2404 Rab 15, Reshpe

Nelnifa's day started out as it did yesterday. Slight differences here and there, otherwise, the events from the day before could easily blend with the ones she would experience today.

It was almost a blessing, considering Nelnifa wasn't a sucker for drastic changes in her life. Sure, she could manage a few revisions in her schedule but overhauling an entire afternoon, or worse, an entire day? That's a dealbreaker.

The promise of a predictable day was what got Nelnifa out of bed today. And yesterday. And the countless days before that. Her father once teased her about this sentiment, saying she's never going to make it out of Desara if she's like this. "You're like a slab of wanstine," her father had once said with a wink. "Strong, unmovable. Nothing could deter you."

Nelnifa remembered agreeing to that sentiment. Then, her father continued. "But you must be like the salvia," he had pointed to the sky to symbolize the trees even though they're indoors. "Slender, graceful. Going with the flow of the wind, without breaking."

Her father smiled at her. It was something Nelnifa would pay to have painted and the picture hung in her room. "There are a number of things in life against which you need to be a wanstine slab but there are more against which you have to be a salvia. Do you get me?"

Nelnifa had nodded just to get her father off her hide. It wasn't like she was old enough to think like a wizened hermit or understand everything her father was implying. She was young and with that comes certain stubbornness, like, indeed, being a wanstine slab.

Now, Nelnifa ducked out of her family's shack, saying goodbye to her brothers, Varran and Dewyn. Both of their blue gray heads peeked from the windows propped open by salvia shoots, waving their little arms at her. She flashed them a small smile and waved right back. They haven't bloomed together since Varran was at least three years older, but looking at them, they could have been twins.

"Bring home a basket of cloresh!" Varran's shrill voice echoed behind Nelnifa as she tore past the path made up of smoothened rocks stuck into the silt out of their lot. Up ahead, their neighbors were either gone from their houses or just going out, like Nelnifa. "Don't forget or we'll bug you for eternity!"

Nelnifa smiled at the thought of the sweet, smallcakes made from waterbell fluid and salvia milk. She would surely pass by the trading square on the shores of Zoriago for that.

With her hand cupped to the side of her mouth, she turned back to the house while walking backwards. "I won't forget!" she screamed back to her brother, her own voice echoing in the thin undergrowth, startling a colony of kranclas from their perches. Nelnifa winced and mentally apologized to the grumpy birds before continuing, "Besides, you are already bugging me for eternity. It's not like cloresh will make a difference."

Peals of laughter rang inside the house as her brothers slipped away from the window and ran inside the house, yelling at each other, "We're going to have cloresh for dinner!" in a chant-like fervor. Nelnifa snorted and shook her head. It's a good thing their parents have already gone out for the day, leaving Nelnifa to tend to her brothers before going out herself. That way, she could make promises like this.

Having been forgotten by her brothers, she continued on her way away from her house and closer to the shores of Zoriago where she was expected. As the child of the Water Potentate, the highest ruler in the water sprite territory, Desara, she had to show up, despite her initial refusal.

She could vaguely recall having thrown a tantrum of sorts as a child after her parents told her she would be next in line to the position and that she had to start doing the responsibilities attached to it. Nobody liked duties, especially a child.

It took her a long time before she could get out of the house and see people without feeling the urge to flee back in. Zoriago was a minefield. The busy shores of Orayta was a waking nightmare. She didn't know how or why she was like this but she had to work on it or else risk losing her credibility as the heir and have her family exiled or something. Lanteglos wasn't known to be forgiving to incompetent people.

Nelnifa craned her neck to the sky, the sun's bright beams being obscured by multicolored canopies shielding her head from their heights. The soil's particles clung to the soles of her bare feet, the rain from last night making them stick together on her skin in clumps. She winced. It's a good thing the sand and the ocean would be washing it all away once she cleared the forest.

Another mystery was why the Potentate's family lived in a shack in the middle of the forest instead of the official manor like the rest of the royal families in every territory. Her father didn't exactly explain when he brought her to the manor to introduce her to the court officials and the Lantegian representatives. It wasn't such a big deal, considering they were public servants and not kings or queens. Nelnifa couldn't even imagine living inside a stuff estate with a bunch of stuffy nobles.

Besides, moving would mean she had to change up blocks of hours in her entire day. Wanstine slab, remember?

She dropped by the manor four days ago, at the beginning of the week, just to pass her recent reports on the weavers' department as well as the fisherfolk produce. It would help the Potentate office keep track of their livelihood and report to Lanteglos if they spot anything that could be a big problem in the future. With her just starting, she had been given only two departments in the entire economy of Desara, while her father and mother handled the rest.

