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‘—We want you to be safe, despite your unwarranted decision to abandon your family. We cannot have another heir die, so take the money inside and use it to—‘
Yura crushes the paper in her hand. The coin held within are blunt and heavy on her palm. She bites her lip harshly as hot tears gather in her eyes. Her vision wavers and her breaths shudder with fury.
Piku gives an uncharacteristic lick to her cheek. Yura startles and looks down at her familiar. Its one big yellow eye stares, encompassing the entirety of her mission. Yura winces and forcefully wipes her tears away. She sniffs and swallows, trying to reign herself in. She can’t allow the god that gave her so much opportunity to see how useless she really is. Piku nips at her ear playfully, trying to lift her mood. She gives it a small scratch under its chin in response, then reverts her attention back to the letter.
It crinkles in her grip, the coins in the envelope clicking against each other.
Saving it for later is probably a bad idea, she should burn the fucking thing, but no— that too would only lay bare how easily she gives in to her emotions. She grits her teeth and tucks it into her bag, not thinking twice about how much money is inside. Yura knows it's a lot. Probably a bit too much. The only power her parents had over her had always been the money.
Yura collapses on the tattered bed of the hotel, exhausted. She gently strokes one of the fake leaves on her hair clip and thinks of Aloefair. What would she do? Honestly, Yura didn’t know. Aloe had always kept her hatred for her family a secret, until she abruptly left one night and was never heard from again. She remembers the fight that ensued that following morning— her parents screamed at each other out of pure desperation and heartbreak. Her mother was the one most affected, since she was not born into wealth and understood the troubles of high society. Her father only saw the loss of an heir and was ashamed she could not be what he wished to mould her into. They yelled at each other until their voices cracked, and Yura had grasped every plush pillow on her bed and shoved them against her ears. Yura too, was deeply affected by her sister’s abandonment of the family.
Aloefair was always smiling. Yura never knew she was hurting so much, or worse yet, chose not to see it. Aloe was the strongest of them both, and Yura often went to her for advice and comfort. Aloefair gave her everything she asked, and was there for her even in the worst times. She taught Yura how to properly fold clothes, how to stand up straight, how to learn table etiquette. So many things that Yura wasn’t even sure Aloe enjoyed doing. She desperately misses watching her sew, having her decorate her horns, holding her hand, leaning against her, hugging her— there were so many things she took for granted that Aloe had so easily given.
Yura turns in the bed onto her side, and Piku adjusts itself against her back.
Aloe’s death, in simple terms, broke Yura.
It broke her so deeply she finally started to question if her family really was in the right. She started to hide away in her room while meetings and parties she should have gone to were left abandoned. She started to speak her mind around her parents more, and often fought with them because of it. She yelled at them just like they yelled at each other, and found herself hissing harsh things she never thought she was capable of saying. “It’s your fault she’s dead!” She spat one night. Yura never thought she’d say that secretive, subconscious grievance out loud. But loss can do a lot to a person.
It broke her.
That night she was banished to her room, and in the dark, she sobbed until her eyes turned red and her throat felt torn to shreds from misuse. She missed her sister. She missed her sister so deeply she ended up making a deal with a god she knew nothing about just to get away from her family and make the lingering ghost of Aloefair in her mind proud.
Yura wipes away a stray tear threatening to fall down her cheek. The hotel is silent as she inhales a shaky breath and holds it. Piku trills and nudges its snout against her limp hand. She doesn’t look at it. She doesn’t want Nathair to see her like this. Piku gently tucks its head under her chin and twirls comfortably around her neck in a strong effort to calm her. Yura, with that, finally lets herself cry. She curls into herself and holds Piku close, broken hiccups wracking her body. Piku chirps and licks her tears away.
In the morning, it will be a new day, and a new opportunity. That thought comforts her as her tiny body succumbs to grief.