Behind the Idris household, flanked by looming group homes and other structures, was their courtyard. It didn’t belong to any family in particular, rather, it was a common area for the neighborhood. All would do their part in maintaining it: trimming the weeds, removing pests and unwanted wildlife, and fixing up the ground when it was uneven or perturbed. The yard was coveted by the neighbors of the Idrises as a place for gathering and celebration, where all could come around and rejoice in the ongoings of their modest lives. As expected, in anticipation of Elara’s birthday, Mr. Idris had proposed a gathering to celebrate his daughter in said courtyard, a proposal that was soundly accepted by their community. And thus, as the morning crept to noon, and noon crept into the afternoon, Ander found himself busy with work in the yard, preparing it to host his sister’s celebration.
His objective was to hang streamers along the entirety of the fence around the courtyard. The yard was gated by three fences, all of which had gates allowing access to the nearby homes and buildings. The side that lacked a fence was adjacent to a gravel road, the very same one he had taken to fetch water earlier that day. In fact, it was the same road he had used just a little while ago to fetch another lot of water since they had already depleted what he had brought home that morning. It was around four in the afternoon when he started hanging the decorations. Various other amenities had been placed in the yard, such as seats and tables, as well as a circle of rocks to guard the fire they would soon light.
The whole household was at work preparing for the gathering. As his mother prepared the meat and meals, his father was off picking up a delivery of mead from a local brewery. Whilst it was, in fact, a celebration for a young girl, who was still too young to drink heavily, the adults were more than certain to partake in drinking their fill of beer and mead. Such was the way gatherings were held in Sylrel. Thinking back on his birthday just a few months ago, vivid images of the drunken Alchovs and Willards came to him, as well as their lively conversations long into the night. The thought that he, in just a few short years, would engage in such activities was a little disconcerting.
The more he thought of it, the more his attention on the streamers slipped away. Unfocused, he accidentally shifted his weight off the stool and came crashing down onto his back, hitting the patchy dirt of the courtyard. A long groan escaped his mouth as he rubbed the back of his head, not yet finding the courage to get back up.
“You ok, Andy?”
A gentle voice called out to him from behind. Seeing as he was still lying flat on his back, he picked his head up to glance around at his surroundings. Before him, eyeing him up with a concerned gaze, was his sister, Elara. Having disappeared to go aloof with her friends in the morning, he was just seeing her now for the first time today. It was a miracle that her birthday attire, being mostly white save for her shoes, hadn’t been soiled by her escapades. She had on a plain, yet elegant dress, the only one she owned, reserved for special occasions such as tonight. Just like her brother, she had a mane of blonde hair, although hers was a significant length longer than his. Brushing himself off, he rose to his feet and addressed her.
“Yeah, I’m quite alright,” he spoke, whipping dirt off his gray shirt. “Of course,you’d find me like this - flat on my rear.”
“Hmm, you are quite clumsy,” she admonished him. “To be honest, I’d be concerned if you hadn't fallen while setting all this up.”
“Always the charmer, you are,” he smiled, feeling the pain of his fall slip away. Elara always brought with her a sense of joy whenever she was around, which was quite often, seeing as she was his sister. A bright girl who had not a wicked bone in her body, the thirteen years he had spent with her was nothing short of perfectly pleasant.
“Well, I do try,” she waved away his faux-compliment. She followed up this action with a statement of sheer sincerity, “Thank you, Ander, really, I mean it. This place looks wonderful, really, it does!”
“Oh, enough of that,” Ander had no appetite for praise. It was her day, not his. “Where've you been off to anyway? It's been pretty lonely over here.”
“With friends, running around. Doing nothing all that special,” she paced back and forth, kicking the small sprouts of tall grass as she did. “We actually nicked some fruit from the northern produce stalls. We kind of ate them all, so I’m sorry I didn’t save any to share.”
