10: Unbalanced

Genofeva was wrong after all. Very wrong. Entirely wrong. 
She simply hadn’t been frightening enough to run from. 
Alexandrie wanted to run. 

But run where? 
And that was the problem.
That was exactly the problem

She didn’t know where she could or would go. 
She didn’t know what she could or would do.

She simply wanted to run. 

She knew she wasn’t faster than Luoncon, that maybe they’d see this coming too, that maybe the prophecy said something about a half-elf fleeing prophecy and ending up tethered to it anyway. So she sat, dumbly. Staring at Mysel with thousands of thoughts and no way to voice them. And Mysel continued to speak.
As if she needed more to think about - more to fear, more of a burden than a broken world - more to feel…repulsed by?

Genofeva was right about so much. Alexa was lost. With all this information, even with a vague understanding, now, of why La Chanson was leading her in the direction of the volcano…
She didn’t understand why it needed her blood, or to bear blood, or whatever it expected her to do with it. What was so special about her blood and why had Grandmère not been able to tell her the truth?

She understood the futility of asking La Chanson if she could trust it, but she had needed to ask. She wanted to trust La Chanson more than anything, and she was struggling - struggling - to trust anyone or anything these days. Everything looked and felt wrong, as though she couldn’t tell what was missing from (or perhaps had been added to) the picture of the world and this - 

This.
This task explained it. 
Didn’t it?

If she was supposed to rebalance the world - if the world was out of balance and she had been pulled from home to balance it, of course there would be indications in the world of things off balance. 

N’est-ce pas?

What kind of rebalancing would she be expected to do, though? And who was she - who would she - be expected to kill to make sure it happened? Because balance meant life and death, and she wouldn’t have been given the power of life and death if she were not expected to ensure the right things lived - and the right things died. 

Had Grandmère known when Alexandrie left home that she wouldn’t return? And if she hadn’t, why didn’t she tell others? Why didn’t she tell more people the stories in case it wasn’t Alexandrie whose task it was to balance things? What if the stories made the magic?
Alexandrie had never thought she would be able to go home, but it was different to feel it with such certainty. She hadn’t left a note. She hadn’t said goodbye. Not that they’d known. They’d expected her to be down for breakfast the way she always was, spreading butter too thickly over toast and talking to anyone who would listen about dreams or dance steps or plants she and Grandmère were propagating. Was she even supposed to have been raised in such a lavish home? Was that balanced, when the Fulxithii weren’t even housed within the walls of their city and the homes of Orks were so easily passed from person to person with metal?

Maman loved the life she lived: She tried hard to be like everyone else, and did everything she could to foster the same love for Le Progrès - it just…wasn’t for Alexa. 
Would they understand? Would Maman et Papa understand if their lives changed? Would they be angry with Grandmère? Angry with her?

Would anyone ever tell them?

And now people wanted to blame a revolution on her. Create a reason for her to be caught and tried and now - now she understood why the bounty that followed them was dangerous, though she didn’t know who was engineering it anymore. She didn’t know who or what the new sound was. L’Autre Chanson. Maybe it was trying to stop her. From Shining Capital?

Asking La Chanson if she could trust it hadn’t soothed the way she’d hoped. It was a part of her - she believed that, if nothing else. Which meant that trusting it meant trusting herself. She’d asked because she didn’t know if she could trust, anymore. That La Chanson seemed so sure she could was, in itself, soothing. 

If that was what it meant. 

But she was also aware of the fact that it spoke to a people and protected them, but couldn’t protect Re’ne’shi. And that it had spoken to Grandmère and sent her on a journey but had told her not to tell anyone about it. Why a woman so far away would need to know this information and not tell anyone…Faith again. To trust meant to have faith or belief. How much of either did she have in those around her? How much should she have?

Which was presumably why she so often wanted to speak to Genofeva. Genofeva was obviously an enemy. She was not supposed to trust Genofeva, so it made it easier to talk to her. Genofeva didn’t care that Alexandrie didn’t trust her. She didn’t care that Alexandrie was suspicious. In many ways, Genofeva was easier to understand than the others, who seemed driven by flawed morality or fear. Kazsra deciding not to ask questions anymore seemed to Alexandrie a strange reaction to a situation. Why hide from answers? Knowing more presented an opportunity to do what was needed, and Kazsra seemed very focused and enthusiastic about a job she seemed to know very little about. 

She reminded Alexandrie of herself. 

But now Alexandrie was full of desire to know.

She wanted to know why Genofeva followed Slaughter and who her mother was… she wanted to know where Genofeva was and how she got her power and why it was that she seemed to know so much more than anyone else had about anything. 

Alexandrie wanted to know who had put the spell on her window and how.

She wanted to know if Re’ne’shi’s power was like hers - if it came from her or a place. She wanted to know what it was like to feel safe enough not to need to ask questions - or afraid enough that not asking questions was an option. She wanted to know what it was like to have wings and not to think about instinctively helping others breathe. 

She wanted to know if Spider could feel the ticking, and what would have happened to the child in the bed if the world had been balanced - if a balanced world would have been easier on him. She wanted to know if that was her fault for being born later, leaving the child to go through so much. She wanted to know if La Chanson was part of the balance or part of the imbalance - and if she would have to tolerate silence if she survived if the title of Bloodbearer was of her own blood and if it would take all of her blood to balance the world. She wanted to know if the world should be balanced - Spider hadn’t wanted her to change the past because he liked who he was now. How many would curse her for balancing the world for the same reason?

She wanted to know - 

She wanted to know.

Genofeva had asked what Alexandrie wanted. Alexandrie Donadieu, Sinrou of Shining Capital and Bloodbearer simply wanted to know
Everything.
It was impossible to know everything, of course. Mysel talked about his knowledge being in crates because there was simply too much.

The idea that a whole culture of people were raised knowing what she had just learned…

That she was responsible for bringing balance.

Stopping the ticking.
The disgust with Mysel and Heofonræsele’s ticking. 
Why was she here? Really? Why were they?
And how did Shining Capital know what she was doing? Sort of.
Balance meant the Progress would end. 
The Deliverance…the Empire…
Why a volcano?
What was her blood even supposed to do? 
Could it do that task inside her body, or was she trading Genofeva’s blade for another? Her own? 
How many wanted her blood? Was it symbolic or was there something magical about her blood in particular?

Was dying painful?
Would she die alone?

Should she feel honoured or was it alright to feel a little afraid?