She was unusually pale, reminding one of someone who died. In fact, she was so pale, she nearly looked grey. Her eyes were a black oblivion, making her look more neutral, emotion barely piercing through their dark veil. Appearing more to glide than to walk, she looked over the people around her, happily going unnoticed. A few had scrambled numbers over their heads, some were glowing and others just had a faint grey sketchy outline to her. She could only see her world in one shade of color. Black, grey and white, was what her eyes could perceive. Only the dead appeared to be in any color to her. Then again, that was what her kind did.
Once they went by a terrifying name, now they were all but forgotten. That didn’t stop her from doing her duty. She stopped over to look at what a local merchant was selling, enjoying the smell of the sweet and spicy spices invading her sense of smell. Her eyes closed for a moment, remembering of home. A moment later, the merchant started to talk to her. “Ah, welcome back, my young friend,” he started, pulling out the back from the bottom of the stand. “I have what you requested a week ago. It is a fine powder, not too spicy and ever so delicate on the senses. Tell me, what is it you wish to do with such a thing?”
“It is not for me,” she smiled softly, taking the bag and replacing his emptied hand with a few coins. “It is the for the old man I am living with.” She removed the hood from her head, her hair in a loose braid starting at the base of her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, the young woman taking in the heat of the sun. The small jewels that were under her eyes glittered in a multitude of colors: red, green, black, white, blue. Her eyes were now looking like a night sky, little stars dancing everywhere. “Thank for getting this for me,” she stated once more. “I bid you good day.”
With that she walked away, her hands tying the pouch to her brown leather belt. She wore what was a long white dress, white boots and a black cloak. The young woman was not human, far beyond that. She was a Fianitea. In human language, a Death Merchant. She was the one who died who passed on and who remained a ghost. In rare times, who would be utterly destroyed. Currently, she was at her weakest, unable to scour the region for the death. She couldn’t, not now. Not after the attack on the old man. Who knew when the next one would come? To find the soul may take days, weeks, months, even years before she found something adequate. And she just couldn’t go out and kill someone.
Stopping at another stall, it was one of mirrors, all of them beautifully decorated. She smiled as a female approached her this time. She reached her hand out, palm facing down, her eyes soft now. “How is the child?” she asked. But even in her eyes, she could see the fact that the small being inside of the woman was not faring well.
“We do our best,” the woman said, putting a strained smile on her face and a hand on her small bump. “It may not be doing well, but we try. That is all we can do at this point.”
“I can imagine. The next time you have a problem, please come and see me. I may have something that could make it a bit easier on both of you,” she responded, leaning forward to kiss the younger girl’s forehead. “I’ll take the mirror over there, the one gathering dust.”
“That old thing? No one ever wants it.”
“I do. And that should be enough. Will this be okay in exchange?” she held out several more coins. The woman nodded and the exchange happened again. “Tell your husband I said hi.” D
And once again, she moved through the crowds, watching people’s hourglasses, looking at their tired bodies. The smiles had disappeared to her face, her eyes looking up toward the sky. Something would happen, some time soon. Taking a deep breath, she held the mirror close to her chest. This dusty mirror was just what she needed. On the back was some words written, an old language of sorts.
Kaylee Anthroses
And that was her name.
Once they went by a terrifying name, now they were all but forgotten. That didn’t stop her from doing her duty. She stopped over to look at what a local merchant was selling, enjoying the smell of the sweet and spicy spices invading her sense of smell. Her eyes closed for a moment, remembering of home. A moment later, the merchant started to talk to her. “Ah, welcome back, my young friend,” he started, pulling out the back from the bottom of the stand. “I have what you requested a week ago. It is a fine powder, not too spicy and ever so delicate on the senses. Tell me, what is it you wish to do with such a thing?”
“It is not for me,” she smiled softly, taking the bag and replacing his emptied hand with a few coins. “It is the for the old man I am living with.” She removed the hood from her head, her hair in a loose braid starting at the base of her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, the young woman taking in the heat of the sun. The small jewels that were under her eyes glittered in a multitude of colors: red, green, black, white, blue. Her eyes were now looking like a night sky, little stars dancing everywhere. “Thank for getting this for me,” she stated once more. “I bid you good day.”
With that she walked away, her hands tying the pouch to her brown leather belt. She wore what was a long white dress, white boots and a black cloak. The young woman was not human, far beyond that. She was a Fianitea. In human language, a Death Merchant. She was the one who died who passed on and who remained a ghost. In rare times, who would be utterly destroyed. Currently, she was at her weakest, unable to scour the region for the death. She couldn’t, not now. Not after the attack on the old man. Who knew when the next one would come? To find the soul may take days, weeks, months, even years before she found something adequate. And she just couldn’t go out and kill someone.
Stopping at another stall, it was one of mirrors, all of them beautifully decorated. She smiled as a female approached her this time. She reached her hand out, palm facing down, her eyes soft now. “How is the child?” she asked. But even in her eyes, she could see the fact that the small being inside of the woman was not faring well.
“We do our best,” the woman said, putting a strained smile on her face and a hand on her small bump. “It may not be doing well, but we try. That is all we can do at this point.”
“I can imagine. The next time you have a problem, please come and see me. I may have something that could make it a bit easier on both of you,” she responded, leaning forward to kiss the younger girl’s forehead. “I’ll take the mirror over there, the one gathering dust.”
“That old thing? No one ever wants it.”
“I do. And that should be enough. Will this be okay in exchange?” she held out several more coins. The woman nodded and the exchange happened again. “Tell your husband I said hi.” D
And once again, she moved through the crowds, watching people’s hourglasses, looking at their tired bodies. The smiles had disappeared to her face, her eyes looking up toward the sky. Something would happen, some time soon. Taking a deep breath, she held the mirror close to her chest. This dusty mirror was just what she needed. On the back was some words written, an old language of sorts.
Kaylee Anthroses
And that was her name.
