Henbane and Hemlock

Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Rance » Sat Mar 08, 2014 11:42 am

She gripped the pillow, wrangled it between her fingers, choked it. Her stomach twisted with fire, stoked by every movement, every shift and snare of her muscles. The bandaged stump lay like a lifeless artifact across her ribs. Agnieskza protested, and bit; she had jaws and Gloria cringed away from them, burying her cheek in the hay-filled ticking of the bed.

"I look forward," she said, shivering under the power of a chill that did not exist, "to your gift. Tell your mar'dak I am -- am appreciative."

There was, for a finite pocket of time, a lucidity in the girl's eyes. Dislodging the sour mess from her stomach had brought a few moments of relief from the vicious fetters of the hemlock and henbane. She was a being of shiftless denial; scarcely did that broken limb move, never did her eyes seek it out. For a short span of time, Gloria Wynsee was very aware of her vulnerability, of the bone-deep pain that pounded with a hammer's strength beneath the flesh of her left arm. She ignored it, clenched her teeth against it, and lost herself in Agnieszka's company.

"Hasn't he the ability," she asked. "Hasn't he? He -- he doesn't require talents for that, to get in your mind. Words are enough for him. Words, lies, glorious speeches. And at his side, Menna Tolleson, soft and small and easy to break. One mind-meddler dies, and he finds it necessary to replace her with another. With a High Inquisitor, and--" She twisted ever-so-slightly in the bed, untangling her legs and reknotting them. The ache of misuse bound her shins and thighs. The wetness of sheets was a quiet shame she hid beneath blankets. She marshaled her patience to endure the wretched warmth while this -- this conversation -- knit its way between seamstress and Councilwoman.

"If you didn't believe me, if you didn't think there was value in -- in what I've to say, if there wasn't some niggling piece of you that didn't believe you might be wrong, mistaken, or misled, then you'd not be here. You'd not be the first thing I saw upon--"

--awakening.

"I've gotten into -- into your head, too, with my words. We have never been fast friends. There's fire between us. Jagged edges. You're not only here to give me pies."

Clenching shut her eyes, trying to ignore agony snarling in her head. Then, a genuine sentiment:

"I'm grateful you're here."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby channe » Sat Mar 08, 2014 12:25 pm

"We're all easy to break, all of us," she says -- and doesn't she know it, and doesn't she shut up quickly, looking from the girl's severed hand to an innocuous point on the wall. She listens, she listens and then --

-- a deep breath. "You can't only suspect, Gloria, it will kill you. This is your life, those who you suspect and the people you trust, and nobody in between. That's not real! There is plenty in-between! Plenty of people here who don't know what to believe! You wouldn't kill them, would you? That's what got you here, that's what you're feeling. There is no good. There is no evil. There is just your breath in your body and the breath of all of the other people in your care. Your care. The Inquisitor's care, because you are one, you are. Don't fight it, Gloria. You feel there is something else than that. Something more. This is what makes you strong. This is what makes you one of us."

She pauses. "I loved a man. I loved him. But he chose death. He chose it. And death? Death was the good he saw." Aeryn. God. "Death was the good he saw. He let me kill him. He let me, because he knew what was good and what was evil. I'm not calling you wrong, God believe me, I am not." She should know by now that oath is sacred, when Agnie swears against God. "But you have to tell me. Look at it. Look at it! Is it good, or is it evil? I can't only believe. I must know. Are they trying to save lives, or kill them? I will believe you, Gloria. The shit you are on can afford little else."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Shobits » Sat Mar 08, 2014 1:12 pm

The creature was stuck at the door was in silence at what was unfolding before him. At first he wanted to give Agnieszka some time to herself with Gloria, even chortling a little at Gloria's confusion about the pies. But that was swiftly dropped as the tone changed considerably. More talk of Rhaena, even in death she still had the people of Myrken under some form of control. Fear mainly, and then was the mention of Glenn and Genny. Endymion bit his lip as the latter was mentioned. They spoke of Mind Talents and getting into other's heads... He had been missing this terror that gripped the town, not involving himself and his instincts and the bindings of his Name were berating the creature for it.

You could have been there and prevented this! I cannot be everywhere at once, I am no God!

