Ah, the rolling green hills, gently sloping into such a rich valley basin. The treasure trove of minerals and hidden spots protects the picturesque fields of this warm agricultural paradise. Beautiful sprawling stone farmhouses with their speckled rooftops and romantic lights dot and decorate from the edge to the sunflower-filled marshes.
The flatlands baked in sun are perfect for hosting sprawling fields of grapes and abundant olive groves. Fat bunches, seasonally harvested on rotation throughout the year, flow life and liquor.
These are the Ventrella family private vineyards nestled in this basin of yellowed green sunshine lands.
Such an idyllic place, a honeymoon destination.
Once barren valleys with nothing but the earth and temperate weather, decades of work with the olive and the vine has turned it into something of life and beauty.
The scenic views at any angle create the perfect ambiance and all the best lighting. Even in the mid-day, this normally harsh sun filtered through overgrowth and trees only serves as a sparkling backdrop to the most beautiful man in the world, no, the universe!
Sunlight spun hair, shining in a way that makes all the gold in the world look cheap. Sublime features that would make any highborn princess sigh and swoon, too dazzling to envy. From those strong elegant hands that send pulses racing to that graceful brow and an almost delicate face for a man. A beauty we're not worthy of. One look a moment too long from his wise smoldering storm-blown eyes is enough to send a category 5 hurricane through any mortal's heart and soul.
"Rosalia, you were saying something but it's best to close your mouth. Something will fly in." Gable chuckles, the words spilling from his perfect lips as sweet as the finest champagne.
Cool blush-tinged fingers reach out. Offering my dumb mouth a morsel of sparkling pink droplets in the form of fresh-picked currants. They look like gemstones, tiny beads of rose quartz. When the fruit pops in my mouth, it floods with a delicate taste comparable to sweetly tart lemonade.
I must have made a very funny sort of face, as it elicits a laugh the even heavenly immortals could not hope to compare to.
Ah, it's too much. Who cares if there are no pointy ears, the hotness level of a mature elfen beauty is too far much.
No one come! No one dare disturb this rare and precious moment.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know other people exist, such as the crazy old man who technically owns this worked land we stand on.
Technicalities. Same technicalities that say I have a sister or whatever. That people live here, to work and breathe life into the land. From the local tenant farmers to the hardworking town of marble miners and all the lives that come from such communities. Troop members are stationed on rotation for various strange forms of training as well as Ventrella employees to oversee the vineyards and properties. Maybe some unfortunate tag-along minions. Yeah yeah yeah I guess other people technically are around.
Right now however no one else exists but Gable. I don't get anywhere near enough Gable time!
It's just not fair. He's always being stolen away somewhere and he's surprisingly quite hard to get a hold of. No wonder Grampa has a wild-time goose chasing him across international borders all these years.
How are they even friends again?
Unlike that insane old man, Gable is actually soft and patient with me. Easily obliging to any requests or suggestions should I be lucky enough to catch him in my very limited time.
It is not only because of the undeniable power of cute at my disposal but because Gable is actually interested in my unappreciated cheat genius. He also does not make me confused as hell with crazy coded riddles, scream in fury and or frightening physical force, or sob my eyes wet and ugly. Unlike someone who does not exist right now!
Reincarnator meetings don't go well at all. The crying thing only happened once and I rather not go through that again.
After that, any information I feel relevant to share with the crazy old man is approached with the utmost caution and precision. Most commonly in the privacy of being largely in public, where Grampa can't turn serious on me. No more sudden kidnappings or pumpkin throwings. Very safe.
I also practice the hit-and-run tactic. Where I clearly and concisely, perhaps even a little too frankly, tell him the truth and then run away for my delicate little life. Like throwing a Molotov cocktail, you just get the hell out.
It's not like Grampa talks to me about anything that really matters. Cheapskate.
It's too scary anyways.
Anytime that man gets serious enough to break his foolish character is just too scary.
Maybe even scarier than Mother's hugs, and that's beyond horrifying enough. Oh, just throw Father's shady villainy and the ticking time bomb that’s Lilyanne into that. Include the whole damn Ventrella family. There's something very wrong with it.
Gable is truly the bravest. The strongest, most wonderful being to sanely brave my Grampa all this time, and by consequence, his horrible family.
We're not worthy.
