wind walkers ➸ gilbert blythe

𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚

꧁1. Seaway꧂

Q U I E T L Y Annabeth tiptoed through the house. Some of the wooden floorboards in the narrow hallway creaked loudly under her weight. Wincing slightly, she stilled. She knew her father nor her mother were heavy sleepers. Hoping neither of them would awake, she continued her way, stopping only for a moment in their small kitchen in search of a candle. Her mother had never allowed Annabeth to keep one in her room, since an incident that took place nine years prior. Back then, she had been only six, not understanding how dangerous fire could be. So, her unknowing younger self had taken the lit candle to the window, across from her white sheeted bed, fascinated by the reflection of the small flame dancing mildly under the influence of her breath. Meanwhile getting just a little too close to the curtains. Screaming at view of the flames slowly eating up the fabric, she had awoke her parents, who had came running to her in seconds. Fortunately her father was a fast runner - the damage could have been way worse, if he hadn't gotten the water in time. 

It was pretty late for her, normally she would be fast sleep by now. But all the giddiness, which bubbled up inside her, at the thought of the occurrence, that would take place tomorrow, didn't really help her fall asleep. The candle was swiftly lit, after she twice tried to enflame the match. Checking again if her parents had detected her sneaking, she stepped out onto the front porch. Their dog, Benji, sprung up the second she opened the front door. Startled she shushed him and told him to sit. The grass was frigid under her feet as she passed the barn, where the horses had rested before they were sold a few days ago. Her hair was put in a braid, only some strands had loosened themselves, flowing softly due her race through the forest, just in front of the humble wooden house they lived in. Smiling she slowed her pace, setting the candle down, where it wouldn't cause any harm. Close by you could hear the rippling of a stream.

Annabeth thought if it was her last day here in Galvone, she could at least visit her most favourite place on this island but knowing exactly her parents would be furious if they found her gone so late at night. That didn't stop her. She desired to see this mesmerising view just one more time, not sharing a thought at what could possibly be her punishment. Without making a single sound she sat on a tree trunk. She waited and waited, knowing it could happen any moment now. Squealing a little as the first few fireflies showed themselves, she eventually lay on the dirty ground, staring up at the sky in delight. In the back of her mind she wondered, if she would feel that way about something ever again. She wasn't born here, that she knew. Even though she couldn't remember her life before Ireland, her mother made sure to remind Annabeth almost every day of the beauty her place of birth had held. The fifteen year old couldn't imagine the way her parents took upon themselves to come all the way to Ireland. And all that with a baby! Her father mentioned once or twice that the sea was a wild affair and even more tough with having to take care of a baby. He also told her of all the harbours they had been to on their seaway. Because the ship they had been on had such a long trade way, they sailed all the way from Prince Edward Island to Wilmington, North Carolina, halting at every harbour that could be found. They even had a short stay in Spain to gather new supplies, till they finally found their home in Galvone, Ireland. Annabeth's' father, Richard, had actually always wanted to remain in his beloved home but her mother had been such a curious young girl, longing for adventures, so he had just given into her wishes. When Annabeth had asked her mother, Beatrice, why she didn't go on more adventures, a light smile always took place on her face. Everytime she would give her daughter the same answer: "Who found their dreams, already arrived." And Everytime Annabeth would frown in query, simply not understanding what it had to do with her question in any way. Maybe, she thought, I will understand when I'm older. After all, that's what her mother told her after every question Beatrice didn't want to answer. Now that Annabeth's mother had fallen sick with little hope of recovery, she was determined to get to see her hometown one last time. Richard and Annabeth refused to call it her 'last time', although every doctor who checked on her, left with a big, hurting I'm sorry.