They’ve been pacing around for quite a bit, circling Double as if they cannot truly believe that after all this time, they’ve been…alive. Alive and thriving, it seems-a perfect mirror of them even now, even after all of these long, lonely years. It’s not a circling of a predator and their prey, but one of mere curiosity, one of disbelief. It’s not often they’re so open with their body language-but right now, they’ve been thrown quite a bit off their game. But when their twin takes a cautious step back, they respect it, stilling with their hands behind their back to simply stare in awe once more.
“I’m not quite sure why you don’t remember-perhaps the raid was truly so bad that your mind suppressed it as not to overwhelm you. We were both only children then, after all.” Their ears flick downwards just a bit at the very thought of that horrid day. But Double needed to know the truth, needed to know the roots that had been torn from them at such a young age, the roots that Trouble had been clinging desperately to like a lifeline. “It’s quite a story, one that even I don’t know all sides to, but I’ll do my best to tell you of the tragedy.”
“We are the only remaining survivors of one of the first groups to ever walk this planet’s surface-shapeshifters. That’s the most accurate term in this language-but there used to be more of us. An entire kingdom of our kin-there were quite a few other kingdoms of differing eldritch species, in fact. I believe there are a few Etherians who descended from them…but I’m getting off topic. The two of us were the twin children of the current reigning monarchs-two of the first Princesses to ever live. Though, we had a much better term for it-GLlict’lw’yng'glsh.” The word is heavy on their tongue, an unpronounceable language thought by modern scholars to be nothing more than gibberish-the language they’d been speaking since their birth.
“Life was good, for quite some time. Our aging process is vastly different from the current inhabitants of this planet-instead of growing, we gain access to the mature forms of creatures over a very long period of time-but you’re likely aware of that by now. The only way we can truly die…is if we are slaughtered.” Trouble’s eyes seem to fog over-as though they’re recalling a memory like they experienced it mere minutes ago. “They’re called First Ones now, but back then they were known as the Yng’waect’ehr'lsh-the Invaders. They saw our planet as a mass power source-full of magic they could utilize against their foes. They gave every kingdom an ultimatum-surrender…or die. Our people were a proud folk, unwilling to let any sorts of chains wrap ‘round their necks…we became the example to the other kingdoms of what happens to those who defied them.”
“I was playing in the Woods with Angella, the day the raid took place. We heard the beginnings of it, but the time I reached the border…it was already nearly done. I wanted to go back for you, I wanted to fight-but she wouldn’t let me. Said it was too late, and that it’d be better if I lived to keep their memories alive.” Their eyes darken, a shimmer of rage flashing for merely a moment, before being overtaken by the agony of grief. Their next sentence is merely a whisper, so quiet Double would have to strain their ears to hear it. “I regret listening to her every day of my life.”
They’re quiet, for a moment, the air hanging over these poor, pitiful twins heavy and somber. They’re a bit lost in their own head, struggling to decide whether or not it’s safe to tell them of what came next-but old habits die hard, and they feel they’ve already shared far too much, despite this being the one time they felt it acceptable to do so. So, they put on a smile, bright and curious and doing what they do best-playing pretend.
“But that’s all in the past! You’re here now, and I’m incredibly curious as to how. Do you know how you survived such a dreadful event? I haven’t the slightest clue!”
as easy as it would be to be unconvinced, to believe that this doppelgänger is lying, that they want something, double recognizes the expression on trouble’s face. it’s rare, not something they show around just anyone. it’s the sign of letting their guard down, reaching out, trying to actually connect instead of keeping to themself, relying on themself. and awe. double has been awed before -- the first time seeing powerful magic, the first time hearing about the legends of she-ra. it’s a powerful feeling. and they can see it in trouble’s face clear as day.
as unbelievable as the story feels, part of double knows that it must be true. there’s no reason for trouble to be lying, and so they hang on their every word. and as much as they hate to admit it, everything feels like it’s falling into place. gaps in their memory, holes in logic that they had never been able to figure out, it’s all suddenly making sense. and trouble just lived with this, knowing all this history? they can’t figure out if they would prefer it that way, or if maybe they were saved from such horrible memories.
the words trouble says in another language don’t even process as foreign to double. the translation comes without thought. in fact, it takes a moment to them to realize that it’s a different language at all. ‘ i know those words, ’ they say, a combination of bewilderment and suspicion. ‘ why do i remember that? ’
irritation starts to prickle in their voice, but only because now they’re starting to realize that they know more than they thought. or are starting to remember. ears flatten, tail lashing back and forth, clearly agitated. ‘ i know about the yng’waect’ehr'lsh. i grew up with mages, they told me the stories of the first ones, how they were not the heroes we believe them to be. ’ now, they start to just look sad. ‘ so you wanted to come back for me. but you couldn’t? because -- wait, queen angella? like of bright moon? ’ they blink, both eyes at once, truly overwhelmed by all this new information. ‘ wow. ’
they’re grateful for trouble’s change of tone, and their smile comes bak naturally, if not entirely honestly. ‘ i know that the people who raised me, a circle of mages living in the crimson waste, found me when i was young, took me in. i don’t know how i got there, but i wonder now if they came to see what had happened and found me there. ’ they shrug. ‘ but you know.... i don’t remember anything before that. and i don’t remember you. i am sorry about that. and yet -- my whole life, i felt like there was something missing. i tried so hard to find something fulfilling, and i really tried everything, but nothing was right. i think, i think that it was knowing that somewhere out there, you were there, looking for me. that i had a family. ’ they reach out, grasping trouble’s hands in theirs. ‘ we’ve never been truly alone. ’
