Chapter Text
Zinnia knew she would be happy here. Because it was nothing like the cities she knew, the lives she’d led before. If she looked up, the blue sky spread out towards the horizon like a mantle, welcoming her home in the place of the dull gray clouds at Central or the scorching sun in summer down south. It was a comforting shade of blue. It made the snowed-in summits of the mountain range in the distance all the more striking for spring, although she knew what she was getting into by travelling here. How couldn’t she? Nobody came north of North City unaware of the lurking cold, and those who did either perished or ran. Zinnia had heard a thing or two, so having snow a few miles north of where she’d be living didn’t seem too much of an inconsistence for the beautiful sun that was shining that day.
Back at North City, that city of compact low houses and buoyant activity, she’d arranged for a farmer to take her as far as the outskirts of what would be her new home. Riding backwards on the hay cart, she’d had to turn around to see the outline of the town, waiting behind the flora. Specks of boxy dwellings and a few trees dotting the landscape in green and amber, her first introduction to it was the road sign before crossing the bridge, where her kind driver had let her get off.
Iver, it read. She almost snorted out loud. Someone had erased the ‘r’ from ‘river’ and thus the town had been named, probably. Iver up ahead.
“There it is, think you can manage?” the man had told her once she was back on the ground. He was heading the other way, to his farm on the outskirts.
“Sure thing,” she’d said. There was no need to mention she knew this area almost by heart after some minor research, even if she’d never seen it in person before, so she simply thanked him and went on her way.
She didn’t have any heavy luggage, just a bag with some clothes, a notebook and a few pens in case her muse decided Zinnia was worth returning to. She could really fuck this up, big time, bigger than the other times. She was miles and miles away from anything she was directly familiar with, jobless for the moment and with no plan other than walk around till she saw some shop that needed new staff and politely offer to fill any vacancies.
But Zinnia walked across the bridge, trying not to think about it too much because, really, it wouldn’t fix anything at this point, and walked on.
There was even tall grass, she found, as she kept going through the dirt path. And flowers, of the most disconcerting colors at that. Orange, brown, violet, white; their scent got in Zinnia’s nose, and she sneezed it out after a while. It was such a disappointing thing to see in a land that was barren for almost three seasons out of four. But still…new, in a way. It smelled that way, like the excitement she’d kept bottled up since she’d decided to take a train north and not come back to the South Area for a long long time.
There was nothing for her down there, there never had been. Just the novelty of a place and cities big enough that she could never get to know everybody. And there probably wouldn’t be much for her up north either. She’d seen flowers in the south, and villages on her way in the train.
She was going to be happy here for a while, till she learned every street and every road and knew how to travel across the vastness of North Area with her eyes closed. And then she’d find herself locked at home, bored out of her mind, never actually doing anything with all she knew. Never finding what she was looking for and denied she lacked. And later on, when the boredom got to her, she’d pack her bags and leave again, chasing a wind that never let her catch up.
Yet today was the first day, not the last. And even if that last day came to be, she wanted to walk to it confidently and happily. And she needed to get to know Iver first, and who she was while living there.
Zinnia took her time getting to the town, though, observing gently how nature unfurled underneath her shoes, around her tiny silhouette in such a mantle of plants and pasture. Like an intruder, she tried not to be noticed once she crossed into the literal town.
The main street was cobblestone and the few lamps in the main square, copper. And small. A few minutes later, after ambling around minor and narrow streets, she realized in dismay she’d already seen it all. Iver was barely a spot in a map, four or three streets, fifty or so dwellings, and open field all around it.
She made the best of efforts not to look up at the sky for solace, estranged and suddenly lonely in a place she was new to. Zinnia didn’t know much about the north, but she guessed that staying in the middle of nowhere looking grim was common ‘spot the odd one out’ behavior everywhere, and stuck to walking around again, trying to give off the impression that she was just another neighbor.
She kept an eye out of shops. There was a small shop that looked like a market compressed into one single room and that smelled too much like meat. She’d had enough of that for at least some more years, thank you very much. Of course, there was a tavern, but Zinnia took one look at the façade and the state of inhabitation there and span around in the opposite direction.
The sun was already pretty high up in the sky when she stopped in one of the minor streets, leaned on a wall by the shade, the weight of her luggage starting to make her arms ache (she really needed to work on that), and wiped the sweat off her forehead with her free hand.
“Hi there,” someone said, quickly approaching her.
Zinnia immediately wanted to make herself invisible. Where she was from, if someone called to you in a place like this, running was the most appropriate option. But she had to keep in mind that this was nothing like the places she knew.
“Oh, hi,” Zinnia said. “Hey.”
“I don’t know you, which means you’re new, correct?” The woman talking was short and plump and smiley, a few inches shorter than her.
“Correct.”
At Zinnia’s puzzled expression, the woman burst into laughter.
“Oh it’s a very small town,” she said, to appease her. “The last tenant we had moved away some time ago, and I spoke to Lynna the other day and she said she’d already rented it to someone else, which is rare around here to say the least.” The woman chuckled. “So, you’re the someone else.”
Zinnia blinked a couple of times. She had no idea what was going on, but she decided to go with it. Lynna sounded just like the name of her landlady, and apparently this woman knew her?
“Yes, I’m Zinnia,” she said, reaching a hand out for the woman to shake.
The woman grinned at her. “Candie,” she said, shaking Zinnia’s hand vigorously, then letting go. “What is a girl like you doing just walking around? Haven’t you been at the house yet?”
“No, I was actually—” Zinnia started. “I hope this isn’t awfully rude of me, but… do you know of any place around here that needs some help?”
Candie laughed again. Zinnia had no idea what to make of so much laughter.
“I dearly hope you didn’t get to Iver looking for work, honey, there’s not a lot to do around here unless you like cattle.”
“I … don’t.”
“I figured as much,” Candie said, smirking and looking at Zinnia as if categorizing her already as a city girl. “As it turns out, though, I have a little bookshop just around the corner.”
Everything is just around the corner here, Zinnia thought.
“I don’t exactly need help, and I certainly don’t pay much, but if you’re interested I’m there in the mornings.” The woman turned around to leave with a cute hand wave, then came back as if she’d remembered something important she needed to say. “Oh by the way, do you need any help finding your house?”
Zinnia smiled as sweetly as she could. She could probably be dropped alone three miles from here and find her house in record time without never having seen it before.
Her dad had used to ruffle her hair affectionately when he’d first realized his little girl wasn’t likely to ever get lost anywhere, having such an uncanny sense of direction as she did. It was as if she could smell her way, map it with all her senses and not get distracted by anything else.
“Our Zinnia could walk out of a blizzard unscathed and land right where she was supposed to arrive,” her dad had used to say to her mum as she chopped and prepared the meat for her customers.
“Thank you, but I’m covered,” Zinnia said now.
“Have a nice day, then!” Candie said, already walking away.
“You too…” Zinnia whispered under her breath. Then she kept moving.
Her house wasn’t too far, as it turned out, a small square thing in a corner of the town with brown tiles and graying yellowish walls that seemed too thick at first sight. She approached it slowly, her arms definitely tired of hurling the bag, and left it on the ground willy-nilly, then knocked at the door.
A blonde lady with tired eyes greeted her—Lynna, Zinnia supposed—and gave her a quick tour and her keys. Then she left Zinnia alone.
Zinnia sat in the small living room, all dark brown furniture that frankly both looked and smelled old, and exhaled loudly.
“I’m going to be happy here,” she lied to herself.