As it was, her mother, the Potentate Consort, was out in Aresving since last week, overseeing the other Desaran industries like textile, mining, and territorial trading. Her father, the Potentate, had been going back and forth between the house and the official manor to check into stuff like social order, the justice system, and the Lantegian correspondence.

Nelnifa sniffed, the thick smell of morning dew and the salt from the ocean assaulted her nose. Zoriago always had the strangest of atmospheres. It was like the forest and the beach were warring with each other over which was going to stay dominant. There were times, especially during the storms, where the entire city would smell like upturned dirt, mowed grass, or exotic flowers. During the days where not a single drop of rain would fall from the sky—or what the water sprites refer to as Atos's Wrath—the ocean's salty breeze and the sand's scratchy feel would be their constant reminder that they were a mere distance from the endless water.

The hours she had spent crossing the forest soon became for the better as the sound of waves churning resounded from the distance. Nelnifa raised her head from watching the slippery slope going down the mountains to squint at the horizon. There, by the foot of the mountains curving from Fimrio, sat a carpet of white and beige followed by a swathe blue, going from pale to a darker shade as it went farther to where the sky melded with it.

A humid breeze blew from the ocean, blowing Nelnifa's wavy purple hair away from her face and scratching her arms and legs. Her loose, sleeveless dress flapped against her thin frame, the skirt bleeding off the twine she tied around her waist struggling against her knees. Nelnifa didn't suppress the smile creeping from the corners of her lips. Even her synnavaim flickered underneath her skin, reaching for the endless well of power just within her reach.

"Here's to another day," Nelnifa whispered to herself before leaning forward and plunging herself to the earth's pull in her descent from the mountain. When she reached the base, several carts drawn by four-legged dagrinis waited for her in a hazy array. These were water sprites who made a living by transporting people going from Zoriago to the other cities like Orayta and Aresving.

"Weaver's Circle, Orayta," Nelnifa said to a woman with a triangular qalnot hat over her head. The woman extended her hand and Nelnifa dropped two small pieces of kalta dryde into it. With the transaction complete, the woman jerked her chin towards a one-seater cart attached to the bridle of a honey-colored dagrine. Nelnifa climbed in at the same time as the woman climbed into the animal, flicked the reins, and started the ride.

Nelnifa braced the cart's sides, the huge wheels groaning as they turned. It was another hour before they would clear the border and she would finally be in Orayta. If it took her too long to gather the reports she was expected to, she might even consider staying in one of her cousins' rest houses by the beach and look for cloresh tomorrow morning before going back home. She'd break her promise to her brothers and leave them inside the house for too long with the caretaker they secretly hated but what choice did she have? It wasn't like there was a surplus of sirtya in Desara.

From the cart, she watched how the sky changed from one dotted with swatches of green and other colors of the canopies to a clear blue painted with splashes of white as the mountains and the forest bled further and further away from her. The soil had also shifted from a dark gray to that of the familiar shade of ecru and white.

Soon, the huge slabs of stone signaling the end of Zoriago and the beginning of Orayta crept into view. Nelnifa didn't know for sure if they were made of wanstine but it would surely feel like a huge slap in the face if they were. Was this the gods' way of mocking her?

The cart passed by the towering slabs without much obstruction. Then, a few minutes later, the familiar grove of salvia trees and the haze of sea shacks and musty taverns crept into view. Nelnifa raised a hand to signal the woman driving the cart. She would need to get off at this spot where it would be easier to reach the Circle on foot rather than by going through the front of the line of establishments and having to double back.

When she opened her mouth, nothing but a weak sputter came out. Her chest tightened and her words died off, both in her mouth and in her head. The dagrine neighed and swatted its tail against its rear, slapping off the insects attempting to rest on it. Nelnifa brought her hand down. The wheels droned on without ever stopping. The spot whisked by before she could even bring her hand down.

Nelnifa slumped against the back of the cart. How many times did she ride these all her life? Why couldn't she, for once, open her mouth and say what she wanted, get off where she needed? How hard was it to speak without feeling like someone was standing behind her, ready to run their tongue about how she messed up a word or a whole sentence?

From experience? It was harder than climbing the tallest salvia tree and going back down.

Soon, the cart stopped in the space between the shore and the first line of shanties. Nelnifa nodded her thanks and climbed off with a grunt. Once her feet had slapped the warm sand, the woman flicked her reins and joined the others like her, waiting for commuters on the way back to Zoriago or anywhere else.

Nelnifa stared after the spot she wished she had gotten off at. Then, with a shake of her head, she tore off the opposite way, tackling the long cut towards the Weaver's Circle.