ask no questions

They had their reasons. Something about greed and curbing magic and whatever. But did they really need to destroy all their homes entirely? No, definitely not. They didn’t need to make the residents start from square one. They could have just taken the forever burning tree and the magical pools and the heart beneath the dirt. They could have taken the magical things and left the residents their own lands, the places they loved. So yea, it was pretty fucked. One of the many reasons she left, but she would have left anyway, regardless. Having found this place, she doesn’t regret the decision.

She doesn’t cut in with clever (or really, snide) remarks. Doesn’t gasp or make faces or flatten her ears as he tells her of the crap that went down in this place. Instead, she actually just listens, gathering the information he offers. There’s something vaguely familiar about the story he gives her, because in a strange way it doesn’t feel so different from her own home. Not that hers was a total mess, but it had been a mess. Ruled by faeries that gave too much magic to it’s residents and let them run around flinging lightning bolts until one day deciding it was all too much.

But you can’t take it back, not really. The residents just pretended to learn their lesson, pretending like that wouldn’t go straight back to abusing their powers the second they got them back. Don’t get her wrong, magic is cool. Watching her mother conjure armies of ravens, real and elemental alike, was a beautiful thing. Watching her mother give Weaver the pair of raven wings that still sit on her back with the flick of a tail was pretty damn fun. But Weaver didn’t care so much about magic. It, like everything else, was a mean to an end. It was a means to power, to being respected, but only if she learned to use it well.

Maybe she should be appalled or horrified by what he tells her. Maybe she should just run for the hills before someone takes her wings. But the story is just that, a story. It’s knowledge she needs, yes, but it doesn’t scare her. Little does, after all. They could tear off her wings and she’d just jump off a cliff and come back with her wings. Again and again and again. She’s the blight they would never be able to get rid of, not that they seemed to be trying anymore.

“I don’t think it’s uncommon to glorify our demons, to hide their secrets in a mask of honor. Like covering a shit field in a bed of roses and hoping, one day, the shit will just turn into fertilizer for rose bushes.” There are worse things to do. Her lands had always been divided by good, evil and neutral. Make believe factions that only sort of fit. How do you really define those things, after all? But they had tried, collecting with those that were the most likeminded.   “So what changed? Because the dirt on that tomb seems pretty fresh to me.”

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies