Hearthway Hollow

Max

Female Main Character x Male Monster

I've always had to be careful in life. I took ballet to learn to be graceful and thoughtful with my movements. I decided to study for a job that would allow me to avoid any accident or peril. But life is hard to control, and you don't get to pick and choose when you bump into things, fall over, or get a nosebleed.

I got my first nosebleed when I was still an infant. It sent my parents into such a panic, they still talk about it like it happened not too long ago. Hemophilia was common on my dad's side, they just never realized what it was. Ever since my grandfather's time, they called themselves heavy bleeders. I got the worst of it. Any time I got a nick or cut, I bled like I was in a horror movie with an massive special-effects budget. Even worse, my nosebleeds happened regularly. I would get too dry, and bam! I stopped wearing anything other than black to keep from staining my clothes.

I had to give up ballet because my teachers were worried I would start bleeding on the stage. I hated that because I really did love dancing. I graduated high school early, and learned that even if I was the 'kid with a bloody nose' during college, that was fine with people. I changed the focus of my studies and became an art restorer. I learned to wear gloves and a mask when I did the work; it would catch the blood, and I would have very little worries. Studying art history seemed like the safest thing in the world for me.

It was around this time that I started noticing my nosebleeds were getting much worse. On top of that, I was tired all the time, and had a constant fever. I just figured I had the flu at first, but the truth was much worse. I would have lived my life with the flu rather than hear what the doctor said - I had leukemia. Nothing a young girl wants to hear, nothing anybody wants to hear. I spent the first week crying as I moved back home. After that, the next couple of years were like drops of paint pouring down a canvas - at first it all goes too fast, then it slows, thickens and hardens there, crusting where it's thick, sinking where it's thin. Nothing moves. You're stuck.

I was a different person in remission and recovery - thin and frail, where I had once built myself up to be quite strong. I couldn't dance anymore. For a while, holding a paintbrush was more than I could stand. It took me another couple of years to come to a place where I recognized the person in the mirror. I hated it, so I decided to do the things I kept away from when hemophilia was the worst of my worries.

I got a job with one of my old professors, who had a shop dedicated to the restoration of artwork. I went out hiking more, slowly building my strength back up. I would take weekend trips, going to random places near my home. Now I've also volunteered my time at a dance studio that offers free classes to unprivileged kids. I can't quite dance like I used to, and ballet is a faraway memory for me, but at least I can show kids the joy in it.

It's there, during a dance competition, that I meet a man named Delaynie. He doesn't look like the kind of man who would dance, let alone teach it to children, but his students in the competition are some of the best I've come across. The two of us become acquainted and, to my surprise, he offers me a job at his studio.

"I have to think about this," I confess to him. "I would very much love this opportunity, but my real career is in art."

"The offer stands. I have a need for good teachers." Delaynie's smile is warm and reassuring despite his rather fearsome appearance. I take his card, pondering what such a move would mean for me. I want to focus on art history and restoration, and I'd never planned on seriously teaching dance.

A couple of weeks later, I receive a call from Delaynie with some exciting news. "A friend of mine has a rather extensive art collection. He needs help with it, and he has a place you can stay, too."