“Pft, it’s no problem, I’ll have my fill of stolen food later.” With all the anguish of his fall killed off by Elara’s presence, he remounted the old wooden stool to pick up where he left off. There wasn’t a half hour left until the guests would begin to arrive. Fortunately, the streamers were the last of Ander’s work in relation to the party preparations. All he had was the remaining portion of the final side of the courtyard, and he was free to enjoy the evening.
“Ander, should I feel older?”
“Should you feel older?” He repeated her question, fiddling with the colorful fabrics as he wrapped them around a fencepost. “Ahh, I don’t follow.”
“Well, when you turned thirteen, did you feel like you were, I suppose, more adultish?”
“More adultish, let me think,” the young man stroked his chin with his free hand. He found the way she generated new words to be quite amusing, but the message was received on his end. “Nope, not entirely. To be frank, I don’t feel all that ‘adultish’ even now.”
“Really, not even a little older?”
“Well, maybe a tad,” he regressed off the stool to move it to the right, repeating the same process as he had done during the duration of his work in the yard. “But I think I know what you’re getting at.”
“You’ve got plenty of time to become an adult, Ela. More time than I have, which is a little scary on my part, but that’s none the matter. You shouldn’t be focusing on the harder parts of your future, especially at thirteen.”
“Then what should I be focused on?” She dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt, twisting slightly in place as she listened for his response.
“Enjoying what you have now, I suppose. Who knows what’ll happen tomorrow? Maybe we’ll wake up rich, or homeless, or whatever oddity may hit us. Not that I’m the best person to be giving you life advice, seeing as I’m only a grand two years older than you, but you’ll have so much time to worry about the nitty-gritty of being an adult in your future.” Having finished the final stretch of the fence, Ander landed on the ground with a gentle hop and turned to face Elara. He could see in her eyes that she was honestly listening to what he had to say. He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“So how about you ditch that silly little worry about ‘being adultish’ and enjoy the day. The party’s for you, after all.”
She rolled her eyes with a smile before leaning in to hug her older brother. He reciprocated the gesture, in spite of the fact that he found these familial hugs quite awkward at times. Not this one, however. She had asked a genuine question, and he had given a heartfelt and honest response. He could put up with her affection, especially on a day as special to her, and him, as today.
“Ela! Where have you been, you slippery girl, you!” From the fence leading to their home came their mother, waving a hand in the air as she addressed Elara with a grin. Elara rushed to their mother, hugging her with the same vigor she had just shown to Ander. “No trouble today, I presume.”
“None that I got caught doing.”
Mrs. Idris deadpanned before looking over at Ander, who couldn’t help but crack a smile at his mother’s reaction. “What am I going to do with this one, Andy?”
“It’ll be fine, mother. She’ll land a month or two in jail; it outta straighten her up.”
The three laughed as the conversation went on, viewing the real potential of Elara ending up imprisoned for stealing exotic southern fruits as a joke. The sun above, ever creeping closer to the west, nearly marked the time for the guests to start filing in. As far as the Idris’ were concerned, the party preparations had been completed. The meat and entrees were prepared, and the drinks, both alcoholic and not, were on tap. The courtyard had been set up with furniture and decorations, and the entirety of the premises looked spotless. The hearty work they had put in had paid off and now would come an evening of great enjoyment for all in attendance.
As the time struck six o’clock, Mr. Idris took to the front door to greet their guests. He held open the inner wooden door as everyone poured in, opting to lock the exterior grate in its open position. Every home had this double-door system, as whenever storms would come through Sylrel, the exterior iron grate door would bar the less durable interior one from being blown off its hinges. It had in its center the crest of Sylrel, which was nothing more than a circle, a line, and two arrows pointed at the interior of the crest.
“Mr and Mrs. Alchov, thank you for coming. Ian Willard, Sara Willard, always a pleasure. You two keep your cool with our drinks, now.”
