====================================================================================================================================*Username: Ivyscribblez
*Viscet Name: Melody
*Viscet Gender: Female
*Viscet's Biological Gender: Female
*Prompt: [1489 words]
“Put it on, Mel,” Father shoved the white cloth at me, his face frustrated and angry.
“I don’t want to!” I crossed my arms and glared at the apron.
“Mel. This is your career! You’re a grown viscet now, you need to learn that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do! Besides, you’ve never had a problem with it before!” My father’s voice broke a little as he gave me a pleading look. “You know your mother would be upset if you refused your career,” He softened his voice, grasping my shoulder lightly. “Do it for her. Be strong.”
I frowned. With a sigh, I took the apron from my father. “Fine. But only for Mom,” I gave him a pointed glance as I shoved the apron on.
“Thank you, Mel.” Father relaxed a bit, slouching his squared shoulders. “I’d better get the supplies ready, then. Could you open up shop for me?”
I sighed, taking a longing look out the window before heading into the main part of the pastry shop. Methodically, I began to turn the wicker chairs rightside up off of the small tables. I’d done this every day for a long while without ever realizing I was doing anything wrong- and technically, back then, I wasn’t. I was perfectly happy with following in the pawsteps of the many generations of viscets before me. It wasn’t until my mother died that I really realized I didn’t have to be the same.
And yet here I was, flipping the sign on the front of the shop’s cabin-like door so that it read “open” instead of “closed”. I tried not to think about everything I’d rather be doing- visit my grandmother, write my novel, or venture out to the hidden waterfall miles away from town. The three things I’d wanted to do all my life, but never had a chance because of running the pastry shop.
I took up my usual spot behind the counter and waited for customers to arrive. I heard my father come in behind me and stock the pastries for the day in the display case, humming as he went along. I fornwed slightly. It was reasons like this that made me hesitant to divert from my legacy- my father was struggling after the loss of my mother, and leaving him too would hurt him greatly. Yet there was so much more to life than this small town- and it as practically begging me to come and see it.
I exhaled a bit and rested my chin on my paw, staring at the small wooden door and the viscets past it. The clock read 10:34, so most everyone would probably be wanting a quick snack before dashing off to work. Slowly, customers started to pour in, glancing hungrily at the display case and padding over to the counter. I stood ready to serve them all, grabbing pastries in a specific rhythm. My father came in occasionally to restock the display case. This was life as it always was.
My father and I were just about to close up shop when the door opened and in walked a hooded, shady-looking Viscet whose eyes swept around our pastry shop almost as if they were scanning it. I glanced at my father to see what he thought of this ‘cet, and he looks almost as uncomfortable as I did. Nonetheless, I prepared to help the customer with whatever they needed.
“Hello,” I called out in a cheery voice. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”
The viscet lifted their hood, revealing a fairly normal and almost anti-climatic face. She looked straight at me with a sort of grin, humor sparkling in her eyes. “I don’t know. Is there anything you would like help with?”
I blinked. For one reason or another, I felt compelled to answer her honestly. “Well, yes.” I replied, quickly looking over at where my father was standing, but he had left. To make more pastries for tommorow, most likely. I continued on.
“I have a way with knowing things.” The viscet grinned. “I’ve got what you need. I know you want out of this town. You want something big, bold, different.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How…? You better not be stalking me,” I tilted my head, raising in an eyebrow.
She laughed. “No, no dear. I’m… special, some people would say.” To prove it, she held up her paw, and a burst of blue fire appeared in the air above it, casting a soft glow on the objects surrounding it.
I gasped. “You’re a mage,” I breathed. “Wow.”
The viscet nodded. “One of the few.” She held her head a bit higher. “My name’s Delilah, and I’m happy to help with whatever you need.”
“Why?” I asked. It seemed odd that this mage would just offer to help me- there was a lot more they could be doing, and besides, why me?
“That’s my job,” Delilah replied. “I find others in need and help them to the best of my abilities. Your distress was big enough to calll my attention, so I came.”
I took a deep breath, considering my choices. With a mage by my side, I could almost do anything. But what did I want to do? I knew I had to get out of this pastry shop, for one. Although I loved my father dearly, I couldn’t stand an eternity baking small little sweets every day. I wanted adventure- something big and out of the ordinary.
“I want to travel.” I blurted. “Maybe adventure, you know, exploring. I want to see what no one else has seen before. I’ll write, too. My story, and about my travels.” I kept talking, despite not really knowing where the words were coming from.
Delilah smiled. “Sounds great to me. What’s holding you back?”
I inhaled and began to explain the situation to the mage- how working in the shop was a family expectation, how my mother had died recently and left me to run the shop, and how I was afraid to leave for the sake of my father. I tried not to get too emotional as I explained my situation to Delilah. Saying it out loud to someone was a lot different than relaying it in my head to myself. I wondered how Delilah felt about this whole thing- and I wondered how my father would feel if I decided to go travel.
Delilah nodded slowly. “I see.” She considered my story for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. “Well, there’s not much here that magic can do for you. Sounds like what you need to do is have a nice, heart-to-heart conversation with your father.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll do it tomorrow before we open.” I glanced out the window- it was getting dark. “We’d better close. I’m going to start getting everything ready,” I said. I stopped and looked back at Delilah. “Thank you,” I added. She nodded with a knowing smile before putting her hood back on and exiting the shop.
“Father?” I called out.
My father came out from the kitchen, his paws covered in flour. “Yes, Mel?” He replied, giving me a small smile.
Why did he have to make things so hard?
I took a deep breath. “I love you,” I began.
“I love you too, sweetie,” he responded, looking confused.
“I know, its just…” I closed my eyes and choked back a sob. “You know I hate working in the shop. Its not because of you- I’m just not like you. I can’t live this simple life. I need to go places. I’m restless.”
My father looked pained, but I went on.
“It’s hard tell you, but I can’t live like this. I don’t want to disrespect Mom and I certainly don’t want to leave you. It’s for my own health and future- Mom always said to be yourself, right? I’m taking her advice. I’m going to go travel.” I swallowed, holding back tears, and waited for my father’s reaction.
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh, Mel…” I briefly watched a tear trickle down his cheeks. “You remind me so much of your mother.” He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug, which I greatly accepted.
“I’ll come and visit, all the time.” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“You’d better,” he chuckled.
I couldn’t hold it back anymore. LIke a little girl, I sobbed into my father’s arms.
Standing on the cliff side, watching the sun set over the mountain tops, I knew I hadn’t made a mistake.
The first few days of my first journey had been great- I felt free, unteathered. I’d started with an easy, frequently explored canyon as my first adventure. Standing up here overlooking the canyon, I felt no regret.
I felt free, for the first time in my life.
Free to be me.
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