You always arrive too late to do anything but see to the wounded. It is more than another might do!

You are supposed to be The Protector! Raia Named you so! I protect my mate! I protect my unborn chick! I protect my friends!

Then Protect, Aigeus. You have names. Glenn. Genny. They are not the enemy!

Then who is?

The man's grip on his flowers was a little tight, but the unnatural blooms were no worse for the wear, their stems remained strong. He shook the clouds of his brief mental battle away and stepped in at last to make his presence known.

"Please forgive me if I am interrupting anything, my dears."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Rance » Sat Mar 08, 2014 1:17 pm

She listened. She had little else to do; her mind, inside a raging, throbbing skull, needed this distraction, this focus--

She knew not whether it was night or day, how many minutes she'd been unconscious; what she knew were little squash preserves and Agnieszka, her wild eyes, the wall of being and belief that the Councilwoman was was, the stubborn masonry that compiled her brash, insistent whole.

And hemlock, softening Gloria's conscience and violating her body, seemed a thing fit for philosophers.

"Those I trusted, those to whom I showed loyalty, turned it on me, Agnieszka. Do you remember, before -- before your swaining, how close we became? And Glenn Burnie, I gave him my respect, my loyalty, if only for -- for his station. When I demanded of him some clarity, some explanation, when we returned from that Pit? He returned it in letters of -- of tangled words and aimless gibberish. He wishes it ought to be forgotten, left behind, and why?

"Do not coddle me, and do not appeal to me; you said yourself, in front of hundreds, that I am different from you. I am not one of you. I am less, and I am miniscule. With Menna Tolleson's absence, the Inquisitory stagnates. I do the work there; I alone, without pay, without remuneration. And for what?"

Her voice had direction. When her body was wholly, perfectly still, she could squint through the burning pangs of anguish and pain that the acid of the hemlock had burrowed into the very roots of her muscles and bones. She swallowed nausea, occasionally clamped her eyes into corroded, tired gashes.

Look at it. Look at it! Is it good, or is it evil?

"You -- you should have never been forced to do that," the girl rattled into the blanket-edge. "I wish it could have been a kinder alternative, for someone you loved. I wish, too, Glenn had not put the lie of Rhaena Olwak's death on your shoulders to bear. It's cruel repetition; it's not your only place."

Every word was slow, laborious. Her eyes spun, pupils gaping, seeking light.

"It's not about -- about saving lives, or killing. I don't know what it's about. But what I know, what I know, is that lives are being ruined. People starve, beasts are running rampant, hurting -- hurting people, and they already ache. They're weak, they're frightened, and they'll lumber on being stuffed so fat and full with Council-born lies that it will suffocate them. No," she said, digging fingernails against her scalp, "I am one of us. But you, Glenn Burnie, Genny Tolleson? Those trusted, beloved paragons in Myrken Wood's tallest chairs? You're so far away, you're so lonely and disconnected that you've forgotten what it's like to be one of us, to be the only thing I've prayed I might become since I arrived.

"I'm tired," the girl bleated, her swollen eyes askance, her fingers slipping out of her hair. "When can I go home?"

Over Agnieszka's shoulder, a voice, familiar and soothing. Endymion gripped a bouquet of unnatural blooms, and for a frantic moment, she wondered if still there was snow, if it had grown warm outside, if the flowers had blossomed, if this had all happened in mere minutes, in the mere hours since she'd arrived--

"I don't feel right; I don't feel right. I want to go home," was her greeting to Endymion.

What home? What home have you at all, Gloria Wynsee?

"I want to go home."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby channe » Sun Mar 09, 2014 1:42 pm

She is quiet and listens to the girl, her hands folded in her lap. Finally: her mouth opens, she takes a breath, and waits a moment to consider her words. "Number one: say what you like about Glenn Burnie, but even though he's quiet, he's better than what we've had. You weren't there for the others. Men who thought slavery should be legal. Men who gorged themselves like Tubbians. One of 'em even made a deal with the devil. Having a governor who isn't your chattiest best friend? Not exactly the worst we ever had, here. The only reason people are so up in arms about the famine is that the years under Glenn Burnie are the best we've ever had. Famine? That was regular bullshit when I was a kid. We were always hungry. Always. We're going to have to agree to disagree on Glenn's leadership skills." A pause. "Golben ought to be forgotten. We've all got memories that we'd like to leave behind. Things we see, behind our eyes, in our nightmares. He didn't eat for... for over forty days; God knows what he had to drink. That is torture of a hellish sort, Gloria, and the person he loved the most did it to him. He wants to leave it behind because it's a shitty memory. That's not the actions of a criminal, it's the actions of a real, live, breathing human."

