He could see the bubbles creeping over the edge of the tub, but upon closer inspection, Arkady had been reasonable about the water level. Not that he thought she was being unreasonable about all this - she’d been through a lot, and finding her wonder in that state after all this, and getting memories where she’d had none before… without context, that could certainly be overwhelming. Actually, even with context, that would be overwhelming. And Avalon hadn’t had a particularly fond relationship to her wonder in the first place.
“Hey,” he said quietly, sinking down to sit facing her on the bathmat. “Um.” She was covered in water up to her chin, staring off into the middle distance but not, apparently, in any danger of going under.
“I’m here,” he said, picking at the rug. “Whenever you want to talk.”
Shibrogane
She remembered something. And not something completely contextless, either. If she closed her eyes, she could see Myriddin. He had tiny cherub cheeks, even at fourteen, and dark green eyes, pin-straight auburn hair just like Arkady’s. A pointy little chin and a sharp, straight nose, too sharp for that baby face. She could recount everything about that black blade except its name. “My name was never Macha,” she said, looping the longer side of her hair out of the bubbly water. “Was it? That wasn’t one of me?” She’d been Vanya, hadn’t she? And before that, Tate.
But Macha felt more real to her than either of them. Macha was a real person, with a family, with a context. With a sword. Arkady’s hands itched to wrap themselves around the hilt of that blade again, with its all-encompassing chill. She could feel it there, the braided hilt cutting through her skin to sear itself into her bones. “Is that one of my memories?” She needed to know that. She needed to be promised that she had done right and that she had nothing to fear. “Was that me?”
But Macha felt more real to her than either of them. Macha was a real person, with a family, with a context. With a sword. Arkady’s hands itched to wrap themselves around the hilt of that blade again, with its all-encompassing chill. She could feel it there, the braided hilt cutting through her skin to sear itself into her bones. “Is that one of my memories?” She needed to know that. She needed to be promised that she had done right and that she had nothing to fear. “Was that me?”
Finn shook his head. He’d known Tate since pre-school, and he was pretty sure that by now, he knew every alias she’d ever gone through. “No,” he said, trailing his fingers around the rim of the big, clawfoot tub. “You were never Macha. You were seeing someone else’s memories.” Not that he knew whose - he only saw his most recent ancestor’s memories, and Tate’s most recent ancestor’s name had been Nimue. (And who was to say what had happened to her when the wonder went nuclear.)
“It happens sometimes,” he said, dipping his fingers towards the bubbles. “Most people, if they see memories at all, they just see their past lives, but you and I… we don’t really have those. As far as I know, it’s our first time around.” Or else, they were out of step from the cycle, their past memories locked away from them by a skipped beat in the cosmic rhythm. “When we first started going to our Wonders, when you were still Tate, we both had Ancestors. Kind of like - you know how Obi-Wan looks in Star Wars once he’s dead and hanging out on Dagobah? The last knight who held our position was supposed to teach us. And yours - Nimue - she never liked you, and you didn’t really like her. I took my ancestor’s starseed to the cauldron, and now I see his memories from time to time at Babylon. So, I mean, it’s not unheard of to see someone else’s memories.”
Finn shrugged. “Our Wonders are… they’re magical. They have memories. And just because most people only ever see one lifetime of memories… I don’t think that’s to say that our wonders don’t remember everything. Any place that’s that old and that full of power has a life of its own.”
Quote:
She frowned, and tilted her head over to the side of the tub with a significant look at Finn. “She feels more real than I do,” she said, flexing her hands beneath the screen of bubbles. Her knees poked up through the water like dock-piles through the choppy sea of Avalon, and she slid her hands over them, dug her nails in just below the kneecap. “What if I used to be Macha, and now I’m me, and I didn’t see my memories last time because I wasn’t supposed to be there?”
What if Tate had never been meant to exist? “I don’t remember being Tate and Vanya. Those people aren’t real. But I remember Macha and her sisters. I remember all about them. There was Badb, Femora, Aodh, Morrigna, Doireihna, Etain, Shona, and Keely. And then there was little Myrddin. He was my little brother, Finn.” She traced her fingers over the sides of the bathtub. “Littler than Leah. He had red hair, like mine, and green eyes like mine, and a sharp nose, but he had a baby face…”
Arkady looked up at him, helplessly. “She was so real. Realer than me.”
What if Tate had never been meant to exist? “I don’t remember being Tate and Vanya. Those people aren’t real. But I remember Macha and her sisters. I remember all about them. There was Badb, Femora, Aodh, Morrigna, Doireihna, Etain, Shona, and Keely. And then there was little Myrddin. He was my little brother, Finn.” She traced her fingers over the sides of the bathtub. “Littler than Leah. He had red hair, like mine, and green eyes like mine, and a sharp nose, but he had a baby face…”
Arkady looked up at him, helplessly. “She was so real. Realer than me.”
Finn wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and he hoped that the way he looked at her didn’t betray too much of the pity he felt. Arkady had been through so much, and her path had been harder than most. His knighthood, at least, had never ask that he sacrifice his most basic sense of self in service to it. But he didn’t - he couldn’t[/il--
He reached over and placed his hands on top of hers. “In my experience,” he said, “People are either one or the other. Either they have memories, or they have an ancestor. And your ancestor isn’t there anymore, or maybe she’s just hiding, but knowing what I know about her you’re better off without her - but the point is, she was there once. And that means that whoever Macha was, whenever she was - she’s not you, and you didn’t - you didn’t do whatever she did, whatever she’s guilty of.”
