Ghislaine Étoileur

Fathoms Deep

For the whole of Ghislaine’s life she’d been surrounded by the sea. It was, truthfully, one of only a handful of things she could rely on, even within the static world of her people’s own creation. There were more than enough sharp edges and shadowy corners within those glittering halls, after all; it was a place where your closest friends played parlour games with your darkest secrets, and the social hierarchy was a revolving door. Impermanence was a way of life, perhaps to make up for so little change within the confines of their world, from platters of decaying fruit to yet another torrid affair reduced to ashes.

But the sea never cared much for these triflings. Unspoken consort to the Moon, it stood apart in its wildness while its city and her people burned. Some might call it cruel, like faithless whispers on the lips of the fearful. Elune had truly abandoned them to their fate. And perhaps there always would be an element of that in something so vast and unknowable, like the undeniable accord between their Goddess and the roiling waves. For her part, Ghislaine had always found comfort in even the most heartless tides, more than any parent’s presence had ever offered her.

Perhaps it was what drew her most of all towards the grey shores of Tol Barad, when she and much of the remaining Resistance sought something new in a world even more scarred than the one they’d for which they’d fought.

It was certainly what brought her there now, beneath a heavy wool blanket she’d fashioned into a shawl, barefoot and desolate at the edge of the docks. Where else could she go with this, the newest secret in a long line of others… and one with the potential for far more change than she could even fathom?

High tide lapped lightly at the edges of the worn wooden structure, wholly free and gently rocking in its subtle to and fro. Around her, the cries of the gulls faded away like the last of the day’s sun behind the clouds, never quite as present as her beautiful Sister in similar circumstances. Even the scent of the day’s catch and weathered nets stretched out to dry scarcely reached her- a considerable feat, given how little else escaped her nose.

A teacup steeped in specialized herbs was curled in her palm, gripped tight within paled knuckles and utter stillness. Shade had been quick to offer her kindness and discretion, which she would remember, going forward. But it wasn’t without a quiet aside, that barely-there question that had taken up residence in her head long before she’d paid the alchemist an impromptu visit.

“Gigi, are you sure?”

Of course she was- or so it was easy to snap back, and how dare anyone question her resolve and ability to handle herself? It wasn’t as though she was the first person to ever find herself in such a situation. In Suramar she’d personally helped several of her friends quietly deal with ‘situations’ of their own in like manner. It was always for the best, not to mention expected, in a great many cases.

And really, she was ever that vain and wicked girl, making trouble for her beleaguered governess. Called a ‘goddess’ herself on more than one occasion of late, and basking in misplaced worship like it was actually owed her, she swallowed survivors’ guilt and self-loathing with mouthfuls of arcwine and rows of pretty, powdered pleasures. She took the company of friends, turned something-like-lovers, and any number of strangers besides, just to feel her own unworth that much sharper.

What could she even offer a child beyond her inexperience and the means to live in another world on fire? Pain, the likes of which was etched on worn faces as they poured in from the refugee ships. Suffering, and so much more to come… it was a world made up of loss, where life was concerned. And she, the sum of others’ expectations and over-wrought fantasies entwined. 

She would take that sip. She would-

Night fell, gradually and then suddenly, as it was wont to do, and soon she could see Her, reflecting quietly on the gentling waters. And the thing was, though Ghislaine couldn’t really imagine where her life might go from here, she was living well beyond the reach of the expectations she’d known. What Sera would think- what Audemus or anyone else would say- was inconsequential. In the end, she had only herself to contend with when it came to what she should or shouldn’t be. There was value in that. Just as there was value in relying on oneself above all else, in one’s ability to shape the life she wants, in spite of what her life has been.

Her heart started to pound, and though parts of her were tender and uncertain, carrying a strange heaviness with which she was unfamiliar, she could not deny that this thing that had happened- while a situation indeed- was also an opportunity. In a world full of loss, she now had a chance to create a life. Two, if she could count her own.

They never were abandoned, she knew. And this, more than anything, stayed her lips.

Her teacup made nary a sound as it fell from her fingers, bobbing a moment or two on the moonlit surface until the rush of saltwater began to pull it under. Eyes closed, and breath hitched, she didn’t need to see to know she was going to be okay… one way or another, she could count on her bare instincts in this matter, just like any other. And of course, she still had the sea.