You don’t want to hear the story
of my life, and anyway
I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen
to the enormous waterfalls of the sun
And anyway it’s the same old story
-
a few people just trying,
one way or another,
to survive.
Mostly, I want to be kind.
- Mary Oliver, from Dogfish.
Mereoleona is a hundred different things; daughter of the wilderness, sister of fire, legend in her own right. A force of nature given human form, she is defined by nobody but herself. She does not hide behind a facade of etiquette and civility for lions do not care about the opinions of sheep. She is herself, wholly and unapologetically and the ground shakes when she walks, people run when they know she’s coming, because of this. She spends more time alone than with people, she forgets that they are fragile, that they can break and that, sometimes, they cannot be put back together again. Mereoleona is the thrill of a fight, her blood singing in battle. She will lay down her arms when she is dead and not a moment before. She doesn’t bother with secrets and doesn’t have time for lies. She will fight the unkillable god because the god won’t always be unkillable. Sometimes, she wonders what it says about her that nobody ever actually expects her to be there when it matters (lions do not care about sheep, but older sisters care about younger brothers).
Charlotte is a hundred different things; daughter, sister, friend, leader, comrade, ally to some and enemy to others, a herald of changing tides, an unstoppable force to those across from her an an immovable object to those behind. She is blood and war and death hidden behind a pretty face. She has a curse wrapped around her soul and it will define her in one way or another for her whole life. She is a soldier down to her bones, tongue like a knife and a mind like a steel trap, magic and weapons equally familiar under her hands. There are stains on her soul she will never be rid of, blood on her hands that will never wash out. There will always be nights she wakes screaming. Charlotte is petty and prideful and prone to jealousy. She has a temper that can get her into trouble and an inability to back down from a challenge. She keeps her cards close to her chest and her feelings even closer. Sometimes, she wonder what it says about her that she finds lying easier than telling the truth (she tells herself that she doesn’t care what it says. she’s lying).
Noelle is a hundred different things and yet she never really got to be a daughter, her siblings didn’t give her much of a chance to be a sister and the less said about her attempts to be a cousin when she was younger the better. But she is a friend and an ally and she is doing her best to learn how to be a cousin and a sister and a daughter to a family made out of dozens of broke pieces, people put back together by each other into something that might not be perfect, but it’s real. She has more power than any one person can reasonably contain, even the daughter of the wild has less than her. She will not let it define her. Noelle is born of her mother’s love, raised by her siblings’ hate, shaped by her own desperation to survive. When someone tells her to go to hell, she bares her teeth and tells them she’ll see them there. Sometimes, she wonders what it says about her that it’s easier to wear the mask of royalty than to be genuine (one day, she promises herself, she won’t need the mask at all).
(in some worlds, she is a mother, watching her own child stand against the world, watching her own child scream “no. not like this. not today. not ever.”) (in some worlds, she is a lover, holding hands and hearts and secrets close) (in some worlds, she is a friend, a shoulder to lean on in the dark times) (in some worlds, she gives her life to nobody, spends her years alone but not lonely) (in all worlds, she is herself and she is worth saving, worth fighting for, no matter how much she might think otherwise) (each makes herself hard in her own way, she does not think she can afford to be soft. it is better to be harsh and drive people away before they leave of their own volition, better to hurt others than to be the one getting hurt, better to chase away the weak before keeping them around costs her her life)
Mimosa is a hundred different things; but here is the most important one. She is not afraid to be soft. She is not afraid to be gentle. She is not a soldier, not in the way many around her are, she is a healer. She reaches out when others close themselves off, does her best to rebuild burnt bridges. Mimosa is kind smiles and forgiveness. She doesn’t wonder what other people say about her, she is the reason most of them are still alive (for all her gentleness, she is still a force of nature trapped in human skin).
