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Marinette had not been the first to fall.
But, Ah! Her fall had been spectacular.
She had split a tree, collided into the Village's three tiered fountain- the impact toppling it into a merchant's vegetable cart.
What a fall indeed!
She had been assured that it wasn't her fault, none of the fallen were to blame for their falls... (But she still got nasty looks from that cart driver for many months afterwards.)
"No" Flora, another fallen, assured her, "It's not like we can remember why we fell in the first place.." she gave a pause, her gaze flitting upwards and humming, "Nobody remembers much at all, really."
Marinette frowned, it was true- she remembered her name, at least... Her favorite foods... how to write. Her muscle memory told her she was adept at things.. she took easily to tailoring and leatherworking, yet her attention was drawn to the blacksmith's forge, a yearning to touch metal called like a siren's song.
But, other things.. her family? Her friends? "Sometimes, people feel familiar." Another fallen had told her, tossing her curly hair and flicking her fox ears, "Like you! We must have been friends"
It elicited a laugh from Marinette, "You're so confident about that, so sure about it."
Alina grins, fangs glistening as they were revealed, "My nose never lies, you know." She taps it for emphasis, eliciting another chuckle from Marinette.
She had been taken in by Sebastian the innkeeper, unlike her: he was no fallen.
"You can tell a fallen by their markings." he told her as they worked together to fold the Inn's quilts- freshly laundered and scented in lavender, "Your beastkin friend has one over her heart, the elf has one on her temple by her hairline- but yours.. yours are interesting."
"Why's that?" Marinette inquires, pulling on the tips of her long, elfin ears. She knew her markings stated at her earlobes.. but she wished that hers weren't so obvious. Alina could cover hers with her shirt, and all Flora had to do was let her hair down, but hers? They streaked towards her nose in a freckle-like pattern, scattering dots across her face.
"You have two! Symmetrical, yes, but all that I have seen only have one." he pat the stack of quilts triumphantly, "Very interesting indeed. I wonder if it means anything..?"
Marinette wondered too, but memories were difficult. Each attempt to remember seemed.. scrambled, like paint mixed together, or listening to a language she had never heard before and trying to understand what it meant. Unfair, she felt, as she didn't have memory of this place.. this world, either. She felt so foolish, having to learn new customs and traditions.
She wondered if she would ever get it. It's not like she had much choice. She fiddled with her earlobe as she found her gaze had rested on the blacksmith's once more.
"Coo-hoo, perhaps you should take an apprenticeship with them, I know you both are looking." a voice startled her, causing her to jump from her daydreams and spin to look at the voice- the local Librarian, a beastkin known as Xavier had approached her mid-daydream, his feathers puffing out in shock as she reacted.
"You scared me!" Marinette snapped, more relieved than angry, her hand over her heart and exhaling. She was fond of him, as eccentric as he is. It sort of endeared her to him.
"Apologies, young one. Coo, coo." he dusted off his vest and smiled brightly, "But I could not help but notice you staring, ever so longingly... like one staring after a lost love, hoo! Rather romantic, if you asked me."
"But I'm good at sewing." Marinette countered, more resigned than she intended, ".. and I owe the innkeeper for letting me stay. If I run off to do something like that, I won't be able to help."
"Perhaps," Xavier hummed, "If that is what you truly want. But I'm assuming that isn't the case, most Fallen have taken to doing something new, despite their familiarity with other things. A chance to change, some call it. I have taken an apprentice recently, and it's been ever so helpful, coo. I'm sure the blacksmith would feel likewise."
Marinette shook her head, but the words had struck a chord with her, "I'll consider, then."
"Oh no no, I am not the one to make promises to, that's for you to answer for yourself." He laughed, the trill of a bird echoing in his voice- the sound was familiar in more ways than one, and it brought her comfort.
The library was one of those places she hadn't visited yet. Words were.. complicated. A fully unfamiliar language, yet she read it so easily.
It made her uneasy. It felt wrong. The words that left her mouth felt comfortable, but unfamiliar. Reading, even moreso.
There was something else, too. But she couldn't place it... But today she would dare venture in, her thoughts buzzing about.
Surely, a book about blacksmithing would help her make a decision. if she was interested, she would take Xavier's advice... Too complicated- and she would be able to shelve it.
She gave a chuckle to herself at the wordplay.
It made her feel sad.
Her fingers traced over the titles of the books, unfamiliar text for titles, unfamiliar arts: woodworking, scalesmithing- How to Tan your Dragonhide, Fifteen Uses for Griffon's Feathers.
Sigh. Marinette finally pulled a book from the shelf, clad in a thick leather binding and embossed letters, a giant anvil adorning the cover. She flipped the pages, surprised to notice a generous amount of illustrations depicting the tasks needed.
Thunk, Tshh. She turned to the sound, slamming the book shut. She caught a glimpse of emerald as it disappeared behind a bookcase- causing her heart to skip a beat. She held the book tight to her chest, as if it would shield it from beating from her chest.
"Hello?" She called out, intrigue tinted her tone, "Who was that?". She had surprised at herself for the building anticipation rather than concern at someone following her, drumming her fingers on the book, and hesitantly peering around the corner in which her observer disappeared.
Nothing.
The disappointment was almost painful. She pressed her hand to the back of her neck, furrowing her brow in frustration- emitting a small noise of woe. Odd.
Marinette sighed, returning to her book, her fingers brushing over the embossed lettering. The book looked old, even amongst the other old books. Felix would love it.
Felix? Her brow furrowed again, frustration threatening at the corners of her eyes. The name came to her, unbidden. Of all the things to come to her, why that? Why now?
Her gaze flicked back to where her observer had been previously, waiting for a bit longer than she intended... and then turned to leave, her book chosen and her resolve pushed elsewhere.