kid

What I lacked (very thoroughly, thanks Mother) was an understanding of the gods. I'd never before heard of them, never even bothered to think of them— despite believing myself to be some gift sent by the divine, I truthfully was inadequately educated on the existence of these deities. How many were there? Was there only one? Did they have names? Speaking of, most of Helovia's history escaped my mind because Mother has never bothered to talk to me about it (I know she's not some history major but shit, I'm clueless), meaning I don't know what roles these gods have played. She's too busy scolding me, beating and bruising my growing bones and biting my baby flesh— she doesn't have time to consider teaching me Helovia's past. It was all a blank slate, clean and untainted by any of Mother's thoughts and opinions— things that would warp the way I perceive others (and really already do). Perhaps now is the time to learn, to request knowledge from the god born.

It takes her a good time to even explain where her lines are from, that she was necessary because the demigod who proceeded her passed on— thus she was created. My mind attempts to comprehend the idea that gods needed to have children, that they could not settle their earthly matters on their own (what were they doing— whatever gods do— that couldn't wait?), and needed ambassadors. "What happened to him?" It completely passes me that gods are immortal (because I don't know that), and that it makes the most logical sense that their children inherit some of that immortality as well— so how does a child of a god come to die?

And so she proclaims herself a demigod, a child have mortal and half all mighty— a being with golden blood and mortality that is an advocate for peace among the lesser. "Yes but why, what's the purpose of a god having a child?" I pause temporarily because what are the gods? They must be oh so important if they must have little mongrels crawling around Helovia. "How many gods are there?" Hopefully not a lot, I can't imagine being surrounded by so much filth— whether they popped out of a godly tryst or not, they were gross.

I stare, unblinking into her aureate eyes with little to learn there— they're closed off, distanced and keeping something there behind them (they always are), something precious and secret that cannot be freed. Whatever she keeps in these confines, I do not know, not unless I pick and pry in an attempt to learn what she hides. I crave to discover these secrets, pleasantly thrilled at the idea that perhaps I could dig around, explore the detachment of her gaze with all the tools I have (which are few).

So I plot meticulously, looking thoughtfully into the safe mind hidden behind a gruesomely engraved skull marking— deep into a place I could not venture. "Well, you would think you cared with the way you were struggling to even ask," she had let the question fall unfinished from her lips until I demanded a response from her, pushed her towards what she sought in secrecy rather than letting her avoid the topic. I continue to prod, probing deeper into the subject to see if I could get anything more from her— that she wouldn't continue to brush the topic off.  "So what does it matter to you if two strangers are together?" I blink, playing my hand carefully in the way I prod into this woman's emotions, desperate to know what more she's hidden.

A prolonged silence leads me to believe that perhaps after this interrogation all these questions, she has finally found her level of tolerance. That in a moment's notice she'll turn and go back to that she came (not the womb, unfortunately)— but from wherever she flew in from. Somewhere in me hopes she'll first answer my question, give me the knowledge I seek, the guidance that will allow me to locate my aunt (twin to the absent Volterra, perhaps she can give me details on him).

The Hidden Falls.

It's a simple answer, one that needs no more elaboration. Mother had told me (very thoroughly, in fact) where each herd rested in Helovia's borders. The Falls was to the north, a short day's journey from our residence in the forest— far enough that I could slip away without getting caught by Mother's steel sights and return before she noticed my absence. "Have you ever talked to her?" It's an easy enough question to answer, but I fear the caped woman will take it the wrong way and I'll find her shortening the answer to a yes or no. But I didn't make an attempt to reiterate, instead watching and shuffling my feet absently with bubblegum eyes locked onto the mottled brown mare.

"Talk."