May 20, 2012.
I don't cry at her funeral. She was a cruel woman, and I think she brought in on herself.
Maybe she'll be reincarnated as a bug, or a small rodent. Something that destroys, because that's all I never knew her as.
Maybe she'll be a rat.
Maybe she'll step on a rusty nail.
The one thing about her death that was good, really truly good, not sickeningly amusing like the way she screamed when she felt for just a moment before her demise what I have been feeling every day for such a long time, was that people started talking about why I was okay and she wasn't. And that started new tests, only these were pleasant. I was allowed to talk to people gently, in a civilized way, and solve puzzles and identify things by touch – soft things, beautiful things. They played music, and I told them what I heard.
They gave me a new name, and that one fit, finally. Seraph, they called me. Burning One.
Angel.
And now that all this is done, the testing with the book starts again, but without pain, because according to them, any pain that could stay me would be out of their power. What happens instead is that I will want, less and less, to approach the book, to pick it up.
On the third day, it works, and I am done. On the fourth step, I am stilled, can no longer care any to retrieve the book, and so they make the fourth step the first and try to take the book themselves. They fail, as per their expectations, and so there is rejoicing.
And when they are finished with their exultation, they tend to me, reward me even though they have already paid my mother for my life. They bring me to a doctor named Kenspeckle Grouse who has a low, cracking voice and soft, gentle hands, and he does something to my foot that makes even the occasional stabs of pain disappear, and then he asks me if I believe I have a soul.
I tell him that of course I do.
He asks me if I would like to be able to see.
I tell him that of course I would.
He asks me if I think that a soul is still a soul when it's broken up and that is when I get scared because he's just another sorcerer looking for someone to test on. I am about to try and run away when he tells me not to.
His voice sounds like nails.
A/N: And so the plot begins to become clear.
Sunshine and laughter and dead butterflies~
Sweethearted.