The Crone, The Matron and The Maid

"You shine too brightly," Djehuty sips at his glass as a platter of cheeses, fruits and toasted bread is placed on the table before us. "Hell, we rebuilt the world, we taunted the king of the hollow world, along with numerous other feats that I'm not up to remembering; and there are no secrets here in the Nightside. You're developing a reputation... whether you like it or not." Spearing a date with his fork and folding it into a piece of toast he eats it, leaning back in his seat.

I study my glass for a long moment, swirling the liquid. "It seems so foolish. All we did was what we had to do in the moment." My throat still feels choked. "Oh, if only....I don't want this. I really, really don't want this." When I take a breath, it comes in shaky.

"Motive is causative, work is operative, destiny is resultant." He grunts, frustrated, "The question isn't how you ended up being chosen to shoulder this burden, but how you're going to make it your own." The pair on stage shift into a more mournful melody and Djehuty pauses to listen a moment before turning back to Liv.

I smile, a faint twitch of the lips. "Djhuety, has anyone ever told you that you're terrible at offering comfort?"

"Yeah, but their all liars," He grins behind his drink, "Besides, comfort comes after the acceptance stage of grief."

I snort. "Freud was an idiot, you know." Then I straighten in my chair. "Well, at least I have words to go by. That's some comfort at least. It's little enough, but it's something at least. Their prophecy spoke of the worlds coming back together." I don't mention who they are. I don't need to. I frown, running one long finger in circles on the table. "Though the very idea that such an old and powerful magic could break is hard to fathom."

"You of all people know that these prophecies are steeped so thickly with metaphor and similes as to be almost unintelligible. That could mean you start the decay of the spells or simply that the fay will abandon the world apart and return to coexist." He looks up as a thought crosses his mind. "How exactly did the fay leave anyway? Grandmother was always vague, and she rarely spoke of the elves, even in connection to our own histories. All she ever said was "We left." and picked up the story in the next place."

I sigh. "It's a long story, and not a pretty one, but basically, yes we--they--left. This world didn't suit us anymore, no matter how much blood the Elves shed trying to change that. All that's left of their little mess is a few rooms in the Museum of Unatural History, and their own bitterness. The rest of us were smarter. We saw the change in the current." I shrug,putting on my best disinterested expression to cover my discomfort and dodge the question. That's not a story I want to tell.

"Don't you dare duck and run again." Djehuty allows a shadow to darken his face as he see's her pause. "That story is as much of your task as anything else. And I can't help if I don't know."

I sigh, meeting his eyes for a long time.
"Have you been to the Museum yet?" I ask quietly, taking a piece of toast.

"The sculpture out front gives me a headache," he says, shaking his head.

"Well, eat up. This will make more sense there, where you can look at the history."
Soon, we're back on the streets. I can't fault Djhuety for his feelings about the statue; tessaracts make anyone sane uncomfortable.
"Don't look at it." I say as we pass inside.
The Museum of Unnatural History smells of old books and cleaning fluids, of learning and, for some reasons, tinned beans. Taking Djhuety's hand, I lead him to the room we need. I found this room the first week I was in the Nightside, and it had turned my gut. It does the same again. It's labeled 'History of Nonhumanity' That title makes me snort. Men are so obsessed with themselves.
Inside, bright faries are pinned to boards, bright and shining, and dead. A selkie's skin is stuffed and mounted to one side. A Dryad tree is split down the center, with placards explaining how the Dryad lives. It skips over the fact that someone was evil enough to cut it down and put it in there. This place is a charnal house. And then there is the tabeleau, holding pride of place. The battle scenes.
They made the men look honorable and brave, and the Elves wicked and evil. Well, I can't blame them. But they only tell half the tale in that.
"That was the Last Battle." I say, pointing at the scene. "The Last Standing, we-the Kin- call it."

"History as written by the victor," Djehuty mutters as he paces into the mural, among the elves and men, eyeing a one of the humans, stylized as a greek god. "But as to the elves, they don't go out of their way to make a good impression." He stands face to face with one of the taller specimens portrayed and studies it.

"Men and Kin have always been fascinated and repulsed by one another. It’s a natural reaction. Humans naturally feel disturbed around Kindred and vice versa, deep down.” I say softly. "The Elves are bastards, but we all feel it, to some extent."

"Racism isn't unique to mankind; learned behaviors, normally." He pauses, "And as the half-breeds evidence, its not insurmountable; You and I are here, after all."

I shake my head. “If you’d ever seen a bear and a wolf pass each other in a clearing, or a hawk and a gyrfalcon perched near each other, or a coyote and a wildcat watching each other as they drink from one pool, you’d understand. Competing predators instinctively avoid one another. And at one time, Kindred and Men were competition for one another. A very long time ago. Before the Parting." Then I realize what I just said. Damn my fool tongue, why did I mention the Parting?! I had been trying to avoid that, but it slipped out before I thought.

"We're not animals, unless the kindred and humanity are giving up their ability to reason." An edge of bitterness grinds behind Djehuty's voice as he nudges his glasses up his nose, hiding his eyes. "And even as such, lions and hyenas share the same ranges. They don't drive each other out, no matter what Disney says."

I smile a little. "If only everyone thought as you did. Then perhaps we would still share this world."

"And why don't we. The Cailleach seems to think that it was possible and still is." The curiosity in his voice plain as he steps from the mural.

I shove my hands deep in my pockets, shrugging. "It was... it happened a long time ago.We call it the Parting of the Ways.” I say softly. I sigh. I don’t think I’ve ever told this story to anyone who wasn’t Kin, and not often among them either. No one likes to be reminded. "It was...it was sad, and stupid."

"Most tragic histories are." He glances over his shoulder at one of the elves baring a disturbing similarity to Fairchild. "Can we get out of here? This room is starting to grate on me."

"Gladly."
Soon we're out on the street again. I can feel Djhuety's eyes on me. I glare up at him after a moment. "If I tell you the tale, will you quit giving me that look?"

"Maybe," he manages a halfhearted grin. "But I think the others should hear this to, and I doubt you'll want to tell it twice."

I frown. "This isn't something everyone should know. I'd rather not..."

"If you don't, I will." He looks at her sharply and lets his voice drop to a whisper. "My queen, it is now for you to decide what must be known by those that will help you, but even as I advise and help you, I'll also make it possible for the others to help you."