The Weight of Legacy

Something Malwine hadn’t quite appreciated was how downright beautiful the changing of the seasons in this life could be. Sure, this new month was bringing forth an insurmountable wall of fog that stopped travel in its entirety, but that didn’t change the fact that it most definitely looked cool.

While staff and family alike hunkered down, Malwine took advantage of the fact that no one had come to drag her indoors. She’d caught glimpses of the estate’s so-called wards on occasion, but she’d never quite appreciated them. The Snow’s effects had barely been visible from where she lounged.

The Fog was a different matter. Distant as it was, she could see what looked like clouds forming, far too close to the ground. To her past life’s sensitivities, it would have seemed unnatural, closer to cotton balls than real fog.

At some point, far beyond the paths she could recognize, the fog simply stopped, held at bay by something she could neither see nor feel.

Malwine stared at it until she got tired—she apparently hadn’t gotten as used to the seasons as she’d once thought she had. They were so awfully literal.

On to matters of greater relevance, she knew this was technically her uncle’s birthday, and awaited the chance to say something. Anselm didn’t wander outdoors, though.

Malwine huffed.

“What do you want now?” Kristoffer asked. His hands were in front of him, as if he planned to grab anything she asked for—that was how he had handled interactions so far, after all, as if simply handing the sippy to the toddler was the full extent of childcare. His expression was not that of someone who actually wanted to help, though.

Malwine eyed him, uncrossing her arms. “It’s uncle Anselm’s birthmonth. I wanted to say, congrats.”

She only barely stopped herself from saying she had ‘meant to offer congratulations’, instead shortening it as much as Grēdôcavan allowed. Malwine still caught herself sometimes, for the sake of some plausible deniability if nothing else. For all people clearly did not care about how she acted, she still reminded herself not to push.

“It is mine as well,” Kristoffer practically mimicked her huff, his expression of hurt looking a bit too genuine. “Do I get congrats?”

“Then why did you not tell me?” Malwine frowned. Frankly, it was really his problem for using that tone when talking to a child. Teenagers could be so rude, pfft! “No one tells me things!”

But seriously, my guy, if you’re feeling hurt about it you should probably tell Bernie. Or your literal dad.

“…Fair,” Kristoffer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, sorry, I’ve had a bad day. Everything is Thekla’s fault. I’ll see you later?”

It seemed he only now noticed he shouldn’t yell at his niece, and Malwine chose that moment to jump on the chance to get more info. “Can you tell me everyone’s birthmonths? So I can say congrats to everyone!”

Her uncle did no such thing, already on his way to the door

Kristian was a terrible role model, teaching his son to walk away from her like that. Once she had stronger legs, she’d start chasing after people. Just you wait.

She scribbled furiously on her family tree panel, perhaps more irked by the lack of a year than she should have.