Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2007-03-18 04:16 pm
the_lioness) wrote2007-03-18 04:16 pm
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It's not fair.
It's not a fair question to ask anyone, let alone Alanna. The more she thinks about it, as she told Thom she would, the angrier she gets. And she's angry because she's still thinking about it, about what it would mean and where it would leave them. These aren't thoughts she can share with anyone just yet, no matter how much she wishes to tell Adam. She can't discuss it because, deep inside, she thinks she should probably say no.
But she can't. Not yet. The thing is, somewhere in the back of her mind, she's always known it would come to this.
Once, well over a year ago, Alanna wondered if she even could.
Just last fall, she almost asked Adam if he would.
Now Thom has asked it of her, as casually as one inquires about the weather, and blithely mentioned that he can teach her to reanimate his dead and rotting corpse. As if the question itself wasn't enough to make her heart stop. The thought of opening his grave, after saying goodbye and cutting most ties to Trebond, haunts her thoughts. To cast the same spells and use her Gift to bring Thom back the way he restored Roger? It makes her a little ill.
And where would that leave her?
Exhausted. Sick. Useless for countless days, when she has three children to worry about. With a twin who's alive, even if he can't stay in Tortall. She can't bring him back only to have him executed for treason.
Stop, stop; Alanna has to remind herself that she hasn't yet agreed.
Ostensibly, the day after Thom makes his request is nothing unusual. The babies claim most of Alanna's time and energy, but her thoughts remain elsewhere. Adam notices. He doesn't ask, not yet, and she doesn't volunteer. Time has proven that Alanna will tell him what's bothering her, but only after she's had time to cool off. She stays gentle with Thom, Grace and Jamie; however, Alanna begins to take her anger out on inanimate objects. A spoon is thrown in the sink with unnecessary force. The baby powder is slammed down on the changing table, and a puff of white clouds the vicinity, making her cough. When she kicks a chair for getting in her way, Adam quietly presses her sword into her hands and shoves her out the door.
Fresh air clears her head enough for her to accept that she's not really angry. Not at Thom. If she's angry at anybody, it's herself for not having a ready answer. For not considering the possibility that he might one day ask. She recalls his face, the look in his eyes, as he explained that he would have to give his Gift away. Nothing else he could have said would have made her so seriously consider his request. To Thom, the Gift is everything.
Except, not anymore. This is obviously more important.
And he hasn't been happy, not for a long time. She knows. She also knows that he's stayed for her, in some ways -- just like she's stayed for him. Maybe this will be good for him. Maybe this will be his second chance, and he'll change. Maybe this way, they can both finally let go.
In her heart, Alanna knows she can't say no. She's just not entirely certain that she can say yes. It's a decision she has no idea how to make, and for such a direct and opinionated person, she feels as if she's stumbling in the dark. There's nowhere to turn. She shudders to think what the gods would say.
The gods.
Sword in hand, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead, Alanna pulls up short and glances thoughtfully at the bar. Late last night, she had realized that there were several important questions she forgot to ask, but maybe Thom isn't the best person to give her these answers. Maybe the best person to ask isn't even a person.
Temper cooling, Alanna nods grimly and continues the sword drill, every movement precise. The only being with whom she feels comfortable discussing Thom's request and her possible acceptance is Lucifer. And somehow that feels like the most unfair thing of all.
It's not a fair question to ask anyone, let alone Alanna. The more she thinks about it, as she told Thom she would, the angrier she gets. And she's angry because she's still thinking about it, about what it would mean and where it would leave them. These aren't thoughts she can share with anyone just yet, no matter how much she wishes to tell Adam. She can't discuss it because, deep inside, she thinks she should probably say no.
But she can't. Not yet. The thing is, somewhere in the back of her mind, she's always known it would come to this.
Once, well over a year ago, Alanna wondered if she even could.
Just last fall, she almost asked Adam if he would.
Now Thom has asked it of her, as casually as one inquires about the weather, and blithely mentioned that he can teach her to reanimate his dead and rotting corpse. As if the question itself wasn't enough to make her heart stop. The thought of opening his grave, after saying goodbye and cutting most ties to Trebond, haunts her thoughts. To cast the same spells and use her Gift to bring Thom back the way he restored Roger? It makes her a little ill.
And where would that leave her?
Exhausted. Sick. Useless for countless days, when she has three children to worry about. With a twin who's alive, even if he can't stay in Tortall. She can't bring him back only to have him executed for treason.
Stop, stop; Alanna has to remind herself that she hasn't yet agreed.
Ostensibly, the day after Thom makes his request is nothing unusual. The babies claim most of Alanna's time and energy, but her thoughts remain elsewhere. Adam notices. He doesn't ask, not yet, and she doesn't volunteer. Time has proven that Alanna will tell him what's bothering her, but only after she's had time to cool off. She stays gentle with Thom, Grace and Jamie; however, Alanna begins to take her anger out on inanimate objects. A spoon is thrown in the sink with unnecessary force. The baby powder is slammed down on the changing table, and a puff of white clouds the vicinity, making her cough. When she kicks a chair for getting in her way, Adam quietly presses her sword into her hands and shoves her out the door.
Fresh air clears her head enough for her to accept that she's not really angry. Not at Thom. If she's angry at anybody, it's herself for not having a ready answer. For not considering the possibility that he might one day ask. She recalls his face, the look in his eyes, as he explained that he would have to give his Gift away. Nothing else he could have said would have made her so seriously consider his request. To Thom, the Gift is everything.
Except, not anymore. This is obviously more important.
And he hasn't been happy, not for a long time. She knows. She also knows that he's stayed for her, in some ways -- just like she's stayed for him. Maybe this will be good for him. Maybe this will be his second chance, and he'll change. Maybe this way, they can both finally let go.
In her heart, Alanna knows she can't say no. She's just not entirely certain that she can say yes. It's a decision she has no idea how to make, and for such a direct and opinionated person, she feels as if she's stumbling in the dark. There's nowhere to turn. She shudders to think what the gods would say.
The gods.
Sword in hand, sweat making her hair stick to her forehead, Alanna pulls up short and glances thoughtfully at the bar. Late last night, she had realized that there were several important questions she forgot to ask, but maybe Thom isn't the best person to give her these answers. Maybe the best person to ask isn't even a person.
Temper cooling, Alanna nods grimly and continues the sword drill, every movement precise. The only being with whom she feels comfortable discussing Thom's request and her possible acceptance is Lucifer. And somehow that feels like the most unfair thing of all.