Finally, she becomes aware of Endymion, and lifts her hand in his direction. "Hey. If you could just step back outside for a minute, take a break. This is an official Defense investigation. I'm sure Gloria wants to see you but for right now... hallway. Yeah."

She will wait if he complies; if he does not, the next is said close to Gloria's ear so he cannot hear.

And then she turns back to Gloria. "If you want money, ask for it. Don't sit there and whine about how you are doing all the work and you aren't getting any money. They pay for interim positions. Have you asked? Sometimes you have to ask."

Another pause, and a sigh follows. "To be honest... Gloria, you don't want to be coddled, so I won't coddle you. You sound like a self-righteous, whiny little girl who isn't getting her way, so she wants to take her toys and go home." And she pauses again. "Now. I'll send your friend back in right away, and maybe we can talk about something a little less... sad. But if you have proof of any kind that it was Glenn that messed with your head, you really need to tell me. I need to know." She smiles. "Whatever you think of me, I still have Myrken's Defense in mind."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Kestrel » Sun Mar 09, 2014 2:17 pm

The door's hinges squealed with discomfort as it was toed open with the weight of a booted foot to carry its lazy path. A figure reclined against its frame and gazed upon the scene with vague interest. Those eyes flashed, amused that her entrance might have drawn their attention.

"Excuse the intrusion, but I was not aware that business was to be conducted in these hallowed halls. One might almost think that you came to question a patient under considerable duress, Lady ... oh no. What was your name again, dear?," she asked, her mouth forming a perfect circle as if she were scandalized that she might have forgotten such an important person. Surely. Should the name be supplied, the woman clad in men's clothing - but with the claws and teeth of a woman used to court - would smile patiently.

She could tell, whether whispered or not, that the words exchanged were not particularly pleasant ones. The threat would be clear enough in Gloria's distress, if not in the lines of Agnieszka's own frame. She had promised this brave slip of a girl her protection. Her protection came with talons and fang that would not relent.

"I would hate for the way you do business to be out circulating among the populace," she remarked, her gloved hands unclasping the noble's cloak at her neck and tossing it over her arm. "I do believe that I will have a stern word with the head of the Rememdium over his policies. Patients should be given sanctuary while under sedation, don't you think?"

May your enemies find themselves without the easy shelter that power brings.

"If you could just step back outside for a moment. Take a little break," she parroted, towards Agnie. Then, glance was thrown towards Endymion, who had been dismissed. "You may stay, if you'd like."

"Gloria, I came as soon as I'd heard. I was not aware that the wolves had followed you here," she remarked, crossing the room to press a kiss to the fevered girl's forehead. A casual hand remained upon her sword and there was a scrape of a man's boot in the hallway. Her guard had not waited outside, but pressed into the room and took up a blank-stared position at the corner of the room.

"I know what dangers Mryken presents. I gift you Henderson until you are well again. He is a brave man. One of my very best. He will protect you with his life."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Shobits » Sun Mar 09, 2014 2:19 pm

And he was, oh how he was. The talk of swaining... it was making his blood feel like it was boiling, and worse. He hadn't been there. Through any of this. He called himself a friend. He knew of the things Gloria and Agnieszka spoke of but he did not really Know. Their conversation was lost on his ears. This true terror that continued to grip his human home.

You're not one of them, no matter how good you become at acting like one. You're not human. I never said I wanted to be.

You said you would for Raia. She loves me for me.

But do they? Remember what Treadwell said. He was not talking about them, and they are not talking about me. They talk of what other Humans have done.

Endymion quieted the voice, there were more pressing matters than his inner battles. Though his mood was lifted ever so slightly as the talk drifted from swain to something not much better. The battle of words and beliefs going on between Agnieszka and Gloria. Things before his time on this plane. He did his best not to distance himself from it, not to think of it as Human matters. Endymion at last spoke up as attention was drawn to his presence.