"What are you on about now, Rosalia?"
"Unworthy!"
"Ah, is the taste of this bundle unpalatable? Perhaps they're not quite ripe yet."
Gable takes a taste from the colorful basket by his side, the contents slowly filling up with currants and wild herbs found not far from the olive grove. Only a portion of them was recognizable to me by any world standard, even with Gable's help. Some things are the same as I know them, others not so much. For better or worse. Let's keep away from the itchy or screaming stuff.
I found dandelion? That's pretty normal and edible.
Can I make a dandelion coffee substitute from that? I believe I can. The plain taste is near the real thing, at least it is in my opinion.
I remember how a certain stubborn brat always insisted that there was no taste comparison at all. But he's just a dumb college bartender that's just picky about his coffee beans. Picky picky, his opinion doesn't count.
"It's not coffee." He would deadpan, teasingly judging my powered beverage choices, "Just call it tea already. Coffee milk is different, that's just dessert.".The sadly true arguments against all my defenses.
Of course, I know it's not the same but it's pretty damn close for a lawn weed. Also, it's healthy and it doesn't over caffeinate me.
Coffee is delicious, too delicious. Especially overdone stupid fancy lattes or cappuccinos. I was so glad both the old bakery and bar had such good coffee equipment. Blessed be real coffee, especially free coffee. But unless I'm pulling another round of overtime, any more than two gets me too hyped.
I wasn't as young or caffeine-addicted? We have different standards! Dumbass. Even if anything he brewed was good. Dummy
"Rosalia? Are you alright? You're staring quite hard at the basket."
"...Of course I am Gable!"
A practically supernatural blond beauty kneels before me, crowned in sunlight and framed by spring. An absolutely gorgeous sight. Yet here I am, wasting this precious time and thoughts about some normal nobody.
Nobody.
"...There's a drink I liked in the past. I think I can somewhat recreate it in this world. If I can gather the roots and roast them, then I got it....kinda." Nobody made good coffee, all the ways I liked it.
I miss coffee.
"Well then, we'll keep an eye out specifically for dents de lion and dig up those roots. Your recipes are always a delight to try, Rosalia."
Gable really is the best. Truly the most healing and happiest place to be. Child-safe coffee milk here I come!
My delicate maiden's sensibilities can only be trusted in the hands of Gable.
I tell him things from what future red flags or outbreaks I could honestly use some help with like that vision like dream featuring my twin. I tell him what I know about her, confirming or denying the effects that he and Grampa already figured out on their own. Everything I know about what that magical cheat of a little girl can do. I try to list it out to the best of my memory.
"There are the obvious, ones that stand out the most. Overwhelming pure amounts of magic, the miraculous ability to heal, the sporadic power of prophecy, flashes of visions of the future. Those...are the most outstanding."
"Most. But there's more, of course."
"Of course." I nod, mentally compiling the list. " I don't know how relevant they can be? But hey, the heroine must always have a hidden sleeve full of ridiculous skills. Supercharged spells wove into her embroidery. Figures and flowery details magically moved in her finest paintings. Even a supercharge of moving emotions seemed to possess crowds of admirers at her harp playing. Though that last one shouldn't count when it was mostly her crazed fanboys."
"Ah... how familiar..."
I list them in warning as we stroll along the far edge of a grove, picking things fit for the baskets. Sometimes Gable responds with all the appropriate follow-up questions. Sometimes he nods in silence or points out another wild herb off the ground. It's almost like being back in the woods, in that peaceful happy place.
But it's Gable that makes it a happy place.
It's being able to not have to hold my tongue. There's no one watching and no one to judge. I can finally breathe as I speak freely about all the things to come, the things I have to hold back when playing Rosalia in this life.
"Playing?" that silken voice echos my own thoughts at me.
"Ah, I didn't mean it like that. I know this life isn't a game or anything to play around with! I don't really want to die again." I instinctively slap my own mouth, waving to reassure Gable.
I complained too much again. It's just so easy when no one else exists. No one else I have to play along as if I'm really a child.
"A game." Gable gives me a strange look for a moment as if remembering something beyond me. "What makes you say it with such a comparison in the first place?"
I pull at a wild variety of mint, nepitella. I can never pull hard enough with all there are popping up across the land. The fragrance helps in keeping me calm and the pulling does well to keep my hands busy.
