Viola feels a pull.

Magnetic in the way it is making her head turn slowly towards someone’s soft
humming tune. It’s a slight tug to her head, a small turn to her neck, a gentle and soft feeling in her
chest. Viola thinks ‘this is what it feels when fate is pulling the strings of her life’s story.’ There stood a
woman, possibly in her early 20s watering a patch of golden flowers in a pristine white dress. How she
managed to keep the dress clean when surrounded by all that dirt, Viola has no clue. But something
about that voice, about the way she hums, and the way she carries herself was so…familiar.

Without realizing, Viola was slowly making her way closer towards the stranger and when she steps
on dried leaves and they crinkle beneath her feet, the girl turns and clear eyes landed on her own.
Very suddenly, Viola has stopped in her tracks, unable to move from the shock coursing through her
body. Her mind feels faint and the world is swirling around her. For a second, Viola thinks she might
be drunk on something but then remembers she hadn’t had a sip in days. So this is definitely not
some image created by Viola’s fatigued mind? Is this real? Is Irene, her best friend who she’d thought
had died years ago, really standing right in front of her? It can’t be her, right? That’d be impossible!

The girl smiles sheepishly while her hand lifts up to do a little wave and all negative thoughts were
thrown out the window, replaced frantically by relief and unadulterated joy. Viola sees that smile
through the thick bushes and the low hanging tree branches and her heart screams, it’s you, it’s you,
oh there you are, it’s you!

Without wasting any more time than necessary, Viola pushes through the thorny leaves and
sprints.She runs and runs as fast as she can, hurdling through every obstacle and even when her foot
gets caught on a stranded vine and she falls face first onto the ground, she doesn’t dare stop. She’s
quickly scrambling up and continuing to chase after that string of fate. The oh so familiar girl only
stands there, shell shocked, not even attempting to flee when this freak show of a human covered in
mud and grass is running after her like some creepy predator and Viola wonders if she can recognize
her or if she too feels the rough pull of fate preventing her from running away.

The distance between her and Viola didn’t feel as far as it does right now but it feels like hours, days,
weeks, years have passed by until finally, finally she leaps and tackles her down.

There are words coming out of Viola’s mouth, but they’re incoherent and mostly just babbles of “I
found you, oh you’re alive, you’re here, I found you, oh gods.” etc etc, and the girl wrapped around
her arms are stiff and unmoving, her own hands floating in the air like she doesn’t know what to do
with them.

Gods it has been far too long since Viola had hugged anyone so maybe she’s bone crushing the other
girl a bit but the least she could do was give her a pat on the back or something to make her stop.
When the reciprocated hug never comes, Viola pulls back but keeps her in arms length. Her long lost
friend is looking down, shaking like a blowing leaf. Her hands are balled up by her sides and when
Viola goes to grab them to calm her down, the girl leaps backwards as if to escape Viola’s grasp.

Viola looks on to her friend and it isn’t until now that she is no longer in a daze, no longer so
overcome with happiness and relief that she notices how different she looks. Sure, it’s been 6 years or
so, but surely Viola would’ve remembered if her best friend had vines curling around her like snakes,
roses and tulips stuck grotesquely to her arms and even on her face. Viola questions in her head
whether this person really is who she thought she was but even with the flowers disturbing it, the
face shape is the same, the eyes are still the same , heck even the way she had felt wrapped around
her arms was the same despite it being nearly 10 years.

This was Irene. No doubt about it.

“Irene?”

As soon as the name leaves her mouth, Irene reaches to her head and to her hairpin, which she yanks
out of her once neatly tied hair, letting it fall gracefully over her back. With only a whisper, the item
glows and the point of the pin extends into a sharp blade while the other side morphs and into a
beautiful flower adorned hilt.

A spiritual weapon. Beautiful and elegant and matches Irene’s eyes in the way they glint under the
shining sun. Viola can’t help but to let her mouth gape open at the sight. Part of it was because Viola
has never seen a weapon so beautiful before, but mainly because it wasn’t a Sabre. Irene had trained
with a Sabre along with Viola when they were both younger so seeing the girl holding a long-sword
instead was…a little upsetting. But even if the blade in her hand is different, it seems that the training
she had didn’t come off at all.

Her stance looks more prepared to hold a heavier weapon with both of her hands holding tightly onto
the hilt and her feet spread further apart from each other. Definitely not the correct way to hold a
long-sword but put a Sabre into those hands and she’d look like the most skilled fighter in the land.

Viola shakes her head and focuses on the odd situation at hand. Said long-sword is currently being
pointed directly towards Viola, not so threateningly close to her chest, but close enough for her to be
wary of it.

“Irene, what-”

“How do you know my name?” Irene cuts her off and her voice sends shivers down Viola’s spine. It’s
the same voice she’d use whenever a stranger would trespass into village lands. That same off-putting
tone in her voice was now used onto Viola and she can’t help but be slightly offended.

“What do you mean, how?