Chapter Text
One could find quiet solace within the walls of the palace after the sun had set. The corridors were emptied of their usual hustle and bustle, and the only sound was the faint musical tones from within one of the nobility’s rooms. Behind closed doors was Elliotte Cantossan, a young woman with fair skin and a spray of freckles across her nose. Her curly blonde hair was kept out of her face by several blue flowers tied intricately into the short strands while her thin but calloused fingers graced across the strings of a large harp-like instrument with skillful precision.
While her blue eyes watched each movement with the same kind of dedication, her legs folded neatly beneath her as she leaned against the instrument. A blue and silver dress pooled around her ankles and a large silver bracelet enclosed her right forearm to her wrist. If the metal hindered her performance in any way, she didn’t show it.
Although she remained rooted to the spot inside the room of a noble, she, herself was not one of them. Instead, the nobleman lounging across the armchair a few feet ahead of her listened to her play, foot bouncing along with the rhythm and feeding himself pieces of cut fruit from the local markets.
As the sun disappeared behind the railing of the balcony, submerging the room in a faint darkness, Elliotte finally rose to her feet and folded her instrument until it was at a proper carrying size.
“Ohh, must you go so soon, dear Elliotte? Your music is just so soothing… I do my best thinking by the sound of your playing, you know!” said the noble, lifting himself out of the armchair, “I would, of course, be willing to pay you extra for your trouble.”
“Apologies, Lord Ygress… you know the rules,” the musician replied, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress as she made for the door. “I will return the same time next week, I assure you.”
Lord Ygress heaved a sigh, but placed a small pouch of credits into her waiting palm. “Yes, yes. Same time, same place.”
Elliotte let herself out and pulled the door shut behind her. She leaned against the wall and placed her condensed instrument onto the marble floor beside her. With both hands, she tugged open the small pouch to count her credits… it surely wasn’t a hefty amount, but it was plenty to scrape by.
She closed her palm around the bag again and retrieved her instrument, making her way out of the noble’s quarters and into the quiet street. Cietovus 8 had finally set behind the treeline, bringing evening to the planet of Listronus and bathing the pathways and marketplaces in the familiar dusky blue of night. Many of the merchants had called it a day, backing up their wares and covering their booths with tarps to ward off any curious enough to roam the markets at night.
At the street corners waited the homeless, watching those that passed with sunken eyes and an underlying desperation that simple words couldn’t fix. Elliotte turned the corner and found escape in her small house. She placed her instrument near the door and set the pouch of credits on the table alongside several others---her daily earnings. She opened each pouch individually and dumped them onto the counter until she’d formed a pile of the glittering chips. Elliotte counted out the necessities, taking into consideration her rent and household bills, and the money she’d need for food throughout the week. She put them back into a single pouch and guided the rest of them into a second.
Again, Elliotte stood, second pouch in hand, and made her way back into the street. She locked the door behind her and followed the twisting pathways, straying further from city central and the palace she’d come from. The further she traveled, the scarcer the amount of people became, and the distance between each house grew longer and longer. In her part of the city, her house was cramped on either side by the next, but out here there was an increased amount of space… people could even have a yard .
That being said, the quality of living certainly went down. There wasn’t a home in sight that didn’t have the windows boarded up, or a yard that wasn’t overtaken by weeds and twisting, gnarled bushes.
Finally, Elliotte had arrived at her destination at one of these very houses. She made her way up to the front porch and knocked several times in a certain pattern, and after a moment, the old wood creaked open and Elliotte was met with the smiling face of her oldest friend.
This was Rhythimi Fes, her long-suffering and impossibly kind childhood friend and current inspiration. There was none on Listronus Elliotte admired more than she. Rhythimi was dressed in a modest brown dress, a dirtied apron tied around her waist and a smudge of flour on her cheek. Her brown eyes were still bright with youth, but the dark circles that surrounded them hinted that her life was anything but easy.
“Rhy,” Elliotte breathed fondly, closing the space between them and pulling her into a tight hug.
Rhythimi returned the gesture immediately before tugging her inside. “You’re late.”
“I know. I had an extra client today. I’m sorry,” Elliotte replied, following her inside the small building. The entryway was the only space that was empty--everywhere else, dozens of homeless and refugees huddled against the walls, sharing stories and warming themselves in front of the fireplace. As Elliotte entered, a number of them lifted their heads and gave fond grins in her direction, which she immediately returned.
