Story time
Another story I started and never finished.
Maari hated thunderstorms. The loud cracks that dwelled within those clouds reminded her of the day her father died. Yet here she was, in the middle of nowhere, making her way to Powers knew where, while a dark, hateful thunderstorm hurled itself in her direction. Had the invasion not taken over Nyako City, Maari would be safe by the fireplace in her aunt’s rather large, elaborately decorated home.
She didn’t miss it one bit. Aunt Milicant was just as bad, if not worse, than the thunderstorm that Maari was now facing. The woman wasn’t cruel to her, exactly. Maari had all she needed to be comfortable. The problem with Aunt Milicant was that she always made sure that Maari knew exactly what she thought of her.
“I want you to realize, girl, that I do this only because I must,” Milicant stated with an infuriating calmness about her on the day that Maari moved in. “If he hadn’t gone and gotten himself shot full of holes in that bandit’s cove, I would have one less burden to worry about. But you know how men are, always being so noble. I suppose he couldn’t just leave you there, after all.”
Maari held her tongue, not even giving her aunt the polite response of, “Just as you say”. It was yet another thing that Millicant would use against her in the future, noting that the girl had no manners.
Maari’s face burned in anger despite the chill of the wind. Ritac had been a good man, and Millicant’s own brother. How the woman could be so disgustingly cold about fact that the man in question had died protecting his family was beyond Maari. He had died, after all, trying to save Aunt Millicant’s own sister, Maari’s mother. After three months of having dealt with her aunt’s sharp tongue, Maari could take no more. She took a change of clothes, a loaf of bread, and whatever money she could steal from the old bat’s “secret” hiding place (behind a loose brick to the left of the downstairs fireplace), and left while the rest of the house was asleep.
Maari hated thunderstorms. The loud cracks that dwelled within those clouds reminded her of the day her father died. Yet here she was, in the middle of nowhere, making her way to Powers knew where, while a dark, hateful thunderstorm hurled itself in her direction. Had the invasion not taken over Nyako City, Maari would be safe by the fireplace in her aunt’s rather large, elaborately decorated home.
She didn’t miss it one bit. Aunt Milicant was just as bad, if not worse, than the thunderstorm that Maari was now facing. The woman wasn’t cruel to her, exactly. Maari had all she needed to be comfortable. The problem with Aunt Milicant was that she always made sure that Maari knew exactly what she thought of her.
“I want you to realize, girl, that I do this only because I must,” Milicant stated with an infuriating calmness about her on the day that Maari moved in. “If he hadn’t gone and gotten himself shot full of holes in that bandit’s cove, I would have one less burden to worry about. But you know how men are, always being so noble. I suppose he couldn’t just leave you there, after all.”
Maari held her tongue, not even giving her aunt the polite response of, “Just as you say”. It was yet another thing that Millicant would use against her in the future, noting that the girl had no manners.
Maari’s face burned in anger despite the chill of the wind. Ritac had been a good man, and Millicant’s own brother. How the woman could be so disgustingly cold about fact that the man in question had died protecting his family was beyond Maari. He had died, after all, trying to save Aunt Millicant’s own sister, Maari’s mother. After three months of having dealt with her aunt’s sharp tongue, Maari could take no more. She took a change of clothes, a loaf of bread, and whatever money she could steal from the old bat’s “secret” hiding place (behind a loose brick to the left of the downstairs fireplace), and left while the rest of the house was asleep.