winged (remastered)

I〖 your last valid memory

The cold was unbearable.

My mother's last breaths were hurried and terrified as she securely clung onto both me and my brother's freezing bodies, her palm rubbing my hollowing heart. My mouth formed muted whimpers that pleaded for help, my brother occasionally slamming his purple finger over his chapped lips, telling me to shush. Bringing the two of us closer to her decaying figure, her saintly wings cover her two children as her melodic yet frail voice sings a now forgotten song. My tears land in the merciless snow, and I wordlessly pray to whatever deemed me worthy of such a fate.

"Zadkiel."

But I knew that voice was not my mother.

-

the present

-

Bigira tamely pats down the dress I was recently honored to wear. The slender woman stumbles back to get a better image of me, her index finger pushing her round glasses up the bridge of her nose. She squints and tilts, and does it once more before grinning, her teeth looking brittle.

"You look beautiful dear."

Those words cause me to perk up in sudden appreciation. I quickly nod in gratitude, lifting my shoes so I didn't step on the skirt. "You're too kind—you're always kind." I mention, hastily correcting my compliment.

Bigira seems oddly content, standing lifelessly as her expression shows a merciful unfulfillment. I couldn't help but experience a strange and unrelated sense of sympathy in my heart for the woman. She is 76, still serving the haunted walls of this castle. As if she didn't serve it's royalty, but the manor itself.

"I find myself forgetting you aren't the princess. The sunlight makes you look like an angel."

My mild smile disappears at the word angel, and an eerie silence consumes the bedroom. I gaze into my own pupils, my reflection still.

"Oh my, where are my manners? I'm sorry, Aura." she quickly stutters, her wrinkled eyes lingering from my dress to my head. "You're fine." I comment, attempting to ease the recent awkwardness. Twisting my head, I glance back at her. That same bland smile creeps back onto my lips.

She smiles back.

The bedroom's grand doors receives three unpleasant knocks, and Bigira scrambles to open. Her calloused hands twist the knob and open for whoever was behind the entrance.

"God Bigira. That's about the fastest I've heard you run since what happened to your daughter. Is Aura ready?" my bad-mouthed aunt stated, her heels making a melodic sound as she struts towards me.

"Ye-yes Firya. She looks delightful."

"Hm. Tilt your head up."

I lift my head as Firya's menacing eyes study my face and jewelry. She faces Bigira once more, seemingly unamused. Their expressions seem to conversate before she soon focuses on me again.

"Silver, hm? Just like your mother."

I flinch at this once more, but I appear stoic nonetheless. My eyes wanted to release a limitless stream of tears. But my eyelids remain dry.

"Thank you, Auntie."

Firya nods, deeming my thanks acceptable. "She needs to be out in 30 minutes. Before Hyah goes of course—actually, make that 15." Firya declared, treading out of the room. Bigira confronts me once more. "I have a duty, to attend to. I will see you soon, Aura." she bows towards me, before following Firya's steps with her head low.