Chapter Text
The day was cold, freezing compared to the climate of other countries. But, the temperature was common on Swallow Island; this land had been snow-covered since the beginning of time. Or at least that's what the textbooks say. Though my mother told me otherwise in her little tales that she lulled to me while I was confined to bed. I still picture her long black hair that was silk to the touch, that couldn't even be confided with knots. She could never keep it up so it was always leveled a bit lower than her shoulder blades. Her bright colored eyes had always held sparkles that contained a sense of an overjoyed memory; especially when she told me the tale of Swallow Island. Her high pitch voice, so full of detail made the picture in my mind that our ancestors originated for this snowy country, though it was once a warm flowered filled meadow where flowers decorated every inch of the land, the soil was plenty wet since it rained for most of the time. The mudded landscape was a perfect place for the birds that were of the name Swallow to live.
At this time in the tale, my small lips would part as I imaged the smell of flowers other than the winter snowdrops, I imaged the intense color that was vacant in this winter country that I've always have lived in. My mother would lean in a bit with a smile spreading across her face as well, her cold hand cupped my cheek. She then continued on voicing the past, how this one man changed it all. That one man would be a traveler, a magic one. This man would appear only a couple centuries after the island was founded. He was a bitter man, with little to give. He frightened the people with his ice like power. He had no one, and nothing to enjoy so he decided to freeze everyone's joy. Thus causing the island as it is today, though days after the freezing of the island, a little girl, bobbed her way up to the bitter man on the frozen street. A sad smile portrayed on her lips as she held wilting flowers in her bare hands. Tears welled in her eyes, explaining to the man that she had seen how glum the man had been and she wished to make the man happy, so she thought of growing flowers since her mother always did that and it caused her joy, so why not do it for that man as well? She tried to get him the flowers earlier though, growing took time, the winter storm also took time away from her flowers, so she had to pick them. She apologized, while some tears spilled. But, not from the frostbitten girl. But the man, he started balling as he fell onto the street. The little girl worried about the man as she kept asking f he was ok. In truth, he was physically not harmed, but his mind was a different story. This girls kind and warmth brought him such a heart fluttering feeling, she was right these flowers did bring the magic of happiness, but he just felt guilty. Those flowers the young girl grew where the last ones to grow on the island, and they were for the man that ended the flower growing. And that would be the end of the tale.
Sadly, I wouldn't know the meaning behind the story into later on; even though my eyes sparkled like my mothers and my hair with the same shade of midnight, I had much to learn; she wouldn't be there for all my learning, barely any of it. I was bedridden and was quite brittle, the doctors didn't have a clue how to cure it, most of the citizens who ancestors originated from this island were the only ones suffering. They had high fevers, deathly colored skin as well as slightly frosted bodies, and most oddly, flower buds grew on them. It was a nightmare, it was so painful; though I was a lucky one. I only suffered the pain for two young years of my life; though my memories are hazy from those days, the frost was as clear as the break of light was at dawn. The flowers felt as if they were sucking the life source out of me, and the bitter coldness only worsened my health. It may have been my imagination but, it looked like my veins and others who were infected, were turning into vines; they always felt as if they were going to pierce the skin. Some perhaps did. My mother succumbed to this illness a couple of months after I got better. That time was quite a fiasco.
After my illness, my mother became worse. She started to gain the symptoms of the Swallow Island disease. He porcelain skin turned even paler, a sickly color, and then soon after she passed away. She worked at a small cafe, which I then tried to take over my mother's old shift a couple of months after her death, I still remember that small worn out coat that was the color of charcoal, the hat my mother sown me months beforehand, that sat on the top of my head; my uncovered, frostbitten hands that were raw, sat against the frost filled window. My light colored eyes watched as steam came up from the freshly cooked meals that were served by the waiters, my small unnurtured, bony body sook at the sight of the food. I couldn't help the saliva built up that was contained in my mouth, my stomach rumbled as my hollow cheeks puffed up a bit as I gained the courage to enter the shop. Though my courage was all for nothing as I roughly grabbed on the shoulder, nails dug into my pale skin as the waiter dragged me out into the freezing cold and pushed me out the front door causing me to miss place my steps and fall on the cold and rough concrete covered ground, I was kicked out with the waiter's reason being how other trampy kids tried stealing food from the consumers. The glass door was shut behind me with quite a loud thud. At that point I just laid on the concrete, tears started to form at the edges of my eyes, my ears were ringing and everything else was just numb. I should of went to the shop before her passing, I should've asked before. My head was ringing with loathing thoughts. I wanted my mom, I wanted some sort of comfort, some sort of caring figure.
Before I could think more about what I wanted, someone fell on top of me and then I heard a clutter of items falling, it really knocked the wind out of me, the person was definitely a bit plump at least compared to the skin and bones I became after the death of my mother. An ow left the person's mouth, but that didn't stop them from getting off me and sitting up. The person sat there for a second before cussing, he then started complaining to me and shouting about how I tripped them and the groceries they got where crushed and littered on the street. But, I was silent and just laid there. The person stopped yelling, and my mind concluded the person was going to pick up the things he dropped. But instead, I felt something on my shoulder. The person then quietly asked me to get up, but I didn't. I didn't want to face the world, I didn't want to meet the harsh people the world had to contain. The person stayed by my side, as I laid they sat. It had felt like hours, but in reality, it must have been minutes. I finally pushed myself off the ground, my unshed tears still blurred my vision. But I was able to see the person, he was a boy around my age, he had a dark eye shade that looked black while his hair was a messy firey orange. He must not have been originally from the North Blue. Or at least his ancestors weren't. People that were a pure Northerner had light eyes and the purest dark hair, at least his mother had always told him that. The boy must have had South Blue relatives since the color of his hair and eyes are more common around people of that area's descent. His cheeks were plump with baby fat and were dusted with a rosy color. A small smile settled onto the boy's lips as he then held out his gloved hand. It took me a good few seconds to comprehend that he wanted my hand, I hesitated but I then took it. He helped me off the ground, and then voiced his name which was Shachi, he then asked for mine but, I didn't reply. He puffed out his cheeks a bit and stuck out his tongue, and then told me to help get the items he dropped. I complied, after all, it was my fault that his groceries had dropped. I quietly scooped up the random food items scattered on the sidewalk, once I finished my task and I couldn't find any other objects, I returned to Shachi. He himself had items filled in his arms, he told me the wind had blown away the bags. So I ended up walking with the boy and he led the way as I followed behind him. I couldn't help but try and numb the fact that I was screwed when I got home.