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Still Waters » Surfacing » Fanfiction º When There's Nothing Left to Be
»Chapters: [ 1 - 2 - 3 ]
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This was simply intended to provide a glimpse into a day in Filia's life, even the mundane, and establish character interaction history.
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Nights were always the worst. Filia could go for days without any sleep, although if
she did, she would pay for it later by sleeping for a full day or two straight. As a result,
she always tried to get at least some sleep at night, even when she was not actually
tired.
She usually blew out the candle after the bell-ringer switched to the softer bell used
to signal the nighttime hours. Filia didn't know if it actually was a different bell, or the
same one rung in a different manner, and she never had enough curiosity to find out.
All that really mattered was that it told her the hours. If she were lucky that night, she
wasn't awake to hear the eleventh hour chiming out, but it usually wasn't until after
midnight that she finally drifted off, and would manage to get two or three hours of
sleep. Some nights it was a little more, some nights, a little less. It had been one of
the lesser nights.
Since a little before three, she had lain awake in bed, tossing and turning, trying to fall
back asleep. Her efforts were vain, as she only managed to slip into a half-dozing,
restless state where her subconscious mingled with her conscious mind, blowing all the
worries of the day into clear view at nightmarish proportions.
Filia finally gave up and stared up through the dark at the ceiling, debating if she
should remain in bed and wait, or admit defeat and get an early start. Her decision
was made for her though when the bell tower began ringing the louder, more
distinctive day bell. By the time the fourth and final chime was fading, Filia already
had her feet tucked into the inverted rabbit fur slippers Jillas made, and checked on
the sleeping bundle in the basket beside her bed.
The tiny hatchling showed no signs of waking just then, so Filia cautiously felt her way
down the dark staircase to the kitchen. The glow of banked embers was barely visible
even to her vision, superior to a human's. But that soon changed as she shifted them
around with a poker, feeding the dying fire with a bit of kindling and some fresh logs.
After Filia was certain the fire took, she pushed the iron arm over the flames, heating
up the kettle of water dangling by its handle, prepared beforehand the previous night.
While that was heating, she stuck a straw into the fire for a moment, then drew back
the burning stalk to light the oil lamp. Filia picked up one of the buckets by the back
door and lifted the latch, carrying the lamp and bucket out to the pump. She set the
lamp a safe distance away on the cobblestones, and primed the pump. Once the water
started flowing, it didn't take long for the bucket to fill.
Across the yard, past the garden and kiln in the small cottage, she could see the glow
of candles and lamps as Jillas and Gravos began to wake and go about their morning
business. Filia returned to the kitchen and poured half of the bucket into a large iron
pot, and set it on the fireplace's second arm. On went another log, then into the larder
for meats and vegetables. She was definitely becoming more adept at cooking; while
Filia still wouldn't win any awards for gourmet dishes, she was faster at preparing their
usual breakfast.
Things were added to the pot as they were chopped, and once she finished, Filia
returned to her room, lamp in hand, and set about dressing for the day. Filia brushed
her hair out and braided it up again, coiling the long rope of hair up into a bun at the
nape of her neck, and secured it with pins. Filia used a hook to button the back of one
of her 'good' dresses, as she called them. It wasn't the fine fabric of her priestess
gowns, but a durable, sturdy, and warm weave of linen and wool. She had several in
different colors, bought from bolts at the store from time to time over the last year.
Underneath the good dresses were the ones that she found in trunks in the house after
she purchased it, and altered to the best of her ability to fit her. They looked nice
enough for being altered clothing that didn't fit her originally, but so long as she had
dresses properly made for her, she would save the altered ones for cleaning days or
other hard labor chores.
As Filia finished tying her apron around her waist, a soft wail drew her attention. A tiny
black-furred head was peeking out over the basket rim, just barely visible under the
blanket.
"Well, good morning to you too," Filia said, walking over to crouch by the basket. The
hatchling trilled quietly as she scratched his head, then chirped insistently. "Time for
breakfast, hmm? Well, all right then. Let's go downstairs and see if it's ready."
Val chirped again, ducking suddenly as she lifted the basket and tucked it under her
arm, then peeked out, watching the shadows dance away from the lamp as Filia
returned to the kitchen with them. She set him down on the table, and he clutched the
edge of the basket, standing up and watching her intently as she poured the hot water
into the teapot she had made ready before turning in the night before. Across the
town from the tower, the half-hour bell chimed once, and she could make out the
sounds of the rest of the village also getting the day in motion.
