Blood pools at the tip of Wendy’s fingers, she had nicked it while sewing and the sharp pain makes her let out a hiss. Although the red fabric of the hat she was working on could probably hide the stain of her blood, it would be best if none of it gets on the expensive hat, lest anyone notices and makes her redo it. 

She sighs as she moves to grab a tissue to wipe her bloodied finger - no use crying over spilled milk, or blood. Someone raps their fingers against her door, grabbing her attention.

“Miss Wendy,” the shopkeeper’s cheerful face greets her when she looks up, “I’ve closed up the shop. You should leave with us,” her eyes are kind, encouraging her to socialize with others - but also not too overbearing, to show that she has a choice and that she won't force her.

Wendy appreciates the offer, she really does, but she can’t leave work while there’s still an unfinished piece sitting on her work desk.

Before she can respond, the older woman lets out a small gasp, “Oh! Your fingers, they’re bleeding! Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, it’s only a small cut. I’ll just finish this. You guys go have some fun,” she offers a small smile, hoping to ease the shopkeeper’s worries. 

“If you’re sure. We’ll be leaving, then.”

The small shop’s staff hustles and bustles. The girls wave goodbye one by one, until only a small group of close friends are left. By now, Wendy’s fingers are clean, a small band aid wraps around her left index finger, and she’s back to sewing small flowers to the large brimmed hat. 

“Look!” one of the girls cried out, “it’s Seulgi’s castle!”

“Look how close it is”

“I wonder if she is in town.”

Wendy’s gaze also turns to the object of attention and she catches a glimpse of it, the thin mechanical legs scurrying away as the castle disappears into the dense fog of the Wasteland. She can imagine the smell of rust and oil, and the annoying sounds of metal clanking against each other. She loses interest when patrolling soldiers on aircrafts replaces the view of the magical castle.

“Remember Solar from the Moo village?” Mina, who was quiet amongst the chattering, suddenly spoke up, “They say Seulgi tore her heart out.”

“That’s scary…”

“You don’t need to worry,” another girl snickers, “she only goes after pretty girls.”

The group breaks into laughter as the girl hangs her head in shame. Wendy wanted to speak up, to defend her, but she wasn’t close to any of them, and she’s not sure if the girl would even appreciate being defended by someone who looks as Wendy does. So she doesn't, opting to stay quiet as the store become silent once everyone else has left.

The small girl lets out a big sigh, carrying on with her sewing. The hat was designed by her father, shortly before he passed. She still remembers his words as he proudly presented her his “best work yet.” The maroon fabric feels soft in her rough fingers, and the petals she sew on it are bright and pretty, the opposite of its maker. His best work? She ponders, it was his most intricate design, and it was beautiful indeed, but something else he said still gnaws at her.

“I designed the hat for you, my dear,” his warm voice rings in her ear, “a gem like you should only wear the most beautiful hats.”

Her? A gem? Perhaps he was already sick at the time and was mistaking her for his other daughter. Her sister, Lettie, has always been the more beautiful one. She was the one receiving gifts from admirers, the one who was always praised by older folks for her charm and wit. That’s the reason why she is the one wearing the beautiful hats, while Wendy is the one making them.

She sighs for the third time today, maybe she was more tired than she thought.

Deciding that a break is long overdue, the brunette finishes up her work and grabs her smaller, less pretty hat. The hat is nice, she decides, it fits her, and the blue daisies sewn onto the brim are cute. She still lets herself have nice things sometimes. Perhaps if she pulls it over her head enough, the hat will cover the ugly features of her face.

Sighing again - this is the last time she does so, she promises to herself - she leaves the workshop.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Wendy lets her mind wonder when she walks through the streets.

She thinks about the present. Right now, she’s going to visit Cesari's, a bakery Lettie works at. They sell delicious treats, her favourite are the chocolate cookies, Lettie’s specialty. Maybe her sister was just that good at baking, or maybe she alters the recipe to just how Wendy likes it.

She hops on a fully packed tram.

She thinks about the past. What her father has said to her - did he mean what he said? Perhaps he would be disappointed to find out the hats never touches Wendy’s head, or maybe he wouldn’t care at all. 

She squeezes through crowds of people cheering for the parading army.

She thinks about the future, not that it will be any different from what she does now. She’ll make hats, maybe some man will want her to be his wife, and they’ll grow old together, she will retire and maybe her kids will take care of her.

She fights back the urge to sigh as she rounds a corner into a small alley. 

“Hey little mouse,” she jumps as a tall soldier blocks her way, his large frame nearly double her size, “lost your way?”

“Oh, no…I’m fine,” her voice shakes, she’s heard about soldiers like him - tough, arrogant soldiers who abuse their positions to prey on young girls like her.

“Then, how about a cup of tea?” he persists, and Wendy feels panic bubbling inside of her as another soldier - a smaller, equally as intimidating man - comes into her view, “care to join me?”

“No, thank you. I’m busy,” she prays her hat will hide the fear in her eyes, she doesn't need them knowing that they have any effect on her.

The older looking soldier grunts, “She sure is a cute little mouse.”

“Say, how old are you? You live around here?”

“Leave me alone!” Wendy raises her voice, hoping that the men will give up if she shows enough resistance.

“See, it’s that moustache of yours,” the younger soldier chuckles, ignoring the brunette, “it scares all the girls.”

“So? She’s even cuter when she’s scared.”

Wendy resists the urge to cry. There’s two of them and there’s one of her, she can’t run away or fight. Is she supposed to just stand here and take this disrespect?

When she feels hot tears of frustration forming in her eyes, a warm, husky voice cuts through the tension.

“There you are, sweetheart. Sorry, I’m late,” the owner of the voice put her hands on Wendy’s shoulder, her blood red hair slightly touching her face, and Wendy feels her cheeks heat up from their close proximity, “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“Hey! We’re a little busy here” the soldier’s grating voice in stark contrast with her saviour’s honeyed tone.

“Are you really?,” the woman raises an eyebrow, “It looked to me like you two were going to take a little walk.”

Before any more words can be uttered, the mysterious redhead flicks her fingers, and like they are puppets, the soldiers march away from the pair.

“Wha- My legs…they’re moving by themselves!”

“D-damn wizard...!”

Wendy is in awe, looking back at the sputtering men struggle to get back their mobility. 

The stranger’s voice brings her back, “Sorry you had to deal with that,” Wendy feels herself melting at her hero’s hushed voice, “I’ll make sure no one will talk to you like that again.”

“...Thank you,” she mutters when she realised she almost forgot to thank her in her trance.

“No need,” she smiles, eyes sparkling, and Wendy thinks that her eyes are beautiful - deep and captivating, “Where to? I’ll be your this evening.”

“Uhm...It’s alright, I’m just going to the bakery.”

“I insist,” something makes her not want to refuse, maybe it’s the cheeky glimpse in her eyes, or the candied tone the woman speaks in, either way, Wendy thinks she is going to have to reevaluate her taste in gender.

“Don’t be ala