Katrina tat
Jul. 9th, 2007 03:45 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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She couldn't get the taste out of her mouth. No vomiting or water or strong english tea could rinse away the taste of her brother's blood.
She couldn't remember. Everything else, she remembered with a clarity that was painful. The day when she had first caught the way Paul looked at Kazimir, and realised that he loved her uncle as much as she did. The fury on his face when she told him what Miriam had asked of her. The blankness in his open eyes as he fell, and she had known he wouldn't rise again, even as she cast the despairing thought out for a healer...
Paul, her brother, who she had abandoned to follow the shining one, Jamie. Shen, who had brought her Connor's letter. Lex, who had killed King Drake for them all.
And Jamie. Jamie who had screamed in her face as she had tried to make right the wrong he was doing, in her role as Galliard, as fighter for the spirit. Who had screamed, and grandstanded, and walked away, from his duty, and his Sept, and his pack.
The Silver Fangs had been right about him, she realised. And she had always known that, in her heart, and followed him anyway.
It hurt to be repudiated, whoever did it. She knew that. She had always known that. So why, this time, did it hurt so much? She felt like a puppet whose strings who had been cut.
...
Probably because she was.
...
Sod that.
She had a Sept to help run, Gatherings to perform, a tale to carry fast and far. Time to get on with it.
Michael? I'm coming over. I've got a few ideas.
In her mind's eye, if she just remembered a bit further, her brother's face was smiling.
She couldn't remember. Everything else, she remembered with a clarity that was painful. The day when she had first caught the way Paul looked at Kazimir, and realised that he loved her uncle as much as she did. The fury on his face when she told him what Miriam had asked of her. The blankness in his open eyes as he fell, and she had known he wouldn't rise again, even as she cast the despairing thought out for a healer...
Paul, her brother, who she had abandoned to follow the shining one, Jamie. Shen, who had brought her Connor's letter. Lex, who had killed King Drake for them all.
And Jamie. Jamie who had screamed in her face as she had tried to make right the wrong he was doing, in her role as Galliard, as fighter for the spirit. Who had screamed, and grandstanded, and walked away, from his duty, and his Sept, and his pack.
The Silver Fangs had been right about him, she realised. And she had always known that, in her heart, and followed him anyway.
It hurt to be repudiated, whoever did it. She knew that. She had always known that. So why, this time, did it hurt so much? She felt like a puppet whose strings who had been cut.
...
Probably because she was.
...
Sod that.
She had a Sept to help run, Gatherings to perform, a tale to carry fast and far. Time to get on with it.
Michael? I'm coming over. I've got a few ideas.
In her mind's eye, if she just remembered a bit further, her brother's face was smiling.