[WARNING: Suicidal thoughts]
The two of them woke as the rays of the morning sun shone through the window above the bed. Like Lyonis had said, Cordelia did feel a bit better that morning. The numbness that had consumed her the previous night faded into a dull ache. It lingered but was far more tolerable. She made a mental note to check in with the family later that day.
After a quick breakfast, Cordelia and Lyonis headed downstairs. He excused himself, saying he needed to stop by the inn that morning but promised he would return later that day. She couldn't help but feel like Lyonis was being a bit distant, and she felt that might have been her fault. How disgraceful for her to fall apart like that in front of a man she barely knew. Despite their brief relationship, Cordelia couldn't help but feel safe and comfortable in his presence. His kind and nonjudgmental disposition made it easier for her to drop her guard. She felt herself growing more and more attached the longer they stayed together. Regardless of how comfortable they were around one another, they were still technically strangers. And Lyonis wasn't going to stick around Ville Marais forever. She couldn't rely so much on him for emotional support. Cordelia had allowed herself to give in to the desire and intimacy she felt for him. She couldn't allow herself to become more attached than that. It would only make his inevitable departure that much harder.
The official start of the Ephinanie Festival was the following day, but the city was already lively with celebration. Music cascaded down the narrow streets, and the sound of laughter filled the air. Cordelia pulled a chair out front of the apothecary and sat there with her baskets filled with the charms she and Gabrielle had prepared with love the following weeks. Before the sun reached its pinnacle in the sky, she had already emptied three large baskets. Cordelia sat and prepared more small dried bouquets while her neighbors and familiar strangers would stop by and collect their charms with eagerness and appreciation before moving on.
Cordelia bound a handful of half-dried lavender, sage, and wildflowers together tightly with red twine. She had prepared so many that it was second nature, and she hardly paid attention to what she was doing. Thoughts in her mind wandered as she contemplated the previous night. What a whirlwind of emotions it had been - feeling blissful in Lyonis's arms, the anxiety of helping with the struggling woman in labor, and then succumbing to dreadfully dark sadness. The flood of conflicting emotions had left her feeling numb and hollow. But as she looked out into the happy faces of those passing on the street and cheerfully engaged with those who stopped to collect their charms - she felt calm, and a sense of peace returned to her.
"Excuse me, Madame..." Cordelia was pulled from her thoughts as she heard a familiar man's voice call out to her calmly. She looked into the face of the man who had requested her help the previous night. He looked tired; large bags under his eyes were illuminated in the afternoon sun. A mixture of relief and sorrow painted his expression.
"Elliot. Is everything ok?" Cordelia stood up. Worry filled her gut as she feared the worst. Where are the baby and mother, ok? Elliot waved her to sit back down. He nodded his head.
"Yes, Madame. Thanks to you, my wife, Dolores, and our daughter are recovering well." A small smile tugged at Elliot's lips. "I wanted to thank you again for coming to our aid. Without your help, I would have likely lost my whole family last night." He stepped towards her and held out a small pouch of coins. They clicked together melodically as he placed it in Cordelia's hands. "We do not have much, but please take this as our thanks."
"I cannot accept this, Elliot. I failed to save your other daughter. It would not feel right for me to take this from you. Use it to care for your wife and baby girl." Cordelia pushed the bag back into his hands and smiled softly at him. Tears were falling down Elliot's sunburnt cheeks. "Please, take a charm for your family," Cordelia placed the small dried bundle of herbs she had just finished into his hand, "Hang it above your front door and then burn it in your fireplace at the end of the festival. It's not much, but it will bless your home with good fortune. And please, do not hesitate to come to me again if you need any help."
"Th-thank you, Madame." Elliot clutched the small bag and the tiny dried charm in his hands. He bowed deeply to her before turning to briskly walk back down the street.
Cordelia sighed deeply, closing her eyes to feel the sun on her face. She felt relieved, but anxiety still clung to her. She felt her heart race deep in her chest. Gathering the empty baskets that surrounded her and stacking them neatly into one another, she turned back inside the apothecary. Cordelia decided she needed to take a stroll to help clear her mind and organize her thoughts. It was an excellent opportunity to deliver some of the gifts she had made for her closest friends. The small wooden boxes under the counter were all neatly tied closed with simple velvet ribbon. She grabbed two from the stack - one box for Delphine and her family and a box for Lady Ambrose. She grabbed two charms and a small candle and placed everything in her large wicker basket. Adjusting her large black hat atop her head, she closed up shop and made her way out into the street.
...
Cordelia dropped off her gift to Delphine, who had chastised her for giving away her goods for free. She made the same fiesty remarks every year to Cordelia but ultimately took the gifts from her with thanks. Cordelia had scurried away before Delphine could load her arms full of food and other gifts, and she made her way down the street towards a quieter area of the Central Quarter further from the docks.
She arrived at the above-ground crypts where locals were buried. The tall brick buildings were carefully built. Rows of bricked-up archways ran the length of the buildings, stacked on one another. Other smaller crypts were built in careful rows throughout the cemetery, each belonging to a specific family. It looked like some of the families had already arrived to clean the buildings of their deceased loved ones, clear away the weeds and ferns, scrub the dirty walls and sweep away dirt. They were decorated with strands of flowers and wreaths, paper lanterns, and candles. Aside the modest families resting places were larger more ornate tombs. Their stucco shells were immaculately white and affixed atop giant marble slabs. Cordelia couldn't help but smile at the pompousness - even in death, people were set on displaying their wealth shamelessly.
