It took Korin a moment to realize she had sat up in the last seconds of sleep, her body waking before her mind did. The night was oddly quiet. Usually a constant breeze blew through the valley of the mountain but tonight all was silent.
Save for a lone cricket, rustling its legs in rattling song, hidden somewhere within the walls of the house.
Korin smacked her lips in the darkness of her room. Her mouth dry and eyes crusted as if she had slept for days on end. She went to stretch out her limbs and found her legs sore.
This was the second time she had woken up like this. Crusty and disheveled, fatigued and groggy from trenches of deep sleep.
She wrote it off as a side effect of her injury but an odd feeling ebbed at the corner of her mind as she gazed through her window into the night. For some reason it felt like it should be day. Like there should be sunshine and flowers blooming in the woods outside her room.
Little white flowers.
And if she opened her window she'd smell sugar and tea leaves.
But no hint of light or any small flowers could be seen under the blanket of the night. Korin rubbed her eyes with a sigh. Strange.
She clicked on a lantern, activating the crystal inside. A stream of pale plasma ignited and arched in the glass box illuminating her room in a wash of soft blue light.
Her room was a secretive museum of her interests that only Samhir had ever peeked into. And in messy similarity to her father it was crammed to its brim.
A bookshelf sat nearest the door, overflowing with novels and thick tomes on subjects varying from history, geography and cartography, to informational pamphlets on various animals, biology and botany. A recent addition of dusty books on electrical circuits and energy division were crammed along the top shelf right above a series of mathematical textbooks. Everything grouped in a chaotic organization that took a moment to see.
Along the bottom shelf and spilling onto the floor were various nonfictions. The single bookshelf held the proof of the hundreds of times she had sent her father into the village or a convoy to purchase a book.
At the furthest end of the room, in front of a large window, was a drafting table, diagrams and drawings pinned and clipped all around its borders. Most of the drawings consisted of plants and flowers. Some grew on the mountain, while others Korin had only seen in books. Hand drafted graph paper held diagrams for intricate cross stitching. Others, more softly sketched with curving lines, were plans for embroidery.
Perpendicular from the table was a long work bench. It was covered in a dizzying assortment of supplies; dishes overflowing with buttons and needles, half covered by heaps of ribbon, and lace. Bolted to the walls, were floating shelves piled high with fabric and clothing. A couple heavy chests sat here and there, filled with more fabric and tools.
There was a small bed, just big enough for Korin to lie down straight, nestled on the opposite wall. Its worn mattresses were piled high with pillows and a thick duvet. Its surface held the shape of her body, hugging her from years of use. Next to her bed were two dressers and a wardrobe. Drawers and doors were open, her clothing bursting from them.
She wore less than half of what she had. Most were her projects, not necessarily made to suit her own tastes. At one point her father had tried to sell some in the village. But it quickly became apparent that Korin had created them, the style of stitching and embroidery giving her away. Samhir had come back to the house defeated and arms full of all of their merchandise. Except for a single dress Ellie had purchased.
She hadn't expected much but it did not stop the disappointment she saw growing within her father. As she had taken the clothing from him she asked,
"I'm old enough to take care of myself now, you know. Why don't you go to the capital for a while. Take a break from here. Maybe my clothes will sell where no one knows me."
"Well…" Samhir didn't have an answer he wanted to say out loud so he didn't continue, easily pulled into depressing and fearful thoughts. His arms went a little stiff as his eyes became glassy and wide. He let out a small choked breath, obviously holding back emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
She'd quickly cleared her throat with a 'nevermind' and excused herself.
There had been a buzzing dread that bloomed in the pit on her stomach when she had seen her father cry once before. It was a pitiful silent weeping that had him trapped for hours. When he had finally finished he drank himself into a slumber that lasted for two days. Just once. After that, when she thought he might break down, she'd quickly change the topic or excuse herself, find something else to do.
Once some time had passed Korin came to the conclusion Ellie had bought the dress out of pity because she had never seen her wear it.
She shook the unpleasant memories from her head and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. Grabbing a water glass on a small nightstand, she greedily gulped down the remaining liquid. It had become chilled from the coolness of the night and caused goosebumps to rise across her arms as she drank.
She set the glass back down next to a small bonsai she kept on the nightstand. An embroidered collar was latched around its shallow pot, a thin piece of metal hanging from its buckle. The bag Mikhail had given her, crowded next to it. She hadn't touched anything inside when she got home. Just went about her nightly routine as usual, forgetting the tiny little bag and all its trinkets.
She reached in blindly pulling out an object. Her fingers curled around something cool and smooth and she revealed the small stone figurine. The one for fostering friendships. Korin let out a puff of air, amused, and pulled out the next item, then the next. Lining everything on her nightstand. The figurine, the perfume, the ink, and the pen.
The last gift would be the oracle cards, and as her hand dipped into the bag to retrieve them she was greeted with smooth coolness and the ping of her nails hitting something metal and hollow. Korin moved the bag into her lap and peered inside. In the dim light of the plasma lantern she made out a rectangular box and pulled it out, wondering if Mikhail had accidentally given her something of his.
It was made of metal,unblemished and covered in a deep cherry lacquer. As she turned the box in her hand her finger triggered a small latch on the side and it clicked open.
She carefully spread it apart, telling herself that if it was something personal of his she would close it and return it tomorrow.
Her lips slightly parted as the contents were revealed.
The inside was lined in crushed velvet with compartments molded into perfect slots holding glass vials of needles. Their superior quality was evident by their sheen and the sound they made as they bounced around. Across the bottom, colorful spools of vibrant thread, silken in appearance, were strapped in neat rows. She ran a finger across the floss.
Tucked into the side, behind spools of thread, was the corner of a tiny slip of marble stained paper that was in fashion with the higher classes. She pulled out the note and unfolded it revealing elegant and neat handwriting,
-K
I hope you find good use of my gifts.
-M
Korin stared at the sewing box until dawn began to break. When she finally stood, she went for her work bench, reaching on tippy-toes and pulling down various fabrics.