silver_flecks: (Del - Second Change)
[personal profile] silver_flecks

she remembers what it was like to think about the future and things not happening yet.

Now there's only now which was only ever now and will always be now and she's starting to realize that it's--different. Okay. Good, maybe. Her, definitely.


The Eldest, she thinks, still can't understand. Won't ever.

Not Death, even, and her sister understands a lot. She knows. She thinks. Everyone knows everything, but tells themselves they don't, but

(she understands, she doesn't comprehend)

knowing isn't understanding.

Understanding can be murder, really, so she thinks maybe she can envy them that.

But. Yeah. The thing. Thing. She stops and watches the fish in the lake (man-made with cement, not real, but still there, so it's a real lake without being a real lake she knows this shouldn't matter but it still does, because there are lakes and there are lakes, sister) and sticks her toes that are toe-shaped today in the water as people walk by.

Everything's (eventual) now. Everything. Everywhen.

So you can't miss, exactly. Well. She can't. She's still there (she's not herself) with everyone she's touchedtouchingwilltouchendlessmeansendlessmeansnorealendmeansnorealbeginning and and

("I'll be here, until you're ready to wake up. I promise.")

she just listens. For a little bit.

She's goingtobegoneisgonewasgone. The one. The lady.

She liked the lady. Likes.

(Life is made of meetings and partings. That is the way of it)

She feels it start to slip away, because tenses mean time mean ConFuSioN aNd SoBbINg AnD lAyIng CuRleD uP, and a man pauses to see if the girl with mismatched eyes is all right.

"No," she says, even though he hasn't spoken yet, and when she looks up at him he feels
like his heart
is beating too fast
and like
the world is too big

(how can I keep from singing?)

"but I will be. Thank you. You need to go now."

And he does.

And she sits up and pushes her (reddarkreddarkreddarkbrown) hair back over her shoulder and listens again, a little

(save it, o delight!)

and the thing is.

Well, there are things, and there are things.

The thing is, it may not be given to mortals to love the Endless, but Endless do love mortals, for all that. She loves her mad girls, and sometimes, she thinks, love is enough reason. For the woman without legs. For the girl who used to dance. Love is enough.

The thing is, she thinks, that people don't know when they're asking for things, sometimes, and sometimes they don't even mean to ask, but.

You can give them something they need, anyway. Even if they don't know it.

She thinks. And when she thinks, she does, and the lake is gone and the people are gone and the outside is gone as she looks around the room.

The doll is tiny, when she cradles it, like it's a living thing, and she presses a kiss to its forehead and looks up to see the buildings and glass and pavement and walls and and





and she sits quietly next to it, the doll in her lap, and bends to press a kiss to the petals the same way she did to the doll.

It burns.

She burns.

("I thought you knew everything." "I knew you were going to surprise me.")

It's not the Eldest.

It's everything the Eldest is.

The difference is barely there.

Ka blows you where it will, and she respects that, because only fools wouldn't, but she ran away from ka a long, long time ago (and it was just a few moments ago), because it hurt too much, and she could.

Ka blows you where it will, til the end, but the thing is, she thinks that--that--that endings

endings are heartless, say true

endings are mercy, say thankya

endings are illusions, say sorry say amen

and ka can only go so far.

And then there are things outside and beyond and after and it's still too bright to look at without flinching, but her eyes are getting used to it, maybe. She thinks.

And maybe in the end, dirty old ka and she can learn to not burn so badly.

She doesn't know. Maybe. She just looks at the rose and says, "There are still things you don't know," and nods, and sets Sophia beside it, carefully, and when she walks away (except she doesn't really walk, and she doesn't really leave) she hears singing behind her and she hums along with it.

Not quite in tune.

But somehow, it sounds all right, even with that, and there's a ring
(of endless light)

in her mind and she smiles and thinks of birthdays and presents and her red hair's in her mouth as she goes to see if the fish in the pond have learned to tapdance yet.
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August 2006

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