I still gulp, pondering how to answer.
"....because...this kind of world, your world...is a lot like a make-believe game where I'm from."
"Really now. How so?"
"There's magic for one. None of that exists, a lot of things here break what's possible. It's like a fairy tale. We have nobles and royals but they don't rule, they're not...anywhere near as important. So what we have here, is like a fantasy people would read or play."
In the peaceful silence, I struggle to think about how to translate modern novels, let alone otome games to Gable. Nothing is good enough because this world is clearly too real to be compared to such cliche plots. Everything down to the little details that keep life running. The things you don't have to worry about in any fantasy yet I have to juggle and consider in the long run.
"We had...a lot of pleasures, entertainments. It was a rich world like that, where a lot of things we think of as luxuries are called basic human needs. The difference is really laughable. There's a popular type of story people liked to play make-believe in a lot of ways. Ones with magic, epic heroes, and even princes....especially princes.”
"Sounds horrible. Sounds like my old life." I can tell as Gable silently hides his curses, face turned away. The comment makes me laugh, because yeah, it really kind of does.
"I can only talk to you like this, Gable. Grampa would just laugh like he usually does, or he might not listen to me at all."
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"Oh, he listens. Don't let him fool you. He listens to everything, the paranoid bastard." he makes a tsk.
"....I've already somewhat told Grampa, but I fear he took in even less. Since he didn't do anything after I tell him stuff. Especially about Lilyanne. She's the main of this story and here I am giving him the spoilers. No super-enforced safe house? No magic toddler training regime? Anything?! He didn't even look a bit excited at all the earth-shattering powers his precious little granddaughter possesses. How?!"
Gable also gives me a rather unimpressed look, instantly deflating my sudden tantrum. Sorry sorry, I'll be good. There's just something about Grampa that pisses me off. Or make that everything about him?
Come on, everyone who knows him would absolutely agree!
"It's your life, Rosalia. Why is someone else the main?"
But there's always something about Gable that equally makes me speechless. It goes beyond his otherwordly appearance. When he looks straight through me, it almost makes me feel as if he was seeing me. Almost.
Not Rosalia the character, a strange toddler far too mature for this small body. But at the same time, it's not like he sees the real me either. There's no way for him to, for anyone to. That person....only exists as a consciousness that I know. I don't get to exist as her anymore.
"That's just how life goes sometimes. Some people are set up to win, others just...lose...and I'm one of them. I already know how it goes once before." I admit.
Funny how the truth still hurts, no matter how long I've been used to it.
"No. No Rosalia, you're not. Nor is your sister a pawn or a character or whatever it is in your head. No one is." Gable frowns, shaking his head slowly.
His hand motions for me to take a seat on the stump of a tree, not yet removed. When I do, he takes away my little gathering basket and anything else I may distract myself with. Which is fine I guess?
I just don't know where to put my hands.
"It's okay if you don't get it, it's a lot. Obviously, I don't get it either. I didn't choose this. In any lifetime."
"Does anyone? Can anyone choose something that uncontrollable?"
Of course not....but I still don't want it. I don't want to relive it.
"...That girl....she's the great hero's grandaughter, with magic powers beyond explanation. Even without it, she's Mother's and Father's beloved blessing. There was no one else in their eyes. It was like I didn't exist...and when I did...it was ultimately to serve her? She wins. Lilyanne wins. She gets everything and everyone without even trying, even the fiancee I didn't want. It's amazing how people like that can exist. She got it all....and it still wasn't enough."
"....."
"I really like talking to you best Gable. Because there's no one else I can say this to. Imagine if I said any of that as I am now? As a mere child? If I'm lucky I'll only be called crazy like Grampa. "
"Because you've said nothing. Not even to your grandfather. Any of it."
"Nope! Of course not, I don't want to be put at the stakes of all things."
"Lucky girl. You're already may be just as crazy as him."
"Gable! Don't say that!"
Of all the things to tease me about. I was being all serious too.
It's much easier to not talk about it. It's a good thing I'm no main character because I'd make a horrible one. There's no epic comeback or adventure waiting for me, no destiny or fairytale romances. Everything I've ever gained was through slow work. Hard effort that I need to initialize and see through every step myself. Even in this world, no especially so. Nothing is magical for me. Nothing is magical about Rosalia.
There are a lot more productive things to do than go over something as useless as feelings. All it does is slow me down and makes my head spin in weird thoughts.
Especially when I've already been through it before with her memories. Our memories? This is a very shitty deal, where I feel everything the host body has ever felt. Where I can't remove it from myself. That's the price of having these memories to guide me.
"What are you thinking about now Rosalia? It's never just one thing with you, either one of you."
"Either?" I suddenly look up.
I realize there are nail marks on my palms from pressing too hard. The marks bleed white until I let it go, trying to calm down.
"That awful grandfather of yours. You dig into yourself and don't come back out...and why should you? There's a whole world inside you that no one else can reach or touch..."
Of course. There's no way Gable knows what it's like when there are two people in one. That I'm not as in control of myself as I like. He thinks I'm just like that crazy old man.
I knew I sounded crazy if I ever spoke the truth.
"Rosa? Can you ever just be? Be satisfied with what's in front of you?"
The questions definitely get me off guard, even when they're coming from Gable. For one I'm already feeling a bit restless without something to do. There's a bird chirping midday somewhere above us and if I listen very carefully the sound of children giggling echoes in the distance.
"I want to say of course. I also want to ask what you're talking about...but I suppose not. I can't even do it right now."
"...You've been having a very busy time this year, even though you're so young. You can't seem to stop yourself, or rather, you won't let yourself stop. As if you can somehow make up for something ridiculous that you think you lack if you can bring out all this...stuff into the world?" When Gable smiles it's very wonderful of course, but it's tinged with long-term tiredness.
When he looks up, far up beyond green foliage and hidden chirping birds, I don't think he's talking just about me either.
"In...the first time...I was really blind. I got stupidly happy whenever someone said I resembled anything like him. But none of it is true, let alone good. I can never tell what grampa is thinking. No one can ever tell what he's going to do next, or when he'll finally disappear for good...It's terrifying. "
"It is. He's always been like that. He's always going to terrify me, let alone everyone else." Gable makes it all sound so simple when he speaks it out.
Like a magic spell, soothingly calm and open. Receptive to anything, somehow not feeling the recoil, the hurt.
The truth is...I don't know if grampa is actually the same as me. His strange existence makes me feel even more alone. He's from this world doing whatever while I got transported and stranded and -, it's all really too confusing.
"There's too much going on. What if I forget?" I can hear myself snivel.
It's awful. I'm awful.
"What's so important that you're so scared of forgetting?"
"Everything."
"Expand on that, what is included in everything? It's an intimidating amount of information. The memories. But it will do you no good swirling around like that in your mind. Careful not to let it eat you alive. "
" ....Grampa said the same thing, once." not that long ago.
It's only been a few days since then, that strange incident in the garden. It left my head throbbing, nauseous like I had been through a too-long car ride, obviously under the influence of something too strong.
When I woke up, my head surprisingly light if not a bit hazy, I was already here in the vineyards, playing the temporary little miss of this place. Magic shouldn't affect me supposedly, but the limits of sense are always tested if not shattered broken when it comes to grampa.
That's what I get for touching anything in his quarters. Even if it's not a thing but a person, and the carnivorous living plants.
"Grampa doesn't answer anything."
"Tell me about it. Inventing a new strain of magic is easier than getting the answers you want. He makes you feel lost, walking circles that lead to blunt walls and dead ends. If you believe just what you see of him at the face, that's where you'll stay."
"He sounds awful. Wait, I already knew that."
"But I've come to learn that sometimes, not just with Ron, it's a matter of asking the right questions. Of trying, again and again till you figured it out exactly. You've done it before, finding me, breaking down doors you shouldn't even see. Again and again."
"...None of you still ever helped me figure out how that works. sometimes you're just as bad as grampa too, sorry."
"Not everything is as it seems, there are more illusions than there is magic in this world. So Rosa? Have you been willing to speak up? Try at all the ways till you get it right?"
"....."
"Well...these things take time. Longer than you think....if it makes you feel any better you're leagues ahead compared to your grandfather." Gable sighs, getting up.
"Of course I am!" I agree quite readily, hopping down from the trunk.
There's no competition against senility. So what if he's not all that old or gray yet, the crazy doesn't take age into consideration when it comes to grampa.