Lively talk and laughter rose from the older Idris and the greeted guests, who sorted through the house to enter into the courtyard. Ander, along with his mother, took to the crowd with dishes and mugs filled with various palettes, all of which were heartily taken by those in attendance. Even without a formal announcement or commencement, the celebration had kicked off just like that. Such was the way things were done in Sylrel, and not a soul had a complaint.
As he moved about the crowd, Ander took pride in his work in the courtyard. The fire pit, which he had set up, was alight and roaring with flames as folks crowded around and chatted with one another, wearing delightful smiles as they spoke and ate. The younger folk, varying between the ages of five and eleven, were off playing in a corner of the yard with a small leather ball. They would often kick the ball a little too hard, sending it flying into a nearby adult, who would laugh at the reckless behavior.
“Andy, young Andy, come here!” Came the ancient voice of Beatrice Willard, the mother of Sara Willard. The Idrises had a great deal of families they were close with, but none were closer to them than the Willards and the Alchovs. With this being said, the young man viewed Beatrice almost as one would view their aunt, or grandmother. A caring elderly woman, who had the bad habit of spoiling her kin. “Over here, I have something for you.”
He showed the old woman a grin, which warped away immediately as she pressed a mug into his chest. For an elder, she still had her fair share of strength. “Here, drink! You’re old enough now, aren’t you?”
“Mother, he’s fifteen!” Came the startled Sara, who hadn’t expected Beatrice to offer the boy a cup of mead. Ian, Sara’s husband and son-in-law to Beatrice, gave no response other than the shaking of his head.
“Oh, and who gives a rat’s rear end? I was drinking at that age, and so were you. Take it, boy, it’ll make you grow up good and strong.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Ander said, his thoughts begging to differ. “Maybe I should ask my mo-”
“Nonsense,” Beatrice whisked away that silly notion. “Go on, drink it!”
“Essa be with me,” he said under his breath as he tilted the mug back. The liquid was rather sweet, coating his tongue with a pleasant, albeit mildly stinging taste. All in all, it was quite delightful. He had imagined that, for a party, his father would have dabbled in quality liquor for the guests. Not that he had a great knowledge of what was quality and what wasn’t. It tasted good, and thus he assumed it was.
“Wow, yeah, thank you, Mrs. Willard.”
“Ah-ah-ah, boy. Don’t thank me. Thank the mead!”
The whole interaction left him torn. He had no desire to begin drinking, especially at the age he currently was. With that being said, he didn’t dare deny Beatrice’s will, especially when it came to food and drink. The last time he had visited the Willards, he had barely made it out alive on account of the piles of food Beatrice had sent his way.
One drink won’t kill me, he thought as he took another sip. As it turned out, he was correct. He continued to chat with the Willards as he finished his drink, picking up a plate of ham and greens to satiate his hunger. His mother had prepared what was essentially an entire boar to feed their guests, who all responded with jovial cheers of praise and delight at its taste.
“You won’t believe what this one got for little Ela,” Mr. Alchov pointed a finger at Ander, who perked up at the mention of his present. Fearing the old man would reveal what he had in store for Elara, he was quick to try and silence him.
“Really? Let’s hear it!”
“A gift? Tell us!”
The members of their circle turned to Ander, ears perked to hear about the gift he had purchased.
“You’ll all see soon enough,” he claimed, deflecting the cries for him to go into detail. “All that needs saying is that I wouldn’t have been able to get my hands on it if it weren’t for Mr. Alchov.”
“The boy’s right, I must say,” Mr. Alchov grinned while taking a swig of mead. “He had me reach out to an associate in the capital. The capital! Not just that, but where’d you find the money for it, lad?”
“Is that why you were working lumber for me?” Mr. Adrisaal, owner of a local lumber mill, and good friend of the Idrises, spoke up. “What a tenacious boy.”
“You’re always welcome back, you hear!” Mrs. Adrisaal, who ran the books and side aspects of the Adrisaal mill, chimed in alongside her husband. “Whenever you need work, we’ll always have some to do.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mrs. Adrisaal,” he replied, soliciting a warm smile from the woman. He was blessed to be acquainted with such fine people, but it was somewhat odd to him just how chummy he was with people easily three decades older than him.
