mmmmhm yep. inspired by recent events in personal life, 'fly' by celine dion, and of course maplestory, courtesy wizet. approval has been gained to use some characters; all others are purely fictitious, copyright Lisande (or associated pseudonyms), and ought to bear no resemblance to either real persons or characters ingame.

NB: read with patience. please comment! liked, got annoyed with, got bored with, hated... ty to all.

Little Wing
by Lisande

Grated carrots, she thought as she scattered them on the bread. Mom had always used to put grated carrots in their lunches, hadn't she? Before the attack, before they saw her pale body propped up, bloodied and strangely twisted, against the dairy wall.

Carrots, dashed with mild, sweet vinegar. Both carrots and vinegar were cheap, when food was scarce, which it was. And you didn't have to go into the streets to get them, they grew theirs inside. The streets were dangerous these days.

He walked in wearing his claw, with his schoolbag packed.

Last night she had made meat patties, all by herself. Mom had been making them too, the day she had been attacked. That day, little Edmund had wept bitterly - wept, and never again - and begun to train with a ferocity she had never seen before. She selected an extra thick patty for him, to put on top of the carrots.

Their eyes met, a wealth of conversation. "I wish you hadn't joined that guild," she said suddenly.

Mom had also taught her how to make bread; in fact, these days she was in the habit of making several, in case she cried over one. And then it would be soggy, and, besides, what was the use of crying? Mom would never come back, and all she could do was go on. She cut out another slice.

"At least," said the boy, "I am doing something." His eyes hardened, and he looked away.

When she had been at school it had been lunchboxes; somehow, Mom had silently procured for her a bright red lunchbox, complete with compartments and handles. In Edmund's time, not so; paper bags were the order of the day. He would probably be mortified to bring his lunch in anything else.

In a sudden rage he made a slashing motion at the living room door. Two throwing-stars quivered, embedded in the poster.

She wrapped the sandwich in clingfilm and dropped it into a small brown paper bag.

"Hey, Edmund," she said, holding it out to him, "don't forget, have fun at school, okay."