5: Distractions and Crises

As she wandered the streets of Kru’ser’ds, Spider silently in tow, Alexandrie thought on what Re’ne’mala had said. Crisis of faith? What was a crisis of faith? How was she to know she was in one? Could it be a crisis of faith when she felt she had been hurt by what felt like a part of herself? She’d told Lucas that La Chanson became a part of you with time, and when she’d said it she’d meant it, but…

But she felt betrayed. And hurt. As though by a friend. Or a reflection. Not a god. 

Gods were distant, gods were all-powerful, gods were…gods did not put their hope in Sinrou teenagers.

Why was Lucas taken to Anvil Mountain, while she…

Alexandrie had so many questions and no one but herself to trust to answer them. Without Chevalier, someone she trusted to bridge the gap between she and the world outside of the rigid rules of nobility, Alexandrie was adrift. 

As Shi bound her ankle, complaining at it and her the whole time, Alexandrie considered that she needed to learn how to fend for herself - and quickly - but she wasn’t sure she wanted to use magic to do it. Like clothing that was too tight or too loose, the spells felt strange in her mouth. Her hands felt at once too fast and too slow - too jerky to continue. And in the present situation, where La Chanson was supposed to be her primary source of protection, this could get her killed. So she shifted her hand crossbow into a more accessible position just in case, her eyes roaming the dark through rose coloured glass that felt oddly heavy and not rose coloured enough to hide the dark world she saw. 

That first night, she had taken the box - Chevalier’s soul - from her bag and placed it beside her as she tried to sleep, but having it beside her reminded her so much of the fact that he was not in the room with her that she’d ended up holding it to her protectively. If he couldn’t look after her, she would look after him. She knew full well she had yet to read the letter addressed to her. Whatever he might have said would be designed, if she knew Vee, to make her feel better. To tell her she was capable, or that whatever had happened wasn’t her fault, perhaps a way to tell Grandmère what had happened…advice. 

Advice.

She could use some advice.

But to take comfort in that letter was to accept that everything was as bleak as it felt.

And since Vee had been made by La Chanson, what did this mean?

Things he hadn’t known about himself, things La Chanson obviously built into him that could happen without his knowledge… she hated herself for it, but she was afraid that to read that letter would be to begin to think about all the things Chevalier was and how it may have been information she was given because La Chanson wanted her to have it. She didn’t like questioning everything the praetorian had told her over her life - and wondering if - 

She hated the question she had asked almost as much as she hated the response.

La Chanson could have saved him. La Chanson chose not to. It chose. Didn’t it? If Chevalier was one of its own, why hadn’t it done more to help him try - at least try - to prioritise self-protection? Chevalier was a marvel of machinery, yes, but that was a golem and she had seen those before and that was irrelevant. Chevalier was a person - a person with no more care and thought and heart and soul than most who breathed and

And why create a creature whose desire was to protect others? Protect the people who gawked through windows and in doorways

People who would forget within the week, the ten-day, forget how close they had come to  

She hadn’t said it to Re’ne’mala, but they didn’t deserve that sacrifice. What had they done to deserve it? 

Even Spider - who had fought, who had the benefit of her respect - her care… Chevalier had stepped in front. She had seen it all. 

Vee hadn’t even thought about the consequences. 

About what could happen.

And she was angry at him for it.

But she was more angry at his creator.

Because he was a person.

And people wanted to survive.

And even worse - she knew Vee would not want her thinking this way, but she couldn’t help it and Vee wasn’t here to stop her.

So she hadn’t slept. She’d wanted to - the tooth Shi had given her was in her pocket. She thought about what the Ebon elf had said: destroying a part of the thing that hurt her might help. 

The tooth in her pocket was a keepsake, but it wasn’t what she wanted to destroy. As much as Re’ne’mala thought she would have a vendetta on the Vel’ble’dran, she didn’t care about them. It had been cornered and had reacted the way creatures did when they were cornered. And from her limited understanding, whoever had taken Lucas had let it in?

