Is it Day 12 already? Goodness, I’m so behind! Work has been insane (in a good way!) and so I have not been as diligent in my NaNo writing as I should be.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my subject matter. But it’s hard to sit myself in front of a computer screen for my daily 2k word sprint when I’ve been sitting in front of a computer screen all day for work.
It puts a strain on the eyes, and too much sedentary screen time makes for sloppy writing.
I reached 17k words today. Not my best, since Day 12 is supposed to be a bit more than that. But I think, given the circumstances, I’m doing okay.
Ah well. Without further ado, here’s a snippet of what I have written! Enjoy!
Fawn stopped at the edge of the town square. “We are a little early, I think. I do not see them.”
“Could we perhaps let me finish this coffee and maybe change clothes before I present myself to the heads of the families?’ Belinda sipped from her mug. “My hands are also a little sticky since some of the coffee spilled.”
Fawn nodded. “A wise decision. I know a good place.”
They went back the way they came and stopped in front of a shop with a needle crossed with a heart shaped button on the hanging sign. Fawn went in and held the door for Belinda, who entered a bit more slowly, sipping her coffee with the mug clutched in both hands. She could already feel the warmth spreading into the rest of her body, and her energy levels were starting to rise. Is this what coffee did? Is this what the aunts and uncles felt when they drank it?
“Good morn–ah, M. Fawn, how good to see you!” A jolly man came out from the back of the shop. He had a kind face and wore overalls with a brown shirt rolled up to the elbows. He wasn’t portly, but he also wasn’t stringy, settling nicely in the middle, but Belinda could not put her finger on exact measurements. “Who might your friend be?”
“This is Belinda Cromwell, Lydia’s neice.”
“Oh, so you’re who Mx Cromwell keeps talking about!” The man came around the counter and stuck his hand out. “Grant Johnson, he/him, at your service, Mx Belinda.”
“Belinda Warren, she/her,.” Belinda shook his offered hand. “Sorry if my hand is a little sticky.”
“No matter,” Grant wiped his hand on his overalls. “Warren, eh?”
“That was the name I was given at the orphanage.” Why was she telling him this? She had just met this man and already he was getting more about her life story than Lydia or Fawn.
“I see,” he smiled. “Well, whatever name you like, just let me know. Though you will probably have to take the Cromwell name in the end, if tradition’s anything to go by.”
“Grant, please, do not frighten her before she has even had a chance to speak to everyone.”
“You’re having her speak to the heads of the families?” Grant blinked. “Is that wise? Given her uncle and all.”
“The people need to know she is nothing like him,” Fawn countered. “I have heard some of her story, and I can vouch to that.” They glanced at Belinda. “We came here because she has not had a chance to change clothes and, given Lydia’s abrupt exit, has not had a chance to go to the family home.”
Grant’s eyes widened, and was that a hint of sparkle? “You want me, Grant Johnson, to make your first appearance outfit?”
“And we have little time, so if you could hurry it along?” Fawn made a shooing motion with one hand.
Grant did not have to be told twice. One second Belinda was holding her cup of coffee, the next it had been given to Fawn and Belinda was whisked away into the back room.
“I like what you have with the pants and tank top,” Grant muttered to himself. “Nice bed look, but not appropriate for a grand meeting.”
Grand meeting? What was this, a royal affair?
“I assume you want to stay in pants?” Grant asked Belinda directly.
“Not these, specifically, but yes.” Belinda looked around. “Do I have to be on this pedestal thing?”
“I need to be able to walk around you and see the whole picture.”
“But could you not do that with me on the ground?”
“I like to feel a bit removed from my art–no offense.”
“None taken.”
Grant bustled around the workshop, pulling fabric and pins and lace. Belinda shook her head vehemently and he put the lace away. “I think grey and blue would go best with your tones.”
“You are the artist,” Belinda shrugged, struggling to not put her hands in her pockets.
Fawn stuck their head into the room. “We have about ten minutes before the families arrive.”
