FicWad

I plodded back home, marveling at how quickly things had gone downhill. Because of my sister's edict, I had just wasted two weeks of getting snapped at by a testy Aling Estelita and suffering headaches from sewing by candlelight. Because of my own accursed temper, my brother was going to tear into me the minute he got home. I lifted a hand to my face, already feeling the coming blows. Worse, I had likely burnt the molo soup by staying too long in the plaza. I added a scorching tirade from my sister to the dreary vision of my immediate future.

/But this/, I thought, glancing at my companion in bemusement, /really takes the prize/.

And again, Consuelo smiled at me.

I couldn't believe she was acting so docile, allowing me to hold her hand and guide her down the street. At one point, I released her, thinking that she might want to go her own way, but her fingers gripped mine with surprising strength. She seemed perfectly happy to trail behind me, still singing in a high, toneless voice, and I couldn't decide whether I was annoyed or amused by all this.

Also, there was the matter of my promise to feed her. "Would you like some molo soup?" I asked as we came to my house. "It's probably overcooked, but we've got some spring rolls and cassava cake, so you won't have to stick with burnt soup if you don't...want to..." I trailed off, realizing that my guest was chasing little yellow butterflies around the yard, giggling like a little girl. "Well, you seem happy enough," I murmured.

I took a bowl and ladled some soup into it-thankfully, the fire had dwindled to cooling embers, thus forestalling any culinary disaster-then added rice and a slice of the cassava cake I'd made the night before. I mentally rehearsed the speech I would make to my brother and sister to justify my bringing this filthy, smelly creature into our house and feeding her food meant for our guests. Fiesta meant our house and our food was to be shared with everyone, friend and stranger alike. Wasn't that what the Diwata meant when she started this whole tradition? Oh yes, a fool-proof argument. Now if I could only do something about the swarms of butterflies in my stomach, my life would be perfect.

"The forest is full of faces. Beautiful faces, wonderful faces. He takes me there and shows them to me, and we sing and dance and laugh all night long." Consuelo chattered away, spraying rice and molo bits as she did. I sat nearby and watched her, only half-listening. She's as old as Mother was when she died, whispered an odd thought. But then Consuelo was dirty and half-starved and an object of ridicule, while Mother had been beautiful and strong and well-loved. There really was no comparing the two.

She babbled on about midnight trysts with the mysterious "he." Everyone knew the story, of course. A farmer's daughter, Consuelo had had the misfortune to fall in love with an /engkanto/, an elf. When he left her to return to his kingdom, her heart had been so irreparably broken that she went insane. That was why, the old wags would say, mortals should never fall in love with elementals, no matter how sweet and tender they could be. Unlike humans, elementals did not have hearts that could be broken.

Another reason why my elf-prince would never become more than an enchanting dream. I knew the story well, had heard the warnings ever since I was a child. But still, that didn't make the Skyblade in my dreams any less mine. I knew the real Skyblade could never love me the way I love him. He had no reason to. It was all right, though. I was perfectly content with my memories of him. I had to be, if I didn't want Consuelo's fate to become mine.

"It's like looking into the sun, looking into his eyes."

Consuelo's words penetrated my melancholy daze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked.

Sharp eyes bored into mine. "Bright and beautiful he is. Bright and beautiful and pure."

She was talking about her elf-lover, I realized. Perhaps golden eyes were a common trait among the /engkantos/. "We're quite a pair, huh, Consuelo?" I said, laughing ruefully. "We both love someone we can't have."

She eyed me for a moment, then leaned over and grasped my face with both hands. "Such a beautiful girl," she crooned, ignoring my startled gasp. "She has so much power within her. Why does she keep it all locked away?"

"What?" I squeaked. "I'm not--my sister's the one--you've got it all wrong." It figures/, said a rueful voice inside me. /Only a crazy person would call me beautiful.

"A kind heart, a fierce spirit and a soul as vast as the sky," she went on as if I hadn't spoken. "Just like her mother."

To my horror, tears stung my eyes. "I'm not. You've made a mistake. Please let me go."

And just like that, she did. I barely kept myself from falling over. She stood up, gazing with uncharacteristic grimness and surprising lucidity in the direction of the plaza. "It will be done today. They will see, but they will not understand." She leveled a look upon me, and to my embarrassment I actually jumped.

"Oh sweet Lady and Lord Jesus," I muttered, recovering myself. "What was that all a--ack!" I yelped when she grabbed my hand and began marching toward the path leading to the Diwata's shrine. "What're you doing? I have work to do. The plates have to be set out, and the cups and--my sister's going to catch us! Are you listening to me? I said stop!"

I dug in my heels much the same way she did at the plaza. She halted, and I shivered from the impact of her gaze. "You dream of him, yes? You dream of Skyblade of the golden eyes," she hissed, shocking me to the core. "You want to know where your dreams will lead you. Come then, and learn. You will be hope where there is none."

And all I could do was stare at her as she dragged me to whatever fate awaited me.





-------------

Vocabulary (because I forgot the first time--sorry!)

Aling - means "Mrs" or Madam (ah-ling)