Eyes dry, she blinked behind heart-framed lenses. She knew she needed rest (it had been days since she’d last slept), and this was the safest they would be for some time, but sleep was…

She didn’t cry that night, or the days following. She hadn’t cried since she’d dropped the barrier spell, since she’d last seen Chevalier. It was as if the magic that had taken him had taken with it her ability to express what she felt in its fullness. Or perhaps it was training. She was Sinrou after all, and Sinrou were not weak.  So tears were locked away, leaving words that she used sparingly. Honest words, because that was what she had. As Mala pointed out, those who told the truth were inexperienced with the world and she, Alexandrie, was most certainly inexperienced enough to need a companion to guide her. 

That had been Chevalier’s role. And now he was gone. 

 Re’ne’mala had thought Alexa was stubborn, but the truth was that she simply hadn’t noticed the pain. What she had noticed was the uncomfortable swelling restricting her foot in her boot as she scrambled up a precipice. Was it stubbornness if you weren’t aware of loose and broken bones? And though she told Shi she was hurting, how was she supposed to explain that Pèrepère had been the last death in the family, a decade ago? How was she supposed to explain that a fractured bone was an inconvenience compared to the empty pit in her stomach?

Watching food vendors expertly slice hair thin pieces of meat onto a plate, she observed the skill involved - a skill she knew Chevalier would have appreciated. Watching Ebon elves whirl around, an impromptu ball before her, her gaze was almost dispassionate. As if she were recording behaviour for analysis later - which, as she realised with a blink, was exactly what she was doing. Her face a mask of neutrality, the dancers span, food was sold, instruments plucked, beaten, thrummed, and then it was gone, leaving she and Spider behind - Spider who…hovered nearby?

She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Araignée standing so close: he had largely kept his distance, had other things to do or decided to do other things. They hadn’t often spoken in depth and truth be told, since the first river incident he’d seemed a little afraid of her.

But here he was, even after the second incident, a step or two away in distance. Closing her eyes, she brought the heels of her hands to them, realising again that Lucas was not here. Spider, she guessed, must feel as lost as she…but at least they knew Lucas was alive. A stone in a raging river, there with Chevalier. Until they could get Lucas back (at least Lucas), she’d protect both Chevalier’s soul and Spider to the best of her ability. Which didn’t feel like much, but it was the best she could offer to either. Given Chevalier’s sacrifice, keeping Spider alive was crucial (if La Chanson willed it).

Spider wanted to accompany her, rather than see if Alexa wanted to accompany him, which was the strange thing to her. She had somewhere to be, but she was the younger and held no sway over Spider…

If La Chanson really wanted her to get to it, she thought savagely, perhaps it shouldn’t take from her all those who might best help her get there alive. And as usual, with that thought she listened to La Chanson singing in the back of her mind.

What did it want? How long had it been trying to achieve what it wanted?

Why leave only her left leg soaking wet? 

What did it mean that the stones were there?

And for the first time, a new question:

What was all this worth to La Chanson?

How important? What would it take not to do what La Chanson wanted? What would it cost to do what La Chanson wanted? Could she bargain? 

Idly she wondered whether La Chanson could read her thoughts.

Did it know how she felt about it at that moment?

Was it aware that as much as she desperately clung to the belief that she cared for it and it for her, she wanted to hurt it the way Re’ne’shi suggested? 

Would it abandon her to Genofeva’s wrath if it knew?

Was that who Genofeva was? Someone who had lost everything doing what La Chanson asked? Was that her choice? Be like Grandmère and fail or like Genofeva and succeed at a cost? 

Or the third option - to be like Chevalier, an unknowing weapon to attack and destroy at La Chanson’s bidding?

And then they were walking back and she remembered what Mala had said:

Another guide would take them from here.

Exhausted, Alexandrie wanted to curl up in bed and hide forever. No one liked her when they first met her. She’d been raised in court to stand, look, respond and act as though she belonged there. To anyone outside of court, though, she had two options: Act the way they expected her to, or say nothing and have them assume it anyway. It didn’t matter. Their guide had a task to do, so she would simply tolerate what was assumed and get out of the dark.

He hadn’t even died under an open sky.

As she climbed into bed fully clothed with a loaded crossbow she aimed at the door and put her arms around Vee’s Soul, the half cloud-elf hoped that when she died she would be able to see the stars.