Window
I was going to write something along these lines before the prompt appeared, but I didn't know what until I saw the prompt. It sort of wanders around and gets away from the prompt, on purpose. And will be confusing as hell, because I wrote it for an audience familiar with the events and characters referenced in it. I'm posting it here because the prompt helped me start, and this community looks like it could use some activity!
I will give an explanation if anyone wants one, but it's a mile long so I'll wait for interested parties. I've written two prompts from here featuring Shikoba already, so some frame of reference can be gleaned from them.
I lay my forearms on the stone sill and lean forward, looking out. We came up here for the cultural value, but I can appreciate the tower for other reasons. High places are a comfort, and after the past few weeks, so much is going wrong.
We’re far above the city, too. Far enough that it becomes background noise. And I don’t look forward to going back down. There are too many people. The people of Fort Thorn got used to me, and I got used to them, though at their most excited they were too much for me. There are more people in Zamfurst than I ever considered would live together. I do not mind the attention of small numbers of people. It does not bother me when people think I’m a curiosity, or ask difficult questions, or look a little too long. I have come to expect it. But nearly everyone I pass gives a curious whisper to a friend, or their gaze lingers a little too long, and it is the number that overwhelms me.
I lean forward, and end up resting my head on my arms. Zamfurst is the largest settlement I have ever been to, and even here I am a curiosity. It eases the fear I feel of what I am; it stokes the fear that I am alone.
No, I am not alone. I have Shuh-Shuh-Gah, and Nokosi. How did I get along without them, Before? I do not think a brother by blood would mean as much to me as Nokosi does. And Shuh-Shuh-Gah… at times it is as if he is a friend, and at others as if he is an extension of myself. I have always tried to treat him as if he is his own creature, though he is tied to me in a way I cannot explain, even to myself. Always he has been a teacher, sent to me by Heron, a mentor. Only recently have I begun to question that, and fool that I am, asking Heron as if his answer will set that doubt aside.
“Are you listening?” And then there’s Amelia.
I straighten up and turn. She’s about five good paces away, arms folded loosely in front of her as if she’s trying not to look agitated but can’t help herself, lips drawn a little thin. She’s trying not to quirk one eyebrow, but it twitches and I catch the motion. The arch of it suggests the arch of her cheekbone, brings to mind the curve of her smile-I have to stop myself, and I try not to stare. I don’t want her to think I’m rude, or worse.
“Yes.” I was listening, most of the time, anyway. I’m interested in what she has to say, interested in everything, but my thoughts are scattered like leaves on an autumn breeze. They always have been, and I wonder if this is why I have yet to remember anything from Before. “Anslem’s father and grandfather designed the workings of this clock tower, together. It was his father’s first major commission.” And I shouldn’t feel bad about being distracted by her appearance, for a moment. Were I blind, I would still find her pretty. It’s not as though I mean anything by it. Many people think the same thing, if the behavior of some of the residents at Fort Thorn is any indication. Though they could have been more polite about it. “I was listening about the specifications, too, but I didn’t really understand.”
She keeps her arms crossed in front of her, but the look on her face softens. I am very relieved that she isn’t upset with me. “That’s fine. I just get so excited, sometimes… I’m sorry for rambling. I guess I should remember you’re not so mechanically-minded.” She closes the distance between us, and leans shoulder-to-stone, looking out the window. “I should have thought of that before bringing you up here. You probably find the noise grating, too. Most people have problems with the sound the inner workings of these bigger clocks make.”
I cock my head, slightly. “They do?” Amelia nods, and I’m no good at reading people, but I think the idea upsets her, that people are bothered by the clicking and whirring of the multitude of gears in the room below us, where the clock’s vital bits are housed. “The sound is no worse than a chorus of cicadas. Different, but not so different that I find it strange. And I like the sound of cicadas, very much.” I hope she does not think I am trying to make her feel better, because I mean what I say.
Amelia looks at me, and smiles. I cannot make sense of her expression, but something in it makes me nervous. I suddenly want to have something else to say, or to be doing, so that she will not notice. I had more to say, when I told her I was glad she was still with us, and that comes to mind, but it all seems strange and unimportant, awkward, and I refuse to say something if I don’t understand where it comes from or why I want to say it. I end up looking away, but Amelia is good with people, and I fear with the barest glance she will catch some of the leaves of my thoughts, and understand them far better than I do.
I can feel it when she looks away, and my relief feels like something passing through my skin, an invisible thing. “It’s like music, to me,” she says.
I have nothing to say to that, so we stand in silence for a while, at first awkward, but growing companionable. Amelia seems lost in a daydream, and I have much to brood over, little of it good. Like the tribe all but dissolving, and Heron’s disconcerting answers. I do not like having such dark things to dwell on, and am not used to it, though I know such misfortunes are part of life. I can take some small comfort in how charmed my life has been so far, that I have had so little to worry over until now.
