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Friday, September 08, 2006

23:00    archived     So that's the punchline...
"OK! I get it! I'm dead!" She kicks the ground sullenly, a little girl trying very hard not to have a temper tantrum but not really understanding why she shouldn't. "I've been dead for ages! I get the joke! But..."

In the pause she looks up at the faces observing her. It has been a very, very long time since she has had to face all of them at once like this. Her Father is a face so familiar to her she could be looking at herself, although he never appears quite the same. The Weaver, her flesh simultaneously chalky white and black as pitch, like an optical illusion, is standing poised and coldly attentive. Asp, her gentle face kindly and with a suggestion of freckles, is looking youthful despite her ancient years, as she always does. Draco, whose man-form today looks like a drill sergeant bred for whispering praise and bawling displeasure directly into the ear of his charges, is standing erect with his posture expectant. The AllFather is there too, standing at the back, and she cannot look at him because she sees too much when she looks at him.

"I get the joke," she says again, defeated. "It's all in the Name, right?" It is a rhetorical question. She does not expect a response. "I thought you'd given me a Name. Stupid, idiot me. It's still not a name. It's just a label. Might as well have called me Roadkill and been done with it." Her Father's face twitches in a smile that he hides from the others but she sees it and her expression reflects his disguised mirth, although she tries not to show it. "I get it. It's just..."

Her gaze drops to the ground and she hesitates, not sure she can bring herself to ask the question. So much has happened. So much makes sense if she accepts this, even though it's insane, ridiculous, unintelligible, stupid, patently untrue. So many things don't make sense if she doesn't.

"Was I ever alive?"

There is a moment of absolute silence as each member of the Prime greets the question and lets it pass on until it reaches the one standing at the back.

The response is not a sound, not a word. It is an awareness that seeps from the very stuff of Existence itself. It is undeniable, shocking in its inevitability.

No.

"Fuck." It's all she can think to say. It was the answer she expected, and coming from any of the others she might have assumed they were merely leaving her to her own expectations. But not from him. Not like that.

"Fuck."


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