hheyitsmegan

Ila was born in a different land than her own; her mother refuses to confide where they were originally from, and her grandparents aren't so honest with her about it as well. She, her mother, and her younger brother lived in various different farming houses in Haense. Her mother tutored and nannied for many families just to get by, while her grandparents helped pay for housing, as well as took care of their grandchildren. Ila was never sure who her father was. This secret was almost closer kept than where she had come from. She would ask once every few years, but always received a different answer. She was born with wheat-colored hair, which turned brown after her toddler years. She was always fascinated with wildlife. She never shied away from bugs or mud, and always came home with grass stains on her frock, much to her mother's dismay. Of course, once she reached of age, she was forced to learn to sew, stitch, cook and clean, like every young lady should, but she was quite good at it. She adored cooking with her grandmother and sweeping with her mother, as well as spending afternoons sewing with them both while her brother and grandfather took care of the garden and what few animals they had. One might say she led a rather boring life, up until she reached the age of seventeen. Ila had found herself at a festival her little town had thrown, sitting at a table with her friends, enjoying the lights and music, chatting and laughing while couples danced by. She was approached by a boy about her age. He soon swept her off her feet. They spent the rest of the night together; he took her to sit under a willow by the stream and shoot the breeze, watching the fireflies' reflections dance across the water. It wasn't long before she was engaged to the fellow. A few months after her eighteenth birthday, they were married, and had a quaint little home together in Norland. It wasn't long before they started talking of children. However, only seven weeks after their wedding, her husband had caught some terrible sickness, and died two nights later. She acted as any bereaved widow would: quiet, withdrawn, and, sometimes, angry. She knew she would never get over her love's death. She kept the ring on a chain beneath her clothes, close to her chest, as she silently went about life. She tries to keep up with the rent as she handles the farm they have and the house work. She lives a distance from her family and rarely sees them, but sends a bird every once in a while for small updates. It has been over a year since her late husband's death as she draws closer to her twentieth birthday.