khier
Of course all life is a process of breaking down, but the blows that do the dramatic side of the work--the big sudden blows that come, or seem to come, from outside--the ones you remember and blame things on and, in moments of weakness, tell your friends about, don't show their effect all at once.
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ho are you? Where did you hear that? Khier wishes they had more time for forethought, for planning, because he finds himself aggressively underprepared to answer these questions. On top of that, Chara’s mother is terrifying.
Chara had told him Antiope had been a warrior-goddess—that she had been less mortal and more deity, like the Amazons of old. Khier had not understood what that meant then, but he does now; because when Antiope’s sapphire eyes bore into him, Khier feels beside himself.
Tell her, Chara demands. Tell her I’m here.
But Khier does not know what to say. He feels himself tongue-tied and instantly afraid. What if Antiope demands the amulet? What if she takes Chara from him? And all the while, Chara screams protests in his mind. No, no, no you have to tell her!
I will, Khier answers back. Just—just maybe not yet.
He smiles, but nervously. “A very good friend told me. I used to be a sailor, and we visited an island once. The people there told us the island fell from the sky, from a battle between gods, and entered the mortal realm—and anyways, there was a girl there, a girl who told me that is what her father used to call them.”
Khier wonders if reveals too much, too quickly. Delumine around them continues to flow, quietly; his nostrils fill with the odor of sweet, sweet fruit.
Chara, in the back of his mind, is near hysterics. That’s my mother! You have to tell her!
If I do—if I do—she’ll take you from me. I know it.
Khier does not think he can stand the separation.
