[It takes every single flimsy piece of self-restraint she has not to ask "three??" but fuck it all. Don't ruin everything nice, Sal, for once in your damn life. Save it for later.]
All of my resolutions started a lot fucking earlier than the new year, but thankfully, I haven't fallen off the wagon yet so. Not bad, I guess.
Anyway, I don't take this shit too seriously. If I want something that badly I just go get it.
[Mostly, sometimes. Not everything, however.]
But I can help with some of yours, I think. Is cat-sitting a thing? Cat-borrowing? Can you even lend something that's not really yours, it just shows up screaming for attention?
Would you like any help looking after your ill-gotten pet? Because I would love to. Cat-sitting is certainly a thing. Keep it fed, water the plants, make sure no one breaks into your apartment if you happen to be away, etc.
Well shit, if we're going to get practical about things. I've been thinking—it might be a good idea to give you a key anyway. I used to have a few places I could go when things really went south back home, for example, and something similar might work out for when the crap hits the fan around here.
Plus, I'm just kind of guessing with half of this cat shit anyway, so someone fucking responsible might want a go at it.
[ A beat before she starts typing again, a consideration. Wondering if the whole notion of exchanging keys is as potentially loaded in Sal's world as it is in Anathema's. But she used to carry several friends' keys back home, even when she didn't particularly want them — she just projected That Responsible Friend vibes, apparently — so it's also normal enough.
Besides. This one, she wouldn't mind having. ]
That sounds smart, honestly. When crap hits the fan is a more likely bet than if. You can have mine, too, if you need somewhere to go when you're in Jeopardy.
[Well, that went...pretty fucking easily, didn't it? So why all of this pent-up energy, all of a sudden?]
Depends on your interpretation of pet, I guess. My bird, Congeniality, isn't what you'd call small or domesticated, and in fact she's grouchier than I am. But that girl's been with me for so long, well, the biggest regret I have is feeling like I'm abandoning her while I'm here.
I know it's not the case but...yeah, I kind of miss her. What about you, huh? More cats?
I don't know if it's a consolation at all -- our brains are illogical, a lot of the time -- but people do say that time is essentially frozen back home, while we're here, so it's not like she knows you're gone. It's not an abandonment.
When you say 'not small', how not-small are we talking?
And no, unfortunately. My mom was allergic, so she never kept any; I always just lived vicariously through friends, the ones I met while I was at school. And after I moved out this most recent time, I was pretty busy with-- well, I don't know what to call them apart from 'apocalypse duties'. It wasn't a good time to take in an animal. I wasn't even sure there'd still be a world standing to keep them in, to be honest. Then I came here.
I think I get the jist of it. Distance makes us worry, even if we shouldn't. Will they be safe if I'm not there, well taken care of?
[Careful there, Sal, think too hard and you might have a real epiphany.]
Shit, well, you know how the people here like to ride horses or whatever? Think about it like that, only angry and full of feathers. The nicer ones out of Cathama are far fucking fancier than anything you can get in the Scar, of course, but Congeniality and I have been through everything together. So I'm pretty fucking biased on her account.
[There it is again, that apocalypse shit. Typically she wouldn't try to get too involved, but.]
You know, if I think far enough back, I remember the kind of shit they'd say to us back in the beginning. When they took us away to be trained in our magic—what a fucking honor it was, serving a greater purpose. Sacrificing so much just to keep everyone in the imperium safe, and I imagine most kids in the beginning took that birdshit to heart.
And of course, over the fucking years, you get to dreaming about all the things you'll have when the war is over, when everything is safe and people are satisfied. But that freedom never seemed to manifest, I guess. It's no fucking wonder everything went bad in the end, but.
Well, we're here now. Kind of nice to try and make the best of whatever this weird shit is we've been given, right?
Wait, sorry, first off and most important thing: are you telling me you rode a giant angry bird?
But-- yeah. Yes. Exactly. It's hard to sit down and try to picture an 'after', and I have to admit that the one I pictured didn't look anything like this, but I like to make the best of it. It's not peaceful here, but I think I'd have been bored to tears if nothing ever happened, either. So. We take the weird shit and we make some kind of home out of it, I think.