Another demanding chirp, this one louder than before, immediately preceded a quiet
thump and a wail. Filia spun about to find Val tangled up in the blanket, sprawled on
the table after tumbling from the tipped basket. She smiled and shook her head as she
untangled the baby Dragon from the blanket. "Just be patient a bit longer," she told
him as he rolled wobbly to his feet, fluttering his wings. "Breakfast is almost ready."
Patience wasn't a word in the vocabulary of most Dragons, and certainly not in a
hatchling's. Val chirped again, almost angrily, and Filia picked him up before he ran
off the table. "Well, all right, you can have a little bit, but it won't taste as good as it
will when it's finally done," Filia chided him as he crawled up her arm, clinging to her
dress with his tiny talons. He only chirped loudly in response, and that was to Filia
retrieving a wooden bowl from the cupboard. Not a single move escaped his notice,
and Filia had to get creative between holding the bowl, spooning in some stew, and
keeping the overly impatient hatchling from diving headfirst into the pot.
Val almost knocked the bowl over as he pounced it once Filia set them both down on
the table, greedily devouring the contents. Filia had to smile at the irony of it all. "You really eat an awfully
lot like her," she said as the door latch clicked behind her.
"Who's like who?" Jillas asked, sniffing the air as he walked into the kitchen. "It sure
smells good in here, sis! Your stew's the perfect thing to wake up to!"
Filia glanced back at the foxman, grinning affectionately. She'd long since given up
trying to get him to stop calling her that, and the sincerity in his voice cheered her.
Never mind the fact she'd made the same thing for breakfast that they had nearly
every morning of every day, and sometimes for supper too. Even if he ever got tired
of it, and gods knew she did at times, he didn't let on. "Good morning, Jillas," she
replied. "I was just comparing Val's eating habits to those of a certain sorceress I
know."
"Hey, save a little bit for us," Jillas told him, and started to scratch the tiny Dragon's
back, yanking his hand back as Val growled. He stood on his hind legs, clutching the
edge of the bowl in his front paws, and continued to lick it clean.
"What, done already?" Filia asked, peering into the bowl. While she hadn't given him
very much -- a baby Dragon's eyes were notoriously bigger than their stomach -- it still
didn't take him long to devour it.
"Chew yer food next time, kid," Gravos said, crouching to fit under the doorway.
"Eatin' is even better when you can taste it."
Val looked up from the empty bowl at Filia, and closed his eyes as a big, toothy,
draconian smile spread across face. "Fil'ma!" he cooed, hopping a few inches off the
table in a tiny pounce, flapping his wings. She laughed and caught him, and he
immediately began to snuggle in the crook of her arm, purring contentedly.
"Want me to get you a bowl for yourself, sis?" Jillas asked.
"Would you please?" Filia replied, lifting the basket off the table as she sat down. She
could put Val in there later, she knew, but while he was rapidly falling back asleep, he
would protest and throw a fit if she tried to put him down just then.
"What's the plans for the day?" Gravos asked after they were all seated around the
table.
"At some point after noon, I need to check the pottery in the kiln to see if it's done yet.
If it is, we need to pull that out to cool, and then transfer over some of the completed
pieces that are ready for firing," Filia replied. "I also need to go to the market and pick
up some more bread and milk."
"Why not just get a cow?" Jillas asked. "I still think it's better than buying milk every
day."
"The cost isn't justifiable, unfortunately," Filia replied. "There's not enough space for
a cow to graze. We'd spend more on feed for the cow than we would in buying milk
over the course of a year. If that figure ever changes, then it would be an idea worth
considering. But you two should go to the general store and see about getting some
more lumber for a coop and fence and whatever else we need."
"Gonna get some chickens then?" Gravos asked.
"Yes. Eggs have been getting more expensive, and chicken grain doesn't cost as much
as cattle feed." Filia paused to take a bite of stew. "Besides, Val's going to be eating
more and more now, and if we have enough chickens, we can also have them for
supper."
"Sounds like a plan," Gravos said.
"Just one question."
"What is it, sis?"
"Do either of you know the first thing about raising chickens?" she asked, "because I
sure don't."
Jillas perked up. "Of course! I'm a fox! We all had chickens back home." He paused,
his ears drooping. "Now I just need to remember what I knew..."
