Selfish, the tiny girl had called her. The people of Azarath were selfish for being unable to sully their hands to prevent a damned life from entering their world. The aging Azar smiled, brittle hands clasped beneath her pooling sleeves."I am. We are." The old woman bowed her head, strands of graying black escaping her hood. One thin ringed hand relocated to the crown of the pallid girl's head. Raven's shoulders slumped, as if with that hand a great weight had settled there. "One person's happiness is not worth the lives of many. But Raven, my child, there is no price for life. Each existence is special. Your life is important," the old leader impressed gently.
Silence curled in the stagnant space between pupil and teacher. The smaller looked over the skyscrapers. At this height even the city's breath was muted, a silent picture of daily routine, she mused, wondering if the monotony made the picture worth more or less or anything at all. "I want to feel, at the cost of others' lives, and they want to live, even though it means I cannot feel. Are all people really so selfish? I want..." Another breath, another thought. "A life without happiness is not worth living," murmured the sorceress with no knowledge of happiness.
"Perhaps not, but one with hope is. Child, you will always have hope. It is there, deep in your heart. In time, you will find your place, with precious people." Azar smiled at her pupil's surprise and winked secretly. A soft puff of wind teased their hair.
Wretchedly, Raven whispered, "selfish." Her mentor glanced over curiously. "I was speaking only of myself this time. When you said that—" Cutting off abruptly, violet eyes strayed to her lap with a disinterest that didn't penetrate her heart so much as shield it. Raven continued grimly with a shallow breath, "I want to love them, even if it means hurting them." Softer, "I don't even know them." The weight was back again, an ugly, monstrous thing. Raven wondered when it left.
The hand was back again, brushing along the tiny back in empty comfort. "One day, you will find those who love you, against all reason. With all selfishness, you will love them as well, and never look back." Azar's city was dyed red in the silent light of the setting sun. The old woman averted her eyes from the site and pulled the pliant child close.
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I have absolutely no idea how old Azar really is. Also, subtlety is so not my strong point. I have no idea why this came to mind when I've been on a House kick for over a week, but whatever. I had this whole conversation mapped out in my head, but pieces of it got lost and rearranged in writing, so I hope it still makes sense. There was supposed to be something about Raven's father and destiny and the dubious pacifism of letting someone who will destroy the world live because taking a life is wrong. I'm posting this minutes after writing it, which has "Bad Idea" all over it, but makes me happy. The title is not a typo.
There aren't enough stories of Raven as a child on Azarath, which I've always thought was a shame. The cartoon barely elaborates on it at all—there is so much artistic room!
