Memories
Fond Partings
Disclaimer: What do you think?
If you want to use Tora, or any of my other characters, PM me.
Logan looked up from his position sitting at the end of his bed. Curt stood in the doorway, glaring at him. Logan shook his head.
"We've had this argument already. You're going."
Curt looked ready to scream.
"You're pushing me away, Dad! Maman dies and you're getting rid of me! Do you care so little-?"
Logan got up and his face was like thunder.
"It's exactly because I care that I'm sending you away! You're bitter! You have to accept she died! You can't lash out at the world! It doesn't fix anything!"
"And what do you know about that!?"
Logan snarled.
"You think I haven't made mistakes!? You think I haven't lashed out! Curt, I've done it so many times before and it doesn't make anything better! She's gone! But you can't accept that! You strike out without thinking! No, Curt! You need out! Out of this place! It'll destroy you otherwise."
Curt snarled.
"Why, Dad! Do you really hate me that much!?"
Logan moved forward and grasped Curt's arm.
"Look… Here isn't healthy. There's too many memories –good and bad. We need to get away. You most of all. You're not moving on. And yes, it hurts –it will always hurt. But you… Curt, you can't let that destroy you. She would hate it to see you like this. So going on this will give you time to get away from those you blame –look, I know you blame us. I blame us as well. But you have to… Look, you need a way to get away from all this."
Curt didn't look convinced.
"So what are you doing?"
Logan shrugged.
"I'm going up north. The FF have agreed to look after Jamie –he wants to stay there. Eva will come with me."
"Where are you planning to go?"
Logan made a non-commital grunt.
"I was thinking go back home. See the place I grew up in."
Curt frowned.
"Wasn't that a big mansion?"
Logan sighed.
"Yeah. But the place I felt safest was in the little attic room my governess lived in. She was always ready to listen –sometimes I felt she was more like my mother than my actual mother was."
Curt frowned.
"Really?"
Logan held up a hand.
"I found some old photos –looked through archives. I forgot…Papa was very into modern inventions. Well, I say modern."
An hour later, and the two were sitting together quietly, looking at printouts of very old photos together, quietly trying to mend the rift that had formed between them. Then Logan grinned.
"There. That's me, Rose and Miss Douglas."
The photo showed a woman sitting, her hair swept up in a neat coiffure, her eyes glinting with a certain amount of mischief; with a tall girl and a young boy standing either side of her. Curt smiled sadly.
"She looks a bit like Maman."
Logan squinted and suddenly smiled sadly.
"Yes. She does, doesn't she? She was very unorthodox, which is why Papa hired her. Her father was a Scottish immigrant, her mother was from Quebec. She was engaged to a teacher who lived out East –she took up the post to raise enough money to get married. He died –TB I think. She just sort of…stayed."
He smiled softly.
"When Rose tried to take me back and my grandfather –the old buzzard –basically told us to leave and never come back, she pulled us aside and gave us a lot more than I think she could spare –food, clothes, blankets. She also told Rose something I think that shocked her a lot."
Curt looked over.
"What?"
Logan shrugged.
"I don't know. And without Rose's diary, I'll never know."
"Rose's diary?"
Logan sighed.
"I went back for it. It was gone. I never found it. I reckon Malone burnt it."
Curt slowly got up and smiled weakly.
"Dad… Can I make a deal?"
"What?"
"I go on this trip. Then you've gotta take me to see your old home –after all, I inherit it, don't I?"
Logan laughed and cuffed Curt around the head slightly.
"Oh, shut up!"
They looked at each other for a long moment, understanding –possibly more than they had ever had before- blossoming and then the curtain of sorrow slide over them once more and Curt turned to go.
"I… I need to get to class…"
"Wait."
Curt turned and Logan pressed the photo of him, Rose and Miss Douglas into his hand.
"Keep it."
And Curt smiled.
"How stupid did Logan feel later, when he found out that…"
"No, no, Death, dear. Spoilers."
Etana walked into her room and then collapsed to the floor in a mixture of grief and relief. She stood up, decision made. A knife slid out of her sleeve and then silver hair littered the floor, hair cut into a short bob and then the soft white dress was torn into long strips. The strips were tied tightly around her chest and then she opened a chest to reveal a set of male clothing and armour. She dressed swiftly then closed her eyes and smashed a fist into the wall, shattering the plaster, pulling out a highly polish lacquered box, opening it, pulling out the slender katana and slightly unsheathing it, smiled at the gleaming pearly white metal and slammed the blade back into the sheath before buckling it onto her belt. A heavy wool cloak covered her unearthly face and wings. Then she turned and froze. The cat sat in the window, soft grey fur glinting in the sunlight. Etana's face took a pleading aspect.
"I…I have to go. This is not my home anymore… Please…"
She touched her face.
"My blood debt is paid. They are old, have children and grandchildren of their own. And I have not aged. Why? Why am I frozen? Is this my curse? Is this what I have to pay? Please!"
The amber eyes continued staring unblinkingly.
"Am I doing the right thing?"
At that, the cat turned and stared out over the city below. Etana walked over.
"What? What do you see?"
And the paw pointed, beyond the city, beyond the plains, in the direction of the sea.
"I…I have to leave?"
The eyes that looked up at her offered no clue.
"You will make me leave my homeland? Forever?"
The cat sat in silence and as Etana watched, slowly reached out and placed one paw on her mouth.
"Mast…"
Silence. This is my blessing. May you long walk the Earth; caring for those who need cared for, helping those who need help, defending those with no voice. Your path will not be easy, nor will it be tender on you. You will see many atrocities and you will be forced to commit more than one in your time. But you will always find solace in your purpose.
"But what is my purpose?"
That is for you to decide. Now, that was my blessing. Here is my gift.
And something touched Etana, marked her, gave her a defence she would not know of until it was her time of need.
Goodbye, my child. We will not meet again for many years.
"WAIT!"
But the cat leapt away daintily. She had new goals to fulfil. New promises to keep. And maybe then she could finally die.
"Well, we all know how well that goal turned out!"
"Oh, shut up!"