"You cannot yet go home, Ms. Gloria. You are too ill and there are things that need to be discussed... I am sorry... I shall return soon." The flowers would be placed on a table, "Be strong, my dear seamstress." and Endymion retreated to the hall.
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Rance » Sun Mar 09, 2014 3:26 pm

She must be sensible. She must
be strong, my dear seamstress, as Endymion had said hours ago. Hours, hours...

Agnieszka drew close. So close, too close, until Gloria thought she could smell the copper of sweat and blood on the undercurve of the woman's cheek. The girl's breath hastened. Her dilated eyes seeped. Her breath was a sour scourge. Every hoarse word bred friction in her throat. She expended what remaining strength she had to tilt forward, buoyed on a fist pressed into her mattress, and return the Councilwoman's whisper.

"You are -- are very well-trained. Follow blindly because you are familiar with it. Do you remember," she asked, "what you did in the streets as -- as a Civil Constable? The proof was there, the decrees, the parchments, the stories. On that scaffold, before the crowd, Glenn Burnie wove lies to his people with a self-admitted rapist of minds at one elbow and and you -- a bigot, a threat, a fabricated and convenient hero -- at the other, even though--" a flicker of not-her, a hard and rote recitation: "You are just a scared little farm-girl, and I forgive you, I forgive you."

Imprecise and cumbersome, her bandaged stump scraped at the edge of her blankets, trying to draw them up. Why won't my fingers work, she wondered. Why won't they work? She flexed them, or thought she flexed them; the mitten of bandages kept them from moving, and the frustration was a waxy mask drawn across her face. She crumpled back against the pillows with a breath of exasperation--

(This is an official Defense investigation, she'd said)

--and lunged out her remaining hand, however much it trembled from holding her upright, to toss the bag of winter squash pies on the floor.

...had been days since she'd spoken to Agnieszka.

Time did not pass in a cohesive line, but in
weak flashes
of
(henbane) starlight. One moment
she was luminous, the next...

A moment later, Lady Egris coalesced in her vision. The woman put a kiss against her cheek, warm and comforting. Endymion was there, too, balancing a spring-bloom display on the battered bedstand. She could have leveled a more welcome invitation to the Kestrel, but the meager effort she had expended to lash at Agnieszka had started, already, to vanish. A quickened heartrate set her veins to burning and her stomach to revulsion. That was how it often transpired with the ailing. Sputters and spats of awareness colliding with walls of discontent, confusion, misdirection--

...hemlock-heavy.

"Who is Henderson," she asked, inflamed by Agnieszka a thousand lifetimes ago, pushing back against everything. "I don't need anyone. I don't need anything. There's -- there's nothing about wolves, there's no trouble with them. I let it go, and I'm fine, I am just fine!"

Endymion began to retreat. Her heels ground along the surface of starched, sweat-stained sheets. The girl's cotton gown was a fetid tangle, stretched across a visible hip and thigh that had thrashed themselves out from beneath the lip of a woolen blanket. "I want to go home. I would like to go home," she bleated, before her voice succumbed to a swollen softness.

"You have got to tell me about the flowers. You have got to tell me about them."
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby channe » Mon Mar 10, 2014 12:20 am

"Fine," she says. She watches the seamstress throw the pies to the floor, and then she rises, pushing the wrinkles out of her pants. "I understand. You'd rather be her swain. Be careful, Gloria. You don't like me? That's fine. But that bitch? She's Razasani, and she's got the worst case of it I ever seen. She'll act like she's your friend but she'll only use you to get what she wants in the end... and isn't that the worst kind of swaining there is? The kind where you participate freely? Rhaena at least didn't give me a choice. But I get it. I'll go."

She turns to Lady Egris, a nasty smile on her face. "... Egg-face, wasn't it? Lady Egg-face? I know your kind. I know you. I know your game. I am at least up-front with what I need from poor Gloria there, but you'd take her trust and bend it to your own ends, whatever they are. There's only one thing people like you want from Myrken Wood."