You know what? I think you're just jealous of my wonderful girl, Congeniality. In fact, I think this place would be much better off porting in some birds of their own and raising them too.
What do you picture, when you imagine being happy?
Fuck it, you've called me out entirely. And I agree. The Porter brought in my friend's pet hellhound, so if it can do that for him, it really should bring in your avian steed.
[ She can barely type that with a straight face. She's delighted. ]
And honestly? I don't really know. A cottage in the English countryside, stacks of books, good tea, a pet cat, a nice garden with lots of herbs. But also travelling the world and seeing all sorts of its corners. But also adventure and some mild peril? Somehow all of the above at once. I don't know how to make them all coexist.
[It's comforting to lie to herself and pretend that every soft part of her has died, some by her own hand and some by a sword in her side and that quiet apology echoing in the darkness. Unfortunately, none of that is ever true, and whatever tender emotion that slips past her guard seems inevitably chased by a certain sadness too.]
Freedom. It's the freedom to live every day however you want to.
I remember thinking almost the same sort of thing. A long time ago. But I think they're all beautiful dreams too, and I don't fucking know why any of it should be impossible.
[ Anathema is hopelessly nosy — she pries, she’s constantly asking questions about Sal’s magic, her world — but she doesn’t actually know much about the specific circumstances. What Sal was up to. What things might have happened. ]
[Sal has learned, through experience, what it's like when she doesn't provide answers. When the silence grows and grows, and every precious thing gets that much further away. Until there's nothing left at all, really.
It all still hurts, but she supposes there are things which can hurt so much more.]
Well, depends on what and when. I was taken away when I was eight, when I first came into my magic. And then, you know, the imperium trains you to be the very best—which is pretty shit honestly, if you just want to live your own life and not fight in some pathetic war.
Skip ahead a few acts, and it isn't someone else holding you back but yourself. Because if you don't have a country and a purpose, well then, you've got to hold onto something else.
And if that's all done, well. I know why people feel angry about being here, taken away from their purpose and everything they love. But I don't mind. If I can fly again, that's enough for me.
Are you telling me we've known each other for months and I've been such a terrible friend that I didn't even known you'd been kidnapped to be a magic child soldier????
[ Anathema is always so very, very self-possessed — except for those times when she isn't. When that composure is shattered in one fell blow and she gets a little frayed and shouty around the edges. ]
[Sal's a little surprised too, but then again, is it ever the reaction she expects?]
Uh, no? If we're going to get real fucking technical about it.
First of all, didn't we just agree that you're perfect as is?
Secondly, I seem to recall some agreement about getting to know each other after that whole Jeopardy shitstorm, and since we're not dead yet, I'd say we're right on schedule.
Thirdly, we don't join the military until we're sixteen. As soon as our magic appears, the government minders just take us into custody for training and supervision.
Choice? As an eight year old against the machinations of an empire? Not fucking likely. I waited for days for my parents of course, thinking like a dumb kid, that they'd show up to get me eventually.
Not a chance.
And yeah, I guess others might've been sent to do less...fighty things, but most of those who trained with me were sent away to fight.
Fuck, magic is different for all of us here, right? And magic where I'm from—usually it comes with some shitty price tag. You get a favor from the Lady Merchant, something like, oh, the ability to call down lightning and bad weather. But she takes in kind, something equally important.
Except for the few of us who don't. The very few. And there's no question about where we'd end up.
Yeah well, sounds to me like your family was lucky enough to have someone like you.
What are they like? Because leaving it all up to my completely fucking humble imagination, Anathema, I'm going to decide on...hidden royalty maybe, living in some lavish palace on a beautiful, faraway island. Something they'd write a nice opera about, probably.
