The smell of bread filled the tiny house, if it could even be called a house. The shudders had been thrown open to the world, the rose-gold rays of dawn letting the dust shimmer in the sky like fool’s gold as it cast its glow on the flour-covered wooden table of the kitchen-corner. The ‘men’ of the house, small men though they be, had already left to fulfill their duties for the day, leaving their sisters behind to bicker amongst themselves, out of earshot and out of mind.
The ire of Elizabeth had been distracted only by her cooking, and by the flailing form of Maerie who, as most five-year-olds go, showed an impressive level of determination to bring harm to herself around ovens. For all intents and purposes the fifteen year old was by far the most functional of the brood, generally considered to be the prettiest with her dark hair and pale skin, and undeniably the smartest of the bunch. Perhaps this luck was what caused the girl to be in constant disapproval of her elder sister who, at that moment made entrance into the main room half-naked and falling on her face in effort to lace up her dress while running out the door.
A choking cough split the ambiance as lithe fingers curled about the laces of the faded, green dress draped upon Penny’s form. Tugged back into alignment, Elizabeth sighed as she righted the tattered strings, synching them tightly and tying them off with a lazy, fisherman’s knot. “Penny,” began the youth, “Ye should at leas’ eat.” She insists dourly, admittedly wanting her sister out of the house but maintaining a responsibility to ensure she not die… for lack of money if that were to occur. A scoff responds, weathered hand reaching to rip off a section of the newly-baked bread, stuffed quickly between her lips as she spins on-heel to begin back peddling out of the door. “Ea’-en’m-dead” she muffles, suffocating accent only further unintelligible through the layer of scalding hot bakery.
Truly, she did not want to deal with this this morning. Shift upon shift at the tavern had burnt her down until her nerves had given up on the sensation of aching, and the idea of sitting while eating was a fairy tale told to children to persuade them to be good. The only highlights of her life were the flickering moments of collapsing into bed before her mind went blank, and hastily-spoken sentences to Alekay at the glistening of twilight while half-conscious and lacking the muscle strength to smile.
“You’re going to look hideous at your wedding if you don’t!” came the voice of Beth, who seemed to have resigned herself to the hasty marriage- if still not to the marriage partner. A cold laugh was returned to her, from the older woman equally as resigned to the dissatisfaction of not only family but village entirely. Thin shoulders press back into the door as she hurridly chews, hastily tying her hair up in a ragged piece of twine and tucking her engagement ring, which lay on a chain about her neck from fear of theft, beneath the fraying collar of her dress.
Something was said beyond this, but the cries of anguish at the lack of ‘moral representation of the union’ was lost behind the slamming of a door truly too fragile for such acts of recklessness. Off into the dawn went the figure, running as fast as loose boots could carry across dusty roads to begin another day of survival.