I prefer this sort of trash talk, it's much more fun than thinking about anything about myself. Something Gable clearly knows too much about. It's as much his wonderful charm as it is what's threatening about him.
I think one day I'll tell him about my old life, for real. The life that means nothing here. Just not anytime soon. Not this year, and probably not the next. Not for a long time. There's a lot I don't want to think about, let alone speak into existence.
But it's not like I can forget either.
"You know, children normally pick for puffballs and flowers, not the roots." Gable's patient shadow looms over me as I pull at another one.
As we walk back, he carries my basket for me. We dig out a lot of things, especially those dents de lion. Ah what a tedious way to say dandelion.
"I'm not a child. I don't think to blow a weed will make any wishes come true."
Ah got it! Moving on.
But as I pull, gather, and generally make a mess of the grounds, Gable does more than wait for me. It's like watching a fair angel come down when he crouches, bending to pluck at a seedhead. The puffball maintains its delicate shape even as he gathers a bunch, making a childishly whimsical bouquet. One puffball blows into the wind with his breath.
"Perhaps not." he smiles, carrying the sunny bouquet tenderly. "But miracles come in odd places, maybe even people."
"You're being very careful holding some common weeds. Are they for a potion or experiment?"
"Unfortunately for me, I happen to very much like weeds." he leaves it at that.
I shrug and gather up those roots, busying myself once more. Coffee milk taste here I come!
It's really a perfect day like this. Just Gable and I in the peace of it all.
It's so wonderful that I don't mind the sight at all when we arrive back at the old hidden farmhouse that grampa likes living in instead of the vineyard's manor. It's wide and open, spelled to be bigger on the inside of course.
There is the main character in this story, the heroine, face first limp in the dirt.
"How many was that?!" Lukas yells, completely blindfolded.
He holds a long stale loaf of bread in his tightly bound hands like it was a practical sword. Or maybe a pinata stick? Was my sister the pinata? What?
"301."
Amar counts from the balcony. His ankle was still bound and wrapped up. Forced to heal the old fashion way and thus forcing him to stay put from his troublesome ways. Good.
I recall a certain grumpy teenager's words about regretting healing the kid too much, especially his legs. Try disappearing when you can't walk. Go on surprise me.
It's fine, he gets Grampa's nasty syrup. Nothing says punishment like that stuff.
Before either Gable or I could come up to them, my younger mud-covered twin suddenly rolls back up! Her face is pink in exertion and puffed up from stubbornly holding her breath. Something that we're both well versed in by practice of mother's hugs. She charges as silently as she can, trembling with great learned effort.
Oh! Oh my! This is the most skilled I've ever seen her with a sword, bread toy or not.
Which is quite sad since I'm comparing a 17-year-old from my memory to this filthy toddler. How nice it is to grow up healthy.
However, I see that it's not so nice to be whacked across the gut with a loaf of stale bread. My sister lets out a cry at the same time she takes a breath, the bread weapon apparently rock hard as it stays whole while it sends her flying a few feet away.
"Waaaaaah!" she cries more in frustration than anything, her little butt getting whooped for the-
"302." Amar counts, playing scorekeeper.
Three hundred and second time today!
Seriously, is she just being treated as a blind pinata? That's the precious princess and future love idol of thousands. And here she is getting mud flung and smacked to death with....a stick of bread.
"Gable you're back! I was going to chase after you even if it was boring because the stinky baby likes stealing Cap and Rosa likes stealing you! But then Cap gave me an errand to do in town and that was so cool! But he locked up Amar way up there so I couldn't carry him with me-
"Hello, Gable. Hi Rosa." the constantly injured kid waves.
"- and that's no fun! Hey hey, Amar if you jump I can catch you and then we can go to see the fields and town because they have a huuuuge bacon and sausage shop! So manies!"
"I'm okay here. You already came back from buying food?" Amar assures, honestly looking comfortable up there at the shady terrace.
It looks like someone assigned the injured child a scattering of homework in his confinement but at least he has juice and snacks. Those are food items right? I smell a whiff of too much mint from up there. Why is that beaker burning glitter?
"All by yourself? Good job Lukas, was it frightening? You did so well." Gable pats his head, crossing the space to put down the baskets. The action between the familiar and the praise was surprisingly sincere.