“Andy, Andy!”
Elara, having snuck away from the center of the party, grabbed her brother's arm and called his name, spooking the boy. Of course, she had found him at the exact moment he began eating. “Mhhh, Mhhh! *Swallow* What is it?”
“Come’ere, over here! I have to show you something!”
“What, what’s the matter,” he asked. He was more than adjusted to her erratic behavior, but he was in the middle of speaking to his guests.
“I can’t say. It’s a secret, follow me,” she rose onto her toes to whisper into her ear. The rest of the group smiled at the young girl and her brother as Elara whisked Ander away from the circle, leaving the older folk to converse sans a younger tongue. It proved challenging moving amongst the sea of people, especially with the energy of Elara’s sharp movements. Eventually, she came to a stop, planting her feet and raising a finger to point off into the distance.
“It’s Layla! She came,” Elara said with glee, tugging at Ander’s arm. “You should go talk to her.”
“Me?” The young man said, feeling his nerves creep up on him. “What do I have to say to her?”
“I don’t know, come up with something,” Elara scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “You always talk about wanting to get closer to her, don’t you? Well now’s your chance!”
“Ela, Ela!” Mr. Idris called over the crowd, searching for the young woman. “Ela, where’d you run off to?”
“I have to go,” she shot him a knowing look as their father loomed closer. Being the center of attention, she was no doubt in a constant state of attendance with their father. He wanted to brush off her suggestion and return to his small alcove with the rest of the folks, but if it was something so important that she had run off to just to help him, he really couldn’t refuse. “Don’t waste your chance, Andy.”
“I suppose I can’t, can I.” He steeled himself for what was to come. She showed up on her own accord, clearly, she’d be happy to speak with you, a part of his mind called to him, egging him on. There also came a cynical voice in his head. Rubbish! You’ll only embarrass yourself. I say we cut our losses and run back to Mr. Alchov.
“Oh, shut up and do it, you pansy,” he said to himself in a whisper. Taking a deep breath to puff out his chest, he collected himself and approached the lonesome Layla. In spite of the cool evening air, he felt himself begin to sweat, if only a little.
“Hey, Layla!” He called, hoping he could mask his nervousness with a strong ‘hello’. “You made it. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come.”
“Well, I was mulling it over,” she teased, looking up at the sky with a finger on her chin. “But then I remembered your mother’s the best cook this side of Sylrel, and so here I am!”
Stolen novel; please report.
“Ahh, makes sense,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Did you come with your uncle? The man’s been talking my ear off for the past half an hour.”
“So he’s been his usual self?” She grinned, “that’s good to hear.”
“As cheery as ever, I’m afraid. He came this close to spilling the beans on what I got for Ela.” He used his fingers to emphasize how close Mr. Alchov had come to ‘spilling the beans’ in regard to the chocolate crisps.
“Did he now? That loudmouth!” Layla groaned. “He did the same thing when I snagged my parents some cream puffs for their anniversary. Sometimes I just can’t with that old bag.”
“Oh, but he is a fine man, isn’t he,” spoke the young man, feeling Mr. Alchov deserved some praise even in light of his transgressions.
“That he is, that he is,” Layla cut off a piece of ham from her plate but didn’t eat it. “Say, I have a favor to ask. Just a small one, I swear.”
“Yeah, what’s it about?”
“Tomorrow my uncle’s got some deliveries coming in from Ver Del. Mostly flour and whatnot, but there’s set to be a lot of it. I heard from Mr. Adrisaal that you’re quite good at picking things up and putting ‘em right back down, so I wanted to see if you would fancy helping me with unloading them? It’d be an hour's worth of work, tops.”
“I’ll see you're paid for your work too,” she said hurriedly, almost in a nervous tone. “It’d be in the morning, around the same time you stopped by today. Do you think you could make it? It’d be a big help. Honest.”
