Coffee Stained Pages. Volume 1. Лилла Сомн
unfortunate plant-giver jumped up a bit energetically and looked around the room matter-of-factly.
Unconsciously, she also began to hum softly. Interesting. She didn't make it anywhere out of the Forest for a long time. She doesn't sing in captivity.
But now freedom was close and seemed almost tangible, as if it could be reached at any moment… And it was not the first time. Amelia quickly shook off the storm cloud of depression that was creeping back into her soul.
Don't get distracted. What to take and what to leave?
The dictionary is definitely going in the bag first! The avid bookworm turned the dictionary respectfully in her hands, as if weighing it. It had once belonged to her mother. Back when, according to unconfirmed rumours, she was still a normal person and not a swamp ghoul who had replaced her. It is not clear where she got the copy, but you will not find a better one in the Kantine!
Similar literature found in the local Archives was almost completely useless. It is difficult to say why this was so, and it's really hard to say what was more there – mistakes or irrelevant topics.
But this rare, valuable copy will come in handy.
Come on, good old tattered fellow… it's not your fault that your ex is a grumpy fury. You are very useful and you will not bear collective responsibility.
Because no matter how much you learn a language, you will still fall into a stupor when you need to say something immediately. Mean words flee quickly from the battlefield.
And these ones are captured in the book. They have to serve and simply have no choice. And that's why they will always come to the rescue.
OK. Who's next?
Favourite shoes and clothes, of course. The first friends of all travellers. Comfortable, practical, even if they have holes in them and are stitched and glued over and over again wherever possible. They're in.
In our clothes bags. Which are also spacious and light, handy for any hike.
And an old, trusted, no less beloved blanket. It comes in handy anytime, anywhere. Even for sitting at rest stops.
This and that, we don't take much. I don't think we'll be staying long.
But I have the feeling we're missing something important.
Rest stops! And then… We need food… Food! The most important and enjoyable part of any event! This walk is no exception.
Rarely would a Kantinian disagree, and in at least one thing Ami agreed with her compatriots. An absolutely sincere love of food.
So it was absolutely necessary to think about what hearty dried food she could steal from the family pantry. And put it in her omillian food bags.
Food bags are critical. She hasn't learnt to wrap food and even drinks in big leaves like the graceful Selvas. But it is fiiine. That is not the only thing she will never be able to compare with the Selvas.
Ami took from the drawer the beautiful embroidered bags she had brought from the last Omill campaign. It seemed they still had the smell of small flatbreads and takeaway pies. But no. They could only contain the spirit of Omill's coffeehouses.
Hmm… It's such a heartwarming memory. Especially in these cold Lands.
What else? Water bags. Of course. Coffee-coffee-coffee… And our favourite shell cup, made from the shell of a local nut.
Did we leave our cup at work? Oh no. Let's not forget it tomorrow. We need to make a mark on our hand… Oh no, we don't. Luckily it's here. On a table, behind the usual clutter. Waiting for something. And it looks like it's getting ready too. Brilliant.
Come on, beauty… Let's go for a walk. Far away from here. Once again. I'm not leaving without you, you know that. Soon we will both be filled with exotic, delicious drinks. Quick dopamine and compensation for the bitterness of another fruitless movement to crawl out of our hole. Good, good.
What else?
Somewhere at the bottom of this mess of a table is our typical travel checklist. Somewhere in the chaos of her life. Too tired to look for it.
Ami is so organised. Internal chaos often turns into external mess, there is nothing you can do about it.
But… she sees a writing tissue, stick and and some juice sticking out of the habitual tabletop clusterflip!
Great. A cheerful company of writing instruments and materials is always welcome. Especially if your own memory isn't eager to keep you company.
Amelia quickly walked back to the table and pulled out several pieces from a stack of cut-up writing cloth. And of course what's on the top is immediately scattered on the floor.
Shhh. No noise, no noise.
Ami picked up the paper cutter that had gotten out of hand and playfully shook her finger at it. The fugitive's gaze, as she gathered her things, stopped on the scraps of writing cloth, already covered with drawings, half hidden under the table.
Pieces of a unique map of the Continent made by mother. Her own work, torn and trampled by her own hands…
How symbolic.
The eternal victim of her own curiosity didn't even want to recall the very episode, so she quickly suppressed the feelings of guilt and anger and shoved them into a travel bag along with the pieces of the map.
Maybe we can do something about that in the end. If Ivette's too weak to finish her own job.
Beyond the fertility-obsessed Kantine lie the lands of Normality. And there, with the proper sources of information, she could surely find the materials to restore this treasure.
To reunite these disparate pieces of the former mother's personality. Or maybe, joking aside, we'll be able to add something to it.
Not in a negative way. Maybe Ami the Misfortune will still fulfil her mother's wishes and justify her hopes. But not by becoming a decent plant breeder, but by becoming a decent researcher. Of course, she is a far cry from her mother, but considering how tightly the “advanced” Yvette is mired in her problems, she has long since ceased to be a worthy rival. And even the desire to compare herself to her has completely disappeared.
Given that we're going to be employees of the Omill Department of Truth, there must be a way to gain access to the Omill Temple Archives. Perhaps there's some sort of simplified access procedure. It's not as difficult to get access to as, say, the Central Prime Archives. In theory.
If… If she stays in Omill and is not sent back. If it is sent to Omill at all.
Here we are again, feeding our depression and feelings of rejection. Enough of that. It's not relevant. What's next?
Sleep. Sleep is next. Everything is ready. Ami doesn't have many things. She doesn't need much. Only the most comfortable. A big travel bag is ready and other things wait for her return.
And she always returns.
Ami clicked her tongue in annoyance, remembering the old "resentment" towards the beautiful and inaccessible cities that did not accept her the first, nor the second, nor the third time.
It is fiiine. She has to get used to rejection and ghosting, they have been her best and most trusted friends for as long as she can remember. It's time to accept and stop ignoring their unseen daily presence.
Mimicking, sarcastic remarks… silent ignoring or smirking… She's had enough of that in her whole dung life. At home, among other lowlifes, at work… Big gulps of it, in full abundance, everything you want from this set, Ami, everything is for you.
The Kantinian growled softly from the anger that had surged up and plopped down on the couch with a pile of unpacked things in her hands.
Wouldn't it be better to crawl somewhere and never come out again, never come in contact with anyone or anything? Yes. If only everything was that simple. Anyway, everything is pointless. Everything.
…But we're being unproductive again…
It's better not to think about it now. It's just a story. The ridiculous story of