Chapter Text
At times, Richeh's food felt wrong in a way that couldn't be explained. It made the adults disappointed: they'd call her a picky eater, which was bad. She paid no mind, however. Refusing to eat was the girl's quiet protest. On the other hand, Riliphin, her dear brother, visibly agonized over the years as he tried and tried to be right by the adults' standards. It sucked. The girl found that all those unspoken rules and informal agreements of the littlest of issues were simply dumb. So, if staying true to oneself meant to be childish, let the others talk. Richeh knows that she wants.
"Repeat what I just said, Richeritte," Master demanded.
"Huh?" Poor girl had barely opened her mouth all day. At the time, her confusion wouldn't allow to notice the way Rili flinched and jumped scared on his seat from the call.
"I see you're having too much fun scribbling in that notebook of yours. Quit it at once, and look at me in the eye to pay attention." Perhaps to make sure the message landed well, the man cared to stare while stating his command. Truth be told, it was frightening — Master's judgment could kill — which wasn't really helpful, as little Richeh would only dig her head deeper below, though only for the fraction of a second, because it's what it takes to realize a wrongdoing under Master. Then, as the teacher carried on his lesson, which Richeh knew was about Lomoron's fall, the girl would huff and scoff the quietest needed and loudest allowed. She barely bothered obeying, after all the rest of that class was a blur and a meaningless burden.
During lunch at the atelier, Richeh ate what she'd always do at Thursdays and sat on the same spot she did every day (mind you, every other student did the latter. Richeh noticed because she, not that it'd be admitted, had gotten self conscious of her need of routine when a nosy classmate commented the way she organized her pencil case was apparently very specific.)
Then, there came Riliphin, who always smiled when his sister was at sight. He'd ordered the blandest option of food available, then got comfortable at the seat that at that point should just get the boy's name carved onto it.
Besides eating and changing, another thing Richeh wasn't good at had been expressions. Both making and reading them were such a hard time. In Master's atelier, Riliphin always wore a smile that wouldn't "meet the eye", as they say. Richeh could see that her oldster's eyebrows frowned and his whole head often faced the ground but, in the end, he smiled so much. Riliphin is shy by nature, but he's also amazing. Therefore, there shouldn't be any reason for that great boy to put on acts.
"You see, Richeh, back at home, mom once taught me a trick I've been using ever since."
The girl stared up in curiosity, chewing. (See, she is able to look at others! Not that it needed to be proven.)
"When someone is talking, you don't need to look at their eyes: you can look at their nose so it looks like you're looking!"
Huh?
"But—" she takes some time to finish that bite. "What's the point?"
Riliphin shrugged, and finally touched his plate.
"It's what they want us to do." It seemed his courage to eat ran out quickly. "It appears weird, but you need to play safe sometimes…"
Richeh frowned, and she could feel her own appetite exhausting. It's the way Rili didn't speak like the adults, who simply wanted to teach conformity for their sake. Rather, what her brother wanted was her best. It was frustrating! She felt like crying already.
"Richeh?"
She'd finish eating quietly, and get out of the cafeteria the same way.
Riliphin could only sigh.
"I failed her."
Then, he would force the meal down his throat. Someone took time to prepare it, and it'd be bad to waste, even if he felt like throwing up.
Truly, there was an endless set of behavior Richeh would engage in and only notice when pointed out as weird. Did she avoid looking at people in the eye? She stared at Riliphin just fine. Then, what about the other apprentices? Ah, it's true she doesn't remember their faces. Now for the teacher, the girl simply thinks it's easier to hear when her hands are busying themselves! Literally why would he care more about what it looks like the students are doing than what they actually are? Because adults are nonsensical. Adults are dumb and close-minded, and the only thing they want is to get you to obey.
Richeh made up cute ribbons from her bed. At the time, it looked wonky, since her hands felt weak and heavy.
Stay true to myself…
She flinched when the door opened. It revealed a tired form of Riliphin, head low and downward lips. Howsoever, the sight of unique magic caught attention that made the eyes sparkle and mouth twitch.
