Hapes …
The night prior …
Tishara awake in the dead of night, clutching for air as her mouth rocketed deliriously open to clutch for air. Wide eyed and despondent, she frantically scaled the area around her, trembling with relief when she realized that she was enclosed in agreeable space. Her bedroom.
She’d had a bad dream, but now wide awake, she naturally couldn't recall it. Gingerly prying the security of large blankets off of her form, Tishara swept her legs off to the side of the bed. She rose, with quick pitter-patter, to her large dresser drawer. Opening the top drawer, she regarded the jewelry box that she’d been keeping inside, hidden underneath some of her finer garments. Fingertips lightly but meticulously grazed over the embroidery situated over top of the glass box. It squeaked to life softly as it was gently popped open. It lay virtually empty, save for the somewhat indistinguishable threads Tishara had found earlier on. She now, despite much reservation, vehemently clutched onto them with one hand through the darkness, the index finger of her other hand having dropped to her lip to express contemplation. The usually mute, the girl was brilliantly expressive, even in her silence.
She left the glass jewelry box to lay open, on top of the neatly folding attire, drawer wide open, while she tiptoed gently over to the adjoining door beside the dresser. It was, for Tishara’s mere convenience, unlocked, allowing her to reach her sister should she be in need of her at any time. With barely the twist of her wrist, the door quietly slithered open at her free hand’s touch to its handle. Leaving only enough room to wiggle on inside, she squeezed through the small opening, only to take great care to shutting the door so it was as silent as possible. She did not desire to wake her precious sister, whom was still pleasantly sleeping, tucked snugly inside her warm covers.
Allowing herself to be sidetracked only momentarily, Tishara paid thoughtful reflection to her sister’s sleeping form. The gesture lasted no longer but a few seconds before Tishara’s gaze spread with grievance, most dramatically displayed by her constant quivering bottom lip. The entire commotion ceased upon her face as Ishara mumbled something inaudible before turning over in her sleep. Shyly, Tishara looked to her feet with uncertainty until her gaze wavered with ghostly fascination to the nearby chair next to her sister’s nightstand.
In the chair, waiting for the next day’s proceedings, rested her sister’s complete dress ensemble. With a glint of triumphant manner in her eyes, Tishara scrambled over to the chair, as always, being attentive enough not to wake her sister. With a starving sense of eagerness, Ishara’s younger sister rapidly produced thread into the front pockets of tomorrow’s clothing.
Facing the chair, Tishara did an about face until she was looking to the bed again. Petite hands lifted into fists to rub sleepily along both eyes before dragging her hands, palms flat, slowly across down her cheeks. A sign to suggest that she was thinking over one thing or another.
Turning to face the nightstand, she pulled open the drawer very cautiously, grinning in spite of tiredness at the thrill of seeing pen and paper inside the drawer. It had been just what she needed. Picking up the pen, she slid the notepad onto the unoccupied nightstand’s surface, but did not start to compose anything in writing quite right away. Instead, she perched her right arm toward her torso and propped the left elbow to right hand to hold it up as she tapped the yet to be used pen against the left side of her head gently. The tip of her tongue barely engraved itself against her right cheek. She was in deep thought.
The opportunity only fastened itself to last no more than but a mere minute or two before Tishara had her idea. Her actions yielded to a quick halt as Tishara kissed the pen curtly in agreeable satisfaction. She seemed to think the use of the object was brilliant to her, at least in the moment. Striking pen vibrantly to pad, Tishara began to write in code across the empty page. No one would be able to decipher what was written there but her sister. Having played all kinds of games as children, the two would often write coded notes to one another while they were occupied in various parts of the palace, unable to interact with one another. The handmaidens hand delivered each note, and at times, it would release the sisters of their boredom. Delicately removing the paper from the pad, Tishara set the pen down only to fold the paper up small, so that it would properly fit inside the pocket that contained the threads.
Inside the note spoke of the eerie realization that Tishara knew her sister would soon be leaving, and that she order her sister to give the threads enclosed to the very important person that she would no doubt see at some point. Encouraging her sister that she would be fine, she urged Ishara to hurry back, just the same. Time was of the essence, and Tishara was in little position of holding off those that would be eager to pry. She was urged to hurry home, and to be mindful, least she get herself killed on her way to Bonadan.
