Regynn Winters

Good Works

Regynn rushed into her room and tumbled headfirst over a basket overflowing with fabric. The basket tipped and bits of brightly colored cloth scattered everywhere, thankfully breaking her fall. She sat up, shoving the handful of unruly curls that had fallen from their pins, accompanied by a chorus of laughter from out in the hall.

Several young priestesses crowded around her door, giggling at Reggy’s misfortune, their eyes taking in the chaos. “Really Reggy, you should clean this place up. It’s a mess. You’re a mess.” one of them said.

Regynn glared up at her before glancing around the room, “It isn’t a mess, I know exactly where everything is.”

“Of course you do.” she girl said dryly as she backed away from the door. Turning to her companions as they started away she said, “It’s no wonder they sent her away. She’s almost as tragic as her story. I’d bend over backward to good works too if I were her.”

Shoving herself to her feet Regynn strode angrily to the door and slammed it smartly, or would have if a piece of fabric hadn’t deadened the sound. She stood for a moment, her hands planted on her hips as she surveyed the room, trying to slow her breathing and get a rein on her temper.

After a few moments she dropped to the floor, gathering up the cloth and realizing that it was a basket of scrap pieces from all the clothes she’d made for the children at the orphanage. They were all too small to make anything with but Reggy hadn’t wanted to throw them away.  Slowly she began sorting the bits of fabric, dividing them by color, her hands moving of their own accord as her mind wandered back to the girl’s departing words.

What did she mean? What did she know about her past? How could this mere slip of a girl know when Reggy didn’t know herself? This wasn’t the first time the priestess had heard snide comments alluding to her background, it had been something that had plagued her all her life yet whenever she questioned her superiors, both here and at the orphanage, she had been told it was nothing more than hateful talk by jealous children.

Regynn glanced at her reflection in the mirror and smirked, “What would they have to be jealous of?” she muttered, baring her teeth then quickly closing her mouth at the sight of her slight overbite. Shaking her head as if to dislodge the thoughts, and loosening the rest of her hair in the process, the priestess grabbed her sewing kit and began cutting the fabric into uniform squares.

“Thoughts like that will get you nowhere quick missy. Better forget about it and mind your own business.” she muttered, completely ignoring the fact that it was, indeed, her business.”Quilts.” she said, “I think I’ll use this mess to make a bunch of quilts. That homeless family in the trade district ought to have something warm to sleep on.”