Chapter Text
Kéyah was used to the hard work done for the Atrium Auroræ, a highly-regarded orphanage ran by the Order of Idrila. The cowgirl didn't understand its true purpose, didn't understand why she had to lower her head in front of the armored men and women that walked in front of her. The only thing she knew is that it always hurt when the adults nearby pushed her head down to bow until their shadows cast on the ground disappeared from sight.
She looks at them, though. And they look at her whenever the little cowgirl uses their crops and land as her playground. No matter how many times she's scolded by this, the open land and gardens full of flowers are a little too irresistible to not run through them, letting her fingertips glide over the delicate leaves of the bushes and flowers. The Sacra Custodia may be used to children's antics, but it's obvious they would rather have them occur with the children they are taking care of and not a girl from the farm.
“Your... little one was playing near the well, again,” explains the Manus Venustatis, a woman that bears a long scar that starts on her left cheekbone and slides down her lip, stopping at her jawline. She purses her broken lips as she looks down at Kéyah, getting far more upset when the girl looks back at her without even batting an eye. “The last time she fell down in it, we could have sworn she was going to drown.”
“Ain't no way. Nothin' seems to stop the dumb thing,” one of the oldest farmers say, grabbing Kéyah by the back of her neck and eliciting a yelp from the girl. “We're really sorry for the trouble she's causin' you, ma'am. She'll make herself useful and stop foolin' around. Right, Kéyah?”
As always, she's forced to bow down, whining as the pain in her neck comes back. Without saying anything else, she's pulled by the arm, forced to walk—or rather, skip—to the entrance. On the way, she finally feels enough shame to look away from the eyes that look down at her from above, regarding the little cowgirl with a disapproving look and sometimes others send a compassionate smile her way. She can feel her face reddening as she tumbles down the stairs of the orphanage, squealing when she wriggles her arm off of the man's hold.
“I can walk on my own–!” her exclamation is cut off by a heavy slap on her face, making her stumble back a step.
She raises a hand to her aching cheek, hiding her teary-eyed gaze from the man standing in front of her.
“Ya ain't makin' us lose this goddamn job! Do ya realize how hard it is for us displaced farmers to find somethin' in this solar system?!” he yells at her, noticing a little too late that a guard was walking nearby.
The man watches the farmers carefully, as if waiting for something to happen. Embarassed, the old man bows down, muttering an apology as he takes a step back to allow him to pass.
Kéyah takes a step back too, her trembling body unable to react in time. Still, the guard ruffles her hair affectionately, trying to comfort her. He's met with the petulant whine of the girl, taking a longer step back the moment she lifts her chin up to throw a glare at him, meeting a pair of gloomy green eyes instead. In the arms of a brown-haired guard, another girl is being cradled. Her white hair is disheveled, and dirty with ash and mud. Her body is covered with a light blanket that envelops her almost completely, leaving only those puffy, cold eyes on sight.
The cowgirl blinks up at her, noticing she's not quite looking at her... or at anything for that matter. Is she dead? She looks like she could be.
Before she can keep looking at the girl, Kéyah is pulled away by her arm once more. She doesn't even gasp or fight back, turning to look at the guard from above her shoulder and watching him walk up the stairs while embracing a little corpse.
It was not a corpse. Not at all.
The next week, when her little accident near the well is all but forgotten, Kéyah goes back to running around the orphanage while doing her chores. She places a seed into the earth, covers it gently to allow the next batch of tomatoes to grow, and she's off to the next one. All the seeds she's sown are placed neatly into the soil she plays on, trotting and whipping her hand above her head as if she was about to lasso a wild bull.
She pulls the imaginary reins of her horse, making a neighing sound once she stops near the dining area. Kéyah stands in front of the window, and that is a very big mistake. She catches the smell of freshly baked potatoes, of roasted beef seasoned with heavily aromatic herbs. The smell that wafts from the window is powerful enough to make her take a step forward, wanting to marvel at the dishes getting ready for the kids at the orphanage. It's impossible not to curse when she watches the nuns taking the plates over to the dining area. She skims over to the next window, hiding by it in order to peak through the glass. Instead of the food, she catches a glimpse of something far more interesting...
That was not a corpse, but a living girl. Sitting by the window, the white-haired girl from a week ago sits in from of an untouched plate of steaming hot vegetables, pureed potatoes and a steak. A nice, hot meal... and she doesn't even grab her fork up.
Kéyah wants to slap her just like her elders do to her. What the fuck is she even doing, ignoring the food presented to her this way? She remembers she has to hide when the brown–haired guard sits by the girl, all white skin and hair. Ducking down the windowsill, the farmer listens to the conversation they are having; or rather, the man tries to have.
“You have not touched your food, Argenti,” he notes in a gentle voice, tutting softly. “Are you sure you do not even want to have a taste? If you finish your plate, the nuns will bring you a most delicious dessert. Did you know that?”
The girl, Argenti, doesn't respond.
“Look, they brought me the same plate. Do you like vegetables, little one? Could it be that you dislike them? We can take them off your plate, if you so desire.”
Argenti doesn't respond.
Kéyah feels mortified by just listening to this conversation, throwing herself to the ground among the white roses surrounding each and every corner of the Atrium Auroræ. She crawls, pushing herself forward by the elbows as she whispers a tune her fathers once sang for her. Then, the words of the guard make her pause, looking over at the window when he says, "You cannot live like this, little one... Your parents would be sad to watch you starving like this..."
The farmer watches Argenti stand up and leave, her white hair swaying as she runs away from the man that sighs once she leaves.
Kéyah wonders if they are going to throw away the food she wasted so she can steal it.