The letter seemed to suggest of one favorable hint that Trishelle, in all her hurry, would forget to pay heed to the very next day. The hint would offer more pleasing conditions for her returning trip, if she followed through by way of her sister’s submission. The intuitive nature that Tishara seemed to favor had little to do with luck, but an act of unexplained origins. She had no enriched talents or opportunities of the force. In fact, Tishara seemed to have very little talents at all, but her intuitive nature certainly did stick out quite wide.
Retreating back into her bedroom just the same way she had entered into her sister’s room, Tishara quietly put the jewelry box back exactly as she had taken it out. She did not have the same dream as before after tucking herself under the covers. Her sleep was sound the rest of the night, even while being keenly attuned to the idea that tomorrow would possibly bring strife upon her life.
**************************************
The next day …
The day that had followed had been a bit of a blur, but not much of a surprise by the way her mother had been anxiously acting throughout the week It had not taken very much deducing for Tishara to realize that something would soon be a miss. Needing only a week’s worth of waiting, and she was soon watching her sister be dragged off by her mother, vicariously wishing through Ishara that she could switch places with her sister. She didn't want to be stuck in this vile place while her sister escaped into the arms of freedom. It just wasn't fair.
To make matters even more outlandish for her, Tishara found herself being dragged off without her consent while her mother pronounced that it would be okay. Well, it was not okay, and as far as Tishara was concerned, her mother equated to as much of an enemy as the one they were all chaotically facing. She would never forgive her mother for sending her sister away. Never!
Which was exactly why, when the guards did allow Trishelle to check upon her daughter via escort, Tishara refused to even spot a glance at her mother when she ushered herself in to visit. She went completely mute for the entire instance her mother stayed, causing a great deal of anguish for her mother’s sake. As minutes turned to hours, Tishara quickly found many of her things confiscated. It was something more than agreeable to her, at least until investigators sought to take away the small bear sitting to the middle of her fluffed up pillows by the head of her bed. It was the only item she had that belonged to that of her sister Ishara. Older, Ishara had easily seen to outgrow the stuffed bear, but when she had passed it on to Tishara, eventually her turn to outgrow it too, she refused to relinquish it. Unfortunately, with such drastic times, Tishara found herself unable to protest any discrepancies over the search, keeping herself reserved and patient through the tumultuous experience.
If she was going to be cooped up in this miserably horrible place, the least her free sister could hopefully do for her was to send her something to keep her occupied so that she would not become unruly nor bored, in her absence.
The night prior …
Tishara awake in the dead of night, clutching for air as her mouth rocketed deliriously open to clutch for air. Wide eyed and despondent, she frantically scaled the area around her, trembling with relief when she realized that she was enclosed in agreeable space. Her bedroom.
She’d had a bad dream, but now wide awake, she naturally couldn't recall it. Gingerly prying the security of large blankets off of her form, Tishara swept her legs off to the side of the bed. She rose, with quick pitter-patter, to her large dresser drawer. Opening the top drawer, she regarded the jewelry box that she’d been keeping inside, hidden underneath some of her finer garments. Fingertips lightly but meticulously grazed over the embroidery situated over top of the glass box. It squeaked to life softly as it was gently popped open. It lay virtually empty, save for the somewhat indistinguishable threads Tishara had found earlier on. She now, despite much reservation, vehemently clutched onto them with one hand through the darkness, the index finger of her other hand having dropped to her lip to express contemplation. The usually mute, the girl was brilliantly expressive, even in her silence.
She left the glass jewelry box to lay open, on top of the neatly folding attire, drawer wide open, while she tiptoed gently over to the adjoining door beside the dresser. It was, for Tishara’s mere convenience, unlocked, allowing her to reach her sister should she be in need of her at any time. With barely the twist of her wrist, the door quietly slithered open at her free hand’s touch to its handle. Leaving only enough room to wiggle on inside, she squeezed through the small opening, only to take great care to shutting the door so it was as silent as possible. She did not desire to wake her precious sister, whom was still pleasantly sleeping, tucked snugly inside her warm covers.
Allowing herself to be sidetracked only momentarily, Tishara paid thoughtful reflection to her sister’s sleeping form. The gesture lasted no longer but a few seconds before Tishara’s gaze spread with grievance, most dramatically displayed by her constant quivering bottom lip. The entire commotion ceased upon her face as Ishara mumbled something inaudible before turning over in her sleep. Shyly, Tishara looked to her feet with uncertainty until her gaze wavered with ghostly fascination to the nearby chair next to her sister’s nightstand.
In the chair, waiting for the next day’s proceedings, rested her sister’s complete dress ensemble. With a glint of triumphant manner in her eyes, Tishara scrambled over to the chair, as always, being attentive enough not to wake her sister. With a starving sense of eagerness, Ishara’s younger sister rapidly produced thread into the front pockets of tomorrow’s clothing.