Or is this the exception, and hardship the rule? I have no idea. Rarely does what I lack bother me, but the thought crawls up now to threaten my optimism: I can’t make such a statement, that I am blessed with good fortune, when most of my life is lost to me.
Amelia pushes off from the wall and turns to me. “Let’s go. I bet Nokosi’s done with the armorer, and maybe they’ll have our orders done as well.” She’s smiling, just a little, so I try to be happy. After all, Nokosi and I may be losing the tribe, but we have something else. Amelia will still be traveling with us for a while, and Pardue and Steelbloom. They are not what the tribe was to us, and never will be, but they are friends, which will do.
I find myself almost looking forward to the sheer numbers of people on the ground and how uncomfortable they make me. It is a distraction. Many things have gone wrong, and many things very nearly so. And the thought that perhaps my optimism is misplaced, that my usual outlook should not be so because I do not know what happened Before, hurts. I have not wanted to know so badly in a very long time, nor have I been quite so afraid of knowing in a very long time.
“Thank you for coming with me, Shikoba. And thank you for being such good company.” This time when Amelia smiles, she means it.
For everything that has gone wrong, something has gone right. Amelia’s smile-her mere presence-reminds me of this. There are more questions, things I would ask Shuh-Shuh-Gah if we could speak. All that we set out to do in the Vale is done, with but one loss. As much as I enjoy the company of someone whose curiosity outstrips my own, I fear Amelia, or any of the others, asking questions I can’t answer. People do not simply spring back from the dead without magic.
I know this, in my mind, but in my heart I find Shuh-Shuh-Gah resurrecting her normal. As if this sort of thing happens all the time, or I knew all along that, under the right circumstances, he could do it.
Amelia is still with us, and that is more important than how or why, or why I do not find it strange and yet the others do. And they have not asked any questions I cannot answer. We are all well and whole, and together, the Vale is in one piece, and the tribe, though dwindling, is not yet gone.
By the time I have my wish granted about being in the crowds of Zamfurst again, I no longer need it. Whether there are eyes on me or not, I feel them-thousands of them, or more, the whole city that I know can’t see me and doesn’t care that I am not like them. They see through the few people we pass, and that is enough.
But Amelia is with me, and we will be with Nokosi soon. Shuh-Shuh-Gah, somewhere, is fishing, happy. He is too far away for me to feel this, but I know it. The thought that Pardue and Steelbloom are somewhere in the city is its own comfort. Amelia begins talking about why the city was founded in this particular place, and this I am very interested in. The people of Zamfurst are much less intimidating when they become a curiosity to me as well.
I will give an explanation if anyone wants one, but it's a mile long so I'll wait for interested parties. I've written two prompts from here featuring Shikoba already, so some frame of reference can be gleaned from them.
I lay my forearms on the stone sill and lean forward, looking out. We came up here for the cultural value, but I can appreciate the tower for other reasons. High places are a comfort, and after the past few weeks, so much is going wrong.
We’re far above the city, too. Far enough that it becomes background noise. And I don’t look forward to going back down. There are too many people. The people of Fort Thorn got used to me, and I got used to them, though at their most excited they were too much for me. There are more people in Zamfurst than I ever considered would live together. I do not mind the attention of small numbers of people. It does not bother me when people think I’m a curiosity, or ask difficult questions, or look a little too long. I have come to expect it. But nearly everyone I pass gives a curious whisper to a friend, or their gaze lingers a little too long, and it is the number that overwhelms me.
I lean forward, and end up resting my head on my arms. Zamfurst is the largest settlement I have ever been to, and even here I am a curiosity. It eases the fear I feel of what I am; it stokes the fear that I am alone.
No, I am not alone. I have Shuh-Shuh-Gah, and Nokosi. How did I get along without them, Before? I do not think a brother by blood would mean as much to me as Nokosi does. And Shuh-Shuh-Gah… at times it is as if he is a friend, and at others as if he is an extension of myself. I have always tried to treat him as if he is his own creature, though he is tied to me in a way I cannot explain, even to myself. Always he has been a teacher, sent to me by Heron, a mentor. Only recently have I begun to question that, and fool that I am, asking Heron as if his answer will set that doubt aside.
“Are you listening?” And then there’s Amelia.
I straighten up and turn. She’s about five good paces away, arms folded loosely in front of her as if she’s trying not to look agitated but can’t help herself, lips drawn a little thin. She’s trying not to quirk one eyebrow, but it twitches and I catch the motion. The arch of it suggests the arch of her cheekbone, brings to mind the curve of her smile-I have to stop myself, and I try not to stare. I don’t want her to think I’m rude, or worse.
