The air in the cottage was really heavy you know it felt like it was suffocating us.. Then Veer let out this big sigh. It was like all the heavy air just got sucked out. She stomped her foot. That small sound was enough to break the weird trance we were all in.
"Right that is enough of that, we are not going to sit around feeling sad when Roxy's right here with us. I am making this a No Sadness zone."
Veer said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at the fireplace like it was the one making us all feel down.
She ran back to the kitchen counter. Came back with this small wooden box that I had not seen before. She sat down on the floor at my feet, which made me look at her instead of getting lost in my own thoughts.
Veer opened the box. Inside there were all these ribbons and fabric scraps. It was not what I expected.
"You are going to teach me how to knit " I said, feeling a smile on my face.
"Me too " White joined in.
Veer shouted, "These girls are having fun lets do it ladies."
The cottage was a sanctuary of warmth, the air thick with the scent of roasted herbs and the quiet, rhythmic clicking of wooden needles. The heavy shadow of the blood curse, which had loomed so large just an hour ago, had been pushed to the very edges of the room, replaced by the soft, golden glow of the hearth.
"No, no, no, You're holding it like a dagger, Roxy! It's knitting, not monster-slaying. Relax your shoulders. Let the yarn lead, don't force it." Veer chirped, hopping up from her chair to stand behind us. She gently corrected my grip on the needles.
I looked down at the bright, sunset-orange yarn… a stark, vibrant contrast to the somber tones I usually wore. I took a deep, steadying breath, consciously loosening the knots of tension in my neck. Beside me, White was struggling with her own row, her brow furrowed in a concentration that looked far more intense than any tactical briefing I'd ever seen her give.
"My loops are a mess,"
White groaned, though there was a soft, playful lilt to her voice. She looked over at me, and for the first time that night, the sharp, protective edge in her eyes had melted away, leaving behind a look of pure, unadulterated comfort.
"It's not a mess, it's rustic, " I countered with a grin.
I focused on the yarn. My left arm was gone, a permanent void, but my right hand had learned to compensate for everything else. I watched the thread, rhythmic and hypnotic. Slowly, the awkwardness faded. I found a cadence… a steady, deliberate motion where my fingers flicked the needle with practiced, singular precision. The yarn began to weave itself into a perfect, uniform row.
"Look at that! Roxy, you've got the tension perfect. You're a natural!" Veer gasped, leaning over my shoulder.
"I am?"
I asked, surprised. I realized that my training as an adventurer, the muscle memory, the patience for the long hunt, the ability to control my breathing, was translating into this simple, domestic craft. The needles blurred as I moved, a single hand dancing with such speed and fluidity that I eclipsed even Leonhard's instruction.
"She's already surpassed me. Look at that speed! She's knitting like she's forging a blade." Leonhard laughed, watching from the floor with a mug of tea in his hand.
I laughed, a genuine, bubbling sound that felt better in my throat than the tears ever had. I finished the row, the orange square growing steadily, neat and tight.
"I think I've got it,"
I said, a wave of pride washing over me. It was such a small thing, a square of yarn, but it was mine. It was something I had built, not something I had destroyed.
White leaned over and kissed my shoulder, her eyes bright.
"You're incredible, Roxy. Truly."
"It's easy,"
I teased, feeling the last remnants of my sorrow evaporate like morning mist. The "monster" inside me felt quiet, lulled to sleep by the simple, peaceful rhythm of friends who didn't care about my fangs or my scars.
I held up my finished work, a perfect, vibrant orange coaster. I wasn't a weapon tonight. I was just Roxy, a girl who had learned how to knit with one hand and found that, in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, there was still room for happiness. As I looked at the sunset-orange yarn, I realized that the colors didn't remind me of blood or fire anymore; they reminded me of home.
Later Veer decided that we had done knitting. She clapped her hands. Said in a enjoyed tone
"No more sitting around. If we are going to have a girls night ,we need to do it right."
She pulled out all these combs and ribbons and clips. Started doing our hair.
She started with me sitting me down on the floor between her knees. She worked through my hair parting it and braiding it into this beautiful French braid. It was so relaxing like a weight was lifting off my shoulders.
As she worked I felt my anxiety peel away. The pain of my missing arm, the hunger of the blood curse it all started to feel manageable. Veer leaned over. Kissed the top of my head securing the end of the braid with a bright yellow ribbon.
Then she did Whites hair gathering it into these braids that made her look soft and whimsical. White looked in the mirror and her eyes shimmered with happiness. She turned to me. Pulled me into a hug her head resting against mine.
"I do not think I have felt this light in years. Just being here with you it's enough."
I looked at us in the mirror, braided and ribboned sitting in the heart of this cozy home. The sorrow that had been weighing me down finally started to lift. I realized that I was not just surviving I was living.
I looked at Veer. Said, "Thank you for the ribbons for the braids for seeing me."
Veer did not say a word. She just smiled, a smile that told me everything I needed to know about Veer. The monster and the curse and the exhaustion were all still there. Tonight they did not matter. Tonight I was a girl, with a pretty braid sitting with my friends and that was the best thing that could have happened to me.