Embracing The Demon by Celeste King

Author:Celeste King [King, Celeste]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Protheka Publishing
Published: 2023-01-12T16:00:00+00:00

18

Volikan

“That one looks like a thistle,” she says, pointing. I turn just enough to see, without disrupting her head from its position where it rests on my arm.

“What’s a thistle?” I ask. She gives me a sideways look, as if trying to decide if I’m teasing her. I’m not sure why she thinks I would – I’m hardly the lighthearted type.

She must reach the same conclusion because her dubious expression slides away. It’s replaced by one of confusion, as she tries to think of a way to explain it. “They’re an animal on Protheka. Covered in wool, very fluffy.”

I roll back onto my side, losing interest in the cloud. Facing her now, I smirk. “Doesn’t every cloud look like that, then?”

She sighs good naturedly. “No!” she insists. “Not just like that. That one has legs and eyes, even. Don’t you see it?”

I don’t bother to look a second time. “If you say so.” All I see are storm clouds, the same thing we see every day.

She frowns, and for some reason I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. She’s such a bizarre creature, so earnest and insistent about the most meaningless things. And yet, for some reason, I find it to be one of the many likable things about her.

I wonder sometimes, where she finds the energy to care so much about everything, so deeply. It’s both impressive and inspiring, even if it’s something that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully understand.

“Do you miss your home?” I ask and find that I really want to know. I may not, as a rule, have the deep, limitless sincerity and concern that Anastasia does. But I do, for one subject alone. Her.

I can feel her head shake from where it rests on my arm. The field grass crinkles with the motion. “Not anymore,” she admits. “Not really.”

I study her face, wondering if she means it. But she seems genuine, though that should be no surprise. She’s always genuine, so wholehearted in everything she says and does.

Something inside of me bubbles at the words, realizing that I’m more relieved than I ever thought I would be to hear her say that. It shouldn’t matter to me whether she likes it here or not, not really.

What would I care if she’d rather be on Protheka? If she considers that home? And yet, the knowledge that she doesn’t feels unbearably significant, taking a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t know was even there.

“I used to,” she continues. “But I think I just felt out of place here, and lonely. I don’t feel lonely anymore,” she admits. I bite back the urge to say the same thing right back to her, even if it’s true.

With Anastasia around, I find myself getting so lost in her that I don’t even think about fighting. She’s a welcome distraction from the bloodlust that used to claim my waking thoughts. It’s almost as if simply being seen by her, in my entirety, gives me the piece that I’ve been missing.

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