Trapped in Fire

Chapter Two: Home

Vesos was a large city, built on the narrow land between two towering mountains with a strong, full river diving the metropolis in half. Buildings scaled the steep inclines to the east and the west, teetering as they jammed the mountainside. Higher up the mountain, streets became large terraces connected by winding staircases and short, stacked ramps. Unlike the riverside buildings, coated in hues of white and blue, the facades in front of her boasted deep reds and dark browns. The monocrome gray sky seemed closer this high up, and she pulled her light jacket tighter around her shoulders, to ward off the growing chills. The heat of her fight had vanished, leaving her limbs shaking and her shoulders bent. 

Aunt Ronnie's shop was located on the third tier from the bowl, or the un-terraced part of the city. She took the stairs one at a time, with slow and tired steps. The crowds were thin here - small shops and residential buildings did not offer much foot travel. Those that were outside, enjoying the cool, although overcast, day looked at her with alarm and shuffled to the edge of the road. Her feet ached, and it was taking her nearly twice the time to go home. Adrielle felt like a mess; she could only imagine what she looked like.

"Adrielle! What happened to you?" She pushed her hand through her knotted hair as Janae rushed up to her. A few years older and a Vesos native, Janae had led Adrielle by the hand in her first few months here. She was short and stout, with a large chest, wide eyes, and quick hands. Her blond hair was pulled into a loose bun, strings fluttering loose around her wide face. Adrielle looked down at her.

"Nothing, really."

"Nothing? You look like you were in a dog fight."

The girl just shrugged. She had never told her friend about Trevor. "Bad day, I suppose. I don't want to talk about it."

"You didn't pass." It wasn't a question, and Janae's eyes filled with sympathy. She wrapped her thick arms around Adrielle's waist, pulling her close. Her friend was comfortable; she leaned into the hug. "Come to my house before you go home. We'll get you cleaned up."

 "But ... " Her own house was across the wide, cobbled street; she could just climb into bed. At least allowing Janae to drag her away spared Adrielle from confronting her Aunt. She trailed after Janae and slipped through the red door. 

Janae's home was a mess, with furniture squeezed into every available space, small pictures of serious relative alternatively glaring and staring scattered on the mantelpiece or hanging on the walls, and large fans spinning lazily on the ceiling. A long table with thick legs, groaning under the weight of her literature, greeted them just inside the door. Old and new clothes found home on the backs of the dinging room chairs.

"Pardon the mess," she blustered, pushing away some clothes. "Martha, my maid, had another one of her fits and left me near a week ago!" She pushed the papers into a more inchoerent heap. 

Adrielle leaned her weapon against the doorframe and threw herself into the chair. She fingered a slip of paper, eyes skirting over the blurred words and tracing the lines of illustrations. Adrielle was plagued with farsightedness. "What's all this for?" 

Janae placed an empty cup before her. "I'm trying to write my own book. Hermann is really taken up with the shop, and I have a lot of free time on my hands." The pair owned a small trinket store, located a tier down. Summer loomed a few months ahead, and buisness was slowly increasing.

"Then why don't you do Martha's job?" Adrielle called as her friend vanished into the kitchen.

"Oh!" Janae laughed, sauntering back out with a kettle. "You're funny. My husband's been saying the same thing, but a little dust won't kill him!"

"He might just choke to death," she said with a straight face. Her friend shot her a horrified look, and a grin split Addrielle's sharp features. "Then again, I am no prophet. Or doctor."