“Tunic and pants it is then.” Grant threw up his hands. He pinned grey sleeves onto a roughly cut piece of blue fabric. “Arms up!” Belinda obliged, and Grant pinned the edges in place around her arms and torso. She was literally being sewn in to her outfit. “Thoughts on the neckline?”
“Uuuuh,” Belinda stuttered. She had never thought about any of this before. THe orphanage and the estate had given her basic outfits that she cycled through. “Round, I guess?”
Snip snip went the scissors. A needle quickly smoothed the edges of the cut. Belinda found a pair of black leggings in her arms. “You can change out of your pants and into these over in that room while I find you a pair of boots. What are you, a nine?” Grant was already walking away when he asked.
Belinda slipped into the changing room and pulled off her pants and pulled on the black leggings. There was a small mirror that only showed her from the chest up, but she liked the neckline on the blue tunic, and the grey sleeves were a nice contrast. She ran fingers through her hair. When was the last time she had gotten a haircut? Chestnut bangs fell just over her eyes, and the tips of her hair brushed her shoulders. Hopefully she would not make a fool of herself with the other families.
Grant knocked on the wall. “Are you dressed? I have a few pairs that might work for you.”
Belinda came out. Grant smiled. “How do I look?”
“I would love to do something about your hair, Mx Belinda, but we do not have time.”
Fawn came into the back room. “What are you still doing back here? Your coffee is getting cold and we do not have time for you to try on all of these shoes.” They turned to Grant. “Are they all the same size?”
“Yes, but the toes are all different, and some have a bigger heel.”
“Go with the rounded toe and basic heel.” Fawn picked up a pair of brown leather boots from the lineup and handed them to Belinda.
“I would do as they say,” Grant theatrically whispered. “They get in a mood when they’re on a schedule.”
Belinda laughed. “I can see that.”
Fawn rolled their eyes. Belinda thanked Grant hurriedly and they exited the shop, with Fawn slipping Grant a note as they went.
“You know you did not have to pay for the clothes,” Belinda said as they made their way back to the center of town.
“I did not. I gave him a note saying to put it on your aunt’s tab.”
Belinda ran a hand through her hair again worriedly. Fawn handed her a black ribbon. Without breaking stride, Belinda tied it around her head, then moved it around to hide the bow under her hair. At least she would not have hair in her face when she met the families.
“Not like that!” Fawn stopped her and pulled the ribbon from her hair. They took strands from the side of her head and braided them, then brought those braids together behind her head with the ribbon. Finally, they curled back her bangs and clipped them underneath themselves. “I will not have you make a bad first impression with the families.”
“Can I at least see what you did?”
“No time. You look a lot better. They are just up ahead–come on.”
They came to the edge of the town square, stopping in the alleyway between two buildings. A small group of people stood together on the furthest end of the square by the fountain, talking quietly amongst each other. There were six in all, as far as Belinda could see, and most were…she didn’t want to assume their gender, since Fawn had made it very clear Haven did not adhere to the biased rules of the outer worlds.
She would just have to ask–politely.
Belinda and Fawn approached the group, but as they crossed within a foot of the fountain, Belinda stumbled and had to clutch at the edge of the fountain.
“Are you well?” Fawn reached back, but Belinda batted her away.
Her vision blurred, then one of her eyes went dark. She could not see front or sideways. Then, as soon as it went dark, her vision brightened again. But it was split. She could see the ground in front of her but she could also see a branch, and beyond it the sky. The sky bound vision jumped forward, and Belinda felt her stomach lurch.
“Are you sure you are well?” Fawn came closer and lowered their voice.
“I…do not know,” Belinda replied. “I feel a bit…strange. I find my vision suddenly…doubled.”
“Doubled?”
“I think…I think I can see what a bird sees.”
Fawn sucked in their breath through their teeth. “Lydia’s leaving caused this. As long as there are more than one member of a family in Haven, they shall be safe from the magics if this place. But if only one is left, then their innate abilities are enhanced, and they grow.”
