--- o For the Spooktober Prompt #20: Memory 0 ---

   Myrr spent the better half of the evening crying in her arms. The swell of anger, relief, and happiness overtaking the grief she felt for so long. After all, had mother not abandoned her? It was the only thing that made sense to her at the time, she hadn’t the slightest clue on how she wound up in this strange place, nor why she could not find her parents. Thankfully, she was taken in by a local couple who saw her as their own, but she never stopped searching. And maybe, just maybe her mother was here for the same reason, though deep down she knew that wasn’t the case.

   Truth be told, mother did look different than what she remembered. Much younger, yet older at the same time. Was it the eyes? The pastel blue hollows that held no hint of the light she was used to. The gaunt face that bore not a hint of a smile, a smile she was used to. But it was still her, right? If so, where was father? Was he elsewhere searching, or had he too, gone missing? So many questions to ask.

   This woman was almost the polar opposite, a warm smile and bubbly demeanour she maintained around everyone, though the girl always knew there was a well-hidden melancholy and the more than occasional bouts of depression that took her. But this woman. Elly. There was no such light in her eyes, they were tired — Broken. There was no maternal warmth she expected, and knew so well, merely a flat lukewarm that bordered on coldness, vying to display what scant affection was left for her.

   Maybe it was the way Elly looked at her with an expression of unfamiliarity, like she did not know her, made her chest hurt. Did she forget? Or had she never even cared enough to do so? The feeling of disquiet growing by the moment, and it didn’t take long to notice the woman freezing momentarily, almost flinching whenever she said that word. Mom. Mother.

   Myrr didn’t understand, but she couldn’t ask her even if she tried, for, like her mother, talking was an effort so reticence was the norm for them, and whenever she found the courage to do so, it quickly fled her the moment the words crossed her lips. Find her parents? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did she not recognize her? Her own daughter? She didn’t even know her name, the one she gave her. Yet still she held onto the faint hope Elly would remember her, that she was her mother, it was the only thing holding her together at this point.

   They managed to find somewhat adequate provisions for a meal between them, now sat by a warm fire beneath the shelter of a building yet to crumble beneath its own weight. Both huddled up near eachother for warmth, though Elly seemed to avoid direct contact, something that further deepened Myrr’s unease. It was as if she was constantly on edge, and she was starting to feel the same way.

   Still, it was the first time in a while she managed to sleep somewhat peacefully, head rested against her mother’s lap. The familiar scent of magnolia and honeysuckle, with a hint of cinnamon, vanilla, and something else soothed her as it always did. As she oft did, she thought of better times. Remembering things that perhaps only she knew happened, or maybe was yet to happen? But it felt like the more she did, the less opaque they were, as though recollection instigated fading, sapping away the very notion of what little hope she so desperately held onto. The bad dreams she was so used to could not find her here, and would hopefully never do so again.

   The rain fell hard now, breathing upon brick and thatch with impunity, almost as if it wanted to get in. It was a particular anxiety that seemed to mirror the the mood. And the more she thought about it, the more she was certain it was the source of her unease.

   It felt familiar, yet she could not fathom why.

--- o ---

   What time was it? Had she the energy to get up and check, she wouldn’t be able to gauge the time by the moons anyway, but it was past midnight, that much she knew. She sighed, resting her face in her palms for what seemed like a moment, yet by the time she raised her head, the fire was almost out. Thankfully she had prepared ample wood, abandoned villages were always wanting for stuff to burn, though most of this one was already ash and soot.

   She was still asleep. Good. It felt awkward enough that this strange kid calls her mother. Though she never actually said it. Her? Elly? It was absurd to think about. She never considered, nor wanted a child, yet this stranger enticed an odd mix of nostalgia and yearning she had not felt for years. And that amulet, the very same one she had, kept her mind reeling as she tried to parse out what the hell was going on. They weren’t just identical. They were the same.

   She tried to not think about it too much, as the more she did she felt other emotions surface, one’s that she spent every moment keeping in check. Anger. But why? What had this child done? Maybe it was the knowledge of her being responsible for another life, when she was so dedicated to throwing her own one away every chance she got. The most important thing, she thought to herself, was finding a place for this child, somewhere suited to raising her and not a vagabond like her, she’d only put her in danger.

