VOLUME #1 | Excerpt from "Whiteflower Duet"
WRITTEN BY R.A. GOLI, AS SEEN IN PLANET SCUMM ISSUE #1 AND VOLUME #1
Amber Whiteflower skirted along the edge of the forest, the dappled sunlight casting picturesque patterns on the ground as she headed towards her grandmother’s house. Her tune was a cheerful melody that peaked and fell as her temperament dictated. Today it was lilting and high, indicative of the good mood she was in. She was excited to be visiting Grandma Lottie, who had been sick of late. So Amber had baked her some faeberry muffins and made quaffberry jam. The small woven basket dangled from her slender arm as she skipped along, the bird and insect symphony providing a soundtrack to her journey.
When she arrived at her grandmother’s house she let herself in. The old woman was dozing on the couch, so Amber busied herself by making them some tea. Lottie awoke shortly after and shuffled into the kitchen. After giving her granddaughter a kiss on the cheek, she sat at the dining table and helped herself to a muffin.
“How are you feeling today, Grandma?” Amber asked as she placed a plate in front of her, catching a few muffin crumbs in the process. She didn’t need to ask. She could already sense that her grandmother’s tune had faded, its composition muddled. “I’m fine dear, better than yesterday,” Lottie said.
Amber hadn’t seen her grandmother the day before, so she couldn’t know if that was the truth. She finished making the tea and sat down. They spent the afternoon sipping tea, nibbling on muffins and smiling at each other as their tunes intertwined, transferring thoughts and feelings between them. They communicated by sharing melodic information over the course of a few hours before Lottie became tired and went to rest. Amber said goodbye with the promise to return and visit the next day.
The walk home through the forest was less enjoyable than her earlier trip. She was worried about her grandmother and knew her time might be coming to an end. It saddened her greatly and her theme became somber as she trudged home.
She wasn’t paying attention when the tendrils of someone else’s tune probed hers. It was sharp and heavy. The beat startled her and she stopped and looked around. Several meters ahead was a young man, leaning against a tree, arms crossed and one leg bent at the knee. She glared at him with her hands on her hips.
“That was incredibly rude.” She took a few aggressive steps toward him. He smiled at her, a crooked smile that made her stomach flutter.
“I’m sorry,” he said, uncrossing his arms, still grinning. He didn’t look sorry.
“Next time ask!” She turned to go.
“You looked so intense, I just wanted to know what you were thinking about. I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
She paused and turned back to face him, realizing she hadn’t put a block around that subject. She wasn’t expecting someone to go probing into her tune without permission. “You still should have asked.”
“Very well, may I?” he said, offering that devilish smile again.
