your mouth is poison; any

[Aletheia]

what is dead may never die;

but rises again harder and stronger

Aletheia does not know what it is to lack purpose. She has had the blessing of being purposeful from the very moment she'd emerged into Beqanna (because indeed, it had been an emergence, an unfolding, a flowering). That she should serve the Valley had been almost immediately clear, baked into her almost as surely as the knowledge that her parents were Carnage and Librette. With that kind of blood in her veins, what could she do but serve? She's never considered any alternative, nor does she see any need to.

And yet – she can understand what it is to be unsure. She can remember it too clearly, tucked into every fold of memory from the moments right when she'd first awoken in the meadow. She can feel it like the brush of wind in her hair every time she is just slightly out of step with this world. She can feel it then, and it saddens her.

The others are talking, and she listens with blank interest as they speak. They don't know anything about purpose, she thinks as she listens. They offer their kingdoms, but a kingdom in and of itself isn't a purpose. Just because the Valley existed did not make it her purpose. It was her family's history, the blood that runs through her veins, that had sealed her fate. She doesn't presume that the same must (or even should) be true of Adaline, but she's absolutely certain that the simple fact of a kingdom's existence – the fact that it is there to absorb dedication – does not mean that it inherently inspires it.

She shakes her head. "I can't say that the Valley is what you're looking for."soft and sweet, her audiobook voice is neither pretty nor unpretty, but her icy blue eyes are fixed on the girl. "I'm not sure that any home can be what you're looking for." her voice is like liquid icicles, clear and pure. She speaks slowly, her words unfolding with the delicate grace of flowers. She stares blankly at Adaline for a moment. "But if the Valley, or anything about it, calls to your mind or your heart, I'd be happy to take you there."

At her feet, the blades of grass collapse against each other with a silent sigh.

aletheia