It is not what it looks like

Not quite home

Soon, I become accustomed to the daily rhythm of life in Lankaya. Going out to train with the young women, accompanying Manuh as he organises raids and going out hunting. However, years of hard work in Forth Worth had made cities as farmiliar to me as the back of my palm, now all that is useless.
Today as I sit at the smooth backyard grass with my new best friend Anjali, I catch myself in that thought, however, I force a mental reminder that Forth Worth matters to me no more.
As I look at Anjali, I can't help but notice her eyes, with a strong and resolute look. I once overheard some kitchen staff members say that there is something evil in the glitter of those eyes. But that's what is more attractive about Anjali.

Life has not been easy these past few weeks I've been I Lankaya though. I had been seen as the hick from Lankaya. Even as the summer comes and goes, with the harvests becoming rich per season, old men and women sigh with inner fear as they witness the hubbub of excitement throbbing through the hills, making things tremble. It's quite obvious they've never seen such things and part of them blames me for that good fortune!

It's been a week and a half since I came to Lankaya but the obnoxious voice in the back of my head still tells me that it's not quite home. I know very well that it's obligatory for me to be here. I need to know what my tribe has to do with my powers. My mother has always been so protective of me and her obscurantism is doing the both of us no good. I have also realized that lately, she's spending more time with my father. Maybe they are trying to rekindle the embers of their nuptial vows, if at all they were there. I'm not complaining though.

My step brother Manuh, he's the most impossible person, but maybe, that's his way of showing that he cares. He's the one who has been training me. His training routine is so strict but I've always done my best to adhere to it. His punches are always quick and precise but the blows always land at force. He doesn't like me a lot. That's what I've figured out so far. I always find his chatter more annoying than intimidating. He barely smiles but when he does, the smile only reminds me of Judas, the betrayer. The way the edges of his smile don't quite reach his eyes unnerves me.
Whenever he trains me the fighting skills, ironically, something in his voice makes me feel unwanted but I nonetheless do as he says because, well, what else can I do.

Recently, I have developed a run-each-morning behavior. At least it provides me with some much needed solitude. However, because I'm not used to this place, Anjali provides the much needed company in my morning routine. Each morning, we embark on long circuits through the sorounding countryside and across the ridges, racing against the rising sun before it's scorching rays melts away the cool shadows beneath the deliphiniums, oak trees and craggy stone outcrops. We wander the vast green city before shops are opened and markets are filled to their sizeable capacity. On one of our treks to the market, we encountered a blacksmith who ended up making us identical throwing knives as souvenirs when he realized what clan we come from. I found out that there are several clans in the city, but the Pantheon clan, our clan, I realized, on the rare occasion it's spoken, it's intoned with a particular apprehension.
Nevertheless, on that same day we ended up buying identical kimonos from the market also.
Anjali has turned out to be a great friend, though I miss Cash, I still have Anjali to lean on.

Even on certain days when we walk through the market and I see people smile cheerfully at one another as they pass. Small children play freely in the streets besides their parents. Soilders watch the peripheral of the city while mercenaries perform their duty loyally. It's indeed peaceful. All these makes me question where I fit it. It's in such moments where I feel the nothingness consume me but Anjali becomes my pillar of strength and for that, I'll always be grateful. "You just need a little more time to adjust to the life here. Until then, confront each day as it comes." She comforts me and gives me a bear hug.

This particular day as I sit peacefully besides Anjali, listening to her stories of how the Pantheon clan came to be, how vast the richness of our family is and how many battles she has fought, I catch sight of a certain glitter of excitement in her eyes which is also reflected by her voice. The passion that oozes from the way her hands signals as she tackles such topics is priceless.
There are days when she  occasionally challenges me to a friendly sparring match which she obviously got the lead on.

"I especially love to go to war on my own war ship." Anjali says.
"I thought you people ride donkeys and horses to war." I tease her to which she wrinkles her nose and says.
"Don't insult me Maddy. Only primitives say that." She says, with a satisfied grin grazing her face.
"Whoa, look who's calling me primitive!" I say dramatically, my hand holding my heart, to feign hurt.

"But seriously, my apologies. I'm still learning. Your country is very...."

"Madison, father needs to talk to you immediately." Manuh says, interrupting us. I don't know what my father wants to tell me, but there's only one way to find out. I look at Anjali for consolation but I catch a certain emotion in her eyes, which dissapears like it wasn't there at the first place.
"Go, we'll meet later and have some girl time." She gives me that sweet smile I've grown accustomed to and I set off, trailing behind Manuh.

His throne house is spectacular, from one angle it looks like an arboretum, with plants ranging from hibiscus to ponciana flowers. There are empty and guarded beaches on the way. Lamp posts also on either side of the walkways.
My father is lounged on the throne, reading a documentary, it seems. He takes on a self-aggrandizing posture of a king preceeding over a banquet hall. On his chest there's a lion pin fashioned from polished obsidian and besides him stands a thick-muscled guard who displays a similar pin on his collar, as well as a sword sheathed at his hip.

At this point, I don't know what to say or do because I'm not yet programmed to the African mannerisms. Should I curtsy or just stand there and watch. I scratch the mop of black hair, as though trying to work the right word or action from my brain. They both stare in silence for an uncomfortable span of seconds then he says, "welcome my daughter. Your standing really still. Move closer to your father."

I look behind me and notice Manuh is not around. My father gives a shooing gesture to his guard who walks out as well. And this leaves the two of us.
"How are you coping with us here? Is this place treating you well?" My father asks his voice deep and terribly low.
"Yes dad. I'm coping well. I'm also trying to pick on our cultural norms and mannerisms and integrating them in my actions."

He briefly smiles then says, "I'm glad."
A glazed expression veils his eyes, as if he is looking straight through me. "Because you are special. And you have grown into a strong woman. Forgive me for not being a good father to you and a good husband to your mother. I promise to make it up to you both. But first, I need your forgiveness and approval." He says ebulliently while tapping his knuckles thoughtfully against the throne.

So, apparently, I feel so nervers but he should not admonish that. He looks at me optimistically. Hoping for a second chance to make things right.
Of course we all make mistakes and we ask for forgiveness. Why should he not receive it when he asks for it genuinely.
I don't know what my tomorrow holds because the future is an ever-changing amorphic beast that takes no prisoners.
Perhaps I should say yes and get over with it because as it seems, my mother forgave him long ago.

This proposition feels so enticing and as I look at his hazel eyes whose hopefulness stires a violent and contradictory force in me,  I feel like I'm in a taxing dilemma.

"I forgive you."
The words form gently without relenting. An antoxication of ecstasy and pleasure fills him and he gives me a tight yet gentle hug. So unexpected.

"Thank you daughter." He says with a certain glow of pride.
"However, I know you have the powers, just as it was said and written in the subway walls by our prophets and oracles. So you'll stick with Manuh. He'll teach you how to use the powers because they could be a curse or a blessing depending on how you use them." Before I protest, my mother comes in, her eyes full of unshed tears of happiness. She joins in the hug.  Such moments, are the ones that remain permanently imprinted in our hearts.

"I feel the smell of dinner lurking in the air. Let's go and dig in with unbashed ethusiasm." My dad says but before we turn around to leave, the door opens and Manuh and Anjali walks in. Making no interest to mask their interest in whatever is happening. Manuh laughs like a winded ass. A laugh full of hurt and despise. The unexpectedly caustic sound makes me flinch but nobody else in the room shares in his amusement.
"Come on Mady. Let's go have super." Anjali says sweetly while dragging me out towards the kitchen.