Tales of the Hollow Heart

Chapter Two: Laws

The morning sun casts soft rays of red-orange polish across the specs of dust peppering Esvelie's bedroom. She awakens with her light brown hair in knots, coordinating well with her wrinkled clothes from the day prior. She sighs and slips her leather boots off as she tiptoes to the crowded washroom, taking a few moments to wash away any lingering memories from the night before. Mold grows deep in the wooden crevices of the floor, leaving a permanent musty smell in the air. The chilly water trails goosebumps along her skin and does little to pull her from her drowsy state. Quickly drying off, she bends over to pick up the meager wash bin, tossing the used water out the overhead window perched just within arm's reach. After stretching up to snap the small shutter closed, she swaps into a new outfit for the day.

Her clothing choices aren't anything extraordinary, especially considering her living conditions. Most of what she wears is slightly oversized and neutral in tone, provided generously by Engom when he finds an extra item or two to spare. She doesn't complain and is thankful for the provisions she's received over the years. A quick brush through her hair is deemed acceptable, and she hastily pulls it away from her face into a messy plait.

After she tugs her boots back on, she slips back into the kitchen soundlessly. She reluctantly passes on pocketing some food to nibble on, as she and her father live on a distressingly limited supply. Even with Engom's generosity and the occasional swipe from unsuspecting townsfolk, having enough food is a constant source of worry for Esvelie. Therefore, she decides she can forgo it until evening.

Brushing her fingers against the doorknob, she briefly notes the disappearance of her father's shell-like form. However, she quickly tunes the disturbance from her mind, beginning to push open the front door before freezing in her tracks. The book!

Reeling back, she scurries into her room and squats down to the floor, dusting the accumulated pieces of dust from the book's cover before gracefully tucking it into its secret hiding place; her underarm. She momentarily considers that it would be wisest to use a book bag, or at least something less obvious than a simple arm tuck. In the end, she decides simplicity is oftentimes the least noticeable concept. She throws a tattered cloak over her clothes just for good measure, knowing she can probably get away with it since the mornings tend to lean toward the brisk side.

After her run-in with Ryvia, she is more cautious of her surroundings than ever. Therefore, she wastes no time and makes a direct beeline toward Acron's tree. Completing the summoning ritual once more, he returns to his natural position upon her right shoulder. Esvelie shoots him a sideways grin, softly telling him, "I'm sorry we were interrupted yesterday. I'm glad you heard her coming. I would have never known otherwise."

After a short chirp, his head briefly nestles against the softest part of Esvelie's cheek. She releases a slightly stressed breath of air as she murmurs, "We need to finish this book quickly. Ryvia's bound to come snooping again now that she's caught us - well, me - here once."

A moment passes, and Esvelie's voice lowers even further before she continues, "She almost saw you, too... She can never find out about you. There wouldn't be a question about my involvement with sorcery then."

Tears start to well up in her eyes before she concludes, "They could also harm you, or worse."

Acron's tail gives Esvelie a short wisp across her cheekbone as he shoots her an incredulous look. A small chuckle escapes Esvelie's lips, although her eyebrows remain furrowed. Shaking her head to motion a change of topic, she unveils the repressed book from seclusion and quickly skims through the pages in search of where she and Acron left off. Thankfully, it doesn't take long to find the exact page which appears to have been torn slightly during yesterday's unexpected flee.