Facing the chair, Tishara did an about face until she was looking to the bed again. Petite hands lifted into fists to rub sleepily along both eyes before dragging her hands, palms flat, slowly across down her cheeks. A sign to suggest that she was thinking over one thing or another.
Turning to face the nightstand, she pulled open the drawer very cautiously, grinning in spite of tiredness at the thrill of seeing pen and paper inside the drawer. It had been just what she needed. Picking up the pen, she slid the notepad onto the unoccupied nightstand’s surface, but did not start to compose anything in writing quite right away. Instead, she perched her right arm toward her torso and propped the left elbow to right hand to hold it up as she tapped the yet to be used pen against the left side of her head gently. The tip of her tongue barely engraved itself against her right cheek. She was in deep thought.
The opportunity only fastened itself to last no more than but a mere minute or two before Tishara had her idea. Her actions yielded to a quick halt as Tishara kissed the pen curtly in agreeable satisfaction. She seemed to think the use of the object was brilliant to her, at least in the moment. Striking pen vibrantly to pad, Tishara began to write in code across the empty page. No one would be able to decipher what was written there but her sister. Having played all kinds of games as children, the two would often write coded notes to one another while they were occupied in various parts of the palace, unable to interact with one another. The handmaidens hand delivered each note, and at times, it would release the sisters of their boredom. Delicately removing the paper from the pad, Tishara set the pen down only to fold the paper up small, so that it would properly fit inside the pocket that contained the threads.
Inside the note spoke of the eerie realization that Tishara knew her sister would soon be leaving, and that she order her sister to give the threads enclosed to the very important person that she would no doubt see at some point. Encouraging her sister that she would be fine, she urged Ishara to hurry back, just the same. Time was of the essence, and Tishara was in little position of holding off those that would be eager to pry. She was urged to hurry home, and to be mindful, least she get herself killed on her way to Bonadan.
The letter seemed to suggest of one favorable hint that Trishelle, in all her hurry, would forget to pay heed to the very next day. The hint would offer more pleasing conditions for her returning trip, if she followed through by way of her sister’s submission. The intuitive nature that Tishara seemed to favor had little to do with luck, but an act of unexplained origins. She had no enriched talents or opportunities of the force. In fact, Tishara seemed to have very little talents at all, but her intuitive nature certainly did stick out quite wide.
Retreating back into her bedroom just the same way she had entered into her sister’s room, Tishara quietly put the jewelry box back exactly as she had taken it out. She did not have the same dream as before after tucking herself under the covers. Her sleep was sound the rest of the night, even while being keenly attuned to the idea that tomorrow would possibly bring strife upon her life.
**************************************
The next day …
The day that had followed had been a bit of a blur, but not much of a surprise by the way her mother had been anxiously acting throughout the week It had not taken very much deducing for Tishara to realize that something would soon be a miss. Needing only a week’s worth of waiting, and she was soon watching her sister be dragged off by her mother, vicariously wishing through Ishara that she could switch places with her sister. She didn't want to be stuck in this vile place while her sister escaped into the arms of freedom. It just wasn't fair.
To make matters even more outlandish for her, Tishara found herself being dragged off without her consent while her mother pronounced that it would be okay. Well, it was not okay, and as far as Tishara was concerned, her mother equated to as much of an enemy as the one they were all chaotically facing. She would never forgive her mother for sending her sister away. Never!
Which was exactly why, when the guards did allow Trishelle to check upon her daughter via escort, Tishara refused to even spot a glance at her mother when she ushered herself in to visit. She went completely mute for the entire instance her mother stayed, causing a great deal of anguish for her mother’s sake. As minutes turned to hours, Tishara quickly found many of her things confiscated. It was something more than agreeable to her, at least until investigators sought to take away the small bear sitting to the middle of her fluffed up pillows by the head of her bed. It was the only item she had that belonged to that of her sister Ishara. Older, Ishara had easily seen to outgrow the stuffed bear, but when she had passed it on to Tishara, eventually her turn to outgrow it too, she refused to relinquish it. Unfortunately, with such drastic times, Tishara found herself unable to protest any discrepancies over the search, keeping herself reserved and patient through the tumultuous experience.
If she was going to be cooped up in this miserably horrible place, the least her free sister could hopefully do for her was to send her something to keep her occupied so that she would not become unruly nor bored, in her absence.
