Marellen sat curled up in her favorite chair, wrapped up in her favorite blanket, reading her favorite book. She didn't get the chance to do that very often, and she was determined to get the most out of her free time. Next to the chair was a large open window, and the sound and smell of falling rain wafted in with the cool breeze, which was why she had a blanket around her shoulders even though it was August.
The chair was a large blue velvet wing-backed, much like the one she remembered seeing in Beauty and the Beast as a child. It was a full sized chair, so she always felt small when she sat in it. A long time ago it had been a gift from her father, and she had replaced the worn out velvet many times since then. It was one of the few things she had left from her father, and while she'd had to spend thousands of dollars over the years to keep it in good repair, it was well worth it.
The blanket was an old hand-stitched patch-work quilt her mother had made for her. It smelled like cedar, a pleasant, woody smell, from the years spent in a cedar chest and there were places where the white, gold, or black patches were wearing thin or tearing. It was warm and thick, and being wrapped up in it Marellen felt like she was wrapped in her mother's strong arms.
The book was a new copy of Homer's Iliad, since her old copy had fallen apart from being read too many times. But even though it was a new copy, it was already showing signs of use; loose spine, worn pages, and a few corners had been turned down to mark her spot. Marellen liked reading about the battles and the gods interference, but she loved reading about the Amazons, or the Antianeirai as Homer called them.
It was amazing to her how different the Amazon culture had been back then, compared to how it had been when she'd been born, and even compared to how it was now. Over the thousands of years, the Amazon women had mellowed out when it came to their opinions of men. Of course, most Amazons still believed that they didn't need men to be successful, but at the same time most Amazons now kept husbands or boyfriends for the sake of having them, or even for love.
A flash of light followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder brought Marellen out of the Iliad, and she turned to look out the window. It was raining harder, the world being washed clean. She smiled. She loved it when it rained. Not only because it was the only time she allowed herself to get her mother's quilt out or sit in her father's chair, but because of how cleansing it was. It was hard for her to live in modern society, and it always left her feeling lost and confused. Rain was the one thing that allowed her to return to her center and calm down, remembing the teachings of her grandmothers and preparing for the next barrage of impersonal communication and technology that the world had become suffused with.
She watched the rain for a while longer, ignoring the water that sometimes sheeted in through the window and soaked her dark brown hair. The rain was like white noise for her, it cut through the sounds of the city and allowed her to hear again, without having to listen to the baby crying in the apartment downstairs or the old man shouting at his TV two floors up. It blocked out the sounds of angry drivers honking their horns for perceived slights, of sirens hurrying to an emergency.
After another minute, Marellen turned back to her book and continued reading about her Great-great grandmothers, almost wishing she could go back and live in their more calm, albeit war-filled, time.