3: The Music in the Child

Why Alexandrie showed Re’ne’shi the extent of the power La Chanson had to offer, she wasn’t entirely sure. It wasn’t so much showing off as it was a need for Re’ne’shi to understand that La Chanson wasn’t just in her head. That wasn’t just insanity or foolishness or…or…

What was it about how Re’ne’shi had asked her question that had led to any of this? She already knew magic…

She already knew magic. So the entire conversation skipped what she was used to: Suspicion. Re’ne’shi had disbelieved what La Chanson was, but not that she was given its power, nor that it existed at all. Re’ne’shi’s first question hadn’t been about what it wanted or how to manipulate it, either… She hadn’t assumed it wanted something - or, if she had, she had assumed that whatever it wanted was a cost Alexandrie was willing to pay.

That was new, and it was…it was nice.

Everyone she’d encountered (or almost everyone)  treated her like a child.

She understood the inclination: she had only recently come of age in human years after all (and was even more immature in elven years, Papa had been quick to note when she acted impulsively), and there were a number of things she hadn’t experienced. Play had been in the form of time spent with adults. She had no siblings so she had been steeped in the adult histories and cultures of both cloud elves and humans without really living in either. Papa had almost babied her. Maman had treated her as an adult at 12 summers. Grandmère hadn’t forced anything on her but the name Donadieu conferred a certain je ne sais quoi, and so she had been taught at an early age to curate her image.

“Choose what you will be known for,” Maman had said curtly one evening as she braided Alexa’s hair, “or others will choose for you.”

On the whole, this was easier said than done. Leaving home looking the way she did seemed either to help too much or be entirely counter to her intent. All these experiences and teachings resulted in a teenager who was perhaps immature but laden with responsibility that translated surprisingly well from running a Sinrou household. 

She wished she had the ability Lucas did to look at the world so simply. Not to care about order or propriety. Not to need to worry about inheriting the entire burden of a name. There was an immense weight, she supposed, in being an Edgewater, but it was shared among the children. She carried the Donadieu name alone. 

So this child who was not a child was treated like a child playing with a mace, when the reality was that she very carefully chose how she used the magic because she knew just how powerful it was. And while sometimes it was overly enthusiastic that more people weren’t dead was a testament to her control over so vast a well of power.

There was a small part of her hoping the Ebon elf could explain it to her, but Re’ne’shi seemed just as confused (if not more so) than Alexa or anyone else. It was rare that she shared La Chanson so boldly. Even Chevalier was surprised enough to shake him out of his more human characteristics. It had been part frustration, part hope, the intensity with which she called on La Chanson - hope that Re’ne’shi would take her seriously. Alexa hadn’t ever spoken with anyone else who knew magic. Not to this extent. And certainly not so differently. Alexa didn’t want to learn the theory behind the magic Re’ne’shi used, but she did want to understand how it worked…and now everything was more confusing than it had started. Re’ne’shi seemed to borrow from the world around them to cast spells, but their magic did not come from La Chanson du Monde, which was perhaps not La Chanson du Monde, but an entity that did not live in her mind. Or not only in her mind. It had a location - not just a direction she followed, but an origin point, or a centre, or a…did La Chanson have a body? Arms, legs, a head? An actual voice beyond the feeling of a response?

Which led to more confusion. If she was going to actually meet La Chanson, what did it - they - he - she…what did it want? She hadn’t considered that the presence leading her was leading her to it - she’d presumed it had something it needed her to do for it.

She should have known, really, that asking for help to prove its majesty had resulted in an extreme reaction, but she was sick of being treated as a child, and by a few months in, she needed to be able to show just how intensely she had to fight to focus and direct this other part of her. 

This other part she had yet to meet. 

This other part she was on her way to meet.

She didn’t know whether to feel more nervous or less, and now that she knew it resided somewhere, all sorts of question arose: 

Did it have a physical form? 

Was it at full power?

Could it be more powerful?

Why did it not choose Maman?

Why Lucas?

Why Alexa?

Once she got there and did what had to be done, was there more?

Did it have an enemy?

Would she be expected to just go home?

Would she be able to go home?

Would it return to Grandmère once she had?

Would it simply leave her?

And questions for herself:

What more could she do to make it happy? 

Would she be able to do whatever it asked? 

Would she want to go home?

Could she live without it?

What would happen to the Donadieu name if she perished?

Would she inevitably need to kill Genofeva?

Did she have to kill?

Had Grandmère met La Chanson? What could it want? What kind of entity could reach out and give her so much power - but not be able to move from where it was? It had always been in the same place, whenever she felt that familiar pull.

Was it trapped? Was that why it avoided the deities? Had they trapped it? And if so…why? Why trap something so beautiful? Why treat something so awfully? Why that, and not whatever it was giving Genofeva power - Power enough to disrupt La Chanson. Disrupt or…or sever their connection. 

Did Genofeva feel that same pull? Did she know where La Chanson was? Was the source of her power like La Chanson, or more like Re’ne’shi’s? La Chanson could be truly loud…what if the other entity were just as strong? What if they were trapped together?

What if releasing one meant releasing both? Would Grandmère have one that or chosen not to? 

So many questions she often couldn’t ask any because of the potential for more. 

It was all so complicated, and none of it seemed to be in books. 

It wasn’t even a complete Song.

The music swelled slightly in her mind and she glanced around absently, then up at the dark booth. Something looked strange. Her hand was outstretched to put the glasses back on for a closer look when her mouth fell slack as she was in another place. Close this time. Dark, but where wasn’t? The dragging, sliding, limping gait of the person who had just been above her made her eyebrows furrow and her open mouth curl into a soundless “no”. Whatever this was, it was not good.