Letters Home
Cephied Variable

'I wish you could have met my sister, Mr. Bryant.' Alicia sighed into the wind wistfully. She always spoke of her sister in the past tense, 'Oh no, she's still alive.' a sad sort of smile graced her dainty features, 'My sister isn't dead, but...'

Alicia always got quiet when she talked about her family- she threaded presea flowers into her hair and wrote letters home every week, and although Regal noticed that she never recieved one back he never commented on it.

Sometimes he tried to listen to the words she wasn't saying. He'd quietly run his fingers through her hair and carefully untangle one flower after another as she spoke and he attempted to read between the lines; read the tears she never shed, the bitter frowns she always wore as smiles, decode her secret langage for sorrow.

'You would have liked my sister,' she cradled her chin in her palm, 'But with my luck, you probably would have liked her better than me. Older sisters are like that, you know.' she joked weakly, but Regal laughed anyways, if only to make her smile.

It wasn't until years later when he finally met Presea Combatir (and shivered, because no girl should have had eyes that old) that he realized he would likely spend the rest of his life trying to solve the mystery of Alicia's sister.