Lightning cries

Quiet house

Limping through the house, I make it up the creaky stairs and enter my designated bedroom, I ignore the other doors down the corridor, I don't want to think of the others that used to reside here with me. A cold wind blows through the window pushing the curtains back and forth, I watch them thoughtfully, I wish I could be as free as the wind. Trudging forward I close the window and turn around to the only room that is now occupied. A double bed sits on an angle opposite the door, the crumpled navy bedsheet stark against the white frame suggesting someone might still live here. I have hidden all of my most precious treasures under lock and key where no one will find them. After all, I am not supposed to exist, and if they found out, I would be hunted and slaughtered publicly. I pull off my leather armour with care, I was once granted these by someone I held dear to my heart and the thought of anything happening to them would possibly break me. Searching through my drawers, I find my comfy lounge clothes that exist of jogging pants and a vest, I walk into the en-suite bathroom and catch sight of myself in the mirror, my dyed, bright red hair in a tangled braid casing my face and complimenting my golden eyes, yes they are a strange colour but they were a gift, they were brown. In my family line, every time someone dies, someone inherits their gifts and abilities and seeing how I am the last of that line, unfortunately, I carry the burden of all of them. That's why I stay hidden. These eyes were that of my sister, well the colouring, it's not like I pulled them out of my sister's corpse. Shaking my head, I snap myself out of my thoughts, there is no point going down that road.

I quickly undress and step into the shower, the water peppers across my skin causing a sigh to escape, I scrub off all the blood splatter coating my skin and stand with my head under the stream and relax. Tomorrow is another day, I tell myself.

After stepping out of the shower and getting dressed a knock sounds at my bedroom door, if it wasn't for my hearing, I wouldn't have been able to hear Oren's tiny fist bang against it. "Regin, food is ready. Get downstairs and eat something," he shouts through the door. I smirk to myself, I honestly don't know what I would do without the annoying little twerp. I open the door quickly causing his wings to flutter rapidly, a scream stuck in his throat. I chuckle and walk towards the stairs with Oren flying behind me. "Do you have to be so rude?" he asks, zipping past me. The stairs groan as I run down them, the scent of food hitting my nostrils causing my stomach to rumble loudly. "You wouldn't have me any other way," I tell his back, he stops mid-flight and looks back at me over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Squinting I watch him fly as fast as he can into the kitchen. "If you do anything to my food, you will be pinned to the wall by your wings," I shout before I enter the kitchen. The high gloss countertops greet me, this was the only room I invested in and had any motivation to upgrade. I don't need to eat all the time, I can just live off the lightning, but with every single person wanting my race dead, I didn't think it was a good idea, that is the first place anyone looks, so I try to survive off of regular food, I'm not as strong as I would be, but beggars can't be choosers, and plus the Kitchen makes Oren happy.

"I had to improvise, and no I didn't mess with your food," he huff's and gestures to the mountain of food on the table. "Not like you don't deserve it," he whispers while I walk and take a seat at the head of the table and Oren takes a place at my right side. "I do appreciate you Oren, these last, how long has it been?" I ask and then gesture over my shoulder, "Centuries, anyway I've got to do the protocol thing and stay out of sight for a while. You don't mind spying for me for a while do you?" I ask, taking a bite out of a chicken leg, the salty skin heaven to my taste buds, causing a moan to escape. Oren helps himself to the tiniest amount of food you could imagine on a plate, nodding his head. "Of course I will, we're a team. I was planning on going to that little bar, I can get so much gossip from there, being tiny and all, nobody pays me any attention," he replies, clicking his fingers, candles ignite around the room, the glow warmer than my heart. "I think you just go there because of the pixie, but each to their own," I say into my mug of witches brew, spices coat my tongue, I exhale happily as the alcohol warms me from the inside.

After our meal, I thank Oren and he takes flight to gain as much information as he can, from the patrons, or should I say drunk creatures that gamble for anything of worth. I couldn't be any more thankful than I am to Oren, the only person I can depend on. He pledged his loyalty to me after I had saved him from being a goblins toothpick, I shiver at the thought, ugh, what a way to go. I saw his eyes widen as soon as the goblin had gone towards him, the big meaty hands trying to grab at him, without thought I grabbed my bow and arrow and shot him through the palm, outraged he charged at me but it was him that met his end on the tip of my sword. The little fairy hasn't left me since, which I'm very grateful I don't know how I would have lasted this long. I lie down in my oversized bed and stare at the ceiling, the house eerily quiet, now if I could just sleep.