Five: The Teller
A/N: I rearranged the chapters quite a bit - again. Sorry! This is the consequence of no story planning! Anyways it's only a chunk of the previous chapter shifted into this one...yeah i'm very disorganized (11/10/13). I hope you'll continue reading and resist throwing virtual tomatoes at me :| On the upside, I added chapter titles :D
It was only when Pir entered the shack did she see that the house was actually made of mangrove trees, their bending and twisting branches and trunks clustering together to form the walls and the floors, and the thick layers of leaves providing a roof for the shack. It was a wonder, yet there seemed to be an unnatural air about how perfect the shack had formed, an aura of magic forcing the branches in their different positions.
However, it was not on this magical phenomenon that Pir's mind had been fixed on, rather on the mystery of the phenomenon, the Teller.
Pir remembered little about what she'd been told of the Teller, but she knew that the Teller had three Faces, or in other words, three different personalities to judge from three different perspectives. Myth spoke of her as the Woman of Three Faces, She Who Watches All Natures. It was told that the Teller had been cooped up in this shack for nearly a century, and with no company, she made her own. She split herself up, into the three generations, each with very different insights. There was a child, nothing but playful and immature. Then there was a grown, kind lady, who was wise but all the more vague. And there was an old woman, knowledgeable but lacking of memory. It was rumored that those who met the child fell out of luck, those who met the woman had balanced luck, and those who met the elder fell into luck.
Pir had never cared for these rumors, though most of them had been proven true over the years. Her neighbor Mister Barton had been deep in debt for a few years now, and cursed his meeting with the Child for it. The baker across her street led quite a steady business, with many ups and downs in the finance, claiming to have met the Lady. The owner of the most popular bookstore in town believed to have been blessed by the Old One. However, these could only be superstitions.
And now, standing in the shack, she found herself slightly wondering of whom she will meet.
"You came to play."
Pir turned, and at the sound of the voice she knew who'd she'd gotten as the Teller before she saw those big round eyes staring at her from within the shadows of the shack.
The Child, She Who Watches All Youth And Innocence.
All the more Pir was unwilling to show her despondency, and lifted her chin, arranging her expression to be a stern cold stare.
"I came not to play," she said. "I came for my Fating."
"Oh, it's today?" the Child stepped forwards, into the rays of the sunlight that shone through the gaps in the leaves. PIr now saw that the girl seemed to be no more than seven, with child fats still evident on her chubby cheeks. Thick red hair was tied into two plaits that fell over her shoulders, contrasting to the faded blue frock she wore. "I forgot. Well then, since I have already prepared games, you will play with me."
"I came here for my Fating." Pir refused to give in to this Child.
"But I want to play."
"My Fating first."
"Fine," the Child twirled around and sat with crossed legs. Her eyes began to twitch and her pupils contracted. "You'll live a happy time in Fellshire, and bring Fellshire its name. Can we play now?"
"What do you mean, bring Fellshire its name?" pressed Pir.
"I want to play!" the Child's voice rose into a whine. "Why fret over this Fating furor anyways? It's so boring!"
Pir ignored the Child's complaints, and prepared to leave. Yet even as she stared out into that wooden bridge, her mind was still fixed on the telling just given to her. There was something off about it. This girl, She From Whom One Receives Ill luck, had told her of good happenings, not misfortunes and letdowns. How then, does the ill luck fall upon those who meet her?
Then it struck her. It was because the Child gave good news, did those who meet her became complacent of living a blessed life, unaware of the bad happenings that are imminent. It was because they were given good luck, did they fall into ill luck.
Pir was determined not to fall for the Child's mischievous tricks. She would have to find another way around.
I came here for a full Fating, she thought, and I'm not leaving without one.
She turned back to the Child. "I'll play with you."
The Child looked up at her. "You will?"
"Yes I will," confirmed Pir, now putting on a gentler front. In her mind, ideas were racing through, searching desperately for any loopholes.
Then she found one.
"Let me decide which game to play," Pir said, praying her plan would work.
The Child pouted, but otherwise obliged.
"Okay, we will make our own story together," Pir started. "I begin, you continue."
"That game makes me sleep!" whined the Child. "Can we play something else?"
