Chapter Two, Part One

Closing the heavy wooden door behind me, I hear a loud clink as the metal springs and latches. Voices carry and bounce from downstairs as a walk, my hand idly travels the wooden wall. So medieval fantasy food, do we eat goblins and mermaids? Are we cannibals? Will I be eating an elf? Probably something normal, like a deer. How am I meant to act? I’m meant to be two years old, surely there isn’t any expectation.

Coming across a set of stairs, the building changes from wood to stone. Frowning, I check my surroundings, before descending the steps. Hand gripping tightly to the wooden, bumpy railing. Another unconscious look over my shoulder letting me know I’m still alone on the steps. Quit being a bitch morgan, It’s just stairs. The sudden urge to jump the last couple of steps leaves me feeling confused. Stifling the bout of insanity, I walk the last few steps.

“Good morning Lylie.”

“Dads back!” The wiggle of excitement accompanies the shout.

Watching as a wide smile nearly splits his face as mom stifles a laugh across from him. These urges are going to take some getting used to. I hurry my steps to get to the table, before deftly making the climb onto the tall chair.

Looking down at my empty plate, a pair of bright emerald eyes look back at me. Wild and curly, the dark brown hair frames an oblong, cherubic face.. Oh, I’m actually kind of cute. Curious, I look at my father, noticing dark green eyes.

The rattle of trays pull away my attention as the cook and a young boy bring out food. Dark brown eyes, does this mean something? A quick glance to reconfirm, and I see the bright red eyes of my mother. Mine are bright green. I wonder if there is a way to ask this as a two year old.

The green cooked skin of fish leaves me confused as the stark difference of what I remember from my old life. Maybe it’s just the seasoning. A hand reaches over and grabs my empty plate. Watching as it is slowly filled with a mix of vegetables and the green filet. I quickly begin to get excited as I notice the smell.

“That too!” Pointing at a bright fleshy pink disk.

The confused face of my mother lets me know I may have made a mistake.

“You said you hate urchin.”

Yea, I made a mistake. Looking down at the table, I try my best to pout. “I wanna try it.”

“I’ll just give you a little bit to try.”

Through the corner of my eye, I watch as my dad squishes the red vegetables before removing something from it. An orange cylinder comes out of each, as he scrapes them off to the edges of the plate. The squished and pitless vegetable is placed on top of a cut of fish before he eats it.

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“Thanks mom.”

“Of course.”

Looking again at my dad’s plate, I notice he sliced the filet in three, and seems to avoid eating the thin center strip. Fork and knife in hand, I work to lightly squish the red fruit, watching as the orange piece slides out. As I remove the orange bits and place them aside, I see mom uses her fork to further smash the orange cylinders and runs the fish through it. Why is this food so fucking confusing?

Breakfast carries on as I mimic and follow along to what I see my parents do with the food. The conversation remains background noise as I focus on the varied tastes. The orange pits are especially good with a sweet beginning taste, followed by a slowly compounding dry heat.

“It wasn’t too bad-”

“That was kind of him-”

“How was-”

The fish is still confusing, as it tastes mostly normal, with only a bit of salt and lemon for seasoning. Trying to understand why the flesh is green instead of white or pink.

“-erch at the mage college.”

Mage college?

“That’s pretty amazing.” Mom’s eyes seem to light up. “I wonder how much this will change how we apply healing magic.”

“I imagine it will be pretty revolutionary, cutting the mana cost in half.” Father lifts up his well toned arm like an excited child, “I don't even have a scar from it!”

Healing magic? That's pretty cool.

Leaning over the table, mom inspects his arm with excitement. “Do you know how she did it? I can’t wait to try it myself.”

So mom can use healing magic, can she teach me?

“I believe they’re still publishing their findings, it may be another year before the method is circulated.”

Disappointment is clear on my mother’s face as she leans back and continues eating. The knife moves soundlessly across the plate as she cuts her food. “Did you see Claude at the training grounds?”

A rumbling chuckle, “Yeah, the idiot is still trying to use his silly bladed shield. Will ne-”

Looking at the center of the fish, I see why it may have been avoided. The color seems to grow increasingly dark near the center, the flesh is almost like rubber and my fork isn’t able to pierce.

“in town next w-”

My knife slightly scrapes the plate as I cut, readjusting my grip to try and copy mom’s movements. Looking longingly at the remaining circular red vegetables, or rather, the pits within.

“-cloak mended?”

Lightly trying to scrape what little of the orange paste I can before eating it by itself, savoring the burning aftertaste on my tongue and throat.

“-ord practice later today to work some of the new guard recruits, so I will be unable to accompany you. Perhaps you can send the boy with a message to Yvona, I heard Maurice mentioning she was going to look.”

Will it be the same courtyard I saw from the window?

I push my empty place forward, unsure of what to do now, and if it’s okay to just leave the table.

“Oh, you ate the corns?” A surprised voice, as I look at my dad.

Looking at his plate, I guess he means the pits in the red ball vegetables. “It’s good!”

Another vibrating laugh as he smiles at me. “I guess your taste buds are changing then!” Taste buds, so this world has microscopes?

Smiling happily back at him, grateful for the excuse; I look at his plate, noticing he doesn't seem to enjoy the corns. “Can I have Dad’s?”

Breakfast comes to a close, as the woman and boy return. Moving back and forth quickly as they ferry food and dishware away. Servants, but are they ours? We only seem to live in a wing of this castle, is there some lord or lady I need to be worried of offending?

“Dad, can I go too?!” The words are flying out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I’m Lylie. I’m Lylie. I’m Lylie.

“Sure you can!”

Hands shoving off the seat of the chair, I land into a run. Doing my best to stifle the bubbling giggle in my throat as I chase after the long strides of my dad. His face looks down at me as I follow, eyes crinkled and smiling. Thoroughly swept up in the childlike exuberance, I only just notice the fast approach of the stairs. Regaining my senses, my feet falter for the first time. Hesitating, unwilling to approach with others around.

Damnit Morgan, fucking move! You’re Lylie now, this is suspicious. Dad looks down at me, unsure of why I suddenly stopped at the foot of the steps. Confusion is clear in his tone as he walks back the few cleared steps. “You okay Lylie?”

I nod, trying to stall, trying to figure out how to make my body move. Hesitantly, I force myself to take the steps.

A hand reaches down out, and I grasp it. Walking up the stone steps side by side. The pace, obviously too slow for the large man, but he seems content to move together. The occasional glances down keep my attention, the makings of a question I’m not going to like.

Halfway up the stairs, I’m still no closer to having a plan together, he speaks up. “Did something happen?” His dark green eyes are attentive and searching. “You didn’t want to walk up the stairs.”

Looking down to hide my expression, I try to lie. “Nothing.” The slight squeeze of his hand letting me know he doesn’t believe me. Though he stays quiet, continuing to walk with me.