Post by Fae on Jun 3, 2005 6:35:37 GMT -5
I wrote this mostly for my own personal amusment, but when I realized I haden't posted in so long my account had been deactivated I figured I should put something up. So let me know what you think.
(oh, and there's probably spoilers in there somewhere so watch out)
1.
Trust.
She thinks trust is a funny thing, she’s not sure, she can’t trust her own thoughts anymore. She lost her trust now everything is jumbled.
She used to trust in books. Careful words, neat and clean, never stepping past the bounds she could place on them, never accusatory. Thought about and thought provoking, they kept her anonymous and safe.
But now words consume. They eat away at her shrieking curses and blame. It’s all her fault and the damage is unlimited.
Guilt was a paralyzing flood. It was true, everything they said was true.
She could see her flaws and follies revealed in all their hideous vanity and the cost in lives and pain that had resulted. Her heart laid bare and scourged on a rack of her own terrible, terrible mistakes. Names and faces skimming past her minds eye accusing her incessantly.
Animals she couldn’t save being lead away to slave in the Ruby mines of Quadling country or the Pipeline project that would never be completed because it had never been started, just a front to keep the populace happy, an easy way for those who spoke out to ‘disappear’. Boq, whom she had hardly even known, but never once wished ill, heartless and irrevocably damaged through her carelessness. Nessa, the sister she had refused to help, dead to bring her out of hiding. Fiyero, who had given up everything over and over for her, dead or not he was gone forever. How many times had she wronged him? Inadvertently driving him to disaster and tragedy.
She has known pain. She’s used to it. It is a constant that she can depend on.
She is the disgrace and plague of her father. The cause of her mother’s death and her sister’s disability. She is deformed and wicked. But this steady cataloging of her guilt- this weighing of the soul that she has sought never to believe in and yet been unable to escape from - this is pain beyond measure or endurance. She thinks her mind may snap. She wants it to, to end this torment.
She used to think, she still thinks in patches, about the river not so far below her. Considering it around the choking wrenching black fear that rises up to swallow her like the water that is its cause. She’s dead by water once already. It frightens her but at least it would be easy.
But nothing is ever easy. And anything too easy she has always rejected. No compromises. Trust shattered with the lift of a curtain.
The best way to bring people together is to give them a really good enemy. She had never thought it would be her. He had said that he would save her; she wanted so much to let him save her. She had wanted to believe again. So she had agreed and it had been just one more trick.
She had been foolish to believe so blindly.
Now she believed in nothing.
She was nothing, here in the darkness, nothing but blackness emptiness, soulless just like her. The walls pushed in, trying to crush her with the unimaginable weight of thousands of stones behind them. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as she panted for air. It was stagnating and foul, saturating her with a smell of rot, which caused her stomach to heave endlessly, though it had long since expelled anything she had to bring up. It was icy in the dark. The kind of cold that would bleed a person of all their heat given time enough. A slow sucking death. She was stuck. This hole would be her grave and no one would ever find her bones.
Or was she dead already? She couldn’t quite recall. She couldn’t trust that light she loved to save her. She missed the light and longed for it. It had been beside her once. Holding her hand and calling forth an echoing glow from somewhere deep within herself. From a place she had never know existed.
White and blue and sequins and lace and pink roses.
Secrets told by midnight candles. Hopes and dreams expressed. Gossip recounted and laughed over. She had, for once, been more than enough. Good enough to be a best friend and a worst enemy. Enemies and friends and something between and then something stronger, but it had been them together. Together they had embarked a journey full of hope and trust and dreams.
They had gone hand in hand to the city of jewels.
It had changed her for the better, being needed and wanted, being part of the brightness. But she couldn’t hold it; she couldn’t find her own light. Not without him, not without her. They had known that they could change things. They had been wrong in the end. Hope faded, trust shattered, dreams twisted into darkness.
Everything had gone according to her enemy’s plan.
But for Fiyero.
Dearest, darlingest Fiyero. She wishes he would save her. Swing in on a rope and brave a hundred guards. But that is foolish. She seems to be good at foolish. She was a fool that day that they took Dillamond away, but he had helped her then and it had changed them both as well. She wonders sometimes if he would still be hers had that not happened. She likes to think he would.
She knows it is not so.
But she is and will always be his.
So He had said trust, and she had trusted, he had said go and she had left, he had said he was coming and she waited, he had said die and now she was dead.
She must be dead, for there could be nothing now but darkness and the echoing sound of the steady drip of water from her soaked clothes. How could she trust him when he was dead to? How could she help but trust him when he was all she had left?