"You should thank me for even playing with you!" snapped Pir. She realized her mistake just as soon as the Child's lips began to tremble. Quickly she knelt down next to the girl and hastily added in a softer tone, "Look, we'll play my game first, and then we can play yours, alright?"
The Child smiled. "Alright."
"So, I'll begin." Pir took a deep breath. "One day – "
"No!" interrupted the Child. "You must start with 'Once Upon a time'! It's the rules!"
"Since when were there rules?" demanded Pir, once again easily losing her temper. "My game, my rules."
This time tears began to gather in the Child's eyes.
"Ok, fine, whatever!" cried Pir, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived an ordinary girl. Her name was Pir – "
"Pir's not a nice name!" said the Child, once again interrupting. "Make her Aeryn!"
Pir took another deep breath, this time to calm her boiling insides. "Her name was Aeryn. One day, Aeryn found out she could do magic."
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried the Child, "I know this one! Can I continue?" Pir obliged, excitement bubbling in her as she saw the Child's eyes begin to twitch once more, just as she'd done when she told the other prophecy minutes ago.
"She could control the elements, like fire, or wind, or water! She was very powerful, but no one knew of her magic. No one knew that she could fly, or walk on water! The only other person who knew was her teacher, and she only told one friend."
All of a sudden the Child began to convulse, and Pir jerked upon her feet and away from the girl. Pir watched as the Child's green cat-like pupils contracted and rolled to the back of her head.
"Then they found her. They found her." The sudden change in the Child's voice sent a shiver down Pir's spine. "They're coming for her."
Suddenly the Child dove into Pir's arms, her eyes now darting frantically around the room, as if danger were impending. "No, no, stay away from me!" her voice was now younger, but it was as if she was voicing a dialogue. "I didn't do anything wrong! No, no don't lock the doors! Please, someone, anyone! Let me in!"
The terror in the Child's voice was now growing on Pir, but she refused to let down her brave front.
"No! You don't understand! I just wanted – "
The Child stopped shaking. She stepped back and stared at Pir.
"She just wanted…?" pressed Pir, eager to get as much information as possible.
The Child made no movement. Her eyes had returned to their normal state, but they seemed empty, just green orbs filled with endless nothingness.
"Who was after her?" asked Pir, trying again.
The Child just stared.
Cautiously, Pir took a step forwards.
Just as her foot touched the floor, the Child began to dissipate. Literally. Her eyes and mouth began to retch dust, her whole body turning to dust. Pir could do nothing but stare in shock as the girl before her was reduced to a pile of dust.
Then a breeze picked up, and the remains of the Child rode with it, swirling up through the rustling leaves and into the bright morning sky that spring had brought with it.
"I do make rather marvelous exits, don't I?" came a voice from behind.
Pir swiveled around to face a lady emerging from the shadows. In the dim light, her green eyes sparkled like seawater, her long blond hair falling down upon her shoulders like golden rain. At first sight, the gown she wore looked like a white waterfall, but as Pir looked closer, she noticed a series shimmering colors woven into the fabric.
It was the Lady, She Who Watches All Maturity And Beauty.
"I see you've passed my test," she said, her voice as soft as the riverbed, light as the wind, "Not many have held their temper on such an annoying brat as I am."
"That was a test?" repeated Pir incredulously. "I assumed it to be the actual Fating."
"It was the actual Fating," the Lady replied, her voice calm as the sea. "And so is this."
Pir heaved a sigh. So all that agonizing pretense play with the whinny child was not in vain.
"So what will I know?" asked Pir hesitantly.
"You will know what I have known of you, what I know of you now, and what I have yet to know of you in time to come."
"And what have you known of me?"
"I knew you were different in many ways, Pirpetusia. Your past, your origins, are shrouded by mystery, and though I've managed to decipher it with great difficulty, your future tells me to let time tell you."
"You can't possibly keep my past from me!" said Pir, aghast. "I remember nothing about my biological parents, and you gave me hope when you told me you knew my past. But now that hope has once again vanished. What could you possibly harm by telling me?"
"I can harm your entire future," replied the Lady simply. "A little action can change your entire future. By simply uttering a word that should not be said, your whole future can be changed.