Filia chuckled and patted his shoulder. "I'm sure we'll have time to jog your memory
before we're ready to get them." She started to put Val down into his basket, then
stopped. "And oh, before I forget, I also need to pick up some more soap." She
sighed in dismay, and tucked the hatchling under the blanket.
"What's wrong, sis?"
"It's just expensive is all, and we go through it so quickly."
"I could wash less," Gravos suggested.
"No!" Jillas and Filia both replied at once.
"That's okay, Gravos, really, it is," Filia quickly assured him.
"Why not make it yourself?" Jillas asked.
"Make...soap?" Filia blinked. "I haven't the faintest notion how."
"I know we don't have anywhere near enough fat for it, and we haven't been extracting
lye from the ashes," Jillas said. "But I can fashion up a barrel for lye readily enough,
and you can make up a few pots to store it in until we have enough fat."
"Um, okay?" Filia raised an eyebrow. "And where do we get that?"
"That's the problem." His ears drooped. "I know we used to get it because we'd
butcher our livestock for food."
"Which we don't have, and can't afford."
"Won't them chickens work?" Gravos asked.
"I'm not sure. We'd use cows and hogs."
"Maybe we could buy the fat?" Filia suggested, although the idea of buying one thing
so they wouldn't have to buy something else left her unsettled. It would be different
if they had to buy the fat anyway, but they would just be trading off one purchase for
another. "Maybe it wouldn't be as expensive?"
"I'm not sure. We'd need two pounds per gallon of lye, and I guess it would all depend
on who we could find willing to sell their hard fat, and at how much."
"Well, if it's too much just yet, in a few more years, if Val keeps up eating the way he's
been, I dare say we'd be saving money in the long run buying some farm animals for
food and milk, and then we'll have the type of fat you say we need to make soap," Filia
said.
"One question."
"Yes, Gravos?"
"Where we gonna keep 'em?"
Filia looked at the large lizardman for a long moment before letting her forehead thunk
heavily on the tabletop. "I suppose we'll have to move."
"Or we could just buy some land outside of town and keep them there," Jillas said.
"Another cost." She chuckled wearily and sat up, pushing her bangs out of her face.
"All to avoid buying soap."
"You could also keep a bigger garden," Jillas pointed out. "And eventually, we could
build an actual house out there, and turn this place into just a shop."
"I don't need a bigger shop," Filia said. "We don't even need to use the upstairs room
for anything yet."
"And the key word's yet," Gravos said. "You've only been in business a few months.
Give it some time. We got some good stuff out there on the floor, we just need for
word to spread outside of town a bit more. Someday you'll need 'em taking a number
and getting in line to get what they want."
Filia smiled, although she didn't feel it inside. "Speaking of which, I suppose I should
get in there and get things ready for opening before I go to the market."
"Want me to watch Val while you do all that?" Jillas asked.
"It shouldn't be much work; I don't think he'll wake up for a few more hours," Filia
replied. "But I'd appreciate that, yes. Just be careful not to disturb him while I'm
gone."
"We learned that lesson last time," Gravos said, eyeing the basket warily. "For such
a runty little guy, he's sure got a healthy set of lungs."
"He's not runty!" Filia protested. "He's just a baby!"
"And besides, don't talk about Lord Valgaav that way!"
"Jillas!" Filia's tone was sharp enough to flatten the foxman's ears down in an instantly
meek expression. "We are not to say that name here ever again, is that clear?"
He looked down at the reminder. "Yes, sis," he said quietly.
Gravos frowned. "I'm gettin' tired of that one myself," he told Filia. "Lord Valgaav
saved my life, and I'm not going to just up and forget he ever existed."
"You don't understand," Filia said, looking at them. "Neither of you do. Valgaav
wanted to forget he ever existed. He did all that he did to try to turn everything back
to the beginning, for a second chance. He was miserable, his life was miserable.
Couldn't you ever see that? Now for whatever the reason, he has that chance he
wanted so desperately, a second chance, a new life. I'm not going to have Val growing
up hearing about Valgaav. Valgaav's dead. I don't want Val to know about him."
Jillas kept his gaze on the table while Gravos met her eyes evenly. "Don't ya think
that's the runt's decision to make? His call on whether he wants to know about his
past or not?"
"But that's not his past! He's not Valgaav. He's just...Val. That's all," Filia argued. "And
there's nothing to know in that past but pain upon pain. He's not to know that, any
of it. He's not to have any pain in his life at all."
