A knight of Etro. A warrior of the gods. It seemed close enough to him, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, why was she here? He knew he must be dreaming, and he’d heard plenty of bedtime stories of divine figures visiting people in their dreams. Those people were always special, and usually became part of something great, like some kind of hero. Could that be true for him? But he was just a kid. What could he do?
“Why are you here, in my dreams?” he asked. “Am I special somehow?” His voice wavered a little, even as he tried to keep it even. Though the idea seemed sort of cool, he hoped there was some mistake. He was only six years old, and he didn’t want to die yet.
Or, what if… what if this had something to do with his mom. Maybe this knight, or whatever, was offering him a chance. If he could do what she asks, would she bring her back? Etro had been the goddess of death, wouldn’t that mean she had the power to reverse death, as well?
His questions lingered in her head. How could she answer them? She had been stuck in a crystal chamber for years. How many, she did not know exactly. The god told her to help him help her. Exactly how she was not sure. At this point she had no idea what to tell the little prince standing in front of her awestruck by her whole appearance. Perhaps making it up and putting pieces together as time went on would do the trick for now at least.
“Our dreams are connected. You are in mine thus I am in yours.” She explained hoping he could follow at least just a bit. “I believe you are special.” She responded remembering what the God had said about him. He had a tragic death experience that caused him to see a light. The light of Etro. A light she had only seen in Valhalla, he was special. “You can see it can’t you?"
Only now could she help him when his heart needed it the most to keep on a right path. To be a happy child, she had dealt with things like this before. She was older then, the god told her little but it was enough to make due in starting a conversations. Helping him would be the problem and she had to just sit and wait until the time was right.
His laundry bag felt like he was hauling a corpse. Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that he waited until the absolute last minute.
In his defense, Noctis had a good reason not to do his laundry besides just being a male college student in his twenties. He had grown up in a very rich family— servants, big house, everything he ever wanted, the whole nine yards. Most people would kill for his life, but he had hated it. He hated not being able to do things for himself or make his own choices. Everything was planned out for him, done for him, decided for him. It’s why he had chosen to go to college in the first place. Here, he could make his own choices, be independent, live his own life. Except, there was one problem. All his life, he’d had maids to clean up after him, so, of course, he’d never done laundry a day in his life. And, somehow, he hadn’t thought to ask before leaving to a university halfway across the country.
He hefted his bag onto the top of the row of washers and opened it up. The stench of some of his older clothes practically hit him in the face and made him cough. With a sigh, he pulled out about half of the bag’s contents, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand-full of quarters, setting them a couple feet from the pile. Okay… how did this thing work? Choosing one of the machines, he opened the lid. Well, that was easy. He then tossed the pile into the mouth of the washer, one fist-full of clothing after the other. Machine open, clothes inside. He was halfway there, or at least he thought. Now, how did he turn this thing on? And shouldn’t there be some kind of soap, or was that already in the machine? He closed the lid, leaned his arms against the edge of the washer, shifted his weight to one leg, and stared intently at the buttons and dials on the front. He had no idea which buttons to push and which settings to choose. The only thing he could figure out was where to put the coins.
Light as always her load was nothing but a white laundry basket. Well of course the women kept track of how much laundry she had make sure not to go to the last day where she had nothing at all.
Being at the school for the last two years the scholar had figured out her schedule including her days to do laundry and still have time to study. Doing such task came easy as it was one of many chores she had done around her house when she had to care for her younger sister. Life was easy to transfer over to from high school to college life. It was all the same minus taking care of her sister or dealing with bullies. She had done everything for herself and her younger sister since she was fifteen. This was just living life now rather then caring for someone she was doing everything for herself. The only probably with living alone for the young women was cooking for herself. She managed to burn the bottom of nearly every pot and pan she had the first time she tried till deciding to give up and just eat at the cafeteria every night. Luckily for her, she made a deal with the chief and vegetarian meals were easier for the cook.
Setting her basket down the roseate about to start separating her clothes took a quick glance at the man she had never seen in the dorm laundry room only to chuckle softly under her breath and talking over to him. An appendage extended and pointed to a dial. “That one starts it” Her eyes glanced at the pile of clothes in the machine and a brow rose turning back to the man. Obviously he was clueless about laundry, it was either that or he purposely wanted to change the colors of his clothes. With a soft sigh the women shook her head. “You have to separate your clothes unless you want a big blob of colored clothes and messed up whites you know?” She continued moving away from the machine just a bit to let him remove all the clothes from it. “You do not know much about laundry do you?” She asked one last time before becoming silent.