“Yes.” I was listening, most of the time, anyway. I’m interested in what she has to say, interested in everything, but my thoughts are scattered like leaves on an autumn breeze. They always have been, and I wonder if this is why I have yet to remember anything from Before. “Anslem’s father and grandfather designed the workings of this clock tower, together. It was his father’s first major commission.” And I shouldn’t feel bad about being distracted by her appearance, for a moment. Were I blind, I would still find her pretty. It’s not as though I mean anything by it. Many people think the same thing, if the behavior of some of the residents at Fort Thorn is any indication. Though they could have been more polite about it. “I was listening about the specifications, too, but I didn’t really understand.”
She keeps her arms crossed in front of her, but the look on her face softens. I am very relieved that she isn’t upset with me. “That’s fine. I just get so excited, sometimes… I’m sorry for rambling. I guess I should remember you’re not so mechanically-minded.” She closes the distance between us, and leans shoulder-to-stone, looking out the window. “I should have thought of that before bringing you up here. You probably find the noise grating, too. Most people have problems with the sound the inner workings of these bigger clocks make.”
I cock my head, slightly. “They do?” Amelia nods, and I’m no good at reading people, but I think the idea upsets her, that people are bothered by the clicking and whirring of the multitude of gears in the room below us, where the clock’s vital bits are housed. “The sound is no worse than a chorus of cicadas. Different, but not so different that I find it strange. And I like the sound of cicadas, very much.” I hope she does not think I am trying to make her feel better, because I mean what I say.
Amelia looks at me, and smiles. I cannot make sense of her expression, but something in it makes me nervous. I suddenly want to have something else to say, or to be doing, so that she will not notice. I had more to say, when I told her I was glad she was still with us, and that comes to mind, but it all seems strange and unimportant, awkward, and I refuse to say something if I don’t understand where it comes from or why I want to say it. I end up looking away, but Amelia is good with people, and I fear with the barest glance she will catch some of the leaves of my thoughts, and understand them far better than I do.
I can feel it when she looks away, and my relief feels like something passing through my skin, an invisible thing. “It’s like music, to me,” she says.
I have nothing to say to that, so we stand in silence for a while, at first awkward, but growing companionable. Amelia seems lost in a daydream, and I have much to brood over, little of it good. Like the tribe all but dissolving, and Heron’s disconcerting answers. I do not like having such dark things to dwell on, and am not used to it, though I know such misfortunes are part of life. I can take some small comfort in how charmed my life has been so far, that I have had so little to worry over until now.
Or is this the exception, and hardship the rule? I have no idea. Rarely does what I lack bother me, but the thought crawls up now to threaten my optimism: I can’t make such a statement, that I am blessed with good fortune, when most of my life is lost to me.
Amelia pushes off from the wall and turns to me. “Let’s go. I bet Nokosi’s done with the armorer, and maybe they’ll have our orders done as well.” She’s smiling, just a little, so I try to be happy. After all, Nokosi and I may be losing the tribe, but we have something else. Amelia will still be traveling with us for a while, and Pardue and Steelbloom. They are not what the tribe was to us, and never will be, but they are friends, which will do.
I find myself almost looking forward to the sheer numbers of people on the ground and how uncomfortable they make me. It is a distraction. Many things have gone wrong, and many things very nearly so. And the thought that perhaps my optimism is misplaced, that my usual outlook should not be so because I do not know what happened Before, hurts. I have not wanted to know so badly in a very long time, nor have I been quite so afraid of knowing in a very long time.
“Thank you for coming with me, Shikoba. And thank you for being such good company.” This time when Amelia smiles, she means it.
For everything that has gone wrong, something has gone right. Amelia’s smile-her mere presence-reminds me of this. There are more questions, things I would ask Shuh-Shuh-Gah if we could speak. All that we set out to do in the Vale is done, with but one loss. As much as I enjoy the company of someone whose curiosity outstrips my own, I fear Amelia, or any of the others, asking questions I can’t answer. People do not simply spring back from the dead without magic.
I know this, in my mind, but in my heart I find Shuh-Shuh-Gah resurrecting her normal. As if this sort of thing happens all the time, or I knew all along that, under the right circumstances, he could do it.
Amelia is still with us, and that is more important than how or why, or why I do not find it strange and yet the others do. And they have not asked any questions I cannot answer. We are all well and whole, and together, the Vale is in one piece, and the tribe, though dwindling, is not yet gone.
By the time I have my wish granted about being in the crowds of Zamfurst again, I no longer need it. Whether there are eyes on me or not, I feel them-thousands of them, or more, the whole city that I know can’t see me and doesn’t care that I am not like them. They see through the few people we pass, and that is enough.
But Amelia is with me, and we will be with Nokosi soon. Shuh-Shuh-Gah, somewhere, is fishing, happy. He is too far away for me to feel this, but I know it. The thought that Pardue and Steelbloom are somewhere in the city is its own comfort. Amelia begins talking about why the city was founded in this particular place, and this I am very interested in. The people of Zamfurst are much less intimidating when they become a curiosity to me as well.