Deet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vliste_staba) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2020-05-15 09:23 am
vliste_staba) wrote in nexus_crossings2020-05-15 09:23 am
who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Nexus regulars may have seen Deet here and there over the late Fall and the Winter. She's small and a little shy, but very distinctive, especially to human eyes. A girl with green-tinted skin, hair the color of undyed linen, wings like a dragonfly's, and less than two and a half feet tall. Most people assume she's a faery, and she doesn't mind that.
She's never seen without the sprouting wooden staff she carries, and the floor-length black feather cloak on her shoulders, both gifts from the Fallen Angels. They make her feel secure, particularly the cloak. Right now, she's crouched beside a pond, peering at a group of tadpoles milling in the water. Some have legs budding, and she's fascinated to watch this metamorphosis, slow but fast enough to be visible.
Around her, some of the cattails are tinted dark violet, a wash of purple energy that seems to surge and then recede again as the reeds quiver in the wind.
"When someone starts to change," she says, "they never know what they'll really look like when they've finished, do they?"
Sitting back on her heels, she tilts her head to watch the Darkening flux and retreat across the cattails. "And when someone has power, it's hard to decide what to do with it. If you thought there was even a small chance you could save your world from something terrible, what would you sacrifice for it? Would you become another person to do it?"
She's never seen without the sprouting wooden staff she carries, and the floor-length black feather cloak on her shoulders, both gifts from the Fallen Angels. They make her feel secure, particularly the cloak. Right now, she's crouched beside a pond, peering at a group of tadpoles milling in the water. Some have legs budding, and she's fascinated to watch this metamorphosis, slow but fast enough to be visible.
Around her, some of the cattails are tinted dark violet, a wash of purple energy that seems to surge and then recede again as the reeds quiver in the wind.
"When someone starts to change," she says, "they never know what they'll really look like when they've finished, do they?"
Sitting back on her heels, she tilts her head to watch the Darkening flux and retreat across the cattails. "And when someone has power, it's hard to decide what to do with it. If you thought there was even a small chance you could save your world from something terrible, what would you sacrifice for it? Would you become another person to do it?"
no subject
She frowns, considering what he says about war, and nods slowly. It reminds her that she can't really expect removing the Emperor to be a linchpin that will turn all the other skeksis in to their friends. The Chamberlain, for one, is his own kind of dangerous. "Either battle or die, you mean," she says. "I don't want to die."
She can tell from his expression he's struggling as much as she is to adjust to these unfamiliar concepts, and that makes her smile, half-relieved, half just friendly. "We're all part of Thra," she says, hoping maybe that will help him make sense of it. "One planet."