"Yer tryin' for the impossible," Gravos said.
Filia blinked back sudden tears and bit her lip, giving her head a slight shake. "No, I'm
not. Even if I were, it's not an unworthy cause. He's already had enough pain for a
dozen lifetimes. If there's any fairness, any justice in life at all, this lifetime will be a
good one. He's more than earned it. It's due him, and I'll make sure he gets it, just
see if I don't."
Gravos didn't reply, but the slight shake of his head as he looked away spoke volumes.
Whatever you say.
Filia finished her tea, and stood. "I'm going to prepare the shop." The kitchen was
silent as she walked away, pushing the door that led into the former dining room. For
just a moment, she stood there in the room, dark save for the lamp in hand. It was
too early to feel as overwhelmed as she did; there was too much to do. Usually,
everything waited until nightfall, after everyone turned in, after the world was asleep,
before creeping up on her. She had hours then she could spare to curl up and try to
ignore the nagging doubts and fears, and hide from everything.
The day was just starting, and it already stretched out before her, endless and heavy.
She gave herself a little shake, trying to gather her thoughts, and set about with her
morning chores in an attempt to find solace in the simplicity of efficient routine. Filia
tried to keep her mind focused on the tasks at hand, no matter how small.
Open the iron door to the stove. Add wood and kindling. Light some kindling with the
lamp. Get a fire going in the stove. Close the door. Get out the books.
She walked between the aisles of merchandise to ensure everything was straightened
and on its best display, even though she knew it would be. She tidied it every night
after closing, and frequently throughout the day. But she did it again anyway. Move
a vase a fraction to the side. Tip a sword a little more on the display stand. Wipe a
speck of dust off an axe. Rearrange a place setting. Pick up a figurine, dust it off, set
it back down in the exact same place.
Idle hands invite evil tasks. How well that lesson was drummed into her from a young
age! And how true it seemed to hold, even if everything else from the temple was
false. Staying busy gave her mind something to focus on besides the buried thoughts,
the darker emotions she kept locked up deep down inside. Keeping focused on
mundane tasks held the fear and doubt at bay.
She had known from the start that to strike out on her own, to support herself, would
require money. But it seemed that for every expense they conquered, three more rose
up in its place. Filia never expected it to be as much as it was, for there to be so many
hidden costs she never even thought about in the daily living. So many of the things
she had taken for granted at the temple, she took for granted no longer now that she
had to provide them. The harder she tried to stay afloat, the more it felt as though she
were drowning.
Filia fought off the near-paralyzing flood, keeping her eyes open wide while she dusted
an immaculate plate. Focus on the simple, the mundane. Don't look away. Don't look
beyond that very minute, to the future, to the questions. One at a time. One step at
a time, one day at a time. She couldn't figure out how anyone managed living any
other way.
Survive but don't feel. Too much to do. Too much work. Feeling would mean
stopping, and Filia was afraid if she stopped, if she started to feel, she would feel too
much to ever move again. If it were only herself, perhaps she would have given in.
But she owed it to Val to keep moving. She was where she was by choice. Choices
Valgaav never really had. It was stolen from him by her own people. Her hands were
bloody by association. She owed it to Val to ensure his life was nothing but the very
best of what life itself could offer.
So she kept working, focusing no farther ahead than each minute as it came, looking
no farther than each task as she worked. The day numbed out and faded into a blur,
and the heavy endlessness of it died away under the hundreds of little tasks from
sunup to sundown. There was shopping to do. Pottery to make. Dishes to paint.
Customers to serve. People to feed. Dishes to wash. Fires to tend. Ledgers to
calculate and books to balance. Task after task. Idle hands invited overwhelming
fears. Solace was in efficiency, in working, in staying busy, in numbness.
Finally the bell tower chimed ten, and she was at her vanity, alone save for the
sleeping hatchling in his basket nearby. Her thoughts drifted no farther than each
number as she ran the brush through her hair a hundred times. It was only after the
last plait was braided, the last band was tied, and the candle was extinguished that she
curled up under her blankets, and hid from the world as the dam held back all day by
tasks finally burst.
»Chapters: [ 1 - 2 - 3 ]
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Filia Ul Copt and The Slayers are the property of:
Hajime Kanzaka; Rui Araizumi; Kadokawa Shoten; TV TOKYO; SOFTX; Marubeni. This is a fansite for personal entertainment. No money is made, and there is no affiliation -- either official or un -- with the creators.
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