(no subject)
Helen would not admit it, but she has spent most of the night-except for a few fitful hours of sleep-in the dark of her room, staring through her hair at the ceiling, at her books and at her few possessions. Mostly they are gifts the Hands and the workers of the House gave her on Holy Days as she grew up. Very few are outside of the small chest she has locked in the corner - it is mostly full of children’s toys, and a few other things of which she has no need.
She considers, briefly, going out into the desert in the night-the last time she’ll be able to absorb it, to see it. But she will see enough of it in the morning, and many dinosaurs prefer the night to the day. She stays inside.
Helen drifts off again at the end of the day, and wakes to a knock on her door and the sound of rain, feet above her - where the ground is.
She rises and dresses in her most practical clothes for the weather and circumstances, wedging on her shoes. She does not pull her hair back from her face with the hair bands that are on her desk.
She opens the door and Pani, silent, meets her gaze before he looks away, a furrow of worry in his brow. She’d forgotten about the laws of silence, and feels a momentary hurt before she raises her chin and nods to him. She is not bound by them but if they will not talk, neither will she.
Pani walks her to a far off room close to where the youngest acolytes train, an empty classroom, where she is joined by Hand Fesa-Maraq. They leave Pani outside.
Helen walks to the center of the room, where several female Hands gather around, putting her arms up for them to pull off her big, bulky sweater. They undress her down to her black underpants and breastband (the latter of which makes Hand Fesa-Maraq look up at Helen, startled - she had not realized Helen was old enough to need one - , while Helen holds her chin out as defiantly as possible. Her teacher moves on) to make sure she has carried no weapons for self-protection.
They redress her, except for her long-sleeved skinshirt and skinpants which they fold and leave on a chair. Helen got them as a gift three years before to insulate and deflect low intensity blows - not much help against the dinosaurs, but she’d hoped they’d help with the stones. She still says nothing, though.
Hand Fesa-Maraq is almost crying when she opens the door, and Pani touches Helen’s shoulder for her to follow him. Helen tries to ignore it, though - honorable exiles do not include tears. And the Hand will be throwing stones, as well.
The women follow them outside, and Helen sees the assembled Hands in the rain and mud, rocks gathered around them. Touching Pani’s sleeve so he knows she’s stopped, she bends down and tightens the laces of her shoes. It wouldn't do to slip.
She has seen someone cast out, before. Once, when she was seven years old. Then everyone’s face was full of a sad anger, and the silence was almost intolerable as the man screamed with pain and ran, tripping over himself in the sand and bleeding from where the rocks had gashed him-nothing very dangerous, but enough that the dinosaurs would be able to find him come nightfall. The faces here are just sad, and scared.
Helen swallows, and stands, and walks ahead of Pani to the assembled masses. Pani remains behind her, as if he is a wall blocking her exit to the desert in case she bolts before they are ready.
The head Hand opens his mouth and breaks the silence. “For blaspheming against Uquar, you are cast out. You will not be recognized or your name spoken in this House except in the Records until your sin has been expiated and you return.”
He nods to Pani, who does not move for a long moment, and squeezes Helen’s shoulder apologetically when he does, walking across her field of vision to join the crowd, head bent down so his spectacles are in danger of sliding off the end of his nose.
Helen lifts hers up and says “I gladly accept exile, instead of imprisonment. May the punishment that has been dealt onto me - for merely seeing the truth of a matter darker than any of you wish to acknowledge - be dealt.”
And she turns, as they heft their stones, and runs-following that faint tug in her stomach that leads across the desert as the stones fall around (and into) her.
She falls twice, blood soaking through her black sweater. She doesn’t scream at all.
She considers, briefly, going out into the desert in the night-the last time she’ll be able to absorb it, to see it. But she will see enough of it in the morning, and many dinosaurs prefer the night to the day. She stays inside.
Helen drifts off again at the end of the day, and wakes to a knock on her door and the sound of rain, feet above her - where the ground is.
She rises and dresses in her most practical clothes for the weather and circumstances, wedging on her shoes. She does not pull her hair back from her face with the hair bands that are on her desk.
She opens the door and Pani, silent, meets her gaze before he looks away, a furrow of worry in his brow. She’d forgotten about the laws of silence, and feels a momentary hurt before she raises her chin and nods to him. She is not bound by them but if they will not talk, neither will she.
Pani walks her to a far off room close to where the youngest acolytes train, an empty classroom, where she is joined by Hand Fesa-Maraq. They leave Pani outside.
Helen walks to the center of the room, where several female Hands gather around, putting her arms up for them to pull off her big, bulky sweater. They undress her down to her black underpants and breastband (the latter of which makes Hand Fesa-Maraq look up at Helen, startled - she had not realized Helen was old enough to need one - , while Helen holds her chin out as defiantly as possible. Her teacher moves on) to make sure she has carried no weapons for self-protection.
They redress her, except for her long-sleeved skinshirt and skinpants which they fold and leave on a chair. Helen got them as a gift three years before to insulate and deflect low intensity blows - not much help against the dinosaurs, but she’d hoped they’d help with the stones. She still says nothing, though.
Hand Fesa-Maraq is almost crying when she opens the door, and Pani touches Helen’s shoulder for her to follow him. Helen tries to ignore it, though - honorable exiles do not include tears. And the Hand will be throwing stones, as well.
The women follow them outside, and Helen sees the assembled Hands in the rain and mud, rocks gathered around them. Touching Pani’s sleeve so he knows she’s stopped, she bends down and tightens the laces of her shoes. It wouldn't do to slip.
She has seen someone cast out, before. Once, when she was seven years old. Then everyone’s face was full of a sad anger, and the silence was almost intolerable as the man screamed with pain and ran, tripping over himself in the sand and bleeding from where the rocks had gashed him-nothing very dangerous, but enough that the dinosaurs would be able to find him come nightfall. The faces here are just sad, and scared.
Helen swallows, and stands, and walks ahead of Pani to the assembled masses. Pani remains behind her, as if he is a wall blocking her exit to the desert in case she bolts before they are ready.
The head Hand opens his mouth and breaks the silence. “For blaspheming against Uquar, you are cast out. You will not be recognized or your name spoken in this House except in the Records until your sin has been expiated and you return.”
He nods to Pani, who does not move for a long moment, and squeezes Helen’s shoulder apologetically when he does, walking across her field of vision to join the crowd, head bent down so his spectacles are in danger of sliding off the end of his nose.
Helen lifts hers up and says “I gladly accept exile, instead of imprisonment. May the punishment that has been dealt onto me - for merely seeing the truth of a matter darker than any of you wish to acknowledge - be dealt.”
And she turns, as they heft their stones, and runs-following that faint tug in her stomach that leads across the desert as the stones fall around (and into) her.
She falls twice, blood soaking through her black sweater. She doesn’t scream at all.