jane
Jane moved among the civilians, warm and aloof. Warm because of the sun, that made her entire body feel like it was melting. Aloof because she knew nobody. Sebastien was still in Denocte for his own transfer of power, and her aunt and uncle had no particular care for her. She was one of a dozen Vogelstein foals spread through the lands that occasionally coalesced for parties and socialising, and her face held as little nostalgia to them as a stone they had passed on a daytrip. She wasn’t hurt by it, of course, Jane understood well enough that they had taken her in out of courtesy and politics. They hadn’t known she was coming, but to have kicked her out would have never worked.
The city pushed her out often. It seemed to reject her, like she was a transplanted heart gone wrong. She felt nauseous often.
Jane was also aware that she should probably have died in that desert. The fact that Hardison- aged, wise, knowledgeable Hardison would be brought down while Jane herself survived was a distortion of truth. She wondered how long it would have taken for her mother to hear the news.
She wondered if her mother would have mourned her. On those nights in the desert alongside Galileo, Jane had dreamt of her own funeral as her hunger pangs had grown. She imagined her mother’s wet tears, the queen’s soft eulogy. Castor, too, would cry for his guilt.
But despite her age, despite her occasional fickleness and brattiness, she was not foolish. She knew that Castor would move onto the next pretty filly. There was no shortage of her kind in the world.
Jane’s observances of the feast only led to an increased loneliness, seeing the bonds of people who knew something she didn’t. That she might never know.
After a while, Jane travelled. She couldn’t handle it anymore; the loneliness was a constant ache in her chest. She wondered if she had ever had anything real at all. Home no longer brought up images, what with her nomadic life, but Solterra was nothing to her at all.
As she traced the outside of the castle, she caught a glimpse of a parapet. She glanced up toward the sun and felt herself stop- a familiar face. Although he was far up, there were not many with a set of antlers such as he, nor the particular stillness and firmness his air portrayed. Jane ascended the parapet and walked up behind him, her hooves as quiet as a heron.
Never let yourself get old, he, Galileo, said into the wind. Jane did not know if she was welcome, but loneliness stopped her from caring.
“I don’t know if one is able to stop that,” Jane said, and stepped up beside him. “Hello there, Galileo. It’s been a while.”
@[Galileo] / speaks / there ye go!
