Prompt 116~Rolling Stone Crushes Toes~ Buried Cosmos (HM) ~ tiaordona

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Title: Buried Cosmos
Author: tiaordona
Prompt: Rolling Stone Crushes Toes
Rating: T for sexual themes in later chapters

 

Celia really is a pretty girl.

 

As her delicate hands flit to each saucer, I can’t stop myself from nurturing this thought. Smooth, sun-kissed skin; soft, brown doe eyes; rich, russet locks that curl sensually at her thin shoulders; a narrow waistline, blessed with feminine curves; that sweet smile that graces her gentle features…Even with such a simple task like making tea for an unsuspected guest, she looks elegant and radiates contentment, a glow that makes her look angelic.

 

 

How could Marlin ever choose me over her?

 

 

Carefully, Celia pours the tea from the scrap-iron kettle, filling the cabin with the scent of warm, damp earth. A frail curl of steam drifts wistfully to the ceiling, into a misty cloud. She spoons the sugar cubes into each drink, one at a time. Then she adds the milk, turning the near black into a light shade of caramel. She slides the saucer toward me, and we each wordlessly take a drink, mine a long, calming drag and hers in small, ladylike sips.

 

 

The first flavor on my tongue is a bitter, herbal taste of the tea leaves, but the milk washes it away, combining with the sugar to polish off a creamy finish. The sweetness seems to kiss it all away. If only things could work out like that in real life. If only.

 

 

Celia’s smooth brow is creased as she eyes me, watches me put down the tea cup with a small chink of the china. “I hope you like it,” she tells me coyly. “I always add a lot of sugar to my tea.” She offers a kind, little smile, but I can tell she wants everything to be perfect.

 

 

“No, it’s fine. Really,’ I reassure her, grinning sheepishly. Her brow smoothes as the smile stretches, mottling dimples into the fair cheeks. “I like my tea sweet.” I take another drink to emphasize the statement, the heat burning my mouth.

 

 

The silence is building, the tension mounting. I can’t help but shift a little in the mismatched cabin chair. Normally, Celia is a very restful person to be around. Her silence is content, never awkward. But today there is something buried in her eyes, something frighteningly different.

 

 

The quiet is stifling, and I open my mouth to let the words flow, bring some oxygen between the two of us. But Celia beats me to it, and the single sentence that slips from her trembling lips sends shivers down my spine.

 

 

“You really worried me last night, Jill.” I tightly wind my arms around my torso, pressing my elbows into my sides. “I-I thought you were really ill, or hurt…” Her lips quiver; this must be hard for her too, and I somewhat sympathize. “What happened last night?”

 

 

What happened? It was the question I had been dreading since I had come here. What should I say? What can I say, when she is at fault almost as much as him? I’m speechless. I swallow thickly and say nothing, staring into the murky brown depths of the tea in front of me.

 

 

The next question makes my blood turn cold. “Did something happen with Marlin?”

 

 

My lungs convulse. All of the air inside of me escapes in a harsh blow from their violent lurch. Before I can stop myself, the hysteria overtakes me. I leap from my chair, using my hand to swipe the teacup off of the table. It shatters daintily as my fists ball up at my sides. “You would know!” I shout, the red on my face deepening a thousand shades from rage.

 

 

Oh, how desperately I want to gaze upon Celia’s face, to see the horror, the sickening revelation of her sin. But I can’t bring myself to look at the wounds in clear view, the unbridled pain that she so carefully masks. My heart can’t muster up the strength. So, for the second time in two days, I flee.

 

 

 

The world rushes past in a vibrant whirlwind of bright summer colors. I see the endless ocean of gold corn, bright red tomatoes, and succulent green, unripe plants.

 

 

“See that, Jill? That’s the kind of satisfaction a good harvest brings.”

 

 

Tears gather at the corner of my eyes, accumulate, and threaten to spill over if my emotions even dare to fly. But I simply speed up my brisk job and furiously mop them away with my wrist. I am sickened, repulsed by myself. Haven’t I cried enough about Marlin yet? Marlin isn’t worth it. Marlin is the kind of trash my friends and I would have spat at on the streets. Marlin is not a committed husband…he never was, never will be.

 

 

This thought did no beat the hard fact that I thought he had loved me and had indulged in his feelings, only to find that the only love I had ever known was fake love, love that cannot be properly returned.

 

 

 

Snap!

 

 

The sickening crunch from my foot halts my thoughts. The horrible, burning pain up my toe sends them back into frenzy. I fall to the ground, rendered helpless, not daring to even try to peel my shoe and sock off my offending foot. I can already picture what lurks underneath: an angry, purple bruise; distorted skin tearing open, wide and bloody; a bent toe bone, unnatural and broken, stained by the rapid flow of blood…

 

 

But I really do see a small boulder beside my foot, overtop of it. And it is then that I realize that I am on the hill of the Harvest Goddesses’ Spring, and my foot is crushed into a million pieces.

 

 

“Damn those rocks!” a harsh, familiar voice barks, and my mouth quickly dries. It’s Marlin. It’s Marlin. It’s Marlin.

 

 

His gruff hand slides up and down my shoulder, rubbing it in gentle, calming circles. My cheeks burn as I try to hide my head, shamefully covering up my blush. I will never, never let Marlin ever hold anything against me to his advantage.

 

 

“What’s going on?” calls another familiar voice. It’s his sister. Vesta.

 

 

“Damn rolling stones. Here, help me get her up.” His rich voice draws itself to the crook of my ear. “Are you all right?”

 

 

I gasp in pain as the pair hoists me to my feet, but I nod.

 

 

Inwardly, I’m cursing the fact that a rolling stone really does crush toes.