"That is why knowing one's future is dangerous. It all depends on how one choses to manage it. A man can take his future into his own hands, and force it to change, or he can just let time guide his future. The choice is yours. But now I tell you your future is on the edge of a knife – one wrong move and your life shall be jeopardized – and thus, in my power, I advise you to do the latter."
"You make life sound like it's a spider web," said Pir, "like it can be ripped apart anytime."
"Yes, Pirpetusia, life is like a web. It spins, turns with decisions made, paths taken, and perceptions created. It spreads out, shaping and molding one's character. It takes bait and traps it there, like how sweet memories will stick to one's life forever.
"But spider webs can be easily be ripped apart by the forces of nature, be it the winds, or animals. It can be torn until there is nothing left but it's shreds, just like how one can be killed, but never one's beliefs."
"Is that supposed to comfort me? Because after all the dark, philosophical concepts, I finally hear a positive note."
"That, Pirpetusia, is your decision, your perspective."
"Is it your job to keep on lecturing about decisions and perspectives?" asked Pir, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Because if so, I'm sure Yale University might welcome you."
"Pirpetusia McGuire." The entire atmosphere within the shack seemed to change with the Lady's thundering voice. Darkness seemed to pass over the shack, one of pure power and anger. "You will laugh not about these matters, for it is your life you are tampering with. I will not cry nor mourn when you fall to your doom, and I care no more for you than I care for the others who have darkness in their lives. So mark my words, Pirpetusia, your life is at knife point."
With that, she burst into a light, a light that was of the same shimmering hues of her gown. Pir turned, averting her eyes from the powerful light of the Teller.
Then it faded, and the Lady was no more.
"She was a nice young lady, wasn't she?" asked a voice from beneath the shadows.
Once again Pir looked at the direction of the voice, and found an old lady, rocking on a wooden rocking chair, swaying back and forth as her knitting needles clicked and snapped – in the dark.
Pir didn't know how she was doing it, but she knew it wasn't a strange sight with the old lady's status. She was the Elder, She Who Watches All Age and Knowledge.
"Yes, she loves to make brilliantly bright exits," continued the Elder, letting out a laugh, one that was so kind and motherly. "Hurts my already sore eyes. I can hardly see where my needles are now." Pir stared in awe at where the old woman's hands were now moving swiftly between the loops and knots, flawless and perfected.
"You came for the Fating, my child?" asked the Elder. Pir nodded. "Aye, they have that event every year, asking for their destinies."
"So do you know my destiny?"
The Elder's hands stopped moving. She stared up into Pir's eyes, and as they locked, Pir gasped.
The Elder was blind. Her eyes were nothing but glass like orbs, empty and hollow.
"My eyes, you stare at?" asked the Elder. Pir nodded again but this time added a slight squeak that she'd meant to be a 'yes'. "There is a reason why they call me the Glass Eyed One.
"But I am not blind. I can see you as much as you can see me. They mistake me for blind, but these eyes are merely withered from old age; I have no use for them, I can see perfectly well with my mind's eye. So nod, my dear, there is a reason you are born with a neck." The old lips cracked into a gentle smile. "Come, there is something I'd very much like you to see." She set her needles down, and walked across the room to a veil that Pir had never noticed before.
"My most prized possessions, take a look, dearie." The Elder drew the curtain back, and revealed several paintings on the walls.
Pir gasped. In every picture there was a girl. The same girl, yet different. There was a picture of the girl, running through a meadow, but her face was sad and crestfallen. Next to it was yet another, this time of the girl standing on a platform, her hands bound but she was smiling, in perhaps gratitude? And another of her in an unfamiliar place, a green emerald palace, adorned with jewels and robes fit for a princess.
And the last…the last painting was the one that shook Pir the most.
The girl was standing upon a boulder, her eyes fierce and dark. Her fists were engulfed in fire, wind blowing her hair wild, her torn skirts whipping in a flurry of rags. Behind her lightning ripped the sky, throwing her lean face into a striking white light.
Yet, it was not the scenery, the expression of the livid girl, or any of the other portrayals of the girl, that chilled Pir to the bone.
It was the fact, that each girl was not any ordinary girl, but Pir herself.