The Academy: and all the gray area in between

There was a great sigh upon her breast, one which lay heavily of fatigue. And as she exhaled it was that same breath which coiled around her painted face and whose airy fingers touched her skin—fairy fingers brushing and fading in a single second. Within the depths of her eyes the moments had reflected back to her, the wary rogue stepping foot again into the academy. It was then she felt the strain her legs were under, the swift pang of joyful pain surging through her and disappearing. My strange rogue is still there, resting her muscles and watching the others congregate and go about their dutiful ways… until, “Palestine.” She says the name cautiously, in a whisper- watching the girl converse and stand- watching her carefully. Her mismatched eyes close for only a moment as she thinks back to those days, the nights, and the few hours of twilight which she’d so easily been surrendered to. And now the product of that time stood not far off, the very strange child whom appeared so fragile—now so strong. My rogue, no, queen of the rogues! She was captivated again.

She’d dare not whisper the girls name again, for her secrecy was to be kept, if only for moments. Much in contrast her daughter had not inherited any of her color it seemed; the sable black body- her legs and underbelly contrasted by dark gray and sometimes almost white splatters of hair. Her face! How dare I forget her face, for where some were granted a white band or some other mark my Elemmírë was two-toned. The left half of her face was painted completely white and the right completely black. Her eyes mismatched as well, given the genetic trait heterochromia; one eye a lustrous silver and gold flecked golden amber- the other a vivid, mother of pearl sort of color, a teal and blue with bits of white; her ocean’s eye. And yet she’d chosen a different path, for beneath my medusa’s feet rock bloomed and the ground died. The crumbled parts of the temple; that beautiful pale marbled- it crumbled to dust… she stands for only a moment; and suddenly she is gone.

“Good evening.” She says it nonchalantly, watching the strange demonstration of the elements. She does not embrace the phoenix as awe-inspiring or marvelous- she instead regards it simply as it is (call this a gift she’s learned over the years). Listens as he speaks, she’d not heard the prior conversation, but she was uninterested in it. She instead demonstrates something; something that young Palestine would be able to do. In the simple bushes towards the trees a shaking sound is made, the rustling of noise held as leaves fall and from the wind a sound is heard. rue carries upon the wind, and drawing from the tree a pair of brown eyes; for their walks a doe and my Elemmírë nods. She speaks to it silently, calling it; the wary doe stepping forward and waiting for her. My rogue glances at Palestine and Nicodemus; “While no element may be weak, none is supreme. Each has its advantages and disadvantages over one another; fire may be put out by water, and even earth or air. In a way it is like us; no person being supreme and none weak- our strengths are different.” She says it with a sort of hurried glance, for where she called the doe comes a large stilted creature- it’s black legs contrast the roughness of the rusty orange-red and blonde of the body, it’s white dipped tail and black mane visible.

Erzuli watches her and Elemmírë nods, the maned wolf is still… and the doe retreats- my rogue’s head turns; “The doe is sister to my friend, Erzuli, and yet Erzuli hunts the doe. This is because of their differences, the doe consumes the grass, and my friend consumes the doe- but only the weak and the sick. It balances out; have you learned to call anything yet, daughter?” she adds the last part, waiting and wondering if perhaps the girl has learned; she’d actually quite enjoyed this- even in the company of another.