She stands in front of the villagers of her hometown solemnly as they pretend that she is not there, talking about her right in front of her.
"I can't believe she still can't do anything impressive. I'm worried," one says, and Altria sees resentment behind her words. That faerie is only worried about the value of a Child of Prophecy that cannot even do any magic.
"We need to be harder on her. Methodical with her." Another faerie nods to himself firmly, arms crossed. Altria hears "methodical", and reads "ruthless".
"We can't even give her time to sleep."
"Forgive us, Caster. This is all for your own good."
"The way you are now, you can't even dream of being the Child of Prophecy."
Altria does not dream of being the Child of Prophecy regardless. It is not something she's ever wanted. She knows that that does not matter, and knows better than to say it.
"And we don't have any time for dreams."
Instead, she nods. She nods because she always nods--because these faeries hate her, and loathe her, and fear her, and even so, she does not wish to disappoint them. She nods and the faeries beam at her. "Now that's a good girl, Caster," one says, and behind her words she hears worthless creature.
"Come with me," another says, beaming. "I'll help you toughen up for your journey!"
Altria looks at the fairy, and nods, and does not say that she can see that what he truly means is, Ah, finally, I can take out some of this frustration on that creature.
It would be better, she thinks, as she follows the fairy silently, if she could just stop seeing completely.
cw: child abuse
Altria is a little over three years old.
She stands in front of the villagers of her hometown solemnly as they pretend that she is not there, talking about her right in front of her.
"I can't believe she still can't do anything impressive. I'm worried," one says, and Altria sees resentment behind her words. That faerie is only worried about the value of a Child of Prophecy that cannot even do any magic.
"We need to be harder on her. Methodical with her." Another faerie nods to himself firmly, arms crossed. Altria hears "methodical", and reads "ruthless".
"We can't even give her time to sleep."
"Forgive us, Caster. This is all for your own good."
"The way you are now, you can't even dream of being the Child of Prophecy."
Altria does not dream of being the Child of Prophecy regardless. It is not something she's ever wanted. She knows that that does not matter, and knows better than to say it.
"And we don't have any time for dreams."
Instead, she nods. She nods because she always nods--because these faeries hate her, and loathe her, and fear her, and even so, she does not wish to disappoint them. She nods and the faeries beam at her. "Now that's a good girl, Caster," one says, and behind her words she hears worthless creature.
"Come with me," another says, beaming. "I'll help you toughen up for your journey!"
Altria looks at the fairy, and nods, and does not say that she can see that what he truly means is, Ah, finally, I can take out some of this frustration on that creature.
It would be better, she thinks, as she follows the fairy silently, if she could just stop seeing completely.