Where I Belong
Where I Belong
Flax looks out on the open waters as he props himself comfortably on the ship’s ledge. The sea breeze blowing through his mane with the smell of saltwater and fishes. He takes a deep breath in, soaking in the sea’s wonderful atmosphere. It’s been far too long since he’s been back home to the city of Reim.
A letter is held in one of his paws, he opens it once again, giving the letter another read.
To my dear brother,
May this letter find you well. How long has it been since we’ve last met? I hope your journey through Kyvalore keeps your curiosity rolling. Our dearest daughter has taken her first step in magic! She wishes she could show just how far she’s learnt for you. Perhaps one day, you would come visit us again?
I know what you’re thinking… It is not often that I would send you a letter such as this out of the blue… But it’s urgent that I let you know as soon as I can. My husband has been trying to sell off Father’s trinket shop in Reim. I tried to stop him, but he would not listen. The shards would be put into our little pearl’s schooling funds.
But I can’t bear to sell Father’s shop. Not with the memories… the items that have made their home on his shelves and displays. I’ve told him that you would take it over from him, but he insists on having you come over yourself so he could have proof that it’s true.
Please… the shop meant so much to Papa… Would you please come home and take it back from him?
I await your arrival as always, dear brother.
He furrowed his brows and let out a sigh. His sister’s husband has always been a downright stubborn bummer who thinks his words outweigh others despite the fact that he never looked past the present situation. If his Father’s shop is to be sold off, he knows how devastated his sister would be.
LAND HO!
The ship’s captain calls out. In just a few more moments, the ship will land on the harbours of Reim and Flax would be met with familiar scenery once again.
---
The ship docks itself nicely onto one of the free piers. Flax left the boat and was greeted to the hustle and bustle of traders and ship-workers alike moving crates of goods from carts to ship’s storage and vice versa. He manoeuvres his way around the crowd, slinking away just as he always did when he was little and finds himself in the path to the grand markets of Reim.
The road was paraded with shophouses and caravans, fellow voxis and avillis alike shouting out to passers-by to come look at their wares. Food vendors are out in the open, some grilling food over flaming charcoal, others crushing ice to make sweet, ice-cold delicacies to cool off visitors from the heat of the afternoon sun.
Passing through the vendors, Flax passes by a familiar shop. Assortments of patterned rugs and soft carpets laid out on flat surfaces and hung by the corners on the window edge. Windchimes hung just by the door, twinkling in the light as the winds flow through the metal pipes, making sweet soft music. He pushes the door open, entering the dimly lit shop.
The shop itself was quaint, filled with antiques from places far beyond, and a memory that lingers in the back of Flax’s mind. Knick knacks and toys adorn the register’s counter, and old scratch marks on the sides of the corner. Flax runs his paws on the scratch marks. Memories of younger days, where he would play pretend as pirates and sirens with his sister, marking the register as their cave hide-out.
A voxibell half his size exits from the door behind the counter. His purple-patched coat is covered with a dark purple-sash decorated in golden threads. “Welcome, welcome, my apologies but the store is-“ The voxi looks up and his eyes meet with Flax. “Oh, it’s you.”
Flax stands proud and gives the voxi a stare down. “Marco. It’s been a while.”
The purple voxi sits on the floor pillow and wears his glasses. “Aye, it really has been.” He props his paws over the counter, “I’m assuming you’re here cuz Linum sent ya?”
Flax nods. “Yea… and I heard you were gonna sell pop’s place.”
Marco sighs and scratches his chin. “Well, ya see… Reim ain’t the best place for our family right now. I’d like it if we could move back to where my family are, since they've offered to help support us.”
“And your best idea for the shop is to sell it?”
“It ain’t the best, but what else can I do? Your sister don’t want to leave the shop to just about anybody but ain’t nobody takin’ care of the home, so what am I to do?”
Marco brushes past the blue voxibell. “‘Sides, it ain’t like yer gonna be takin over the shop what with yer history and all that.”
Flax grits his teeth. Sure, his relationship with his father had gone sour ever since his transition and it never ended the way he wanted it to be, but the shop is his home. It housed memories of not just the antique items, but also of his past. His childhood.
No matter how the story ended, he did not want to give away the one place Flax had rooted himself in. Where he had learnt the ways of the water, the camaraderie he had made with fellow vendors alike. To sell the shop would mean giving away what he once was and had.
Flax turns to Marco, grabbing the voxi before he could leave the shop. The purple voxibell turns, an eyebrow raised at Flax. He steadies his breath, his voice caught in his throat.
“I…” he calms himself down, trying to not let his emotions get the best of him. Breathe in. Breathe out. Flax looks up to meet Marco’s eyes.“I’ll take the shop. I’ll stay here.”