Richeh was looked at, but she wouldn't return the gesture. She pouted unwillingly, and didn't get to see how her brother got to his own bed in slow, unsteady steps.
Truth be told, I can't see Master as "good". Good people are Rili, who is gentle; mom and dad, who were nice, and a seller who remembered Richeh. They are good people, because they aren't bad. For once, a thing they have in common is that they call me Richeh, which sounds just right. On the other hand, Master will always elongate me and Rili to "Riliphin" and "Richeritte". It's not wrong per se, but it's so distant it's pretentious. That puts me in conflict, because to be with Master was a choice from Rili. Could he be bad, too?
The girl picked up her solid spell. This one was a tad more firm. With both hands, she folded it, stretched it, and rolled it up in her small fingers.
Is this regret I feel? Rili shouldn't be wrong…
"Do you like Master?"
A response took time. So much, in fact, that the crystal ribbon was looking fragile from being played with.
"Ah, sorry…?" Rili turned on his mattress to look at her, who was still concentrated in the spell.
"Do you like Master?" She repeated.
"I chose to study under him…"
"You don't like him!" She gasped as the ribbon stretched so far it broke.
"That's not it!" His own hands busied themselves on the hair.
"Then why wouldn't you say it?"
"Why do you ask, even?" The tone had a brave front put up.
"I'm thinking Master is bad."
Riliphin wouldn't dare open his mouth again. He shut it with teeth.
"There are too many stupid rules! When you don't obey, he yells and he's mean."
"That's… how adults are."
"I hate adults!"
Riliphin looked away, and the siblings were done seeing each other for the day. The rest of the night, the only sound heard from that room was occasional sobbing.
Things are easier when you're quiet: that's what Riliphin has learned long, long ago. After all, adults complain their children get them restless; they respond to smiles better than desperation, and their own cries hit much, much harder.
Riliphin can recall being four and learning to "suck it up". He remembers hiding a headache until it was unbearable to not worry — bother — his guardians, who did anyway. Riliphin always hated himself, and thought he was supposed to. After all, other children only graced him when the boy shut it and played as he was told. As an apprentice, he wondered if at the time he was getting bullied.
Richeritte was his youngster: the one to be cared for and protected from the world she doesn't yet know, but he does. Alas, what happened is she turned out way more courageous than her disgrace of a sibling. For that, Riliphin gathered so much more self hatred he feared to explode onto her.
Growing up, Richeritte asked more "why"s than Rili would have done in his lifetime. When something sounded unjust, she spoke up, questioned, and marked an angricheh point if the justification wasn't satisfactory by her juvenile standards. Riliphin thought his sister was endangering herself, that she wouldn't last long. Thus, he would make a selfish plead, for his junior to be the rebellion he couldn't achieve.
He managed to sleep by a miracle. Better late than never.
The next day, Richeh struggled in bringing herself to pay attention to each class. When break arrived, the sigh of relief she let out was long.
The girl worried that Master would keep eyes on her, considering yesterday. Yet, she was not one of those asked to stay in classroom for longer, although Richeh felt a deathly glare as she passed through the door.
Richeh was sat on the floor holding a notebook when a crestfallen Rili joined her field of view. She gave her side two pats, so her companion would sit.
"May I ask…" he didn't look up for a moment. "how many angricheh points I'm in?"
"Today? Zero." Her glaze was also unchanged.
Riliphin blinked dumbfounded, but soon made sense of things.
"What about yesterday?"
He felt regretful already noticing how Richeh's grip on her pen tightened.
"One thousand."
"Oh… But, how did I earn such redemption? I don't remember doing anything worth it today."
"I'm that nice." She cast a faint light.
Once again Riliphin couldn't bring himself to reply. He fixated on the magic that would take its time to dissipate.
"I won't change."
"Mhm."
"Mhm," she echoed.
Truly, I'm a coward.