Saw this and immediately thought of my characters Ishtal and Arancha. They are sisters who have been trained their entire lives to become the guardians of their isolated village and stand between it and the outside world. Arancha is the older of the two and very much an Eldest Daughter, very responsible and committed to being the Good One. Ishtal would like to be well-behaved, too, but is unfortunately hampered by involuntary kleptomania that may or may not be the result of a curse. Despite their differences, they are close and loving until Ishtal finds herself exiled from the village, creating a rift between them.
From today's chapter:
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Arancha asked, not for the first time. Ishtal had lost count of how many times they’d been over this.
“It’ll be fine,” she reiterated, mostly patiently. “All I’ll be doing is walking to Seigarren Herria, handing out the mail, picking ours up from Guardian Kemen, and walking back. I won’t even be gone the whole day. And I’ve only done this, what, dozens of times before?” The mail runs between villages were one of the first guardian duties Father had delegated to them, once they were old enough to cover the distances involved. To begin with, they’d always gone together, but now that they were grown up, they made the trips on their own and split the list of destinations between them.
“Yes, but—” Arancha glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “This isn’t one of the ones you usually do. They won’t be…prepared. For your, well, you know.”
Ishtal glared. “You don’t have to sound like that. I’m not a flood or a windstorm. I don’t need safety precautions.”
Arancha didn’t say anything, just twitched the end of her tail. And all right, it was just possible that the reason there hadn’t been an incident of Ishtal walking off with anything valuable or important in years was that their neighbors, and the people in other villages she visited often, had learned to keep her away from shiny odds and ends—but she didn’t know that. Maybe she’d just grown out of the proclivity. Arancha had no reason to give her that suspicious look.
“I’m a grown woman,” she continued. “I think I can exercise some self-control and keep my fingers from wandering for an hour or two. It probably won’t even be a problem; they don’t know me as well, so they’ll be less likely to invite me to linger or come inside. I’ll be in and out before any trouble could even start.”
“Ishtal,” Arancha cut in. “I don’t think you understand. It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s Berezi.”
“Oh.” Ishtal’s defensiveness dropped slightly. “Right. Her. I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Why do you think I insisted on putting Seigarren Herria on my list?” Arancha said dryly. “You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll go after all.”
“What? No way, you’re not feeling well, you need to rest—”
“I meant I’ll go when I’m feeling better. The mail can wait a day or two, it’s fine. If Father asks, I’ll explain and he’ll understand.”
Ishtal sighed. “That’s not fair to everybody else, though. We only swap mail with the Seigarrens every other week. They’ve been waiting.” She squared her shoulders. “Look, I’ll just go. In and out, no lingering, it won’t be a problem. You’ll see.”
Arancha looked like she wanted to argue, but then sneezed violently. “All right, all right, you win. I don’t know why I bothered trying.”
“You’re always trying,” Ishtal teased. “You can’t help it, it’s in your nature.”
“Very funny, pailazo. You’d better get going if you’re going.”
Ishtal smirked, then scooped up the mail sack and slung it across her back. “I won’t be long. Don’t start supper without me.”
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