{se} accordion string heart

Hotaru

It is difficult not to react. To both agree and deny, torn between aged loyalty that has always been the downfall of her heart, and motherly protectiveness that decrees Melita is to be believed without question and defended without end. “Perhaps. But do the people know that?” It’s an open-ended question; merely an exercise in awareness, to increase the care with which Melita traverses the world with. Because frankly, currently the honeybee has negative amounts of it. It’s giving Ru gray hairs.

“You would,” Ru agrees, pride overflowing on tongue and creasing eyes. She is proud of her strong girl. Bright and untouchable. Self-made. Where others fail - others Ru had once trusted to love and protect the girl - the Valkyrie will not. For now this is all she can offer; visits, embraces, wisdom and cautionary words. She hopes it is enough to remind Melita on nights when the house is too big, echoing in its emptiness, that she is not alone.

Fangorn’s swirling designs suddenly become far more interesting at the girl’s rebounded question. “I have lived an entire lifetime in areas of grey,” her tone is weary as it comes to being. “I am Frey’s. And Frey cares little about associations with Ascended, as Sunjata is testament to. I will cull those who threaten my loved ones, from either side and any race, but I don’t see why we cannot live and let live. Give them the Grounds and leave them to their lives. I cannot overlook that no matter what is said, they have a consciousness even if we are told they are not human. And I don’t believe in genocide.” Because she is a soft hearted fool where it matters, and she loves…too many of the Ascended. Incapable of even saying their names in her own mind. But even as a ruler of the Basin, Ru had not held the same disgust for the other races. How could she, when her mother had been one of them? That blood had been in her own veins regardless of how she had appeared physically.

Ru’s face goes stony. “But I do not trust The Voice. I cannot. Not after seeing what gods like her can do, how long they can lie low.” And maybe given years of peace Hotaru would relax a little, but for now she cannot. She can only see her dying children, the only world she’d ever known rotting and curling into darkness. “And in that way I would never encourage anyone to Ascend. But who am I to tell others what to do with their eternal souls? It’s not as if I have met Mort or Vi. Who is to say they are the ones in the right?” All of this really amounts to: she is in the middle, playing her own game, living only for herself and those she is loyal to. As Hotaru always has.

from the base of her neck to the arch of her eyelids
her beauty made a slave of me

MELITA

Had Melita ever cared about what people thought of her? In all her boldness, in all her tenacity, in all the bewitching turns of fire and vengeance? No; too framed in the passions of daring, pluck, and nerve, to ever think about how she looked in the eyes of another – and so she let that notion settle. Perhaps it would stay in the dirt, to shimmer on the surface until she pushed it downward. Perhaps it would remain vast and unaware, a sea of ignorance she could ignore. Perhaps it’d be neither.

She waited on edges and brims instead, intending to listen to the way Ru had carved her path. In pieces of grey, in slates of Frey, of blood and bone, and then the balance of letting the world survive and thrive. Melita nodded once more, understanding the nuances, the thoughts, the swirl of hues and patterns orchestrating a lifetime of blended intricacies and contradictions. “I don’t hate the Ascended,” she murmured, leaving that to the air and dust. “And I don’t want to see them massacred,” especially those like cherished Nate, or silly Amun, or even, down to days spent whittled and carved into something else, Wessex. It was why she’d offered a piece of herself to Juniper for the Greatwood’s defenses, but implemented a warning within, for it to be extended outward. For someone, something, to have a chance. “They made a choice, just like the rest of us.” To live with their palms outstretched towards favored gods, or not at all.

Her finger traced another vine imprint, remembering hollowed, wicked days, of Kisamoa, of the way her mother sacrificed herself, of how hundreds more had done the same for their children. All because a false god had risen and labored, tricked and deceived; and maybe the Voice held her part in such a way as Kaos. “I don’t trust her either.” Not after LongNights. Not after sicknesses. Not after whispered words and jaded promises. “So what are you going to do?”

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Hotaru

“It is somehow both human nature to be wary of those not like us, and to want to form close attachments to those close enough to us. I doubt there are many who truly hate the Ascended themselves, extremists aside.” And that is why they are all struggling. Why the entire continent is torn between religious faith and their own flawed human hearts. It is a relief to hear such things spoken even from a younger individual. Still a woman in her own right, and as such another voice that tells Ru she is not alone in her feelings.

Ru can read Helovia’s tale in the shadows on Melita’s face. She’d barely known the girl at all then, but they’d suffered so much together on that fateful day that it hardly mattered. They were kin in grief if nothing else. “I am going to live as I always have. Raise my children. Take the time to be close to those I love before we are forced into war. Train, so I may protect them more efficiently. And when war comes, I will not raise my hand against the Ascended unless they do so first.” Only if her hand is forced. The Valkyrie has no qualms with murder, but she will not seek it out. “This war is going to be played out amongst the demigods more than us. I doubt I will be commanded to do any one thing.” She is not an important piece on the greater game board.

“We are not powerful enough to cause any harm to The Voice. And while it may enrage her, I doubt killing her Ascended would hurt her either, so I do not see why anyone would be told to do that regardless of which herald they align with.” Ludo more so perhaps, but the Ascended as individuals did not seem to make The Voice stronger or weaker by their numbers alone. Shrugging, Ru smiles. “In the end, I protect my own.” New and Old God alike. It’s a small fold, but that only means she is more capable of looking out for them. And Melita stands among them.

from the base of her neck to the arch of her eyelids
her beauty made a slave of me

MELITA

Melita had heard enough of the discussions surrounding the extremists – and why she’d yet to set foot into Stormbreak. While she’d be welcome, Ascended and Abandoned wouldn’t based on arbitrary faults and one goddess, so she hadn’t bothered to play into the gall and games. But it was gratifying, satisfying, to hear that she wasn’t the only one restless at the notions of everything coming to light, of hatred and acrimony that didn’t exist.

Or that Ru didn’t intend to alter the way she lived. Should Melita? The honeybee intended to work on the Ark and reinforce the house, train in her favored weaponry, grow and prosper and become something - that wouldn’t change. It was just the circumstances on the horizon.

Or the certainty that it was for demigods, and not the normal, human, mortal people.

Her brows furrowed, but she relented, the uncertainty threatening to swallow her. “Okay. Maybe I’ll do that too.” What she’d always done – survived. Perhaps more of them would weather this storm than they’d realized.

Then they could bag the remaining ash, and return into those pacts of convention, for as long as they were able.

{FIN}

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight