I live inside a glass cage. Ive always known that this would be the case, were I to receive the soul of the Star, but the reality of my confinent is beginning to make itself felt upon in ways I failed to anticipate.
The problem is that I, Leire, do not live in a glass cage. I have, and likely should sell, a lovely little flat near the Goitxea harbor, which is convenient to the Batzar administrative offices and a few excellent restaurants that I find myself pining for. I enjoy walks on the harbor, or reading on my balcony, or sitting until late at a cafe discussing things with my friends.
And I find that, absent all of these stimuli, the vine of my self is beginning to wither away, replaced by this strange woman nad the Sixteenth Star, who spends all of her ti venting her misplaced irritation on her attentive and quite blaless staff. Who picks at her food and prowls what hallways are permitted to her at odd hours, who spends her ti writing rambling diaries that refer to herself in the third person.
Even to , it bears the whiff of insanity - but what is insanity except a person unable to state with certainty who and what they are? Circumstances have denied Leire Gabarains existence, as she was. There is a woman who might stand in her place - a worthy woman, I think, and one who might effect great change in the world if she released her grip on sentint and let the wilting remnants of her forr self slip away.
It is sothing I think Ive actually said before, with an air of great wisdom, even though it wasnt until now that I truly understood what it ant: change starts from within. Pithy, at best, but now I brood on it. The world has changed, and I may no longer be the woman who lived in it. I shall build my new world in a self fit to live there, first - and then begin the ssy business of ensuring that she thrives.
- Leire Gabarain, Annals of the Sixteenth Star, 645.
Vernon jogged up to the rail platform, a few folded papers clutched in one hand. Were clear for the third car, he said. Had to buy out a few passengers, but its Lekubarris money - I was generous. Well be back in Is before nightfall. He smiled, nodding towards the carriage in question; it was part of a battered passenger train, one of several that the new Daressan governnt had inherited from the Safid occupation.
Im surprised he didnt just commandeer the carriage, Sobriquet muttered, taking her ticket from Vernons outstretched hand. Michael did the sa. The situation certainly warrants extre asures.
He probably wanted to avoid a panic. Theres a reason the train was full. Zabala took the rest of the tickets, handing the last two to Brant and Richter. No reason to add that to our plate, not when we can throw the Batzars money at the problem instead.
Michael nodded, still feeling an odd disconnect at the mundanity of it all. Their purpose was nothing less than saving the world, but still they had to be sure the conductor could punch their ticket like civilized passengers. Sowhat civilized, anyway; Michaels appearance had garnered more than a few open stares from those around them, and not for the usual reasons. n who looked like him werent uncommon after the War, but most of those were bedridden rather than idling on a platform.
He ignored the stares and followed Vernon onto the train. With his typical thoughtfulness, the auditor had booked Sobriquet and Michael a private cabin; as soon as the door clicked shut Sobriquet sprawled out across one of the two benches, her eyes closed.
Michael sat across from her. She was calr now than she had been at the eting, but there was still an acid tension that gripped her, flying out to disrupt the calm of their cabin.
Of all the people in that room, he said, I would have thought youd be most in favor of going after Sofia. Youve pushed towards it often enough.
She humd irritably, not opening her eyes. Its not about what I want, she said. Its necessary. Lekubarri wasnt wrong.
Yet you still dont want to do it. Michael leaned forward. Why?
Slowly, one of her eyes slid open. This is likely to be the last opportunity we have to rest for a while, she said. We should rest.
Michael sighed. Sera-
I dont care if she dies, Sobriquet said, sitting abruptly upright to glare at him. Its certainly her fucking turn. But you do. You always have, because she was nice to you once. Saved your life. I get that. You have your lines that you dont cross, little Michael rules that set the bounds of what you can do. Except now youre going to break the rules and kill her anyway.
Shes done nothing but try and kill since Daressa, Michael protested. A cartload of innocent bystanders have paid that price in my stead. Turning that around on her isnt unreasonable. I cant let sentint keep from- He shook his head, looking to the side. From helping people.
From killing her, you an, Sobriquet shot back. Or are you making an exception to that rule too? Ive done this before, Michael. I spent the entire War carving off bits of myself, and when it all ca to an end I saw how little there was left over. Everyone was talking about what they wanted to do after the War - Lars had Vera and that stupid ship, Vernon had his music, Emil wanted to rebuild the country. But all I could do was keep myself away from those dreams, because I didnt have anything left. I didnt have an after - except for with you.
She sat back down on her bench, looking up at Michael; there were tears in her eyes. I would have stayed in that horrible little flat with you forever, eating stale bread and griping about the cold. But we werent done, and Luc called us back out - and every day since Ive seen you carve away at yourself. Youve given pieces up, even if you dont say anything. And I know that-
Her voice trailed off, and she looked to the side. I know you, she murmured. And I know you wont survive this. Youll kill her, and youll kill Luc, and well co back together - but there wont be an after anymore. Well both still be in our wars, missing what we gave to end them.
Michael looked at her quietly for a long mont, weighing her words in his head. I dont see another way, he said quietly.
Im not sure there is one. Sobriquet wiped at her eyes, slouching against the backrest. Life doesnt always give you good options. I thought you had so. I was even greedy enough to think I could borrow them, for a ti. But instead you got mine.
I dont think thats so terrible, Michael said, managing a smile. It faded. Youre not - wrong. Ive given so things up. So of them I was probably better off without, honestly, but they were mine. My fears, my limits. And those did make who I was, for a ti. But who I am isnt fixed.
He shrugged helplessly. Vera said sothing once that stuck with . That were all cascades of thought and whim, tumbling forward through ti. Were processes, not so stone carving, and Ive co to understand that we control only the smallest parts of what we are to the world. All I can control is what I am to myself. He found his smile again, reaching out to clasp her hand. And what you are to .
She gave his hand a squeeze, mustering a smile in return under reddening eyes. And what am I to you? she asked.
Thats a secret, Michael replied, kissing her on the forehead. Ill tell you when we reach ndian.
His words wrenched a laugh from her; she slid over to his bench and sat with her head resting on his shoulder for a ti. Eventually, though, as the engine began to strain against the cars and the station slowly slid behind them, she raised her head once more.
Do you think the flat is still open? she asked. We shouldnt be in Is for long, but it would be nice to swing back through.
Michael snorted. I cant think why anyone would move in there on purpose, he said. It was drafty, ill-appointed and leaked from the balcony. Its only redeeming quality was that you lived there too.
I rather liked it, she said defensively. It had a cozy feel. We should look into purchasing it - or I should, since Im the only one with any money.
I feel like we can make it work. Michael gave a rueful smile, gesturing vaguely forward to Is. Well have to talk with Emil about it, after everything else. I imagine hell give us the deed just so we leave him in peace.
That sounds like a good plan. Sobriquet closed her eyes and let her head drop against his shoulder once more. The train began to build its speed, rushing down the long track to Is. After everything else.
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