Could that be taken to mean that he was saying Macha had never existed? Finn worried for a moment, and then added, “I mean, if you have her memories, she probably did exist once. You’ve been through trauma. Your wonder’s been through trauma. Maybe it’s showing you stuff from its past because it’s trying to communicate with you and that’s the only way it knows how, with memories.”
“You’re real, Arkady,” he added. “And Tate was real and Vanya was real. I remember them, even if you don’t, even if you never do, they were real, and you’re real right now, and I love you.”
He gave her hands a squeeze.
Quote:
Arkady didn’t think Macha had been guilty of anything… except making Avalon a wonder. “I felt the magic,” she told Finn, putting her cheek on his fingers. Her hair dragged through the bubbles, showing tantalizing stripes of skin, which she didn’t seem to notice. “Under my feet. It was just like the fog in my head. Golden. And it sang to me. Just like it sang to her.”
She hummed the first bar of the song, and then peeked up at him for a moment. Real, was she? She liked the sound of that, and she pecked little kisses on his knuckles. “What do you think it wants? It showed me… Macha came back with a sword made from the heart of a star, and she asked the Code to accept that as its core, the centering-place, and it said yes, and the Code ate all the magic and turned it into protection. And the island was shrouded in mist, for ever.”
That hung in the air for a moment, and she traced a little heart on his knuckles with her lips. “Does Babylon sing to you, Finn?”
She hummed the first bar of the song, and then peeked up at him for a moment. Real, was she? She liked the sound of that, and she pecked little kisses on his knuckles. “What do you think it wants? It showed me… Macha came back with a sword made from the heart of a star, and she asked the Code to accept that as its core, the centering-place, and it said yes, and the Code ate all the magic and turned it into protection. And the island was shrouded in mist, for ever.”
That hung in the air for a moment, and she traced a little heart on his knuckles with her lips. “Does Babylon sing to you, Finn?”
“Avalon wasn’t shrouded in mist when we were there today,” said Finn quietly, watching her move around under the water. They’d both seen the ships on the horizon. What did - what did that mean? It wasn’t his island. Everything he knew about the lore had come from her, and that meant that, ultimately, this was her puzzle to solve.
But he would help her every step of the way, if she wanted him to.
He shivered a little at the touch of her lips on his hand. It had taken Finn long enough to realize his love for her - but it was just so obvious, now that he knew it. “Yeah,” he said, thinking fondly of his city, the way the wind whipped around the mountain and whistled through the ancient streets. “Yeah, it sings to me.”
Quote:
“No, it wasn’t,” she whispered, thinking of the clear sea-scape, the invisible moment where sea met sky. It had given the entire world a feeling of limitless borders, and it had chafed. “That’s… that’s not good, is it?” If there was no fog to hide it… if there were ships facing towards it…
She frowned, and slid down in the water. “It was glad I was home,” she said, through the bubbles. She sang the little snatch of song she remembered: “Then I was free/and you were new/and the ocean filled with stars for you.” It was there. It was real. It wanted her and was glad she had finally come home. But she didn’t know what it needed from her, other than… her. Being her.
Arkady considered this for a moment, and then said, “I want to get out.”
She frowned, and slid down in the water. “It was glad I was home,” she said, through the bubbles. She sang the little snatch of song she remembered: “Then I was free/and you were new/and the ocean filled with stars for you.” It was there. It was real. It wanted her and was glad she had finally come home. But she didn’t know what it needed from her, other than… her. Being her.
Arkady considered this for a moment, and then said, “I want to get out.”
“I don’t know, Arkady,” said Finn, nodding as he got to his feet. He picked up her towel and held it out to her, not sure where to look. Personal space and modesty were sort of weird topics at the moment. He’d seen her naked, but he wasn’t… he wasn’t sure… All this was honestly very, very weird. He’d never had a girlfriend before and he’d certainly never lived with his girlfriend before. He’d lived with Tate, but…
He’d never seen Tate naked. They hadn’t had that kind of thing.
“That’s a pretty song,” he said, looking off towards the shelf above the toilet where they kept the spare rolls of toilet paper. “That’s what your wonder sang for you?”
Quote:
She nodded, but he wasn’t looking. So she sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the tub, wiggled her toes on the bath mat before taking her towel from him. “Yes,” she said. “It promised to tell me more songs, if I came back to it as soon as I could.” It needed her, and… it was nice to be needed. She liked it… if only she could know that it was as trustworthy as it seemed. Even if she couldn’t prove it, she’d have to spend her life going to towns where friends were ill to find, as the poem went. Avalon was hers. And it needed her.
“I miss them,” she said. “Myrddin. And my sisters. Will you sit with me for a while?”
They sat together for a while, hand in hand, while her hair dripped a wet spot onto the couch.
“I miss them,” she said. “Myrddin. And my sisters. Will you sit with me for a while?”
They sat together for a while, hand in hand, while her hair dripped a wet spot onto the couch.