"Yeah! Gable, I went to the town and talked to normal adults and bought stuff all by myself. Nothing broke and no one yelled or chased me around or anything! It was all so cool! A nice really old lady gave me a sack of sweet chestnuts because she likes how I talk a lot to her and that she's lonely when her grandkids don't visit! After that, I fought with three other big kids, but I was really super careful not to spill the bacon and after that, they all laughed and asked for my name and said to just wait! They'll be bringing even more of their friends to fight spar with me!"
That last part....doesn't sound good. Gable also agrees as the pleasant smile on his face grows tighter until he sighs and rests his face in a palm. A quiet murmur of "not again" escapes his breath.
"And that sounded awesome! But I had a bag of bacons and Cap trusted me to bring it back so I had to go early....but it was yummy! Cap cut the stinky baby and I big slices of this funny head sausage that melts fatty and is super good with breads. Not this bread-" he waves the pinata stick in show.
"-and after we started playing this! The stinky baby is getting better. She can actually hold a sword now!"
While the fair-haired child blabbers, still very much blindfolded, he smacks away my attacking sister many times more. As if she were a fly buzzing around.
I see her trying to stay silent. I really do. Probably a violent hard-earned lesson from the first 300 defeats.
A strange pride wells up inside me as she crawls. A chubby little mud-covered army soldier going for a stealth attack from below. For the first time, I feel a semblance of hope for her. Hope for what I'm not sure but oh my lord this is something! The bar is so low that it can only get better from here!
She gets golf ball style whacked away for her troubles though.
Ah, Lukas is really a rough and tumble child. I'm just glad my sister hasn't broken anything if she's still 'playing' around like this.
"Fighting Lilyanne! Big sister sees and supports you! You aim and swing that fake sword!" I cheer on.
"Rosa! Big bruder too owie and keeps calling Lily stinky! Lily is Lily!" she turns to me, scratched all over but overall fine. Teary eyes cute even under all that mud.
"Teach him a lesson! Fighting!" I yell out in support.
" Fightie!" Lilyanne takes a deep breath, ready to charge.
"Go go go! Get back up Lilyanne, go!"
Oh, ouch. Nevermind. Maybe cheering was a bad idea. The loud sound made it even easier for Lukas to find and hockey puck my level toddler sister. Well, at least she'll be well tired out today.
Absolutely never aim headfirst, especially at Lukas. Oh ouch. Is bread supposed to make that sound when hitting people?! Just how stale is it?!
Oh no. Oh, dear. Oh, that's not good for a girl's face or beauty. Oh, that's gonna leave a bread-shaped mark.
Oh, I'm so glad my parents are still gone. Neither Mother or Father will let us live it down if they see her like this. We're going to be grounded for so long.
Hey, watch where you're swinging that! So what if you're blindfolded?
Gable? I think it's time we stop them. Gable? Where did Gable go?! Even the dandelions are gone?
"Gable!?! Lukas you stop that, ahhh ow. Ow, hey that bread actually hurts?!"
"Cap made it! Isn't it cool!?"
"No! It's not! It hurts more than wood!?"
"Hey hey stinky baby getting keeps losing waaaaaay too easy. You play too Rosa! Is everyone ready? Go!"
"Oh no, no no no! I'm not a pinata. Ow, Lukas what the- I'm defenseless here?!"
"What's a pinata!!?"
It does not matter, chaos reigns.
Lilyanne tirelessly charges in while Lukas quite swipes me back at the knees. Up above, the only child sitting out giggles and laughs at the show. Amar's cheers change every few moments, deviously going from supporting Lilyanne with kind helpful advice with her attacks to rolling herself in completely in mud to cover her scent. He equally encourages Lukas to do insane moves or handicap himself even more, because "It will be fun?"
It's not.
After futilely trying to run away three times, I stop yelling. I can't escape these kiddies, even Lilyanne won't let me go in her collateral damage. Ow ow ow that bread really does hurt!?
"Rosa! Catch!" Amar laughs from the balcony, clearly, the only one having fun. He throws down....another stupid loaf of bread.
This whole life is just one big joke, isn't it? A really messed up game, and we haven't even started. I'm a grown adult in the body of a toddler about to swordplay some fake baguettes against literal monsters. Great setup.
Well...it is a good blunt weapon at least.
I definitely know what to do with my hands here.
Fighting everyone.
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