“Kéyah, behave,” the woman warns the girl by her side, trying to pick the thistles from her white hair.
She whines, rubbing her face with both of her hands violently. The sheperd slaps her hands away, going back to work as Kéyah wriggles and groans desperately, throwing a tantrum.
“I just wanna play, please. I'm bored, cleaning potatoes sucks. I feel like fuckin' dyin'!”
The sheperd slaps her left hand once more, though the hit is far softer than the men's. "You're so difficult sometimes... I wonder how Nick put up with ya, knowin' how damn hot–headed he was..."
At the mention of her father, Kéyah stops flailing from the blonde's grasp. She stays still on the bench they are sitting, as the cicadas sing and the fireflies fill the evening sky like moving stars. She watches them dance above her, gulping down as she lets Dyani, the oldest sheperd of their group, groom her hair. The woman clears her throat, gently stroking Kéyah's forehead, as if wanting to tame a wild horse with a soft touch.
Kéyah was never destined for softness. Every touch and word feels like a threat, like a silent taunt. She doesn't know what she's fighting for, but she is fighting. Baring baby teeth and dirty nails, she takes up on the challenges this world offers every time someone gets close enough to feel her bite.
She flinches, sitting up straight and turning her head away. Her knuckles turn white from grabbing the edge of the bench, both hands hidden between her legs. Dyani looks at her own hands, shaking her head slightly.
“Sorry 'bout that, kiddo,” she whispers, reaching for her knee... only to lower her hand back to her own lap. “Y'know, it's late for ya to go bother our 'neighbors'... But maybe you could give the horses some love, why don't ya?”
Kéyah looks at Dyani from the corner of her eye, interested in being close to the full-sized horses and not their boring, smaller foals.
“You can fix their hair real pretty, right?”
“Yeah, I can,” replies the girl, putting on her boots. “My pa taught me how to braid their hair.”
“I'm sure he did,” says Dyani with a solemn nod, putting a hand to her chest before sighing.
Kéyah doesn't want to cry. Not in front of this woman. She lets her tears fall down on her way to the orphanage's barn, located by the Arena. She appreciates the perfectly limited spaces, not allowing the roses to reach the marble columns that make way to the enlongated space where the Sacra Custodia and future warriors train daily. The pale light of the lanterns glow as they hang on each giant pillar, above the cowgirl's head. She squints to try and catch the kind of fire that ignites them, but there is no flame on sight. She wipes the tears from her eyes, whimpering softly as she looks up at the lantern one last time before fixing the red bandana around her neck and frolicks through the Arena, deciding to ignore the pain and keep walking until she can't do it anymore.
She sings, shameless and free, not caring about the possible consequences of being caught by a Custodi or one of the crinkly prunes in light armor that always scold her elders for her actions. She kicks the door to the barn open, making a few pigeons fly aimlessly around after being surprised by the girl. She laughs to herself, running after them as she tries to catch them. She stops once she hears the puff one of the horses lets out, turning her attention towards it. She looks around the barn until she finds a the short ladder used to better reach the horses' hair. She opens the cubicle of a gorgeous Holsteiner, its dark bay coat glowing under the light of the lantern nearby. Kéyah makes a soft sound, amazed by this animal's size and beauty.
“Ain't ya a real handsome lad...” she says, smiling up at the horse that moves its head erratically, stepping to the side. The girl lifts a hand slowly, allowing the steed to smell her palm. “I'm not hurtin' ya... I promise.”
It takes a few minutes for the horse to let Kéyah touch it. She pets his side gently, letting the feel of those powerful lungs inflating and deflating reach her open palm. The tail of dark hair hits her back, making her giggle.
“Don't worry, I won't take long,” she groans as she takes the soap in the dented bucket she brought with her and fills it with water from the water pump outside the barn. The handle is rusty... She should take care of it some other day.
She sings softly, a little too concentrated on filling the bucket to prepare herself from the sheer fright a falling broom gets from her. The girl screams, making the bucket tumble down before she hurriedly tries to pick it up. Stepping on the wet grass, she looks at the broom laying at the entrance, taunting her by staying completely still between the wall and the half open door. She tries to calm herself, placing a hand on her chest, right above her heart. It's beating furiously, and her breathing is just as fast.
Could it be that she just made it move when she walked out of the barn...? It could be. Yes...
Kéyah gulps down, running a hand through her black-white hair and pushing it back. She takes the bucket in both of her trembling hands, taking step after step towards the barn. She wants to run, but she can't also risk the Sacra Custodia to discover the misplaced ladder and unkept horses still on their cubicles. The elders would punish her real bad for such a thing...
With this in mind, she tries to steel herself for what's to come, finally reaching for the door with her left hand...
A flurry of white running out of the door makes her scream, tripping over herself as she watches a pigeon flying out of the barn. She growls furiously, her light voice breaking at the end as she takes a rock from the ground and throws it at the pigeon. She fails. “Go to hell! Damn...!”
She breathes heavily for a few moments, shaking her head in disbelief. A pigeon almost made her piss her pants... What a joke. Rolling up her sleeves, the cowgirl takes the handle of the half-filled bucket to finally reach the cubicle of the horse. She curses once more, leaving the bucket by the stack of hay where a girl looks up at her. She uses the soap to start making bubbles in the water...
... There is a girl.
She freezes instantly, turning her horrified gaze at the little girl that hugs her knees tightly as Kéyah throws the bucket her way, wetting her white locks of hair before running off.
“A–A ghost! Oh, Aeons!” she screams, tripping and falling to the ground before desperately picking herself up to run again. “D–Dyani! Dyani!”