beggars and liars ~ {sparrow sisters}

The snow aboard the deck was impractical, but Liliana Sparrow smiled. As long as the waves still shifted beneath her feet and the ropes slid stiffly in her hands, they would survive. It was easier than she thought, surviving. What appeared to be a complicated clockwork of fragile glass was portrayed more accurately by a flurry of smiled and raised voices. They worked hard, and yet at least half of the time their stomachs were full and their skin clean. For now, Liliana watched as her charges played, skidding across the deck in their second-hand boots and grinning from ear to ear.

The snow was a welcome distraction. It was almost a week since the last raid brought wares, and from that the promise of survival for an entire few days. Liliana struggled to smile as the worry crept into her mind. Although the others scooped snow gleefully from the mast and send freezing parcels hurtling towards each other, she could barely look up without seeing the way their cheeks were sunken and their clothing frayed. It was these times that the girl dreaded most - the days after the golden coins were spent and Ophelia hadn't quite managed to set her sights on their next voyage.

In truth, Liliana didn't like that their lives revolved around taking what did not belong to them. She preferred honesty and faith, hard work and trust. But wasn't that the crew? Did they not spend hour after hour on the deck, scrubbing and mending the sails and mapping out their journeys? They worked for every haul; it was simply that they took their wares from the rich instead of the ocean. She sighed, wondering if she was lying to herself. She tended to do that when she was afraid - everything will get better, it's going to be okay. Untruths were easy when they came from an aching heart.

That was Liliana's theory on her eldest sister. The perpetual stream of lies that bound their lives together were not all for a reason. They were simply easier than the truth. It wasn't that Ophelia was cruel; Liliana was certain that she used the untruths to numb the pain of her past. They let her. The girls didn't mind this, or Liliana's over-protective worrying, or Artemis' absent-minded lullabies, or the way Rory never seemed to understand the difference between fact and fiction. Even before their father's demise, nobody minded Evelyn's constant desire to be the best or Grace's tantrums.

Liliana wondered if 'minded' was the correct word. Accepted, perhaps would be more suiting. They simply were what they were - right now, they were poor and tattered and in need of a good meal. Liliana left her family playing in the snow, expecting the relative warmth of the bunk room to be a welcome relief. Instead, she found it cold, the gas heater that usually burned slowly having gone out. She lit a candle, trying to push aside thoughts of where and how they would afford another to replace it.

She liked the soft, flickering light. It comforted her. She remembered nights spent crowded around single candles, nights from before Gracie could walk and nights from barely a week ago. It was easier to talk when the shadows danced - it seemed that Aurora's stories played out on the very walls of the ship, that the ocean sang them to sleep. In complete darkness, it was easier for Liliana to forget that she was never alone. No matter what, her sisters would always be there for her. They would always have each other, even when the stores of grain ran dry and another series of thievery would have to be planned.

The barrel of cocoa was not quite empty. Liliana carefully scooped the dark powder into the six grimy mugs they owned and set the water boiling on the camping stove. She waited. Waiting was something she had grown good at - waiting for Ophelia to realise what needed to be done, waiting for the others to give in and come inside after her fourth or fifth warning. Somehow, Liliana had become the backbone of the family. She was the one who smiled when it was cold and continually spouted the lies about what exactly, was going to be okay.

When they woke in the middle of the night with dreams that tortured their sleep, she kissed their foreheads and promised to watch over them until they were safe again. She was the one who bandaged up cuts and bound bruises, remembered the soap when the pulled into the docks. Liliana wasn't entirely sure what that made her - not the leader, not the Captain, for that was Ophelia's job always and not a job she would ever dream of having for herself. She wasn't about decisions and risks. She was about pretending, when she thought about it.

Once the kettle boiled, Liliana poured out six even cups of hot, bitter water. It wouldn't ward away the cold for the entire night, but hopefully it would take the edge off of the melted ice that has surely crept into the folds of her sibling's clothes. "Pheels! Rory, Artemis, Eve! Gracie, darling," she called, guilt plaguing her for calling them inside. She wondered if perhaps she was jealous of their ability to play freely without apparently caring about what tomorrow might hold. She frowned again, thoughts of a snowstorm haunting her mind. "Come inside now, please!"

From beneath the table, Liliana pulled the maps and pins, desperate to begin work on the planning for the next day. Once something was set in stone, a line drawn and calculated in nautical miles, the promises of 'better' would become a little more easy to entertain.
"Come on, girls!" Liliana called, not yet impatient but simply tired of being alone. She missed the summer nights when it was too hot to spend extra time above deck. Instead, they told each other stories - together, the girls painted pictures of a time with less work and more smiles, when they didn't have to steal to survive.