85th Summer, 515AV
Helen Montgomery was not a lucky woman. Whereas her older sister had been born with grace, beauty and brains, Helen was born with poor eyesight, a crooked nose, and a terrible lisp. Her sister Sandra had also married well: a merchant from Lhavit who, after their brief meeting, swept her away to the Crstalline city and treated her like a Goddess. Helen, in comparison, had married Stan, who had lived next door to her family for her entire life. The two were of similar age, similar class, and it was a marriage 'you'll do' rather than 'I do'. Four years later, Helen discovered her husband in the arms of another man. Stan and his lover, Russell, departed from Sunberth that very night, leaving Helen to bring up her three children on her own. The single grace of good luck in Helen's life was that all three her precious children grew up healthy and as happy as children could in Sunberth. Until, of course, Stan Junior was scratched on the arm by a dirty nail. The wound became infected and the entire limb had to be chopped off from the shoulder joint. Hector, her second born, caught the pox one Winter and died in a pool of his own vomit and fecal matter. Finally, Helen's only daughter Sasha, was raped one night on her way home from working in a tavern. The sixteen year old died a short while later after giving birth to her twin sons.
So after all she had been through, Helen was, to say the least, a little jaded. She was fifty-something years old, of generally poor health, and barely had two coppers to rub together. She lived with her two grandsons and crippled eldest son in the same house she grew up in, and it was an utter shithole. The furniture was almost always falling to bits, there was mould on all the walls and ceilings, and it was impossible to stay warm once Syna had dipped below the horizon.
Helen was therefore less than pleased when her busy day was interrupted by a knocking on the door. The babies were both crying loudly - Helen had long ago given up on trying to remember which one was which - and Stan Junior was sitting quietly in the corner of his bedroom, reading poetry and doing his best to write his own. He had been terribly forlorn and artistic since losing his right arm, and being right-handed, his injury made it almost impossible for him to write down the awful limericks he thought up.
"Yeh? What d'ya want?" Helen demanded upon answering the door. She was dressed in her usual drab clothes, nothing that was more colourful than grey or brown, and nothing that fit her properly. She glared at the strange-looking woman on the other side of the door. A pair of black eyes were staring straight her had been the last thing Helen had expected to see. She jumped back, a little disgusted at the woman's obvious foreignness.
"Helen? Helen Montgomery?" Shakune asked, trying her best not to judge the squalid-looking home that the woman stood in front of. The denizens of Sunberth were hardly people of luxury, and yet Helen Montgomery appeared to be a whole new level of poor.
"Yeh that's me. Look, I'm busy. Be quick 'bout it." Helen gestured briefly to the sound of the infantile crying that erupted in waves behind her. Impatiently, and without giving Shakune even a chime to speak, Helen added, "what do you want?"
Shakune inhaled sharply. After an entire season of living with the ghost of Bridie Salt, it still seemed unnatural to discuss her openly with other people. "You knew Bridie Salt, yes?"
Helen gave a firm nod. Oh, she knew Bridie Salt. She had been only a child when she first met Bridie, who used to do a spot of babysitting for Helen's parents when they were working. Even from a young age, Helen knew that she was jealous of Bridie in the same way she was jealous of her older sister. Like Sandra, Bridie had been gifted with a pretty face and a demure little body that made Helen's own plump form seem like a baby whale. What was worse was Bridie's sense of charity. Her husband had come with unexpected riches, and out of the sweetness of her heart, Bridie had volunteered to do her bit for the people of Sunberth, having come from a poor family herself. She had actually remained close friends with Helen's mother, for reasons utterly unknown to the girl. Helen had actually long decided it was actually because Bridie enjoyed placing herself higher and mightier than others, that she babysat and cooked meals for Helen's family.
So it was with great mirth that Helen replied, "Yeh. I knew her. But she's been dead for years."
Shakune tried to ignore the sick smirk that crossed Helen's wrinkled lips. She recalled Bridie quietly noting that Helen had been a quiet, sad little girl. It seemed that that quietness and sadness had bubbled away, eating away at the woman's sizeable gut for the past forty or so years.
So after all she had been through, Helen was, to say the least, a little jaded. She was fifty-something years old, of generally poor health, and barely had two coppers to rub together. She lived with her two grandsons and crippled eldest son in the same house she grew up in, and it was an utter shithole. The furniture was almost always falling to bits, there was mould on all the walls and ceilings, and it was impossible to stay warm once Syna had dipped below the horizon.
Helen was therefore less than pleased when her busy day was interrupted by a knocking on the door. The babies were both crying loudly - Helen had long ago given up on trying to remember which one was which - and Stan Junior was sitting quietly in the corner of his bedroom, reading poetry and doing his best to write his own. He had been terribly forlorn and artistic since losing his right arm, and being right-handed, his injury made it almost impossible for him to write down the awful limericks he thought up.
"Yeh? What d'ya want?" Helen demanded upon answering the door. She was dressed in her usual drab clothes, nothing that was more colourful than grey or brown, and nothing that fit her properly. She glared at the strange-looking woman on the other side of the door. A pair of black eyes were staring straight her had been the last thing Helen had expected to see. She jumped back, a little disgusted at the woman's obvious foreignness.
"Helen? Helen Montgomery?" Shakune asked, trying her best not to judge the squalid-looking home that the woman stood in front of. The denizens of Sunberth were hardly people of luxury, and yet Helen Montgomery appeared to be a whole new level of poor.
"Yeh that's me. Look, I'm busy. Be quick 'bout it." Helen gestured briefly to the sound of the infantile crying that erupted in waves behind her. Impatiently, and without giving Shakune even a chime to speak, Helen added, "what do you want?"
Shakune inhaled sharply. After an entire season of living with the ghost of Bridie Salt, it still seemed unnatural to discuss her openly with other people. "You knew Bridie Salt, yes?"
Helen gave a firm nod. Oh, she knew Bridie Salt. She had been only a child when she first met Bridie, who used to do a spot of babysitting for Helen's parents when they were working. Even from a young age, Helen knew that she was jealous of Bridie in the same way she was jealous of her older sister. Like Sandra, Bridie had been gifted with a pretty face and a demure little body that made Helen's own plump form seem like a baby whale. What was worse was Bridie's sense of charity. Her husband had come with unexpected riches, and out of the sweetness of her heart, Bridie had volunteered to do her bit for the people of Sunberth, having come from a poor family herself. She had actually remained close friends with Helen's mother, for reasons utterly unknown to the girl. Helen had actually long decided it was actually because Bridie enjoyed placing herself higher and mightier than others, that she babysat and cooked meals for Helen's family.
So it was with great mirth that Helen replied, "Yeh. I knew her. But she's been dead for years."
Shakune tried to ignore the sick smirk that crossed Helen's wrinkled lips. She recalled Bridie quietly noting that Helen had been a quiet, sad little girl. It seemed that that quietness and sadness had bubbled away, eating away at the woman's sizeable gut for the past forty or so years.
