songbird

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄 : 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

at this point it's quite obvious how much i want to deviate from canon. particularly junah's own motivation for joining both factions. canon wants to portray her as someone whimsical, someone who needed to push the writing narrative in order to make the plot work. it is painfully inconsistent and frankly insults her as a person, as well as everyone else.

therefore to preface : junah's motivation to join louis and then later joining the protagonist is not because of the resistance. the resistance does not exist in this blog, simply because it is useless and i refuse to indulge the idea she joined "for the greater good" or for the sake of "her song". she gains absolutely nothing from serving and risking her life for them, when they in turn prove themselves incompetent with fact check / biased inaccuracy. not to mention, it insults her previous identity as a former child slave to try to re-establish the rule of the royal family that otherwise had her in chains.

junah's reason for joining louis was due to her own rebellious nature. there was no hidden intent, there is no silly behind the scenes. her approaching him was exactly how he said in his own account. junah sincerely joined because of what his charisma. at the time, she was the perfect example of what recognition looks based on her own hard work. a former slave to lady to dropout and then songstress. junah worked extremely hard to get to where she is and it was evident based on how fervently she sang. not to mention, it also illustrates why she was able to be considered part of his inner-circle if she, like the doggo bros, believed in him. she too wanted change.

the reason for junah joining the protagonist is not because of the resistance. once again the resistance narrative was painfully weak and insulting. thus, the reason why junah joins is simply because of curiosity. the protagonist group would have earned her fascination simply because of how unorthodox and unusual their ability is. junah is someone who also seeks power. prior to her joining louis, she too once researched the concept of archetype whilst in mage academy. therefore, to witness this power manifest, why wouldn't she want to approach and study it first hand ?

𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗱 - 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. its neck is long and thin, but the head atop does not wobble like a foal's, or the over - burdened peony, which is crushed under its own weight; it is held perfectly upright, jutted outwards, and its eyes are always pointed directly forward. never back. the past is a snare. rella knows this, and so does juani. they were taught well. there is little use in dwelling on the footprints left in the sand, so she has always grabbed her sister's smaller hand and yanked her into step, towards the future. no more fields of flowers, or remembering the feeling of flesh rubbed raw and bleeding by iron. how to become the daughter of a noble house? by killing every part of yourself that remembers how it felt to have nothing. set all that down, and burn it. otherwise, every noble worth their salt will be able to tell where juani had crawled from, and turn her out. they always know the stranger, by sight and smell. so the saint keeps a watchful eye on the poor thing, even now. her work is never complete.

they don't get time to themselves very often anymore. it's something of a special occasion, to be back in the family estate, not hounded by hangers - on or members of the clergy. the quietude is more than welcome; they've sat in relative silence for most of the evening, comforted by the feeling of the twin heart beating in the room alone. when juani speaks after some time, her voice is so slight that it hardly bends the air about them. a dragonfly resting on a puddle. rella blinks, turning away from the bay window that overlooks the small, pristine yard. juani looks terribly small, curling in on herself on the edge of an over - stuffed bed, looking not at her, but at the floor. “ the night sky … , ” it's a false start. for all her years of palliative care, it hasn't gotten much easier to soothe suffering with words alone. actions ought to speak for themselves. but juani wouldn't understand that. the girl's all talk. maybe she means what she says, but it doesn't matter, her words and songs are just that. mere vibrations of sound. rella spreads her fingers wide, reaching for the right words, trying to grasp them firmly in her palms. she feels them slip between her second and third knuckles like snatches of light between heavy blinds. she shutters her eyes for a moment and lets a wave crash over them both. when the tide pulls back, they remain standing in juani's old room, unchanged, though rella feels heavier — if not with saltwater soaking her gown, then with the burden of sisterhood. “ i love looking up at the stars,  imagining myself up there,  with them.  i have since we were small. ”

how many evenings had she spent here, or at the academy, moon - soaked? she wants to reach out and touch god, who must be there, resting between those pinpricks in the darkness. hands fold at the wrist over her stomach, still as a gazing pool. no ripples disturb the surface of her skin. “ it would be a shame if we never saw the sun,  though.  wouldn’t it? some things are more magical because they aren’t forever. they come and go. ” she pacifies.