Sylvia has been at Aylin’s house for several days now.
Aylin found her on the road. No explanation was given as to how she knew Sylvia would be there, and none was demanded.
They were at Aylin’s house before dawn. It’s an old-fashioned house, with many stories.
Aylin has provided her with a room. It’s a big room, with a master bath and a fireplace. Despite the amenities, it’s clear that it hasn’t been slept in for quite some time. There are cobwebs, and a tapestry covers a large crack in the wall.
Aylin left Sylvia much to her own devices the first day. Having told her that dinner would be served, the kindly but enigmatic woman virtually disappeared, leaving Sylvia to explore her new room.
Sylvia quickly found that the closet was not, in fact, empty- it was full of simple, cozy, clothes. She picked out a sweater and braided her hair.
As night fell, Aylin called her up to dinner. The top floor of Aylin’s house was a small kitchen/dining room, which was at the moment set for two.
At Aylin’s urging, Sylvia helped herself to the purple dish. “Plasma fruit salad,” Aylin explained. “Vegetarian.” Sylvia helped herself to a bowl. It smelled just like the purple fruit from the tree in Count Straud’s garden.
Aylin didn’t take any salad.
“Soft Shadow Avorligano,” Aylin elaborated when Sylvia eyed her glass questioningly. “Nectar. You wouldn’t like it.”
Sylvia sipped her drink cautiously. It had the same flavor as the salad. “Plasma Jane,” Aylin said. “Virgin Plasma Jane. You didn’t strike me as the alcohol type.” Sylvia felt a little grown-up: Aylin hadn’t commented on her age, merely on her tastes.
After dinner, Sylvia insisted on doing the dishes. “It’s the least I can do,” she explained.
As she drifted off to sleep with the warm light of the room’s candles washing over her, Sylvia felt at peace. Maybe, just maybe, she could be happy.