“Ahh, y-yeah, sure, absolutely,” he forced himself not to reply in jubilation. It was an absolute miracle on his end. “I’d be happy to. Anything to help out Mr. Alchov!”
“Great, thank you, thank you a ton,” she said with a smile. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but her cheeks had been discolored with a patch of light red. A gentle breeze blew through the courtyard, picking up her brunette bangs in the wind. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”
“I do try,” he huffed, looking away from the girl, worried she would see how red in the face he had gotten whilst talking with her. Even though it was a day to honor Elara, he just happened to stumble upon an incredible gift of his own. An hour alone with her, he thought to himself, here’s to hoping I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight!
“Ladies, gentlemen! Children and the elderly, and also Beatrice Willard, may I have your ears for a moment?”
The commanding voice of Mr. Idris called over the crowd, putting a mute blanket over the party as he stood on a wooden chair at the front of the courtyard. Beatrice, flattered by the man’s words, called out. “What a wise young man you are!”
Laughs broke out amongst the guests, setting the tone for a jolly speech soon to be delivered by Ander’s father. He hadn’t noticed, but as everyone’s attention had fallen on their host, Layla had taken a small half-step to stand closer to the young man.
“I would like to begin by thanking all in attendance. What a great lot we have here!” Mr. Idris raised a glass, as did all the rest in attendance.
“Here!”
“Here here!”
“Tis’ true!”
“As I’m sure you are all aware, we gather here today to celebrate the thirteenth year since the birth of our beautiful daughter, Ela!” He motioned towards Elara, who was at his side. She put on an endearing smile and waved to the crowd, who responded in equally jolly cheers.
“I am honored, as a father, and as a friend, that you have all taken the time out of your busy, busy lives to celebrate the day with us.”
“A right lie that is!” Called Aaron Alchov, Mr. Alchov’s brother, and Layla’s father. Laughs broke out again at Mr. Idris’ mention of their ‘busy lives’. The man had a fine way of speaking to crowds, none could deny this.
Mr. Idris raised an open hand, requesting that the crowd would restrain themselves to allow him to speak. The sun, now setting on the horizon, painted the sky with a mirage of pink and orange exuberance, backing the man as he spoke.
“From my heart of hearts, I can say with absolute certainty that I could not have asked for a better lot in life. We may not be blessed with much in the way of material ownership, or property. But what we don’t have in wealth, we have in abundant love.”
The crowd rose in affection with the man, saying thanks to their own families and friends, spurred on by the touching words of their host. Mr. Idris continued.
“We may not have a guarantee of tomorrow, or even today. No one knows what lies ahead, for any of us. But what we can guarantee is what we have now. We have our friends, we have our families, and even the odd strained relationship, or unfriendly kin.”
“He’s talking about you, Vernand!”
Mr. Adrisaal rolled his eyes as his wife yelled out the statement, pulling her in to plant a kiss on her forehead.
“So let’s raise our mugs. With mead, or without,” Mr. Idris raised his glass again, calling out to the superb crowd. “To celebrate another year with our beautiful angel, and another year together!”
“And many more to come!”
“Aye, here!”
“Here, here-here!”
“Drink for all! Let no one stay sober!”
Ander could only watch in astonishment as the guests turned their level of liveliness up to an eleven. Dance and song broke out as everyone resumed their drinking, with Elara at the center of it all. Of course, being thirteen, she didn’t dare touch any form of alcohol, but even without it she proved to be a fine center of attention. He stood there, smiling and shaking his head at their rambunctious attitudes and foul, yet joyous words. It was then he noticed Layla’s closeness, which seemed to sober him up.
“You really do have it all, don’t you?” Layla said with a sigh. “What a gift little Ela is. How I wish I had a sister of my own.”
“There's certainly some lows,” Ander felt the need to mention the downsides to having such a manic sibling. “But words can’t describe how much I adore her. I guess you’re right, I may as well have all I need.”
