She steps out of the bed and onto the hardwood floor, faltering as she tries to get used to the new form. The ground now feels closer than it did previously; all shelves look taller. Walking to the door, she reaches out for the handle, only for her hand to fall short; she steps closer and twists the handle.
Turning at the bottom of the stairs, she stops just outside of the dining area. “I am Morziwayn, and this body has been chosen to be my vessel for the rest of its natural life.” She energetically states to the woman eating at the table, watching as her face slowly goes pale as she turns to meet Morziwayn’s gaze.
She slowly stands and walks over to Morziwayn. She had heard warnings from the women in town when they heard of Euri’s birthday; she tried to keep it hidden; she tried to lie, but they still found out, somehow. “No, no, no... please no... this isn’t a joke you play on your mother, Euri; you should never play jokes like this. I thought you would know this.”
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t a joke.” Morziwayn responds calmly; she had been through this exact situation enough to know how to get this over with as quickly as possible; sometimes the gleeful introduction is enough if the parents dread the future of the daughter—this appeared not to be such a case.
The mother takes Morziwayn by the shoulders and begins jostling her back and forth violently, screaming at Morziwayn, begging for her to get out, to find another vessel—begging for her Euri back.
Morziwayn stands there in silence—she will stop soon enough; they always do.
After a minute the woman, growing tired, stops shaking Morziwayn and apologizes. She sits back down at the table, staring blankly at her bowl. “Is there anything I can do? please... anything. she was our only daughter... our only child... we tried for so long. Gods, why couldn’t you have been a boy like Ill?c wanted?”
Morziwayn has found that it is best simply to stay out of it when a family is grieving. Only speaking when spoken to after her introduction.
“I’ve dreaded this for so long... but I never thought it could happen to me. I—I can’t do anything.” She pauses, finally looking from the bowl to what was her daughter. “Can I?”
“No, I’m sorry.” She always feels bad, but the vessel is never her choice—it is always Mother’s [1]. Sometimes, she can feel the vessel dying and will write to the baron of each town, requesting them to find a girl born on the autumn equinox [2] and have their family briefed on what could happen to their daughter. On the very rare occasion, a girl will be willing to become her vessel, and the family will leave an offering to Mother, but this is few and far between. “I’m sorry, truly, but please take pride in the fact that Mother has chosen your daughter. It is a blessing.”
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“Maybe it is...” She mutters. Ill?c had never been the kindest to Euri; he had wanted a boy to help with the farm. He tried to hide his disappointment; he did well until something happened; he said the land was changing, but she did not understand what he meant. Harvests reaped less and less; he started drinking more and more—blaming her for not giving him a son and Euri for not being one. Maybe this is for the best. She wants to tell Morziwayn this, but she would not care, would she—she has not even asked for her name. A body is a body as far as she is concerned.
“Is there any clothing I can change into?” Morziwayn asks. The nightgown was not the proper attire to be arriving at H?rfende in, let alone traveling as her reign ends.
“Yes.” She stands and leads Morziwayn upstairs, back into her daughter’s room, and points to a wooden chest. “All her clothing will be in there.”
“Thank you.” Morziwayn begins carefully removing each garment and sets them on the bed. She decides on a pair of brown corduroy pants, a white blouse, a brown wool cloak, and black wool socks. She looks to the mother, who stands with a blank expression, unblinkingly scanning the room. Their eyes meet, and the woman turns away. Morziwayn changes her clothes.
The two return to the table, Morziwayn now joining the mother.
“You can eat that.” The mother says to Morziwayn, expecting her to snub it away—not fit for the witch of Autumn.
The food in the bowl set out for Euri has begun to go cold, but Morziwayn does not care; her body is hungry, and it would be wrong to let the food go to waste.
“Those pants were her favorite; she saved up for so long to buy them. I think she would be happy to know that you picked them.”
“Would you rather keep them? I can pick something else if you would like.” Morziwayn responds between spoonfuls.
“No, please keep them; they should be getting used.” Ill?c will want to bury or burn all of Euri's belongings anyway.
“Can I ask where we are?” Morziwayn wishes to know how far she is from her home.
“East of Nyrh?lt... Brachb?sc.” The mother buries her head in her hands.
Morziwayn knows the area; her house isn’t far—maybe a day’s walk. “Is Nyrh?lt the closest town?”
“Yes.”
“Did Euri have a lover?” She hates having to ask this question; it's somehow always harder telling a lover than it is the parents.
“No.”
“Alright.” Morziwayn pauses, looking at the women. “I will come visit—it’s only right.”
“I—I don’t know if I want you to... just wait for Ill?c and then be on your way.” The mother pushes herself up from the table with shaking hands. “I will find him.” All she wants is for this to end.
She returns with the father in tow, and the two sit down across from Morziwayn. The mother explains what had happened; the father nods silently, occasionally looking to Morziwayn; she cannot tell if this look is of sadness that Euri is no longer there or of disdain for the visage that looks back.
“I need a moment.” The father stands and walks out the front door. He returns in less than a minute, woodsman’s axe in hand.
Morziwayn watches as the man approaches with a decided intent in his step. “Oh.”
Footnotes
[1] Myrerah
[2] The 7th of the 10th Maiden, K?spera
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