“Ell!” said a young boy, running up and attaching himself to her leg. Elliotte patted his head fondly and knelt down to his level.
“Good evening, Tur! Where’s your sister?”
“Sleeping. She told me to tell you ‘hello’ in case she missed you,” the boy answered.
“I’m sorry I’m late… apologize to her for me in the morning, okay?”
As the boy ran off to rejoin his family, Ell returned her attention to Rhythimi, who had begun passing out the evening rations. “When you have a moment, I have it here.”
Rhy excused herself from the others quietly, and rejoined Elliotte in the entryway. Elliotte passed her the pouch of credits and gently clasped her hand. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t much… if there’s anything--”
Rhy lifted her hand to stop her, “Ell, this is plenty. You do plenty .”
“My offer still stands… if there gets to be too many here, my house…”
“You know that’s not possible, Ell. I know how much you yearn to help more than you do, but you know what would happen, if…” Rhy glanced at the silver bracelet locked around Elliotte’s wrist and trailed her fingers over the glistening metal. A moment of quiet understanding passed between the two. “You have your own battles to fight, Elliotte.”
Ell could not find the proper words to respond; She was right, of course. “If the King finds out what you’re doing here…”
“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice. If he wants me dead, he can have me. At least I’d die doing something I’m proud of,” Rhy gently removed her hands from Elliotte’s grip and pulled open the pouch of credits. “What you’ve brought today will provide everyone here with three meals. You should be proud.”
“I’ll be proud when I can provide all of them,” Elliotte answered and turned her head back toward the common room. “It’s not their fault they’re trapped here because of our careless government. For some of them, it’s not even their government. They’re just trying to get home.”
“We could go on and on about the shortages and the government’s misuse of power all day, but what good will that do? There’s more important things to worry about right now, anyway,” answered Rhythimi, blowing a strand of her flaming-red hair out of her face. “You know… I could really go for some artresmour right now.”
Elliotte’s lip quirked into a smile and she yielded with a nod. “Of course you could,” she guided her to sit down on the staircase and took her position behind her, combing Rhythimi’s red hair to one shoulder. Ell reached up and plucked a blue flower from her hair and began delicately weaving it into the other woman’s. A second followed. Then a third. Each additional flower added to an elaborate pattern, accentuating the natural beauty of Rhythimi’s bright hair with the contrasting colors.
Listronus had an abundance of flowers--a majority of the planet was covered in boundless flower fields, filled with unique colored and patterned petals. With this diversity, a new language was developed. Artresmour was ancient Listronian practice that involved tenderly weaving flowers into the hair of loved ones to express feelings unable to be voiced by words. It was a bond that solidified love, friendship, and devotion in a million different ways, and every child born on Listronus was taught the practice of flower-weaving from a young age.
After Elliotte had finished her masterpiece and moved all of the flowers from her own hair to Rhythimi’s, she was satisfied. “There. How does that feel?”
“Much better, Ell. Thank you,” Rhy said, sitting upright again and turning to look at her friend. “It’s getting quite late, don’t you think? I’d hate to keep you here too late… this isn’t exactly a safe side of town, after all.”
“Yeah… I should get going. I’m going into the marketplace tomorrow… Do you need me to pick anything up?”
“Nah. We’ll manage just fine with the credits you’ve brought tonight. Keep working hard. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
Elliotte nodded, climbing down the stairs behind Rhythimi and stopping at the door to lean into the common room and whisper a “goodnight” to anyone still awake. She got a few quiet waves and smiles from those still conscious before turning on her heel and making her way back into the silence of the night. Rhythimi saw her off and quietly shut the door behind her so she wouldn’t draw the suspicion of any neighbors from the nearby houses.
Elliotte hugged her shawl tighter to her body and made her way back toward the city central. As she was doing so, she noticed movement high above her in the atmosphere--a ship. Another poor soul arriving on Listronus hoping to refuel, only to become stranded because of the shortage. She prayed that whoever was piloting the ship had enough sense to preserve enough fuel to get them to the next planet, but if this one was anything like the dozens that had come before them, this was their last shot within this solar system.
Everywhere else had run dry too.
Elliotte shook her head silently and continued on her way home, pushing the idea out of the forefront of her thoughts.