07-01-2015, 09:38 PM
what is dead may never die;
Someone approaches, and Aletheia turns her head to regard the girl with cool detachment. She is a strange kind of angel, this celestial girl, time-tossed, space-weary, and now spat out for some strange reason into the land of Beqanna with nothing but names and a powerful sense of strangeness.
Looking at the approaching chestnut, she has no idea that the girl is her half-sister. Aletheia doesn't even know what Librette looked like, only that Librette was her name and the Valley was her home. She doesn't know that the woman is dead, but it wouldn’t have mattered much to her if she had.
She observes this girl with cool detachment, her eyes not malicious, but simply…distant, uninvolved, perennially above the fray. She can see the way this girl looks haunted. She knows what it is to be haunted – perhaps she even knows what it is to do some of the haunting herself. She doesn't know what it is that chases the girl, she doesn't know what it is that ruins her and saves her. She hasn't decided whether she cares, but is leaning toward no.
Can I help you? The girl asks, and Aletheia blinks lazily. "No." she says, plainly. Her voice is flat, emotionless, but not otherwise unpleasant. She sighs and decides to continue. "But I am not looking for help." If she is going to live in this place, she might as well get to know the inhabitants. Or at least, she assumes that this girl is an inhabitant. Why else would a girl be found wandering the borders?
Or perhaps that's the custom. She wouldn't really know.
"I live here." she says, possibly by way of explanation, possibly as an unrelated comment. "This is the Valley, is it not? Clearly, she is not good at conversation yet. She is absolutely certain that she's found what she is looking for, that this is the Valley. She can't explain how, but she can feel it in her bones. And yet, somehow it seemed like a good idea to ask.
And now she is entirely content to watch the girl, waiting to see what kind of answer she comes up with. It does not even occur to her to give her name. It does not occur to her to ask for the girl's. It just occurs to her to stare, in silence-by-default.
Looking at the approaching chestnut, she has no idea that the girl is her half-sister. Aletheia doesn't even know what Librette looked like, only that Librette was her name and the Valley was her home. She doesn't know that the woman is dead, but it wouldn’t have mattered much to her if she had.
She observes this girl with cool detachment, her eyes not malicious, but simply…distant, uninvolved, perennially above the fray. She can see the way this girl looks haunted. She knows what it is to be haunted – perhaps she even knows what it is to do some of the haunting herself. She doesn't know what it is that chases the girl, she doesn't know what it is that ruins her and saves her. She hasn't decided whether she cares, but is leaning toward no.
Can I help you? The girl asks, and Aletheia blinks lazily. "No." she says, plainly. Her voice is flat, emotionless, but not otherwise unpleasant. She sighs and decides to continue. "But I am not looking for help." If she is going to live in this place, she might as well get to know the inhabitants. Or at least, she assumes that this girl is an inhabitant. Why else would a girl be found wandering the borders?
Or perhaps that's the custom. She wouldn't really know.
"I live here." she says, possibly by way of explanation, possibly as an unrelated comment. "This is the Valley, is it not? Clearly, she is not good at conversation yet. She is absolutely certain that she's found what she is looking for, that this is the Valley. She can't explain how, but she can feel it in her bones. And yet, somehow it seemed like a good idea to ask.
And now she is entirely content to watch the girl, waiting to see what kind of answer she comes up with. It does not even occur to her to give her name. It does not occur to her to ask for the girl's. It just occurs to her to stare, in silence-by-default.
but rises again
Aletheia
harder and stronger