Sometimes I wonder how different my world would be if I was living like any other being, residing in the bustling towns or cities, maintaining multiple friendships and acquaintances, busying myself with some work or the other. I suppose that is as far as the image of "normal" goes in my head. Would it be any better?
This is the usual train of thought that flows through my head after another night of sleep riddled with nightmares that I wish I couldn't recall with too much clarity.
But as I get myself up and start the day, heading out for a short walk while the water warms up in the bath, I realize the quietness of my current life suits me. It's calm, familiar and comforting. Aspects of my life that I'm too attached to now to make any changes that would alter them.
My wonderings end as I head back and dress myself in the all too familiar clothes after a slow bath. As always it takes me a while to not take notice of the dress material shifting against my back with every movement I make but the sensation fades in the background as I continue on with the day, making myself some food before heading to the back gardens for some time.
The sun is out but barely, being overshadowed by a group of clouds every now and then. The day isn't too hot and the occasional shade provides a calming balm to whatever warmth does seep into my skin and the earth I'm clearing and picking at.
"A bit too early to be getting your hands dirty, don't you think?"
I startle at the voice, knees digging into the soil before I get my balance back. I stay crouched but turn my head towards the source of the familiar figure heading towards me.
"Not too early really," I say, waving my dirt stained hands, "I reckon your day just starts a bit too late is all."
"Yes, well, I stay up till late because of important matters. You, on the other hand, eat, play with your little forest friends and sleep."
The tall man is perched on one of the thick logs situated a few steps outside of the little garden area. He takes off the food with a huff revealing dark hair that's ruffled in every which way. Most probably his own doing.
I roll my eyes before standing up and heading to the little water tank placed outside.
"You're just bitter you can't laze around anymore now that you've been promoted from being an apprentice," I retort, making sure my hands are cleaned of any dirt before I flick away the water and rub the rest on the rag tucked in the pocket of my dress.
"Now, now," the man tuts, "I didn't come here to face harsh truths."
"Pray tell, why did you come here again?"
"I see you're not a fan of pleasantries still?"
I level a flat stare at him and he sighs.
"I just wished to check up on you."
"Asher, it hasn't been that long since your last visit."
Asher sighs again.
I appreciated his worry over my well-being. Asher was the only human I had been in contact with over the past few years. Well, it did help he was part-fae. He was also quite skilled in all things magic but he was particularly keen in healing magic which is how we met each other in the first place.
His company was partly what helped me gather myself, piece by broken piece, after the incident all those years ago. I wasn't fully mended yet, not anywhere nearly enough, but I wouldn't tell him the extent of it.
"You worry about me," I state, repeating what he is probably thinking.
"I do."
"But I'm doing quite alright."
His silence tells me he isn't fully convinced. Fair enough. I suppose he knows me too well to believe it so easily.
"Do you still have nightmares frequently?" he asks, patting the spot beside him.
I shake my head, hoping the sunlight isn't bright enough to put the tired lines on my face on display for him.
"Not that often, no," I tell him. It isn't exactly a lie. I had been doing quite alright until the past few days.
The nightmares never really went away but I had experienced them less and less frequently over the years. Most of the credit for that went to the sleeping potion Asher timely prepared for me. The potion always made my head foggy when I woke up but at least I'd be well-rested for a while. It helped me stay sane. Fogginess was a small price to pay.
"I'll believe you for now," Asher says, narrowing his dark eyes at me, "But promise me you will let me know if anything troubles you?"
I nod, smiling at his nagging. It was amusing to see someone much younger than me fussing over me like some mother hen.
He nods back, reassured before ruffling through the small bag he slings around with him.
I look at the pale green glass jar he pulls out, questioning.
"Since you're so keen on your little plants, I brought you something," he says, handing the small jar to me.
It's surprisingly heavy for something so small. And warm. It gives off a slight warmth as it sits in the palm of my hand.
"Am I supposed to drink it or am I supposed to feed it to the plants?"
Asher's face splits into a boyish smile at my words and I grin.
"Drink it only if you're in the mood for sprouting some branches from your body," he teases.
I hum as if in deep thought, "I did feel a bit green a few days ago. This might have come in handy then."
The young man laughs, shaking his head in mirth. He pulls out a few more vials from the bag. These are more familiar to me.
"In case you were running out," he states, handing them to me.
"Thank you," I reply softly.
Sleeping potions weren't the most difficult to make but it was his thoughtfulness that warmed my heart. Asher never pushed me about things, never going beyond the occasional nagging regardless of how often he saw through my lies about my well-being.
"No thanks needed," he replies just as softly.
He stands and gathers his bag, adjusting the hood over his head once again.
"I suppose I leave you to your day then!"
"Come around for dinner next time," I tell him, "I'll treat you to a hearty meal."
He grins, the sun warming his pale cheeks a rosy color.
"I'll hold you to that. Although, that might not be any time soon."
I nod in understanding. Asher was no longer just an apprentice. He was working as a healer in a bigger institution now. He was busier than ever which made me appreciate his visits more, guilty even more.
As he turns to leave, the familiar jump of panic thrums in my chest and I grab his sleeve before he departs. He turns to me, questioning.
"I--Could you check on the wards again?" I ask after a moment of hesitation.
I feel foolish for requesting the same thing every time he departs after a visit. Perhaps this is the true indication for how little I've recovered since the incident. The same sense of panic and paranoia hitting me as though it hasn't been years since then.
However, Asher nods gently, understandingly. He always does.
"Of course," he replies, prying my hand off of his sleeve and giving a light squeeze before he goes through the familiar process of checking up on the ward his mother had placed.
He goes in and out of my view, going around the house and surrounding area wherever the wards are spread out. Once satisfied, he smiles at me with a nod and turns to leave.
I watch him disappear out of my sight, the thick blanket of greenery enveloping his figure sooner than I realized.
The sounds around me always sound a bit quieter every time Asher leaves, things seem muted, muffled.
Everything except the sudden, heightened awareness of the material of my dress brushing against the skin on my back. I swallow hard, trying my best to ignore it as I hurry to get back to the garden to keep my head busy.