The scene was always beautiful. The fields of flowers ran for miles and the sky stretched even farther. Laughter rang like little bells through the land. Izzy twirled and her skirt as bright as the flowers match hair that was a swirl of pink perfectly. Even the tames beast Izzy chased looked like it fit perfectly with the scenery.

  Mesa turned and waved to the other perfect matches to the scenery. Niri and Manora each a bit older then Izzy but looking as though they were born the same petals to a flower. They broke apart running in a beautiful arch calling the tamed beast’s name. “Jira! Jiras! Over here.” It was a moment of pure bliss and simple joy.

  Father who all his daughters by Kalana looked like appeared Dista and Pina helping carry the supplies for their picnic. They walked with elegant steps from petite frames that looked like they could skirt across the wind. The same pink hair and eyes as blue as the sky that tied all of her father’s side together. The only ones who didn’t fall under a pink blanket were her and Kalana.

  Even though Kalana fit the scene with her pale blue wisps.

  Dista and Pina walked over fluidly grabbing her hands like they always did pulling her into the scene despite the fact she never quite fit it. Nothing about Mesa was petite or graceful, she’d never been thought to be able to dance across the breeze. She was tall and broad and looked as though she was the one to start a fight rather than finish it.

  Green by it’s self wouldn’t be such a contrast after all the grass was green but not the murky sinking green that called her to the swamps and eyes that were not bright and wide but were a shadowed brown like the dirt filled water. Still she’d twirl around with them in their bright swirl whenever she could give it to them.

  When Dista fell back into the flowers still laughing her hair fanned out to reveal a piercing in the cartilage of her left ear. A clear sign she was old enough and open to the consideration of a union. It was a sharp reminder how limited this time could be. It was Dista’s first year with the piercing but it was Pina’s fourth. And soon Manora would even have one.

  It seemed so unreal. The little ones that Mesa watched grow up were now old enough that they might be taken away at any day.

  Mesa didn’t notice her fingers go to her own ear that was bare despite being older than all of her siblings. No. Her and her siblings had very different paths in life.

  Truly the only things they had in common were shared memories, affections and a father. They’d been born knowing their family structure was solid and unwavering accept for one sister that came and went.

  Mesa though was born to Eldran Shorvetize a swamp Enchantress who had a taste for pretty but fleeting lovers. Who forged her own path, built bridges to burn them chose to commit to no one but fiercely loved her children. Mesa would never claim their was anything wrong with her mother’s way of life, choices but it created a fully different range of experience.

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  Her mother bowed to no one even if that meant she had to have weapons, at the ready. Her father was a loyal sword who would never bite his master’s hand. Her mother had vast selections of lovers that followed her despite her refusal to claim any of them as more then there. Her father loved only two women in his life and still loved both of them building his life with one and offering his attention to the other when ever she turned to him.

  Her mother damned other’s opinions and purposely made herself infamous. Her father only cared that they were happy.

  Mesa’s interactions with her mother’s-built family were often loud, rambunctious and a bit of a disturbance. There was always a fight somewhere and a glanced raised glass forgiveness. A value of confidence and comradery.

  Her father’s was a quite twinkle of laughter and sunshine. They sat around and shared gossip and stories. Someone always laughed so hard they cried. She always ended up with a pink head laid on her lap as they slept. A value of togetherness and genuine connection.

  It wasn’t the differences either that made things difficult. Her father and Kalana respected her mother often talked about her abilities like they were star struck. And her mother didn’t understand the bright, soft atmosphere but she respected the way her father’s side could be terrifying in their own right with a sweet and disarming smile on their faces.

  No. The problems came from power and loyalty.

  Her mother was powerful, self-made and outside of regulation and rule and her father’s King knew that but wanted to possess her mother.

  From the moment of her birth Mesa became a tool used to attempt to reign in her mother. Her mother responded by pulling farther away from the kingdom. Thus, pulling Mesa away from her father and sisters. There was a time where Mesa was only able to see her father’s side for little spurts like the wildflowers dropping down the hills on the very edge of her father’s land.

  Mesa to this day was still unable to be fully recognized as her father’s daughter though he’d begged his king to reconsider. It pained them all every time they ran into someone and had to introduce Mesa as a family friend staying with them for a bit. Her sisters. Her lovely sisters had been so confused by it and it made them feel like they were betraying her and Mesa had, had to smile and assure them it didn’t bother her despite the fact it chipped at her heart bit by bit.

  Mesa thought every time she felt that sharp blade looked at her father, who could have stopped fighting at all. Simply given her up and never seen her again. But he hadn’t. He’d fought with his King, the person he swore his loyalty to for her. He’d made sure that for every time she had to be introduced in a way that wasn’t true that he did something to solidify their connection like planting swamp roses all around.

  Like putting her siblings named on a wooden plaque along with her own evident in the house. Saying she was his daughter without having to cross the line into saying it. Showering her with love.

  Mesa though was now an adult in every right. It was now her in some ways her choice to keep what distance she did. Some of it was still regulations and some was respect for her mother and a resentment for a King who’d never bothered to know her family enough to find out his attempts were useless. He’d caused unnecessary pain.

  “Mesa.” Her father called brushing her hair behind her ear looking at her like he saw something beautiful. Then he looked out at his sisters with the same look. “Here are all my girls.” He breathed contented.