#tadler

She moved closer to the window, glancing outside and willing for her eyes to see beyond the glimmering sky. Goddesses, Alder had said. The word felt too grandiose around her tongue, her teeth cackling under its power, the sound of the vowels and consonants a cacophony of catenations that she wished to break apart.

Her chest felt about to explode and she rose her hands to paw at her chest, grabbing the cloth she found there, pulling it taut: no string there to find, no link to be threaded with the mind of the older woman.

"It had to be you" It came out as sad, despite the anger bubbling inside of her, reaching through her lungs and slicing her open. She could imagine it now, dripping out of her against the carpet, her feet apart enough for her posture not to buckle beneath Alder's watchful eyes. She shuddered at the thought and recoiled from it; desperate.

"You who left. You who returned. You who disappeared."

She Looked inward, behind her eyelids, her synapses, the world outside turning soft around the edges as the image of herself grew more defined; skin flushed. She was vaguely aware that time kept on ticking away; sand that kept on cycling; the sky turning darker. She paid it no mind, however, realizing that, at some point, she would be found and words would be said, questions asked and not a single second left for her to keep looking, searching. Would Alder's eyes glow and glint from her own? Would their color change, the image on the window turning the General as Tally remembered her within the walls of the room that felt very much like a throne. No matter how much the older woman refused and denied.

She Saw the image of herself, knelt and reverent. She swallowed thickly at it, tongue heavy against the back of her mouth, closing her airways as she gluttonously refused to allow herself to breathe cleaner air that would be devoid of her scent.

"You who left. You who changed. Who changed me" Loss cuts deeper than the delight of a world not imploded. Happiness, the fleeting sensation of it, of what it could be a future shaped by the perspective of tomorrow ashes on her throat as she kept on Looking, on trying to Look. A part of her wishing for her Sight to fall away and leaving her with nothing. Would she not deserve it? They had saved everyone. They had found the piece missing, she had gotten to see how everything fit, how everything evolved. How could she be stupid enough to long and wish for. How could she be so selfish.

Not enough. Her mind supplied hot rod against her skin, marring her. Not selfish enough.

She considered hanging her head in penance. She thought on enunciating an apology a She balked against it, prideful.

How much would she want to see the image her mind conjured, of a witch difficult and complicated and ravenous, worshiped in a world that felt devoid of any color beyond the muted mauve of spilled and dried blood.

She Saw the maw of a wolf, gorging itself in gore as time and history passed, as the world kept on mending broken lines of narratives that had not gotten to pass. She felt the bronze of medals that had not been hers to sport, break down her skin under their weight. She saw the world requesting connection. She saw Alder, just as she had last saw her: gorgeous and beautiful and smiling.

And dead.

No, not dead, her mind supplied and Tally gritted her teeth as she kept eyeing herself, hands curved around her chest, right one peeling away her clothes, transforming her skin into Alder's, brain foggy, full of despair and anger, anger and ire that boiled and spilled, surging forward as her hands kept on trembling.

Eternally alive. A concept that she herself, despite everything, despite how much she had changed, had seen the world change, was still having trouble understanding how it would work.

Tally looked down as her hands touched the mirror's surface, cold against hot and clammy skin, the perspiration was leaving imprints wherever she touched, smear marks that marred the surface and for which she felt fascinated as she allowed her thumb to go over one, nail pressed, finger turning slightly paler where the skin felt the point of contact.

Alder was gone. No matter how much would spin it. Gone and transformed and she had discovered far too late that she had made a mistake. A mistake swirled in hate and necessity as much as complexity and want. She thought on the kiss she had been given on her forehead, pushing her temple against the glass of the window, feeling her heart pulsing as she stared and looked, her breathing labored, her larynx trapped. She felt needy in a way she did not fully want to explore, trembling as she pushed herself back to her previous stance, feet apart, back straight, the office door opened, the building at the other side darkened and empty.

She turned to leave, her fingers grazing every surface, willing for every speck, for every burl, to move and grow into the older woman's figure. Knowing that it would not happen.

The door closed behind her.

"It had to be you."