Heir of Beasts

Ch. 6.5- The Persistence of Memory

I feel disconnected from the rabble of the streets, from the rough men hawking their wares and the bustling women carrying baskets on their shoulders and the children weaving through the crowd, laughing like the whole world is nothing worse than the sweets melting on the tips of their tongues.

Maybe it's because no one pays me any mind, just another anonymous body moving through the town center. A few eyes linger on my face, a few people bump into me, or push me aside, but no one truly sees me.

And I'm thankful for it. The feeling of anonymity envelopes me, wraps me in a cold sort of comfort as tears leak from my red, raw eyes. I pull my hair loose from its bindings so it falls forward over my shoulders, partially obscuring my face.

I should be ashamed of myself, to be falling apart so publically, but I have no room left to feel shame. All seems a fog, people and buildings and half-understood feelings bleeding together, obscured by teary, downcast eyes. I don't want to be seen, and I don't want to see.

I'm already seeing too much. I'm seeing a show trial, a jeering crowd, her name being swallowed by the swelling tide of a madman's lies. Lies seeping under doors, noxious plumes of smoke invading righteous minds, warping them. Twisted logic, twisted words, twisting the memory of my Izsaiki into something unbearable.

And I see her eyes. Eyes so light green they appeared translucent in certain lights, flecked here and there with blue or soft grey. They seem so real for a moment I shut my eyes, only to realize the image is held in my own mind.

I walk mindlessly, aimlessly, unable to stand the thought of going back to the council building. I'm dimly aware that I risk getting hopelessly lost, that the Ambassador will most likely kill me, that I'm behaving like a child, but still I walk on. Forward seems the only option with the force of the past pushing me from behind

I pass a few hours this way, maybe less, maybe more. Time seems to happen around me, not to me. The rest of the world seems too fast, my own mind and body too hopelessly slow to ever catch up.

I snap out of my stupor for a moment when the ground beneath my feet seems buoyant. I stop and look down, surprised to see a patch of grass. I've wondered off the main road. I consider turning back, but again my feet make the decision for me, carrying me forward, towards a field of green.

When I look up, I see the trees, their leaves still summer green, sun streaming through the gaps in the foliage to cast strange shadows on the grass below. I notice rhaversi bushes and jannonweeds, marspurs and long stalks of Asterra. I even see a Vetivera vine climbing the bark of an old, moss-covered Colyan tree.

And then I see O'otani holding the flower out to me and laughing, her green eyes inviting, saying, 'see, Shira, I brought you the first of the season. It's almost as beautiful as you, cousin, almost but not quite. Nothing in all of Shikkah will ever be as beautiful as you are.'

I hear the ghost of my laugh, my hand accepting the flower and tucking it into my hair. 'You should tell me I'm brave and strong, Oé, that I'm one you want to follow. Save the flowery words for Alya, you know she fills up on them.'

'You are brave and strong, Amshira,' she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 'I would follow you anywhere, do anything for you, you know that.'

'I would follow you to Imgyonstarn, and scale the ice cliffs to stand beside you.

'I would follow you to Kalko, and climb the ladders in their library for three stories, to find you hidden amongst volumes of pressed velum.