Finally, the Question.
All around the estate, things were calm. The night birds swooped, devouring the rodents skittering for safety. Soft wind touched the grounds, even the ghosts seemed subdued. The usual vibrant life of Hellwood was calmed, like their meditating master, echoing her silent focus. With the last of the fae-creatures blood purged from her system and their number in her rolodex, her mind had settled and the thought had continued to haunt her.
He had asked her the Question. The Question she had never thought of. That she should have thought of.
And so, the Question had been haunting her. Fifteen minutes of a conversation, and he had opened her eyes to the Question she didn’t even know that she had been looking for.
Father’s Question consumed her.
Father had spoken Truth to her, cut through her lies and told her the face of her soul, the things she hid from everyone, lied even to herself to keep it deep deep down away from the prying eyes of the Requiem. Things hidden so long she forgot she felt them.
He spoke of her hate for vampires and their stupidity, their incessant bickering, their sycophantic fawning over her for all the wrong reasons, their misunderstanding of her purpose. Their fear of her power. Of how she tried so hard to save them from themselves and the creatures that would destroy them. Of her dance in the Requiem, her endless boredom and the search for something she didn’t even know how to articulate. And he told her he couldn’t give her the answer, but he could tell her the Question.
Thus she was sitting on the back porch of the sprawling mansion of Hellwood, leaning back in the wrought iron furniture in the stillness of the night, soft breeze tickling gently the hairs on her arms. Thinking about the Question, and cutting through her own lies.
It was perhaps the greatest challenge she had ever faced.
She watched the stars, deep in contemplation.
He had asked her the Question. The Question she had never thought of. That she should have thought of.
And so, the Question had been haunting her. Fifteen minutes of a conversation, and he had opened her eyes to the Question she didn’t even know that she had been looking for.
Father’s Question consumed her.
Father had spoken Truth to her, cut through her lies and told her the face of her soul, the things she hid from everyone, lied even to herself to keep it deep deep down away from the prying eyes of the Requiem. Things hidden so long she forgot she felt them.
He spoke of her hate for vampires and their stupidity, their incessant bickering, their sycophantic fawning over her for all the wrong reasons, their misunderstanding of her purpose. Their fear of her power. Of how she tried so hard to save them from themselves and the creatures that would destroy them. Of her dance in the Requiem, her endless boredom and the search for something she didn’t even know how to articulate. And he told her he couldn’t give her the answer, but he could tell her the Question.
Thus she was sitting on the back porch of the sprawling mansion of Hellwood, leaning back in the wrought iron furniture in the stillness of the night, soft breeze tickling gently the hairs on her arms. Thinking about the Question, and cutting through her own lies.
It was perhaps the greatest challenge she had ever faced.
She watched the stars, deep in contemplation.