She weeps, and all the girl can do is watch.
Even as Natraj employs his new vocal skills, the crimson girl cannot draw herself to speak again, to interrupt the flow of tears and step into the stream of pain. She shifts her weight, thinking hard, gazing at the electric mare; her gold-slashed face is thoughtful, and her braided tail flicking anxiously as she dwells on a new idea, touched and appalled by the outcry of emotion brought on by a simple truth. With the attention on her brother's voice, the girl is free to think of Ampere, looking at her as a fractured crystal, a stone which may have another side. Perhaps it is not so bad, what the blue mare thinks- misplaced concern, but concern nonetheless, a righteous desire to help which mirrors the filly's own. For the thought of abuse chills the girl, and she thinks that if she were to see it she, too, would feel the rage, question the world, would seek to liberate as her counterpart does. Tandavi swells with the weight of the thought, and suddenly thinks she understands. Perhaps, indeed, the pair can help; perhaps there is method to Ampere's madness.
And perhaps they would have been allies, friends, had events unfolded in a different way.
Natraj is not swayed by the mare's sobbing, too deep is his anger, too bright is his scorn. The fennec gasps his delight at the mark, swelling with pride as magic buzzes over his face. What is? he demands, running from the Earth God to return to his sister, three tails flailing in exuberant delight. A blessing. A leaf, the girl replies, turning her gaze to face the Earth. She feels gratitude on behalf of her kin, an affirmation that they are not what Ampere fears, that theirs is a bond a God has blessed. Three-tailed shadow flits between her and his hooves, coming to a stop beneath the massive brown chest, sitting with pride and staring at Ampere, gold eyes wide as if to say, Do you understand? You cannot be right. His sister meets the mare's gaze, black eyes thoughtful, caring, fierce. She wonders what Ampere will say.
The answer is not what she expects.
For a moment she is confused, and then confusion gives way to incredulous anger. Never before has she seen such stubbornness, such staunch denial of inherent truth. Even in the wake of her brother's words the mare doubts, questions, denies, affirms that she knows better, that they, all of them, are wrong. She listens to the tale with a fierce discontent, catching the eye of her three-tailed brother, sharing a thought of bemusement and doubt. By the time the tale concludes she is smoldering, rage, and the potential for camaraderie is gone with her temper. It is all she can do to avoid crying out, to declare that they have been apart, have been tested, and that the pain of it was nearly too much to bear. And when at last the mare makes the demand, all strings of control vanish into the past, leaving in their wake a passionate "NO!"
The girl has never screamed before, and for a moment she is frightened by the sound. Words tumble out, faster than she can think, sputtering and furious and hateful and cruel. "You selfish, blind, horrible- you can't do that, you don't know anything, anything, you- you- you monster!" The girl steps forward on golden limbs, and around her sparks dance a vibrant red, magic reflected in her hate, violence and fury all turned to Ampere. Beside her Natraj has appeared, all three tails whipping angry, lashing fire, a dangerous growl rising deep in his throat. "Do you know how awful you are? You would give up your soul to take away... to destroy..."
It is her turn to cry, great sobs of rage, a heaving and heavy anger which steals her breath and replaces it with fire. No no no! she screams in her mind, turning beseeching eyes to the Lord of the Earth. Don't let her, you can't let her, we don't want to be alone....! But the gods have not forsaken her, and the danger of his fury is enough to render her still, to quell the girl's passion for a moment, a thought. She lowers her head to reach Natraj, and the kitsune covers a soft nose with kisses, holds and hugs and won't let go. For a moment it is only them and their fear, the cruel memory of isolation, the knowledge that they would die before going through that again. Never again, they silently vow, hot tears rolling rivers down narrow copper cheeks. Never again, no matter what.
Male tones finish speaking, and Tandavi looks up, and there is something deadly and cold in the black eyes of the youth. "I thought-" she begins, pausing to clear her throat. Her voice is empty, in inferno, a void. "I thought you were good, but you're not. You're the most evil person I have ever met."
Steel in her eyes and blood in her voice. She fixes the mare with a last, searing stare.
"We will never let you separate us. Not again. We will stop you if you try to hurt anyone else. We will kill you." It is the first time she has used the word, and known just what it meant.
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[P] Should I Believe In The World Momma?
