a while on the clipboard and sometimes tick or cross something off after she scolded them. Ma' would never notice me behind all the unexpectedly organised chaos of rushing ladies, so I stalked my way towards her, dodging the busy women. When I was finally behind my ma', which was a hard task in itself as she was always moving and pacing around, I tapped her on the shoulder. But when she did not acknowledge me, I tugged at her neat white sleeve that puffed out before tightening at the rims, reminding me of the medieval sleeves princesses used to wear in storybooks.
She turned around with a serious look in her sharp and intelligent eyes. The frown on her thin dry lips was surrounded by fatigued wrinkles, betraying her usually youthful and confident demeanour.
Once she realised it was me, her tired eyes brightened a tad bit. "Ah, Luna."
"I've got the eggs ma'." I showed the cartons by holding them up before I passed them to Eleanor.