“You are throwing out a lot of –ah!–synonyms there, Fawn.” Belinda’s stomach lurched as the bird–wherever it was in Haven–took flight. Through its eye, she could see the fountain, Fawn, and her crouched figure. She also saw the group of families, who had surprisingly not noticed Fawn and Belinda on the other side of the square.
“I know you are getting accustomed to this new power,” Fawn said gently, “but we do not have a lot of time. The families representatives will leave soon if we do not make an appearance.”
The bird landed on a branch just behind the party members. Belinda’s vision settled, and she straightened. “I will be okay, so long as that bird does not fly off in the middle of an important speech or something.”
“I can manage that.” Fawn smirked. “Now come.”
Belinda brushed a stray brown hair out of her face and followed her friend. Were they friends? She did not know if Fawn considered her a friend, really, but considering she did not know anyone else in this place since her aunt Lydia (it was still weird to think she had family members after all this time alone, and that one of them was the man who had basically held her prisoner all of these years) had gone away, Fawn was the closest thing to a friend she had.
One by one the family members turned to look at them as they approached. All of them were dressed in robes similar to the ones Lydia had been wearing before she left. Belinda wondered if she had made a mistake leaving them on the armchair before exiting the Vault. The key’s weighed a bit more heavily around her neck, and she rolled her shoulders to ease the tension.
All of the robes were either blue with grey trim, like her tunic, or green with gold trim. Belinda really wanted to ask Fawn what the colors signified, but perhaps it was better to ask the family members directly.
“Well met,” Belinda greeted. “I am Belinda Warren Cromwell, she/her.”
“Well met, Mx Belinda.” The person nearest to Belinda replied. They wore a green and gold robe. “I am Helga Johnson, she/her. I represent the Johnson family in Haven. I recognize my son’s work.”
“Yes, ma’am, he is a skilled craftsman.”
A short man (and by short, he was really only an inch or two shorter than Belinda, who was tall by feminine standards) stepped forward and bowed. “Well met indeed, Mx Belinda! I am Gregory Ferdinand, he/him. I am the last of the Ferdinand family.”
“I am sorry to hear it, Mx Ferdinand,” Belinda returned his bow. She did not know what else to say to the man, besides, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
One by one the finely dressed family members came up to greet her. About half of them identified as cisgendered, while the rest were either transitioning (and thus wanted to use the appropriate pronouns) or as nonbinary, like Fawn. Belinda shook each of their hands in turn, and listened to their chosen pronouns, praying that she could commit them to memory.
But since this was her first meeting with all of them, it would not be that hard to learn.
“I will do my best to keep all of your names and chosen pronouns in mind,” she promised. “I am not the best with names–I am better with faces.”
The bird shifted on the branch behind the family members, and half of Belinda’s vision jumped with it. She reached a hand out to the fountain to steady herself.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mx Ferdinand stepped forward as if to catch her, should she fall.
“Indeed,” Belinda smiled. “It appears that, with my aunt’s departure, my magic has intensified.”
Not that she had even known she had magic until a few minutes ago. A lot of new information was being thrown at her in a very short amount of time, and her speech was beginning to sound like something out of a Jane Austen novel. Next thing, she would be looking for a man of fortune with a grand estate–who was not related to her, mind you. But first she had to get beyond this particular hurdle.
“What do you mean her departure??” Jera Morgan folded their arms and frowned. “When did she leave?”
“This morning, I think,” Belinda replied. The bird had stopped moving, but was looking around in alarm. Belinda hoped she could keep the world from spinning long enough to actually look at her guests without wanting to lie down. “I am still not sure what time I came in through the portal.”
“Oh you poor dear,” Mx Johnson tsked. “What sort of magic are we talking about? Are you seeing spirits? Hearing animals? Thinking in one language but speaking in another?”
“Who cares!” Jera exclaimed. “Our matriarch has gone! Who knows where to or for how long!”
Belinda knew they would hate to hear it, but after a quick look at Fawn, she knew it fell to her to tell the families the truth. It was what was expected of her as Keeper’s Heir.