O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O
Hours had passed since Mr. Idris’ speech, and as the night grew older, so did the partygoers and guests grow rowdier. Songs were sung in Elara's name, rejoicing her for having climbed the next stair on the route to adulthood. Ander, keeping his wits about him, stayed clear of those who had overindulged in drink and festivities, as surely nothing good would come of his interactions with them. People were painfully honest, and dangerously open when they were inebriated. One mistake could land him in the middle of an embarrassing story about his time as a little lad. Not that anyone would care, but in his mind, it was the peak of embarrassment.
“Go on, Ela! Open it, open it!” Came the lively Beatrice, hanging over the young Idris as she fiddled with her gift. With deft hands, Elara unboxed it and procured a fine silk dress from the box. A flowing garment of red and white, the young woman promptly held it close to her chest as she beamed up at the elderly Willard.
“Oh, I love it! Thank you, Aunt Beatrice, thank you!”
“Hear that? She still calls you aunt, you old witch!” Came Mr. Alchov, who himself had a bit too much to drink.
“Takes one to know one, Alchov!” A voice came from the watchful crowd.
“Now that,” Mr. Alchov paused to take a swig from his drink. “I cannot deny!”
Roars erupted as the two elders embraced one another, calling their counterparts demeaning names, all in good faith, of course. More presents were sent in Ela's direction, all of which she accepted with humility and untamed excitement. Alongside the dress was a new pair of boots, a set of combs, some toiletries, a few articles of headwear and gloves, along with a fine set of silver earrings. The pair were gifted from Mrs. Lekhov, the wife of a local shepherd, and another friend of the Idrises.
Now late into the night, the gathering was still as buzzing as ever. The families with younger folk were made to depart as the day faded from the sky, but those without any serious dependents continued to savor the festivities. Without anyone noticing, mostly due to copious amounts of beer and mead that had been consumed, the two Idris siblings had made a clean escape from the party. They found themselves scaling the group home beside their own, setting up shop on its clay roof overlooking Sylrel. The climb was requested by Elara, but before mounting the building, Ander had made a quick trip to his room to procure his own secret gift.
The roof gave them a fantastic view of the town, including the Vellera spirals of central Sylrel. Belonging to the elite, the towers were a pinnacle of wealth and power, as well as a home to their governor and lords. In addition to this, the roof allowed them to stay within earshot of the party, taking in all the obscene and downright hilarious comments made there.
“Look, that's Hacher's Communion!” With a finger pointed at the sky, Elara gestured to the outline of Hacher's Communion, a constellation named after Hacher, the god of relations. It resembled a long table with figures seated along it, as closely as a constellation could resemble anything, quite frankly.
“Hey, and there's Tallon's Perch!” She added. To the left of Hacher's Communion was a cluster of stars that looked like a watchtower, and it was aptly named after Tallon, the watchman god. Every god had their own sanctioned constellations, as did the lesser gods and even some mortal heroes of their world.
“Hmm,” Ander nodded his head, amazed at tonight's visibility. Unlike during the day, when the sky was a tapestry of white and blue, the nighttime above wasn't tarnished by a single cloud. The two of them were reclined on their backs, taking in the cosmic ballet, reflecting on the day they had so thoroughly enjoyed.
“Do you think he sees us, all the way down here?” Ander turned his head to look at Elara, whose eyes sparkled with stellar light.
“Of course he does,” she mouthed. “He's the watchman god. He sees everything.”
“Yeah, but, does he see us? Does he care about us, even the little people?”
“The gods love all mortals, Ander,” she sat up on the slanted roof, propping herself up with her right arm as she communed with Ander. “At least that’s what I’ve been led to believe.”
“Mhh, maybe,” he pondered the thought aloud. “It's just hard to imagine gods at war with each other, isn't it? They're immortal: they can't die. What's there to fight about?”
“It's hard to imagine anything about the gods, at least that's how I see it,” she lied back down with her hands behind her head. “A thousand years they've been fighting. I've been alive for only thirteen years, and it's felt like forever to me.”