   With what little supplies she had left laid out before her, varying from typical survival tools, scant rations and other miscellaneous items, but most of all, a medical kit. One she always made sure to keep well stocked, but it had seen better days, and she already used some of them to patch up Myrr earlier. She only learned her name from the brief times the girl did speak, something else that made her mind wander.

   They managed to find somewhat adequate provisions for a meal between them, now sat by a warm fire beneath the shelter of a building yet to crumble beneath its own weight. She let Myrr rest, keeping close vigil over her as she didn’t expect to sleep yet, she was tired, but not that kind of tired. Besides, the pains all over her body were coming to collect their dues, and there was no better time than now to stymie them and use what little supplies she had to tend to her wounds. She didn’t use them, rather opting for whatever else she had laying around as the thought of needing them for later, for her, crossed her mind.

   ❛ Fuck. ❜ She almost cried out, but bit down on her sleeve. It was a pain in the ass tending to her broken prosthetic without adequate supplies, and with how damaged it had been from the days prior, it was becoming almost impossible to move. Not to mention the biting cold and her exposed nerves only made the pain all the more raw.

   Had she a taste for it, Elly may have drunk the bottle dry, but for now she disinfected her wounds with the small supply of spirits she got her hands on. A stupid idea and something that can do more damage than good, but that mattered little to her now. They were mostly small cuts anyway, and her body was attuned to heal quickly. But it wasn’t the superficial wounds that knawed at her now, no, it was something more. A craving for a vice she couldn’t shake off, and frankly depended on at this point. Just a little won’t hurt, just to numb the pain.

--- o ---

   It wasn’t anything in particular that stirred her awake, by now she was resting against a makeshift pillow, while the woman she knew to be her mother was nearby, rummaging through a bag she had with her.

   Myrr sat up to get a better view of the Elly who sat in the corner of the room in on the only good chair amd table she could find. Now tinkering with her arm, clothes strewn across the ground and thrown over makeshift lines to dry. Most of the things she pulled out of it were alien to her, various tools and miscellaneous items collected over time. Then she saw it, her prosthetic. There was no doubt about it. It was her, after all.

   There was blood. Lots of it. Caked into the joints and mechanism along with debris collected throughout her travels, a hindrance to her movements, and one she carefully cleaned with precise attention. It looked painful, yet it subsided for a somewhat more relaxed expression, with a swift prick into the woman’s shoulder where the fixings of the prosthetic was built into her skin beneath the metal plate she usually wore.

   ❛ Mom? ❜ Myrr called out weakly, able to speak a little clearly with the medicine Elly gave her earlier, though it was still painful to talk.

   ❝ Hm? ❞ Elly glanced up at her, a glassy haze over her eyes. When she noticed the girl was awake, she covered something beside her with a stray shirt, though Myrr caught a brief glance at it. A needle?

   ❝ What’s wrong? Can’t sleep? ❞

   Myrr shook her head in response, her gaze fixated on Elly’s arm, it looked different to the one she was familiar with, in disrepair, and clearly made and used for fighting, not that she knew that. The more she observed, the more injuries she noticed, Elly had clearly been in a great deal of pain.

   ❛ Where is your arm? ❜ She asked, as a child’s curiosity would compel her, even when she already knew the answer that was written across her face.

   ❝ It fell off~ ❞ Elly replied with the faintest hint of a smile, the flatness in her voice wasn’t so prominent now, though it still lacked the warmth Myrr so desperately needed.

   ❛ Does it hurt? ❜ Myrr moved closer to get a better view. She wasn’t allowed in the workshop.

   ❝ A little. ❞ Elly replied curtly, only because she pulled something too tight. ❝ But only sometimes. ❞

   ❝ Are you feeling better? ❞ Elly asked, turning her attention to Myrr, who nodded in response.

   ❝ Good. ❞ Elly smiled, setting her tools down and wiping off the remaining blood and oil. Rising from her chair, she walked over to Myrr and ruffled her hair, something that put a smile on her face.

   ❝ Morning is still a ways off, you should get some rest. ❞

--- o ---