Snippet #1589353

Though she had managed to fight off the initial wave of whatever had assaulted her, it only grew more difficult to resist as she approached the others. Machai was unresponsive, and inside her own mind, Katarina's dreams were burning in effigy. The flames licked at her bound wrists and ankles, threatening to devour her. They burned bright scarlet, the sky above her a crimson swath, painted in blood and ambition. The stake she was bound to plunged into the ground at an odd angle, causing the wood to bite uncomfortably into her skin while she dangled, so helplessly, over the ravenous flames.

All of a sudden all the things that should have burned her, that should have crushed her beneath the weight of years of loneliness and rejection, did burn and so crushed, and she couldn't breathe. Smoke and ash filled her lungs, her skin turned red and then black before her eyes and she could not even scream. She could see her own bones being blackened and burnt, and it would not be long before she was nothing but ashes and dust. She didn't want to see, didn't want to know, as though watching herself fall apart would reveal her to be made of worse stuff than she had thought, weaker materials, inferior workmanship. She was nothing, and she would be cinders.

She could hear Nike's voice in her mind, just barely over the fire, but Katarina didn't know what to do. Not really. She'd spent her whole life trying to convince herself that she did not deserve this, that even if she was some strange abomination, even if she couldn't seem to keep a friend, even if the only person who had shown her lasting kindness was an old man in a small building in a city slum, even if she played with an empty heart, that she would still be worth the space she took up if only she kept grasping at a different fire which should have guttered out long ago. If she pretended long enough, tried hard enough, gave enough, she would spare herself this crucifixion.

She had given more than she truly had, and the risk of that was always in being defeated utterly, with nothing more to relinquish. She'd reached the end of her rope; there was no more. The frail human heart could only take so much before it withered and died, and Kat felt that she had been putting this off for longer than she should have. The fact that a boy she had thought long dead was one of them just placed the final weight upon her shoulder, and her knees buckled beneath it. The brave resolve, the bravado, could not resist its own end- the exhaustion of a mind that could only take so much solitude.

She would die alone, too. She was certain of it.

Hmph. How pathetic. I'd never figured you for a quitter. The man, salt-and-pepper hair and sharp black eyes, surveyed her funeral pyre with distaste. Striking a match, he lit the tobacco in a lacquered black pipe with a tiger embedded with mother-of-pearl. He looked right at her with a flinty stare, and the disappointment she read there was more than she could bear. Hanging her head, Katarina attempted to ignore him. She was going to pretend he'd never seen her like this.

Even that sniveling little kid in my dojo with the bloody knuckles and the legs that scarcely held her up had more guts than you. She swallowed thickly, biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

Please, just... go away. I don't want... I don't want you to see this.

The man sneered. She didn't see it; she just knew he would. It was what he did every time one of his students said something cowardly. And right now, she was a coward. She knew it. But some things just can't be faced down, as the flames chewing through her were reminding her. Of course. Go away. You always have to be alone, don't you? Makes feeling sorry for yourself easier, I suppose. Gods forbid you should ever ask for help; someone might actually be willing to give it, and then you'd be outta reasons to pity yourself, wouldn't you?

Let me tell you something, girl. The only reason you're alone anymore is because you're afraid to be otherwise. You don't want to risk what it takes to form relationships with other people. You're afraid they'll leave you too. Well lemme ask you something. In all the years you've known me, have I ever once left?

Kat lifted her head and glanced over. There was something in his tone she'd never heard before, and she gasped sharply. The usually-stoic face had lost its severity, and he was looking at her with an expression she had only ever seen parents give their children. I... But words failed her, and she didn't know what to do. No. You haven't. But you... I...

It's okay to be scared, girl. Bravery isn't the absence of fear. It's being scared witless and refusing to let it beat you. It's feeling hopeless and continuing to hope anyway. Strength is not the opposite of weakness; it's learning to adapt in the face of weakness. That's all. There's no great secret to victory. You just have to be more stubborn than the other guy. Haven't I always told you that? He smiled, and she echoed it.

I've been meaning to ask, girl... when's fire ever hurt you? Katarina blinked, and looked down at herself. No longer was the skin blackened like charcoal, nor could she see the stark bone beneath. She was simply whole, her restraints burned away, standing in the middle of the fire, next to the stake she had been tied to. She frowned, then looked back to the old man, only to find that he was gone. This didn't stop the smile from lingering on the redhead's face. She'd finally seen it, that expression she'd always wanted to see. Someone out there knew her for what she was, and accepted it without reproach. How long had she been seeking it, only to be blind to the fact that she'd had it all along!

The fire disappeared, and she was back in the hallway. A tingling warmth shot down her spine, causing her skin to prickle with gooseflesh. It was not the burning heat of a wildfire, but soothing warmth of a different kind. Kat took her hand from Machai's shoulder and grasped his wrist. She had a feeling that all of them needed to be together right now, and she tugged him the rest of the way after her, finding her way into the room with Nike and the others. They appeared to be trapped the same way she had been, but she knew it was up to each of them to fight their way out of it. Nike, though, Nike she could help.

Still leading Machai, she placed his hand into one of Nike's, and took the other in both her own. "Mother..." she murmured softly, then focused on that warmth she felt, peaceable acceptance and love. That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? They had to accept themselves, accept each other, and accept their task. She was ready to do all three. It wouldn't be an instant process, and it wouldn't be without pitfalls and bumps in the road, but they could do it. They had to. The healing energy passed from Descendant to Mother, and Katarina stood a silent vigil, waiting for the others to come around.