[It's the sound of that last piece that greets Katie as she sneaks home at some hour that most little girls should be sleeping. She's been largely absent the past days, looking after responsibilities of her own-- but making sure people don't worry about her too much in turn is important.
...that, and her own bed is far more comfortable. She pauses on the windowsill of her room, having returned as a kitten, considers the melody, and then climbs her way up to the roof.
By the time Sigmund hears her, she'll be human again - soft little-girl footfalls on the roof behind him. But she won't interrupt his playing.]
[He has a song to finish, and that's more important than everything else in the world right now. But she may be glad that she has a few moments to think, because tonight, Sigmund is different.
Or rather, his echoes are.
The echo overlays him, not entirely, but like a ghost or shade. It -- or rather, he -- is taller than Sigmund, and broader in the chest; a grown man in the prime of his life instead of a young one with lingering signs of boyhood. He wears robes of deep indigo and blue, edged in gold; and an intricate gold circlet. Hovering at his back is bright crescent halo, much like Svala's, though the ends point up like horns over his shoulders; and when Sigmund tilts his head as though he's heard her, she'll be able to see that the echo's ears are subtly pointed. Aristo. Have they taught her that word yet
( ... )
Oh, I slept all afternoon. [And she sounds ...preoccupied, because the echo most definitely has her attention.
There could be many reasons for an echo like that. A dream of what Sigmund wants to be, or a resentment that he isn't like Svala, or maybe a father figure-- it's the way it flickers and attempts to balance itself with Sigmund that makes her think of other, far more familiar things from home.
Changeling. Bearing characteristics of her own nobles. Which she knows he is not. But the similarity is there, and she asks without even thinking.]
[There's a tense pause while Sigmund processes that thought, and then he whips around quickly to face her.
His expression is stunned and confused, while the echo's is a knowing little smile. The smile is somewhat tempered by the eyes, which manage to be so many things all at once. Kind but calculating, gentle but wild, bright but ancient... and red. Vivid red, even more than Sigmund's.
He almost stands, but appears to think better of it and settles himself back down.]
What would make you ask such a thing? [The echo tilts his head a bit. 'What, indeed?']
[Brilliant job, Katie. She blinks at him a moment, then at the echo, before shifting her gaze to the side nervously. The knowing little smile tells her she's right. But how on earth does she answer that question? She certainly can't tell him the truth. Not in light of what she's already done this week.
So Katie shifts from one foot to the other-- and says nothing at all, lip caught between her teeth. It's child logic. If she doesn't give him an answer, he'll drop the subject. Right?]
[He'll drop the question, at least, and tuck the flute between the pillows before it also gets dropped in all this confusion. He smooths down the blankets, and the echo smooths down the edge of his robes over top of it. Come sit down, child. It's alright.]
I am... many things, to many people. [It's a strange half-answer, to a strange question; but then, Katie is a strange little girl. He almost thinks he shouldn't be surprised by anything she does.]
[And after a long hesitation, Katie comes forward to sit on the blankets, nervousness giving way to curiosity. A strange half-answer, but it gives rise to a question she asks often; she's far more interested in the answer this time.]
[If Katie ever stops asking questions, that's when he'll know something is seriously wrong. He doesn't know what he should tell her, or if he should tell her anything at all. It's a secret, only those who must know should be told. But it's a secret that's driving him mad. ...It isn't as though she could pass it on, anyway. She can barely explain where she's been all day, let alone something like this. He can only hope he doesn't come to regret this later.
He gives her a look that's equal parts stern and fond -- please hold your interrogation until the end of this story -- and begins in a hushed voice.]The nobility of my world are created by the moon god, and draw their power from him. Not so long ago, there was a king who lost his family because he followed the rules the god gave the people. Grief-stricken, the king swore that he would abandon the god entirely. He left his kingdom and traveled to the court of his oldest and dearest friend, where he begged her to help him remove the god's blessing so that he would be as the lowliest
( ... )
[For her part, Katie listens attentively, which is often a rarity where she's concerned. Sigmund's story is a little hard for her to understand - but she'll take a little bit to go over it again in her head and sound it out, until she understands. Or at least thinks she does. And she'll shift her gaze to the echo for a moment, looking for confirmation, before she glances back.]
[The echo blinks, and then tucks his chin towards the shoulder nearest to her. 'Yes. All true.' Sigmund stares straight ahead for a moment, and then exhales and closes his eyes.]
[...That's it? 'All right, then'? No thousand and one questions? No hurt feelings? No disapproving sniffles? That's... a little odd. But then again, Katie.]
...that, and her own bed is far more comfortable. She pauses on the windowsill of her room, having returned as a kitten, considers the melody, and then climbs her way up to the roof.
By the time Sigmund hears her, she'll be human again - soft little-girl footfalls on the roof behind him. But she won't interrupt his playing.]
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Or rather, his echoes are.
The echo overlays him, not entirely, but like a ghost or shade. It -- or rather, he -- is taller than Sigmund, and broader in the chest; a grown man in the prime of his life instead of a young one with lingering signs of boyhood. He wears robes of deep indigo and blue, edged in gold; and an intricate gold circlet. Hovering at his back is bright crescent halo, much like Svala's, though the ends point up like horns over his shoulders; and when Sigmund tilts his head as though he's heard her, she'll be able to see that the echo's ears are subtly pointed. Aristo. Have they taught her that word yet ( ... )
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There could be many reasons for an echo like that. A dream of what Sigmund wants to be, or a resentment that he isn't like Svala, or maybe a father figure-- it's the way it flickers and attempts to balance itself with Sigmund that makes her think of other, far more familiar things from home.
Changeling. Bearing characteristics of her own nobles. Which she knows he is not. But the similarity is there, and she asks without even thinking.]
You're not just one person, are you?
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His expression is stunned and confused, while the echo's is a knowing little smile. The smile is somewhat tempered by the eyes, which manage to be so many things all at once. Kind but calculating, gentle but wild, bright but ancient... and red. Vivid red, even more than Sigmund's.
He almost stands, but appears to think better of it and settles himself back down.]
What would make you ask such a thing? [The echo tilts his head a bit. 'What, indeed?']
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So Katie shifts from one foot to the other-- and says nothing at all, lip caught between her teeth. It's child logic. If she doesn't give him an answer, he'll drop the subject. Right?]
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I am... many things, to many people. [It's a strange half-answer, to a strange question; but then, Katie is a strange little girl. He almost thinks he shouldn't be surprised by anything she does.]
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What kind of things?
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He gives her a look that's equal parts stern and fond -- please hold your interrogation until the end of this story -- and begins in a hushed voice.]The nobility of my world are created by the moon god, and draw their power from him. Not so long ago, there was a king who lost his family because he followed the rules the god gave the people. Grief-stricken, the king swore that he would abandon the god entirely. He left his kingdom and traveled to the court of his oldest and dearest friend, where he begged her to help him remove the god's blessing so that he would be as the lowliest ( ... )
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What was the old king's name?
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I am Volsung.
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Did you forget everything that happened before you remembered you were Volsung?
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Before the second rite, I had no recollection of Volsung. I was merely Sigmund.
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Are you still Sigmund?
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Of course I am; but... [And here's the point that's been giving him trouble for months. The echo looks somewhat guilty.] I am Volsung too.
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All right, then.
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