There are so few in this new Beqanna that are familiar to her, but she supposes by this point that is her own doing. She could have assimilated herself better; she could try harder in Tephra, she could forge new connections instead of clinging to ones that were old and capricious.
But that’s never really been her – she’s never really been safe or logical.
Give her the materials to fix herself – a fresh start and a love that was untainted and came with no strings, no deals, and no hurt – and she would cast them aside every single time. Give her a light in the dark, and she would turn her back on it.
And so she filled herself up with the same old poisons, and she let herself be cut on the same blades. She clung to that feeling of tension coiled inside of her chest, and she waited for someone to release it.
Like a ghost reliving the same events over and over, she spins herself in an endless cycle, and even though all she has to do is step off the carousel, she never does.
When she comes to the meadow, she does not look at their faces. Should the scant few that actually know her be here – or be looking for her – she knows they will find her if they want her. The rest are simply background noise.
It’s a flash of white that causes her to pause. A bright, stark color against the emerald of the meadow grass and the sapphire of the summer sky, and at first she half-expects to see one of her own children. When she lifts gaze and finds a pair of familiar blue eyes, she can feel her heart flutter with a strange hope she wasn’t used to. “Agetta?” The name still fits easily on her tongue, and when she comes closer to the once-queen, there is a smile that glimmers across her lips. “I didn’t know you were still here,” she reaches for her without hesitation, touching against her neck. “It’s always nice to see a familiar face, when so many are strangers now,” she says as if her life isn’t full of familiar faces, as if she hadn't slept her way through them and filled her empty world with false romances. “How are you?”