She passed rows and rows, zig-zagging her way through the maze of endless vaults built for the dead before arriving in front of the Lavinge's family tomb. It was a modestly sized building. The bright red brick was expertly designed to last the grueling hurricane seasons and the trials of time. The Lavigne's were an old family in Ville Marais. Each generation had their remains placed in the altar to rest beside loved ones for the rest of time. Cordelia noticed that the crypt had been recently cleaned and tended to. Old, burnt-out candles, wilting bouquets of flowers, and a basket of shriveled citrus fruit were left as offerings to the family.
Cordelia tied the bouquet of wilted flowers together into a charm with red twine. She relit the old candles and cleared away the old fruit before placing her own offerings in front of the crypt. She lit the tip of the three bundles of dried flowers, letting the flame engulf the tip fully before blowing it out. The smoldering edges continued to burn, letting the smoke drift up towards the sky. She placed the bundle on a small terra cotta plate at the base of the crypt, lighting the candle she brought and, with a wave of her hand, cleared away the dust, weeds, and moss that had started growing on the building, repairing it to look brand new.
Cordelia knelt down in front and placed her forehead on the red brick. She silently shared the happenings of the last year with Babette and Edouard, telling them about Gabrielle and Damas, the apothecary, and even her recent relationship with Lyonis. She wished she could hear their voices once again and thanked them for their kindness, guidance, and friendship. Cordelia sat there a moment, letting the peace and quiet of the cemetery fill her with contemplation and appreciation for life. She rested her hand against the pristine red brick facade and let her mana reach out to swirl around with the still energy of the crypt before standing and walking away.
Cordelia always felt there was an alluring peacefulness to death. The quiet stillness felt welcoming to her. There had been a time when she had tried to join those resting in the past- but her efforts had been in vain. Try as she might, she could not end her own life. It was as if something had ahold of her very soul and refused to let go. During any fruitless attempt she had made, she would end up blacking out, only to awaken bright and alive in a pool of her own spilled blood.
This had been far before she had arrived in Ville Marais, and it was Babette and Edouard who had pulled her from those dangerous actions and thoughts. She had been in a living hell, unable to escape it though she wished for it more than anything. They had shown her what it meant to truly live, what love and life were supposed to feel like. Thier gentle actions filled her with warmth and compassion when she had never known it. The couple had been her saving grace. Without them, Cordelia would have never stopped until she had reached her goal - no matter the cost.
The thought of her past self sent shivers down Cordelia's spine. She had been considered the most powerful and feared witch in the whole empire, but even despite that, Cordelia hated her life. She hated herself, and every second of her existence had been consumed by darkness. What a blessing Ville Marais was to her. Cordelia couldn't imagine her life in any other way, and she would hold onto this happiness with fierce determination.
...
Cordelia stopped by Lady Ambrose's home after her visit to the cemetery. The old woman's small home was on the opposite end of the Central Quarter and butted up along one of the main canals. The vegetation was more condensed in this part of the city, buildings were more spaced out, and the wildness of the wetlands oozed into the rural atmosphere.
Cordelia walked down a dirt path towards Lady Ambrose's shack. The small building was modest, built on study stilts to protect it from rising flood waters. The roof was covered in a thick blanket of moss, and ferns grew unapologetically from the sides of the building. She ignored the large "Do Not Disturb" sign that was nailed to a tree as she approached the home.
Cordelia walked up the wooden ramp that lead to the front door and covered porch. She went to knock on the door, but before her knuckles touched the wood, a gravelly voice called out to her from inside.
"Get your scrawny ass inside, Cordelia." Lady Ambrose's voice sounded annoyed, but Cordelia opened the door. "Can't you read, witch? Or did you choose to ignore my sign?"
"Apologies, Lady Ambrose. I simply wanted to drop off your gift for the festival." Cordelia stepped into the small, one-room home. The old blind woman scoffed at her.
Her home was moderately organized despite the sheer amount of stuff Lady Ambrose had crammed inside. Bones, sticks, animal pelts and moss hung from the ceiling in unnervingly tidy rows, and there were animal pelts and rugs covering every inch of the wooden floor that creaked with each step Cordelia took. A low bed was tucked into a corner next to a fireplace. Paintings and tapestries decorated the walls, and they were covered in a thin layer of dust. The fireplace had a large cauldron placed in the hearth; it bubbled and steamed as flames licked the sides of the cast iron.
Lady Ambrose was sitting at a round table in the middle of the room. Her large ragged dress and apron, hung like dead curtains over her body, a tattered red shawl draped over her bony thin shoulders. Skin and bones; Cordelia noticed how frail Lady Ambrose had become the last few years. She looked akin to a walking corpse; her dark wrinkled skin, thinning grey hair, rotten teeth, and blank frosty eyes made Cordelia wonder how she had managed to last so long. The rough outer shell matched the harshness of the woman's personality.
The old woman had a large leather mat spread across the wooden table top. Small stones, bones, feathers, and other shriveled-up organs were placed on it. She would pick up one of many trinkets and swirl it in her palm before tossing it on the mat in front of her. An empty chair sat across from her, and she motioned Cordelia to sit.
"Sit." She barked the order at Cordelia, who did as ordered. Cordelia placed the small wooden box in front of her as she sat down. "That the normal stuff?" Lady Ambrose spoke again, motioning to the box with her wrinkled chin.
"Yes, Lady Ambrose. Same as always." Every year during the festival, Cordelia would always bring the old woman a box of tea, a small bottle of hard whiskey, some medicinal salves, and some fresh bones and crystals from the market.
"Well then, what are you waiting for? Pour us a cup, would you? We have much to discuss..."