Or, well-- Our house was large and expensive enough that some people might definitely call it a lavish palace. And it was on a cliffside near a private beach, so I would go swimming on the weekends a lot. I was homeschooled by my mom and aunts until I was a teenager: mostly just lessons at home, and remote learning via computer, until I went off to college and decided I needed to try being out of the nest for a while. I was worried I'd be too sheltered, otherwise. I needed to get some life experience before the world maybe-possibly ended.
[ In the end, she doesn't fight the nickname, though. It's cute, Sal's cute, and therefore forgiven. ]
You know, that's odd. Normally I feel like they're the first thing people know about me -- which means I'm actually relieved that I haven't blathered at you about them yet. I've been trying to get away from them.
So. A few hundred years ago, one of my ancestors published a book of hyper-specific prophecies. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. So far as I know, it's the only truly accurate book of prophecies in the world. It talked mostly about our family, and kept an eye out for us -- investment tips and advice and so on -- but it also talked about the oncoming apocalypse and how to avert it. That it was our job to avert it. So we considered ourselves professional descendants: spent our days and years and lifetimes trying to sort out what each prophecy meant, and what she wanted us to do.
The only thing it was really clear on was that I would be there, and I would be involved somehow. Either I'd succeed or I wouldn't. Either I'd figure out what I needed to do, or I'd die with the rest of the world at age twenty-two.
Long story short, we did succeed in saving the world, and that was the end of those particular prophecies. Until a second book showed up, and I set the damn thing on fire.
My point being. I really like autonomy. Choice. And I was tired of feeling like I didn't have a choice, that my road was all set out for me hundreds of years before I was even born.
So even if the circumstances were different, I think I do know what it's like to be trapped in a cage of responsibility. From the sounds of it, I wish you'd been able to set yours on fire sooner.
[It's pretty easy to play around and make light of things, but even Sal knows an important moment when it happens. So many times she's turned away from them, leaving things ignored or watched them pass her by. Sometimes a prison is self-made, and you've got to watch your life burn down first before you can try to build yourself again.]
I know how it feels to want to distance yourself from something in the past. Names and legacies can have a damn heavy weight to them, after a while. Maybe I'm too biased (of course not, my opinion's fucking perfect) but I don't think your saving the world had anything to do with this ancestor of yours.
Some cynical asshole like me wouldn't buy this story from just anyone either—but if anyone has the strength, the wisdom, and the bravery to do any of this, if I'm to believe in any person pulling some fantastic feat of heroics off it's you.
Just by being who you are, not whatever they all expected you to be. I think you change lives here, too, so why not your own? Whatever the fuck you want to do and whatever shred of happiness can be stolen out of a place like this, Anathema, I know you're going to find it.
Mm. No. I appreciate the sentiment and the comfort you're trying to give, but I have to give Agnes credit, too. By the end of it, I was flying by the seat of my pants and relying on pulling random prophecies out of the book and untangling them on-the-go, and they gave me ideas for what to do next. The guidance helped me, and I was the one who figured it out, but that doesn't change the fact that I do think I needed that guidance to get there. So, it's a two-way street. A team effort, across the centuries. Both of us working in concert (along with everyone else who helped, of course).
But. The rest of it, about life here. That matters too. Thank you, Sal.
Sure, I think I get it. I had a partnership for a little while too. Help decoding messages, unraveling conspiracies, or mostly just keeping me alive despite all my best efforts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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All of my resolutions started a lot fucking earlier than the new year, but thankfully, I haven't fallen off the wagon yet so. Not bad, I guess.
Anyway, I don't take this shit too seriously. If I want something that badly I just go get it.
[Mostly, sometimes. Not everything, however.]
But I can help with some of yours, I think. Is cat-sitting a thing? Cat-borrowing? Can you even lend something that's not really yours, it just shows up screaming for attention?
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Would you like any help looking after your ill-gotten pet? Because I would love to. Cat-sitting is certainly a thing. Keep it fed, water the plants, make sure no one breaks into your apartment if you happen to be away, etc.
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Plus, I'm just kind of guessing with half of this cat shit anyway, so someone fucking responsible might want a go at it.