She hoped they did not bite her head off.
“I may be able to shed some light on that particular question,” she cleared her throat. “It turns out my uncle, who started the uprising that killed the former Keeper, is still alive. He has been living outside of Haven all this time, and Lydia traded places with me in exchange for his promise not to attack Haven again.”
Jera coiled their inky black hair around their fingers, sputtering. They turned to their neighbor. “Can you believe this, Nora?”
“I cannot,” Nora Fern huffed, causing her ginger hair to puff up around her like a pufferfish. “Mx Cromwell would not leave our sanctuary in the hands of a child–no offense dear.”
Belinda sighed. She was getting very tired of having to explain her backstory to everyone she met. Fawn shook their head slightly, so Belinda refrained from lashing out at the group. It was not their fault that they had spent the majority of their lives outside of time and unaffected by the people who had to endure the passage of it.
“I do not disagree with you, Mx Fern,” Belinda said. “I am young by many standards. But I have also seen things no young woman should have to see, and protected people who should never have been put in harm’s way. I will not waste your time by going into details. But I can promise you that I will do my best to live up to my father’s name and become the Keeper you need.”
“Hold on a moment,” Mx Ferdinand raised a finger. “Do you mean to say…you are Morgan Cromwell’s daughter? The one he sent beyond the walls of Haven with his beloved wife?”
“As far as I am aware.”
All family members’ eyes turned to Fawn, who only shrugged in response. Belinda sighed. They would be of no help, then.
“Look, I know this is a lot to take in,” she raised her hands to get everyone’s attention. “This caught me completely by surprise. This morning–in my world–I was defending a friend. Now I have been brought into this world and given a family I did not know existed. So believe me when I say I know how you feel.”
“Forgive me,” Jera batted a stray bird feather off of their sleeve, “but we just lost our matriarch. She traded herself to a madman in exchange for her inexperienced niece who has no practical knowledge of our magics or customs.”
“I have read several–”
“Oh good! Did you hear, Nora? She has read books.”
Belinda squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips. Power stance. Unafraid. “Your sarcasm is noted and unhelpful, Mx Morgan.” It was weird to think of addressing them as Morgan when that was her father’s first name. But he was dead and Jera was alive. She would just have to get used to it. “I want you all to know that I may be new to this world, but I know Lydia–Mx Cromwell–put her faith in me. I will not let you down. But I will also have a lot of questions. I will do all I can to gain those answers without inconveniencing you”–here she looked at Jera and Nora, but not with malice–“but if I do come to you, I ask you to be patient with me. This is a new age for all of us, and we are better together than apart.”
Belinda looked at Fawn, who smiled a little and nodded. Apparently she had done well, because the other heads of the families were nodding and smiling, too. Jera did not look very pleased, and next to them Nora was frowning like a cute little chihuahua dog, but more likely just following what Jera was doing.
“Thank you all for your time today,” Belinda bowed . Fawn stepped up next to her and they took their leave.
“That was well done, Mx Belinda.”
“You know you can just call me Belinda, right?”
“It would not be proper,” Fawn shook their head. “You are the acting head of your house now, the Keeper’s Heir. It would not do to have someone from another house addressing you so informally.”
“Did you and my father ever…?”
“Address each other informally?” Fawn sighed. They really did not like talking about this subject. “Indeed we did. You will remember, we would have been formally betrothed had he not met your mother. Once their engagement was settled, I ceased using such casual language with him.”
“Surely his shift in affection stung a little.”
“Whether it did or not, it is not our way to show our emotions for the rest of the world to see.” Fawn walked between some buildings Belinda had not seen yet. Where were they going? “Because there are so many people coming through Haven, we cannot let ourselves get attached to anyone who is not a permanent resident.”
“But my father did.”
“The Cromwell family has always felt they can play outside of social norms.” Fawn stopped in front of a gate. Behind that gate, Belinda could see a two story house with a solar panel roof and towers on either side.
Thanks for reading!
R E Powell 
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