The weather became clear during the time it was usually rainiest. There were no guarantees that it wouldn’t resume later in July, but for now Tara tried to enjoy it. She couldn’t draw from observation if she had nothing to observe but the inside of the house.
She didn’t mind going out alone on sunny days—not as long as she knew where everyone else was, at least. The conservatory provided enough seating areas for her to avoid anyone who might visit, so it served to be one of her favorite places; there weren’t many spots in San Asari where one could be surrounded by nice scenery and be distanced enough from others to feel relatively alone.
Everyone had gone their separate ways after breakfast; Rene to work, Adelinde to the music district. Matteo had left the night prior to stay at one of his friends’ houses, leading Tara to notice him in the conservatory near the instruments. She didn’t announce herself—partly because she may be forced to be included, and partly because he already seemed to be having a conversation with his friends—and went to one of her favorite spots near the corner.
She could still hear Matteo and his friends talking; their teasing remarks, half-random comments, laughter. Tara couldn’t claim to be completely unfazed, but she still worked on her drawing despite it. Her artwork followed her thoughts—a crowd of people talking, vaguely modeled after Matteo’s group based on what she could see of them. She went on to another drawing as her thoughts shifted to a slightly different place.
She couldn’t really ask for friends, when she feared her family would leave her. Tara didn’t think herself capable of actually trusting they were genuine, even if she knew they were; not to mention the patience it would require for them to hold conversations with her.
Tara’s second attempt at drawing did move away from the image of friends, albeit while she still lingered and wondered about the concept. As a result, she didn’t realize what she drew until she happened to pay attention.
The inside of a ship—or the beginning sketch of one, at any rate. The detail bothered her after so many vague nights with Itzun; he said that she would eventually understand this once she found her ‘purpose,’ but the idea of it scared her. She could draw faces she didn’t recognize, places she’s never seen—she considered that to be one of her oddities, albeit one easily explained by an artist’s imagination.
Tara flipped the page over to work on another drawing, observing her surroundings and quickly sketching a butterfly on a flower before it flew away. She continued to expand upon that image and finished it fairly quickly, by most people’s standards.
She continued the process but her thoughts never strayed—she almost wanted to go back and touch up on a few of her ship drawings, but feared being questioned if someone saw. At a glance, she knew it was innocent—just a ship on the sea in the storm, sometimes empty but sometimes filled with people. Tara could immediately think of dozens of professional works done with the same topic. The only difference was that, while most of them portrayed a certain mood—tried to present it as hope against all odds or something similar—hers had no other interpretation than loss.
Considering Matteo’s friends also believed that any element of the arts needed to reflect the artist’s mindset, Tara also didn’t want them to see it and assume her thoughts ran a darker course than they truly did. There weren’t many people willing to spend hours depicting any given person’s death unless in commemoration or to supplement some history lesson or fairytales.
About an hour or three must have passed; she didn’t entirely notice, honestly, between the conversation around her and her own work. She didn’t notice anyone came over to her until they spoke.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“It’s getting kind of cloudy.”
Tara jumped a bit, but nonetheless looked up at Matteo. He—or one of her friends—must have noticed her at some point.
“It might rain,” Matteo continued, not quite awkwardly but somewhere close. “Figured I could warn you in case you want to head home so you don’t get stuck.”
“Thank you.” He may not understand her fears—she didn’t either, in his defense—but at least he cared enough to tell her if the weather seemed likely to turn against her.
Tara gathered her materials, put them in her bag, then stood up. Matteo lingered for a second before returning to his friends, and she took that as her cue to leave.
As warned, the clouds were darker than they had been that morning. She moved as quickly as she could back home; the walk was only ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but she didn’t want to take the chance of getting caught in any weather.
A single raindrop fell on her shoulder as soon as she put her hand on the doorknob to get in the house, and Tara completely froze. Any amount of rain on or near her caused the same reaction—she tried to convince herself it wouldn’t hurt her, but she always had the idea of drowning.
…Always thought back to the image of a sinking ship, now recalling Itzun’s promises of a ‘purpose’ as well.
Fortunately, Adelinde was home; she opened the door and offered a sympathetic look, even if it was a mere drizzle.
“Here,” Adelinde said gently. She offered her hand and Tara took it, pulling her inside.
Almost immediately, that fear of rain left. Adelinde still stood nearby as Tara took off her shoes and hung up her jacket. Tara mustered a bit of courage to speak as she followed Adelinde back to the music room and watched her take a spot behind the piano, if only because the brief experience both concerned and angered her to some extent.
“…Mother?” Adelinde paused when she heard it; it must sound strange coming from her. Still, Adelinde gave Tara her full attention. “Is it…normal, to fear something that shouldn’t logically hurt you? Imagine scenarios that are incredibly unlikely to ever happen?”
Adelinde’s expression grew to be more understanding, and she offered a smile.
“It is,” she assured her. “Everyone has something they’re afraid of, something they worry over despite the unlikelihood of it.”
“What if the scenarios are…vivid? Almost lifelike?”
“Anxiety doesn’t mix well with creative minds,” Adelinde reasoned, albeit regretfully. She hesitated to set her hands on the piano keys, focusing on Tara and maintaining a kind look. “There are ways Rene and I can help you—we just need your cooperation. It can be as simple as just…sitting down and talking, or we can find someone else that you’re more comfortable with.”
Tara murmured some agreement and looked away—at first towards the window before seeing the rain, then towards the ground. She appreciated the thought, but it didn’t ease her concerns. She couldn’t explain why she feared rain without giving a list of every other oddity.
As much as she felt like she didn’t belong here, she would rather them believe she was normal. Depending on what her ‘purpose’ was, that might be best.
She turned to put her extra drawing materials away, but paused when Adelinde stood.
“Tara.” Adelinde walked over so she was in front of her; she didn’t look up. Adelinde’s smile only wavered when she gave a second-long concerned frown. “Is something else bothering you?”
She found it easiest to lie and shake her head.
“No. I’m fine.”
Tara knew it was an excuse, but… Adelinde had gone this long without knowing—and she would have to repeat it all again for Rene.
To them, she would just be…Tara. The girl who was afraid of rain.