She then looks back to Gloria. "There are many kinds of swaining, Gloria. Mind you don't fall for hers. Maybe you want meat pie. Well, I'll be back with meat pie when you're feeling better."

She then turns on one heel and walks towards the hallway.
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Shobits » Mon Mar 10, 2014 2:51 am

Had bowed his head to Lady Egris but continued his way out all the same, but now he was touch more worried than before...

Those plants they had Gloria on, they helped with her pain, but they took much from her mind. From the brief moments he had laid eyes upon the seamstress, it has appeared as though she were not aware of her loss of limb. Waiting in the hall was a less than pleasant experience for Endymion. The Rememdium was as much a house of suffering as it was healing. A house of last moments and of first moments. First moments. This was where Raia would be when the moment came.

A smile spread on his face, yes. This was the way to do it while he waited. Find some point of light to concentrate on as a distraction from the darkness and despair that seeped from the wounded and ill. Feel for those threads of hope that were hidden under the pain... Pain that was too close to be ignored for long, already he was hearing Gloria's voice again like a tortured echo of her last words to him. I want to go home. I would like to go home. It was too much he had to look back inside the room.

Any remains of a smile were dashed. The pies were on the floor, the word Swaining was tossed around just as much as the little squash treats had been. Endymion hurriedly moved aside as Agnieszka departed, bowing his head to her solemnly before he would walk back inside. Endymion was on the alert now, but his senses subtly dulled from the wash of the deep, contrasting sentiments that the Rememdium was soaked with.
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Kestrel » Tue Mar 11, 2014 10:48 am

The Lady grinned wickedly when Agnie called her names, shoulders lifting in careless abandon. "Whatever makes it easier for your limited intellect," she offered, politely.

The words of caution were considered and discarded, but she said nothing in support of herself. The last person that she felt that she needed to defend herself against was this woman. She watched as Agnie stormed out and Endymion entered again, silent as the grave.

Suddenly, she strode over to the man waiting with his stoney face stern. "Henderson, protect her as you would myself," she offered, her expression solemn. "She is one of the many downtrodden in Myrken and we will protect them from those who seek to harm them."

A sharp nod in return before she left the man to stand guard in peace.
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Rance » Tue Mar 11, 2014 2:13 pm

"To the Veldt with pies," she said to no one. Then, confirming, she said it to herself: "To -- to the Veldt with pies."

Egris moved to leave. The woman's motions steps away were the cadence touch of heel-to-floor, flat-to-floor, organized and careful. Her words near the door were vaguely perceptible. They all had the privilege to leave, the capability, the option; they boldly flaunted their mobility like a talent she hadn't the even the right to envy. Agnieszka, a thousand years ago, had turned and fled. Endymion, the agreeable masthead that he was, had been gone a hundred, and only recently returned. Egris vanished what seemed to be ten years before, a decade, one that stretched into pitch-slow eternity.

Her foot dangled over the floor below her hay-stuffed bed. I too can walk, she wanted to tell them all. I can walk, I learned to walk years ago, I can walk if I so desire it. But when she gave the command to the swivel of her hip and the bend of her knee, the limb gave its mutiny -- it obeyed the hemlock, the hegemon, yes, but it obeyed sense.

And her eyes were heavy, stinging.

And the blood rushed through the inner tubes in her ears, distracting her.

"Tell me flower stories," she pleaded of Endymion, even though she knew he should be watching his Raia and Did I say something wrong. "If -- if stories make you feel better, then they could lighten my head. They could keep me from -- from being so stupid, from being wrong. You're going to be a par'dak, and there will be a greater need for you than just from maggots or cows who masquerade as idiot girls.

"Why is it so hard," Gloria asked him, her voice aimless, disjointed.

With one breath, she imagined everything she could about the flowers, the gorgeous flowers. They were a vortex of color, regal and considerate, a little sliver of the Sun. The girl folded back into the black-stained pillows. She ought to rest here for just a bit, for just a day or two. That would be fine, that would be just...

Sleep came easily.
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Shobits » Tue Mar 11, 2014 4:55 pm

Silent as the grave. Endymion had nothing to say and much of his concentration was on blocking out the pain and suffering. The scene unfolding before him was not one he was enjoying. There were words soon enough though. As The Lady left and gave another Protection rights over Gloria.