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Besides. This one, she wouldn't mind having. ]
That sounds smart, honestly. When crap hits the fan is a more likely bet than if. You can have mine, too, if you need somewhere to go when you're in Jeopardy.
Have you ever had a pet before?
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[Well, that went...pretty fucking easily, didn't it? So why all of this pent-up energy, all of a sudden?]
Depends on your interpretation of pet, I guess. My bird, Congeniality, isn't what you'd call small or domesticated, and in fact she's grouchier than I am. But that girl's been with me for so long, well, the biggest regret I have is feeling like I'm abandoning her while I'm here.
I know it's not the case but...yeah, I kind of miss her. What about you, huh? More cats?
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When you say 'not small', how not-small are we talking?
And no, unfortunately. My mom was allergic, so she never kept any; I always just lived vicariously through friends, the ones I met while I was at school. And after I moved out this most recent time, I was pretty busy with-- well, I don't know what to call them apart from 'apocalypse duties'. It wasn't a good time to take in an animal. I wasn't even sure there'd still be a world standing to keep them in, to be honest. Then I came here.
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[Careful there, Sal, think too hard and you might have a real epiphany.]
Shit, well, you know how the people here like to ride horses or whatever? Think about it like that, only angry and full of feathers. The nicer ones out of Cathama are far fucking fancier than anything you can get in the Scar, of course, but Congeniality and I have been through everything together. So I'm pretty fucking biased on her account.
[There it is again, that apocalypse shit. Typically she wouldn't try to get too involved, but.]
You know, if I think far enough back, I remember the kind of shit they'd say to us back in the beginning. When they took us away to be trained in our magic—what a fucking honor it was, serving a greater purpose. Sacrificing so much just to keep everyone in the imperium safe, and I imagine most kids in the beginning took that birdshit to heart.
And of course, over the fucking years, you get to dreaming about all the things you'll have when the war is over, when everything is safe and people are satisfied. But that freedom never seemed to manifest, I guess. It's no fucking wonder everything went bad in the end, but.
Well, we're here now. Kind of nice to try and make the best of whatever this weird shit is we've been given, right?
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But-- yeah. Yes. Exactly. It's hard to sit down and try to picture an 'after', and I have to admit that the one I pictured didn't look anything like this, but I like to make the best of it. It's not peaceful here, but I think I'd have been bored to tears if nothing ever happened, either. So. We take the weird shit and we make some kind of home out of it, I think.
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What do you picture, when you imagine being happy?
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[ She can barely type that with a straight face. She's delighted. ]
And honestly? I don't really know. A cottage in the English countryside, stacks of books, good tea, a pet cat, a nice garden with lots of herbs. But also travelling the world and seeing all sorts of its corners. But also adventure and some mild peril? Somehow all of the above at once. I don't know how to make them all coexist.
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Freedom. It's the freedom to live every day however you want to.
I remember thinking almost the same sort of thing. A long time ago. But I think they're all beautiful dreams too, and I don't fucking know why any of it should be impossible.
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[ Anathema is hopelessly nosy — she pries, she’s constantly asking questions about Sal’s magic, her world — but she doesn’t actually know much about the specific circumstances. What Sal was up to. What things might have happened. ]
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It all still hurts, but she supposes there are things which can hurt so much more.]
Well, depends on what and when. I was taken away when I was eight, when I first came into my magic. And then, you know, the imperium trains you to be the very best—which is pretty shit honestly, if you just want to live your own life and not fight in some pathetic war.
Skip ahead a few acts, and it isn't someone else holding you back but yourself. Because if you don't have a country and a purpose, well then, you've got to hold onto something else.
And if that's all done, well. I know why people feel angry about being here, taken away from their purpose and everything they love. But I don't mind. If I can fly again, that's enough for me.
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[ Flabbergasted, a little. ]
Are you telling me we've known each other for months and I've been such a terrible friend that I didn't even known you'd been kidnapped to be a magic child soldier????
[ Anathema is always so very, very self-possessed — except for those times when she isn't. When that composure is shattered in one fell blow and she gets a little frayed and shouty around the edges. ]
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Uh, no? If we're going to get real fucking technical about it.
