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littlerookwrites-blog · 7 years

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Pyre Fic: Mint

After years, I mean years out of the fanfic writing ring Pyre pushed me out of retirement home of writers. So I figured, why the hell not? Might as well hop on to this cool Tumblr thing these kids are using and post my first work in a very long time. If this origin story is received well then I might toss it up on AO3 once I get an account.

Thank you so much for reading and enjoy!

Oh, and spoiler warning of course.

Somewhere, deep in the Downside long after the final Liberation Rites had pass was a blackwagon. From inside the scent of mint was being brewed from a cooking set that was left behind by her friends. Back in The Reader’s younger days the wagon was a bit more lively but a bit a bit cramped for her liking. However now it was just her living alone in the wagon along with fellow exiles and former Nightwings in a small settlement. Placing her chin in her hand she looked up from the book she was reading to the pot boiling away. Oh how soothing to the soul was a pot of boiling water was to her. It reminder her of a time long, long ago. A bittersweet memory.

* * *

The Reader spent her life with a small pocket of rebel scribes who shared a single passion, words. The law stated that no citizens of The Commonwealth should have the ability to read or write. These rebels on the other hand, wholeheartedly disagreed. Books and writing where something that shouldn’t be denied but shared and enjoyed with the world. In secret they would write an array of subjects to give out to the masses. The Reader herself would write about the History of the Commonwealth with the limited resources she had. Timid she may look when she started work the passion burn from within. The world needed books, and she damn well wanted to do her part for it.

To her, they where also her family. Days where her legs felt good to walk around The Reader would travel downstairs to the common room to speak in her soft voice to others about the popular subject was at the time. Those days where rare, but still her closest friend would come by daily with mint tea and snacks to review each other’s work. When she wasn’t writing she was reading. On sunny days she would place her chair at the nearest window on the top floor to enjoy some reading from her book collection under the sunlight, much like a cat would enjoy sun bathing. It was the smaller things in life she needed to enjoy her life. For how long they skirted around the authorities she was convinced that they could carry on forever writing their books. The rebel scribes soon became more and more bold in distributing until….

One night she was jolted awake by one her fellow writers. Her mind still groggy heard sounds of shouting men and women from down below. Glazing in to the other scribe eyes in the darken room fear set in. The Rebel hope if hiding The Reader away in the forgotten corners of the house then their work could carry on without the other members. Alone she sat in the cramped closet waiting. Suddenly all of the shouts and screaming became an eerie silence. Was it over? Where the authorities gone? Peeking out from the closet she could barely see anything until she felt someone grab her wrist. As they dragged her out of her only home she knew of she saw light in the inky darkness of the nighttime sky. Fire. Oh how it burned. Oh how it burned so brightly. Oh how it danced as it brought her their hard work to ashes. Where were the others? Why was she the only one being taken away? Her heart sank. She knew the answer why but denied it. This was all a terrible dream. None of this was real. Soon she would just wake up in bed with birds chirping from her window.

This was all real. It became very real when the judges swiftly sentenced her to be exiled the following day. Strangely, she didn’t feel any react but simply went with the motions. Everything was gone. What was even the point of anything anymore? Donning the white robe with the star marking on the back they tossed her down below. There she waited for the end. Unmoving from the spot she landed. For every rough breeze that whipped her body with sand she prayed to The Scribes to show her mercy. Fate is a strange being, the mercy she prayed for was not the one she wanted. Mercy came in a blackwagon. Old and beaten it was an unlikely savior for her as the wheels came to a halt in front of her. One of the members then jumped out to checked on the crumpled figure sitting on the sands. Closing her eyes she braced herself for death. The footsteps drew closer and closer. Her mind flashing back to that fateful night. This was it. It was all over.

“Looks like she’s breathing.” His voice it was so warm and friendly. It felt like eternity that she heard a voice like this. Looking up at the smiling man she listened to his kind words as he offered her a drink of water. At first she stare at him. He reminded so much of her dear friend, the same one who would sit and chat with her over tea. They were always laughing, smiling, and always ready with a terrible pun when the occasional arises. Yet here she was, alone. Most likely the sole survivor of that terrible night. Here, under the starry night sky she felt a wave of emotion after emotion hit her. Her hand wearily shaked in the direction for the water flask but instead grabbed his regiment. Burying her face deep in his chest she cried deeply. Finally…finally she could grieve.

* * *

The tea was done, and so were her memories. Off in the distance she could see one the former Nightwings coming toward the blackwagon a bundle of green leaves in hand, most likely testing if it would make good tea or not. The Reader had a warm smile just like the one she saw when first arrived to this land. Even though she could never return to glory, things were not so bad here. While it was bit of an process to figure out what leaves were good for mint tea at least she had that. New books she was getting lately by mail imps were excellent, especially the newest novel she was reading about a boy with a large hammer surviving in a world torn apart. While the friends she made Downwell could never replace the ones she losted she loved each and everyone of them as they were family to her.

In a sense, she had found her way home.

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