The Gift of the Lethe

Lacking Wisdom

Pallas sits on the edge of a log bordering the hunter's camp, a bowl of water sitting in her lap. She knows this might be a bad idea, but it could help her, right? If she can desensitize herself from reacting when she sees the events of her past, surely that would both lower the likelihood of her flashbacks and make them less intense?

With a quick flick of her wrist, the water rises into the air from the bowl and forms the scene, the figures jerking into motion. As the scene nears the end of its story Pallas tenses up, her spine stiffening. One of the hunters drifts over, her blonde hair lying over her shoulder in a loose braid.

"Are you alright?"

Pallas jumps. "What- Oh, yes. I'm fine."

The hunter gives her a piercing look, an eyebrow carefully raised over her calculating dark eyes. "You were so stiffened up that you look like Medusa got to you. Don't lie. Sure, I asked it as a courtesy gesture, but no one can help you if you aren't honest."

Pallas sighs and motions to the image in the water with one of her hands. "I thought that if I could acclimate myself to seeing the memories, then they wouldn't hurt me anymore and the flashbacks would stop."

The girl groans. "By the gods, are you a child? That isn't how healing from trauma works. You're just going to make things worse, Pallas. You can't desensitize yourself by subjecting yourself to the pain over and over again. Maybe, maybe you'll start blanking out when seeing it, but that is dissociation, not desensitization."

"Then how do I desensitize myself?"

"With time. With practice. With help. You're on that road already, using the staffs and your powers for sparring. Just . . . you can't try to rush it."

Pallas slumps, dismissing the water. It falls back into the bowl with a splash, spraying her with droplets of water. With another flick of her hand, the water rises from her clothes and streams back into the bowl. When she looks up, she finds the hunter watching her, one eye on the bowl. Pallas frowns.

"What?"

"Why do you move your hands like that? Is it necessary to controlling the water?"

Pallas blinks. "It's not necessary. Controlling it is technically just a matter of concentration, but it helps me to picture what I want if I move my hands."

"Hmm. That makes sense, I suppose."

Pallas nods and shifts in her seat, moving the bowl in her lap to the floor. The water laps over the side as she does so, but it doesn't spill out. Once it settles, she turns back to the hunter, who is still standing there a bit awkwardly.

"Is there a reason you came over here? At least one beyond chastizing me?" She flashes a smile at the end, to show that she's teasing. The girl gives her a tentative smile back.

Her smile wobbles for a brief moment before she speaks, but she quickly steels her expression. "Lady Artemis asked us to speak with you about how we healed from our own trauma, and I didn't have the opportunity until now. I hope you don't mind if I'm a bit hesitant."

Pallas blinks. "Oh of course not. Take as much time as you need. And . . . perhaps you might want to sit down?"

The girl laughs softly and sinks onto the log beside Pallas. "Thank you. I suppose I should introduce myself before getting into my story? I'm Aquilla. I was a clear-sighted mortal before I joined the hunt, so I'm not entirely sure of the godly relationships and interactions yet. Especially as I've only been in the hunt for . . . about a decade now?"

"Are you trying to understand who I am?"

Aquilla flushes. "A bit, yes."

"Okay. I'm Pallas. I was born as a nymph, daughter of the god Triton. As I grew up, I became friends with a young Athena. One day there was a tournament of sorts and in a sparring contest between Athena and myself, I was . . . Athena accidentally killed me due to interference from Zeus.

"I was reborn sixty - or was it seventy years ago, I can't remember the exact time - as Nadia Pallas Arien, daughter of Poseidon. I was put in stasis until recently for my own protection. I regained my memories, and with that came the problems resulting from my . . . from my death."

Aquila grimaces. "Oh, that must have been horrible. I hope my story helps you, even if it isn't as severe."

"Don't base your opinions on how severe an incident is by looking at mine though, your experiences are subjective."

Aquilla smiles weakly. "Thanks."

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What do you think Aquila's story will be? What do you think of her advice? What's going to happen next? Tell me your thoughts!

Happy reading and I'll see you next chapter!

~ Goddess of Fate, signing out