First of all, didn't we just agree that you're perfect as is?
Secondly, I seem to recall some agreement about getting to know each other after that whole Jeopardy shitstorm, and since we're not dead yet, I'd say we're right on schedule.
Thirdly, we don't join the military until we're sixteen. As soon as our magic appears, the government minders just take us into custody for training and supervision.
Anyway, I kind of forgot my damn point here.
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I think I've lost my own point too.
So did you not have any choice? Are all magic-users taken away like that and made to fight a war?
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Not a chance.
And yeah, I guess others might've been sent to do less...fighty things, but most of those who trained with me were sent away to fight.
Fuck, magic is different for all of us here, right? And magic where I'm from—usually it comes with some shitty price tag. You get a favor from the Lady Merchant, something like, oh, the ability to call down lightning and bad weather. But she takes in kind, something equally important.
Except for the few of us who don't. The very few. And there's no question about where we'd end up.
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I got to grow up and be taught magic by my own family. I didn't really realise how lucky that was.
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What are they like? Because leaving it all up to my completely fucking humble imagination, Anathema, I'm going to decide on...hidden royalty maybe, living in some lavish palace on a beautiful, faraway island. Something they'd write a nice opera about, probably.
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Or, well-- Our house was large and expensive enough that some people might definitely call it a lavish palace. And it was on a cliffside near a private beach, so I would go swimming on the weekends a lot. I was homeschooled by my mom and aunts until I was a teenager: mostly just lessons at home, and remote learning via computer, until I went off to college and decided I needed to try being out of the nest for a while. I was worried I'd be too sheltered, otherwise. I needed to get some life experience before the world maybe-possibly ended.
Did I tell you about the prophecies yet?
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I can't seem to recall any mentions of these prophecies, princess, but now you've got to tell me the rest of it.
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Princess[ In the end, she doesn't fight the nickname, though. It's cute, Sal's cute, and therefore forgiven. ]
You know, that's odd. Normally I feel like they're the first thing people know about me -- which means I'm actually relieved that I haven't blathered at you about them yet. I've been trying to get away from them.
So. A few hundred years ago, one of my ancestors published a book of hyper-specific prophecies. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. So far as I know, it's the only truly accurate book of prophecies in the world. It talked mostly about our family, and kept an eye out for us -- investment tips and advice and so on -- but it also talked about the oncoming apocalypse and how to avert it. That it was our job to avert it. So we considered ourselves professional descendants: spent our days and years and lifetimes trying to sort out what each prophecy meant, and what she wanted us to do.
The only thing it was really clear on was that I would be there, and I would be involved somehow. Either I'd succeed or I wouldn't. Either I'd figure out what I needed to do, or I'd die with the rest of the world at age twenty-two.
Long story short, we did succeed in saving the world, and that was the end of those particular prophecies. Until a second book showed up, and I set the damn thing on fire.
My point being. I really like autonomy. Choice. And I was tired of feeling like I didn't have a choice, that my road was all set out for me hundreds of years before I was even born.
So even if the circumstances were different, I think I do know what it's like to be trapped in a cage of responsibility. From the sounds of it, I wish you'd been able to set yours on fire sooner.
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I know how it feels to want to distance yourself from something in the past. Names and legacies can have a damn heavy weight to them, after a while. Maybe I'm too biased (of course not, my opinion's fucking perfect) but I don't think your saving the world had anything to do with this ancestor of yours.
Some cynical asshole like me wouldn't buy this story from just anyone either—but if anyone has the strength, the wisdom, and the bravery to do any of this, if I'm to believe in any person pulling some fantastic feat of heroics off it's you.
Just by being who you are, not whatever they all expected you to be. I think you change lives here, too, so why not your own? Whatever the fuck you want to do and whatever shred of happiness can be stolen out of a place like this, Anathema, I know you're going to find it.
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But. The rest of it, about life here. That matters too. Thank you, Sal.
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Pretty invaluable, that kind of thing.
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voice;
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