The Reason We're Here

I wrap my slender fingers, cold from sweat, around the warm mug of coffee in front of me in anxious anticipation. The reason we're all here? Everyone came here for a reason?

Mabel takes a deep breath in, swishes her braid away from her shoulder to the back of her neck, and straightens up in her chair. Her demeanor has utterly shifted away from a kind and caring older sister into the authority of a strong and determined reckoning force.

"I grew up as a blacksmith's daughter, his only child actually. It wasn't a tragic story to begin with. My mother loved me, my village was a safe place to grow up in. I had lots of friends, a few boyfriends, and my family made sure I was always fed and warm. I even had a storybook that I learned to read with." A distant smile floated on her face as she recalled her childhood. "But despite the opportunities I could have had as a loving housewife to my choice of any of the very adequate men in town, or even as a medic given my ability to read, I spent every waking moment I could in the forge with my father sweating and studying the way that metals could be bent, shaped, reconstructed to become useful... or to become powerful."

Mabel pressed the coffee mug to her lips, eyes cast down into the bottom of the cup as she spoke. 

"Metalworking is a funny thing, Noa. You can craft things that are helpful like horseshoes or nails, or even a garden fence. You can make beautiful jewelry or ornate buckles for saddles that would cost a year's wages if you had to purchase it yourself." Her lips are red from the heat of the drink. "But the fire doesn't know the difference between silver and steel. That perception is the work of the blacksmith. And as I studied day after day, I felt that my father didn't devote enough time to steelworking. Steel is more difficult to craft than iron or silver, but people pay more for it. Do you know why?"

Her gaze sharply turns up towards me, her once warm amber eyes shifted to the narrow focus of a snake. I shake my head no, silently. I'm not sure I could answer aloud even if I did know. She knows how to be scary when she needs to be...

"Because steel is always used for killing things. It doesn't matter if your steel turns into the actual swords used to commit the act or if it turns into the chainmail that protects those who would wield the weapons. They're instruments of violence." She scoffs. "Not that I would have known that at the time. All I wanted to do was to prove that I could do a better job than my father at our family's craft. He taught me everything he knew, and then I went into the larger town a few week's travel from where I grew up to learn how to become even more talented working steel. When I left I took a copy of my family's lucky clover stamp so that I could always mark my work."

For the first time she cracks a little bit of a smile, but it doesn't reach her still-cold eyes. "For a while, I had everything I wanted. I was one of the most skilled apprentices, and I quickly graduated to my own forge. Over time, I got more and more orders and I was able to eat like a prince every night. It was hard work, but I had a generous home and work that I loved. Work that I was proud of.... until the bulk order. An important general asked me to make 100 swords and 100 spears as quickly as I could. There was a rebellion in the east, and they needed to equip their soldiers with new arms. I did it, and did it well. And for a while, that was all I'd heard of it. My work continued to be great, my life continued peacefully. I even got engaged. But when my fiancé and I went home to share the happy news of our union with my family... they... weren't there anymore. The town that I grew up in was burned to the ground, as were most villages in the path of the eastern-facing army. The same army I'd just supplied with hundreds of weapons. Scattered in the streets near my childhood home were pitchforks, axes, tatters of simple clothing, and... just a few steel swords imprinted with my lucky clover."

Mabel scoffed. "At least my family was able to kill a few of those bastards before they went down. My fiancé was more upset about there not being a dowry than about what I was suffering through, if you can believe it. My ambition killed my family by proxy. It was too much to bear. And when I realized that there was nothing I could do to undo the pain, I just... drifted away from myself into a dark corner of reality. After I don't know how long... well, I was here, being forced to recover and to heal, just like everyone else who has ever lived in this world."

Mabel leans far back in her chair and twirls her ponytail around in her fingers before flipping it back over her shoulder again. "Gods, it must have been a hundred or so years since then, but the pain never dulls enough to make it not hurt anymore." She softens her gaze again, once more transforming into the gentle caretaker from moments ago, before refilling both of our cups with a long and steady pour. 

"I'm so sorry Mabel" I squeak out. "I can't imagine what that must have felt like."

Mabel smiles a bittersweet smile and turns her face to hide behind the rising steam. "Oh, I think everyone here can imagine a little bit. We've all lost something or another. Our little world is a place for people who have lost what they held dear." She shakes her head a little bit, as if to clear the ghosts of her past from her present thoughts. "Not that I'm going to pry. You can share in your own time. Or not at all if you wouldn't like. I'm sorry if you felt pressured to talk about it last night."

"It's okay. I'll be okay. I'm... really okay." And for a moment I believe myself. "Hey Mabel, how did we get here after all? I also felt like I was drifting away from my body before I woke up."

Mabel chuckles gently. "If I knew the secrets to life, I'd be a priest, not a chicken farmer. "

"Fair enough." Although I'm internally dying to know more, I know not to push her further. At least that's one aspect of the mystery solved. I'm here because I actually did hit rock bottom. Not sure that mine can quite compare to... that... though...

Comparing and contrasting leads me down a rabbit hole in my brain that makes my thoughts feel itchy inside of my skull. I really, really need to get out of here. "Hey Mabel, let's open that window after all and get some light in here." I need to think. If we're all "here for a reason" that has to mean that someone is controlling the gateway. And if I can get to that person, maybe I can convince them to let me back out.

Mabel elegantly moves over to the window to draw the shades, and as they burst open they reveal the beautiful shining sun, a field of pink and white spotted cows, and a startled blond puppy of a man.

"Luca, gods almighty, what are you doing?!" Mabel rips shut the red fabric with a surprised whump. 

Muffled and sounding only slightly apologetic, he retorts "I was just trying to hear if the new girl was awake yet. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I swear it. Let me in?"

She peeks out, eyes narrowed. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing, I told you! I swear!"

Opening both the curtains and the door with a level of silently pointed sass perfected over the years, she insists that all shoes come off at the entryway. His are muddy, caked in what appears to be several days in a row of unwashed mud and unnamed grime. Probably a good executive call on her part.

Luca is talking at lightspeed. "So you're up already?! That was fast! Most people don't wake up for a few days, or even a couple of weeks around here!" His enthusiasm feels even more blistering than the ever-rising hollow sun. 

"Give her a break! She may be up, but she probably shouldn't be at 'em yet. Did you even introduce yourself?" Mabel playfully rolls up a towel and thwacks him in the ribs with it. "Stop being rude! You know better!"

He ruffles the back of his head and jokingly holds his ribs where the towel made contact, falling dramatically to the floor. "Ow! Ouch! Oh gods! I'm dying! I'm bleeding out! Someone help me! Bleeeehhh!" He's sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth like a cartoon character now, splayed out on the floor in the spitting image of a crime scene chalk outline.

I finally let out my first smile of the day, small as it is, watching the two of them poke fun at one another. I don't remember the last time I had fun. Or saw someone else have fun like this even. 

"Our little world is a place for people who have lost what they held dear." Mabel's words echo around in my mind as the two chase each other around the kitchen table with their makeshift weapons. I wonder what a cheerful guy like that lost?

I summon the keyboard, and with a few more keystrokes and clicks I'm able to refill the kettle, reheat it, and ensure there are enough mugs for everyone. If I'm stuck here for now, I may as well make it cozy.