"A good evening to you."

And then it was him, this Henderson person, and Gloria.

"The pies have done nothing my dear seamstress, and you really need to keep your strength up." He would see if there were any survivors from the tossing Gloria had given the treats and place them upon the table. But, Gloria's motions soon caught the creature's attention. "Do not walk yet, please. I will tell you stories of the flowers." She was right though, he should be with Raia. But Raia would want to know how Gloria was faring even if the seamstress no longer remembered her friendship with his mate.

"Yes, stories make me feel better, they are so much more to me than squash pies. You have shared many stories with me, it is time that I gave you one back. As you said, I am to be a par'dak soon, and should set a good example for my chick. Visiting and comforting the ill is among those virtues." And so Endymion began his story, with an energy that was almost palpable. One could almost see the imagery as the words left the creature's mouth. A taste of his beloved Ether.

There was once a king of a very grand kingdom, but for all his land and power he was missing what he needed the most, an heir. The king decided he would hold a contest for all the land's children, he would give each a seed and in six cycles of the moon the child with the best results would become the next king. Soon there were little boys from all over marveling at their sprouts and seedlings, all except one little boy whose pot remained barren. This little boy tried everything he knew about growing but his seed would not sprout. The moon cycled and the day to present their flowers to the king had arrived. The little boys all proudly displayed their plants, some so large that their parents needed to help carry the great pots. All except for one pot filled with naught but dirt. The king examined each plant thoroughly but frowned when he reached the empty pot.

"Why have you brought your king an empty pot?" The king asked with a scowl.

The little boy was near to tears. "Please, your majesty! I tried my best. I watered the plant every day, I even re-potted it, but the seed just would not grow! I am sorry!"

The king smiled to the little boy and turned to the crowd. "I don't know where all these other little boys got their plants from, for all the seeds I handed out that day had been roasted."

And so the king had his heir. A most brave and honest child, fit to rule the land.


But the seamstress had fallen asleep, at peace for at least this brief moment. Endymion paused, "Do feel better, my dear seamstress." and added one of his feathers to the bouquet of flowers (pinkish red things that faded to white as the colors neared the outer edges, looking almost like a whirligig toy see: plumeria j) before making his exit once more.
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Re: Henbane and Hemlock

Postby Rance » Wed Mar 12, 2014 5:03 am

She slept.

But the story, the tale, took on wondrous life inside her mind. It crawled in through her ears and garnished her dreams. She smiled, drugged into forced contentment. Somewhere between her forehead and the pillow--

--a glorious kingdom sprawled with all manners of bulbous towers and flying arches. Young men with bountifully-bursting flowerpots stood on display in the brightness of the Sun, smiling alongside their glorious growths. The earth ebbed with the cool, summertime peace that all kingdoms should have. There were no spots of blood on the streets, no emaciated beggers tugging at coat-tails or dress-edges. Men and women smiled, laughed with one another.

Virtues were rewarded. Flaws were acknowledged, recognized, embraced. They were opportunities for growth. Not a table went wanting for food. Little girls and little boys read. They consumed all manners of poetry and long-form story. They were analytical, they were wise. The anatomy of the kingdom was one fleshed out with love and belonging. In its veins and cells, compassion flowed.

An impossible, beautiful place.

And so the king had his heir. A most brave and honest child, fit to rule the land.

With one blink, the honest child had her brother's skin and his ever-dark sprawl of hair. With another blink, it was no longer a boy, but a girl, crowned in antlers and decorative rodents' skulls, dressed all in white, a girl she'd given a name, a name--


She never awakened when the attendants came, well after Endymion's departure, to carefully labor over the soiled bandages of her stump and cleanse the linens beneath her of their filth. A single pie of the several delivered had survived. They put a droplet of mandragora oil on her cracking lips, an aide in the further soothing of inevitable pain.

This Henderson, during his watch, might have heard the occasional drunken, sluggish laugh from the cocoon of blankets and quilts.

In that place, that kingdom, they had a maypole as tall a Time. And ribbons, ones as long as dragontails and stonebear whiskers. And Sun that never fell. And no wolves. And no scars. They all clapped. They all were merry, because they all had hands.
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