She was wet and cold, shivering with the heat of shame at her endless failure.
***
Little teaser chapter, hope you liked!
(oh, and there's probably spoilers in there somewhere so watch out)
1.
Trust.
She thinks trust is a funny thing, she’s not sure, she can’t trust her own thoughts anymore. She lost her trust now everything is jumbled.
She used to trust in books. Careful words, neat and clean, never stepping past the bounds she could place on them, never accusatory. Thought about and thought provoking, they kept her anonymous and safe.
But now words consume. They eat away at her shrieking curses and blame. It’s all her fault and the damage is unlimited.
Guilt was a paralyzing flood. It was true, everything they said was true.
She could see her flaws and follies revealed in all their hideous vanity and the cost in lives and pain that had resulted. Her heart laid bare and scourged on a rack of her own terrible, terrible mistakes. Names and faces skimming past her minds eye accusing her incessantly.
Animals she couldn’t save being lead away to slave in the Ruby mines of Quadling country or the Pipeline project that would never be completed because it had never been started, just a front to keep the populace happy, an easy way for those who spoke out to ‘disappear’. Boq, whom she had hardly even known, but never once wished ill, heartless and irrevocably damaged through her carelessness. Nessa, the sister she had refused to help, dead to bring her out of hiding. Fiyero, who had given up everything over and over for her, dead or not he was gone forever. How many times had she wronged him? Inadvertently driving him to disaster and tragedy.
She has known pain. She’s used to it. It is a constant that she can depend on.
She is the disgrace and plague of her father. The cause of her mother’s death and her sister’s disability. She is deformed and wicked. But this steady cataloging of her guilt- this weighing of the soul that she has sought never to believe in and yet been unable to escape from - this is pain beyond measure or endurance. She thinks her mind may snap. She wants it to, to end this torment.
She used to think, she still thinks in patches, about the river not so far below her. Considering it around the choking wrenching black fear that rises up to swallow her like the water that is its cause. She’s dead by water once already. It frightens her but at least it would be easy.
But nothing is ever easy. And anything too easy she has always rejected. No compromises. Trust shattered with the lift of a curtain.
The best way to bring people together is to give them a really good enemy. She had never thought it would be her. He had said that he would save her; she wanted so much to let him save her. She had wanted to believe again. So she had agreed and it had been just one more trick.
She had been foolish to believe so blindly.
Now she believed in nothing.
She was nothing, here in the darkness, nothing but blackness emptiness, soulless just like her. The walls pushed in, trying to crush her with the unimaginable weight of thousands of stones behind them. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as she panted for air. It was stagnating and foul, saturating her with a smell of rot, which caused her stomach to heave endlessly, though it had long since expelled anything she had to bring up. It was icy in the dark. The kind of cold that would bleed a person of all their heat given time enough. A slow sucking death. She was stuck. This hole would be her grave and no one would ever find her bones.
Or was she dead already? She couldn’t quite recall. She couldn’t trust that light she loved to save her. She missed the light and longed for it. It had been beside her once. Holding her hand and calling forth an echoing glow from somewhere deep within herself. From a place she had never know existed.
White and blue and sequins and lace and pink roses.
Secrets told by midnight candles. Hopes and dreams expressed. Gossip recounted and laughed over. She had, for once, been more than enough. Good enough to be a best friend and a worst enemy. Enemies and friends and something between and then something stronger, but it had been them together. Together they had embarked a journey full of hope and trust and dreams.
They had gone hand in hand to the city of jewels.
It had changed her for the better, being needed and wanted, being part of the brightness. But she couldn’t hold it; she couldn’t find her own light. Not without him, not without her. They had known that they could change things. They had been wrong in the end. Hope faded, trust shattered, dreams twisted into darkness.
Everything had gone according to her enemy’s plan.
But for Fiyero.
Dearest, darlingest Fiyero. She wishes he would save her. Swing in on a rope and brave a hundred guards. But that is foolish. She seems to be good at foolish. She was a fool that day that they took Dillamond away, but he had helped her then and it had changed them both as well. She wonders sometimes if he would still be hers had that not happened. She likes to think he would.
She knows it is not so.
But she is and will always be his.
So He had said trust, and she had trusted, he had said go and she had left, he had said he was coming and she waited, he had said die and now she was dead.
She must be dead, for there could be nothing now but darkness and the echoing sound of the steady drip of water from her soaked clothes. How could she trust him when he was dead to? How could she help but trust him when he was all she had left?
She was wet and cold, shivering with the heat of shame at her endless failure.
***
Little teaser chapter, hope you liked!