“That’s ‘cause your whole world is only thirteen years old… For them, thirteen years must go by *snap* like that. Living forever just seems so, I don’t know, impossible. Seeing everything - living through all of time - how could anything be special to you if you've seen it all?”
Elara let out a sigh, shifting her legs into a comfortable position as she spoke. “I suppose it's just a different way of life, really. It's just like, well, I'd say it's just like how one can't imagine how a rabbit lives its life. Living in a hole, unable to speak, alive for not even a decade. I feel bad for them for how short their lives are, but I can only assume that in their eyes, we live too long to see anything as ‘special’. I guess how we see rabbits isn't all that unlike how the gods see us. Just a thought.”
“Oh, speaking of special,” Ander, being careful of his balance as he stood up, was reminded of the special package he brought with him. Walking over the crest of the roof, he bent down and retrieved the paper-wrapped box, walking it over to Elara's side where he promptly sat down. “You’re gift.”
“A gift?” She looked at the box, plucking at the string binding it together. “I thought we were all done with gifts.”
“Oh we are, but this is a special gift.”
“And why's that?”
“It's ‘cause it's from me, dummy, now open the darn box.” He playfully elbowed her as smiles adorned both their lips. Elara, glancing between Ander and the gift, slowly undid the string bow, letting it unravel around the paper wrappings. Beneath the brown surface was a dark velvet fabric, aligned with trims of glistening metal and wood. A bronze latch held it close, and as her fingers began fiddling to undo it, the two held their breaths as she unveiled the contents.
“No… you didn't!”
“I did.”
“That’s ludicrous! How did you get these?”
“I know people.”
“What people?”
“Special people.”
“I'm just… wow,” she had no words to describe her shock at the confections before her. Truly, there was no greater gift to get Elara Idris than something that could be consumed, which was in contrast to her lithe frame. The box bore three rows of Chocolate Crisps: thin, bubbly sheets of chocolate layered with an assortment of nuts and other sweets. Even in the outside air, the aroma of the delights brought untold savor to both their senses. She hesitated on grabbing a crisp, unsure of whether she wanted to drain her supply of one so soon.
“They're not meant to look at,” he smiled at her, delighted by her mania over the confections. “Go on. Have one.”
“Should I?” Her voice oozed indecision as if the question held the stakes between life and death.
“I'll take one if you don't.”
The crips were in her mouth not a second after Ander made his threat, and its effects were immediate. She did her best to savor it, but it was gone in a flash.
“Good?”
“They're great,” she mewled, fighting with all her will not to take a second. “Really, how did you get these?”
“You know all that work I did for the Adrisaals?”
“No…”
“Yep. Mr. Alchov had a friend over in the capital who had connections with Sylvee Bakeshop. I was hesitant to just send the man the money, but I had faith in Mr. Alchov's connections, and so, here we are.”
With the utmost care, Elara closed the velvet box and put it beside her on the roof, patting it like a man would his dog. Then, with the swiftness of an Alff, she trapped him in a tight embrace, hugging him like there was no tomorrow. Once again, Ander reciprocated the show of affection, patting her head as she held on for dear life.
“Alright, alright. It is just chocolate, after all.”
“It's much more than chocolate,” she sighed, adjusting herself to lean against her older brother. “Hey, Andy?”
“Yeah, what’s the matter?”
“Would you be mad if I happened to have something for you?”
“Would I be mad,” he shot the question back at her, finding it rather bizarre. “There isn't a world in which I'd be mad at you, Ela. Would I find it a tad strange? Maybe. It is your birthday, after all.”
“Yes, yes, I know, but, I just really want you to have this, I put a lot of work into it.” She stared at him with curious eyes as she reached into the pocket of her dress, digging for whatever she had in store for him. She procured her palm, and in it held a small, folded piece of parchment. “Here. Have this, please.”
Taking it in his hands, he inspected it closely. He looked down at her, verifying if he was meant to unfold it.
“Go on, take a look.”
As he opened up the tab of parchment, he was shocked at what was inscribed on it. It was them. An exact copy of them, drawn out in spectacular detail before his very own eyes. The parchment was a portrait of their family: father, mother, son, and daughter. Their parents, drawn with absolute precision and magnificence, were stoic figures above their two children, who had endearing smiles with a brightness Ander just couldn't manifest with words. The tapestry was a harmony of dark and light, warmth and cold. Vibrant colors were weaved across their forms with details of shadows and flares made in accordance with where the light was assumed to shine from. It was an artwork fit for the gods, in every way, shape, and form.
“This is… How did you do this, Ela? This is us!”
“Do you like it?”
“I can't- I can't even put it into words,” he loosened his grip on the edges of the paper, viewing it as a fragile piece of absolute perfection. “Did you draw this?”
“That I did,” her eyes sparked with the faint glow of the stars, reveling in the admiration she was receiving. The same words he had spoken to her with such sincerity had been sent right back in his direction. “That I did…”
“This is mine now,” Ander held the tapestry against his chest, looking Elara straight in the eyes. “This is mine. Now and forever, you don't get it back.”
“*Giggle*, I can live with that,” her smile shone through the night, having vanquished a million worries she had harbored prior to her brother’s reaction. Joy flowed through every vein in her body. A truly perfect way to cap off a wholly perfect night.
In a move that stunned the young woman, Ander leaned forward and hugged her, leaving her momentarily dazed. She had always been the one to initiate hugs or embarrassing showings of affection, never her more restrained and in-control brother. Yet he was in control, and this action, this show of affection, was the perfect embodiment of the emotions running through him. There were few possessions he had emotional or strong ties with, and despite not having owned the picture for more than a minute, it was already the one physical thing he prized the most.
“Since when have you been an artist?” He asked, pulling away from his sister.
“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m no artist.”
“Pfft, in what world is this not a masterpiece,” he showed Elara the picture as if she hadn’t been the one to draw it. “Really! You could be the next Vivian Marquise!”
“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”
“Honest I’m not!”
“Not that I’d care for anything she has,” Elara reclined onto her back, staring up at the glistening orbs above. “Even if I was some masterful genius, I wouldn’t go flaunting it to any old stranger. My work’s reserved for my family, and that just so happens to include you.”
“And I’m forever grateful for it,” he joined her on his back, hands still holding the artwork. Fearing he would somehow destroy it by admiring it any longer, he folded it up and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers, patting it down as if to beg it not to fall out.
“You just had to get one over on me, didn’t you,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t even let me give you a better gift. On your birthday, moreover!”
“You’ll just have to try a little harder next time, Andy,” she shook her head in faux displeasure. She saw nothing all that grand in her art, having gone so far as to fear Ander would find it distasteful. But seeing him admire it as he had, and treasure it, put her over the moon with joy. Time crept on, and the voices of the party below began to crow quieter and fewer in number. They refused to move from their roof, only returning to their folks when directly called upon by their father. The two took excessive care in belaying off the roof, now carrying treasures they held very, very dear.
When all was said and done, Ander found himself reclined in his bed, staring out the window at his side. Glimpses of the constellations up high beamed through the slits of his blinds, specifically the ‘Forge Of Aranos’, and the ‘Sails of Valor’. It wasn’t the only light that fell into his room: tonight heralded a full moon, with all the grandeur it brought with it. He still had with him his treasured portrait, stuffed tidily in his pocket. The night was calm and quiet. It was long past the time the party had died down, and thus all were surely laid in their beds just as he was.
Images of what tomorrow brought crept into his mind. He was abuzz with thoughts of Layla and the time they would spend together, a part of him hoping he could force himself to make their work a recurring thing.
But that was a worry for tomorrow. What he had now was a tranquil night, and as he closed his eyes, he relaxed into his mattress and drifted soundly into the soft embrace of sleep.