Tales of a Child Eternal [NSFW]

[Helene Dakesh]

The library was one of The Child's favorite spots. To be surrounded by so much knowledge -- even if they struggled to read some of the bigger words -- felt almost holy, almost sacred. They had begun serious study of the gods, looking at first for the right deity; after all, there was no telling how samsarans interacted with the Doctrine of Childhood, no telling how old they had to be before they were forced to pick a deity or risk their immortal soul should they fail to reincarnate. But that hadn't taken long. Bright Tilge had only to explain what each deity stood for before The Child had chosen.

Astea's doctrines evoked warm feelings, as did Ciren's, and Vangal's. But the moment The Child heard Alydra's name, there was a powerful sense of recognition and orientation. That one, her soul said. Worship that one. So they did. 

With Alydra's Day coming up, the children were organizing a small pagent: a historical play, one in which an adventuring party discovered some lost wisdom about ritual magic that helped enable the simple rituals that eased the burdens of everyday life. It was a powerful piece, likely more poetic than fact, but The Child was glad to take part. 

Except...

More and more they were beginning to feel uncomfortable with themself. Or, not themself, but their body in particular. They had, since their first arrival in town, been introduced to little boys. At first, they had been confused: what is the precise nature of the difference between boys and girls? The books had the answer to that: they were a girl, because their genitals were configured in one configuration, and Samael was a little boy, as his genitals were configured in the other configuration. Logical, neat, and tidy, just the way The Child liked it. 

But....

There were other things in that book as well. Things like growing up to be a mother, to be pregnant. Things like being nurturing and warm. Things like wearing dresses. Things that felt... wrong, somehow. Not bad, not lesser, but wrong for The Child. More and more, they began to wonder if there had been some mistake. They didn't feel like a little girl. They felt like a child, with no more in common with one sex than the other. Perhaps there had been a mistake. Perhaps it was due to their being "born" out in the woods, spending weeks on their own without companionship. But...

But...

Today was the day they would receive their parts for the pagent, begin practicing. The Child hoped against hope that the part of Mihail, Cleric of Alydra, would be their own. That part had a reasonable amount of lines, far from the most but far from the least, and they were challenging lines, full of big words and weighty philosophy. Lines The Child knew they could take to heart, lines they could memorize and recite with no issues. Sitting cross-legged on the rug, they felt certain that would be the correct part for them. Surely Bright Tilge would understand their heart, would assign the roles accordingly. The role was as good as theirs. 

[NPCs]

"-and Chiron will be taking the role of Mihail," Bright Tilge concludes. "Anyone I didn't name, your duty will be changing out the scenes. Some of you might have get some non-speaking roles during the two big crowd scenes." Clapping his hands together smartly, he beams at the assembled children. "Alright, everyone wash your hands for juice and fruit, then we have more reading practice. Hop to it, children."

The Child had not been named, now or ever in this life.

[Helene Dakesh]

The Child stares up at the Bright, confused, hurt. The Child does not belong. Yet again a reminder: the Child will never belong. Will never be human, will never be an ordinary child, will never be something that they can understand and accept. It is known.

No, some part of them argues. It is not known. It is not set in stone. The future is never set in stone. I will change it. This is not a new voice for the Child, exactly; it sounds like their own voice: male, arrogant, self-assured. But that is not The Child's voice. Confusion. The Child sounds small, petite, feminine. Who is this other voice? This other person?

Dakesh. I am She-who-was-Dakesh. Resolution of confusion. Understanding, acceptance. She-who-was-Dakesh. And yet....

And yet... that's not right. 

She-who-was-Dakesh stands, moving over to Bright Tilge, tugging on their robe. "Brightness?" they ask softly. "This one has a concern."

[NPCs]

Bright Tilge kneels, a kind smile on his face. "What is the trouble, child?" he asks automatically, reaching over to stroke her hair to offer comfort. Poor girl, she's still so very lost with all of this. Probably has yet another question about proper behavior. Still, it's good that she asks instead of just guessing, or worse, withdrawing from life.

[Helene Dakesh]

"This one..."

Hesitence. Reticence. She-who-was-Dakesh is careful, cautious. She-who-was-Dakesh plans, is methodical. Takes their time, chooses the correct course of action. Favors propriety over their own needs. And yet...

"This one wanted a speaking role," they whisper, tears pricking their eyes. She-who-was-Dakesh is, after all, only a child. There will be time to master their emotions, as they grow into maturity. 

[NPCs]

"Ah," the Bright says carefully. "Well... we have to be fair about the speaking roles. There are more students than parts with lines this year and it's only fair that the roles go to those that are the most suited, the most fitting. You... well, you're doing very well, but you still struggle a little with speaking and we didn't want to put any undue pressure on you." He continues to stroke her hair, gently, lightly. Not having any parents, the various Brights have been trying to offer what comforting touches they can to try and socialize her.

[Helene Dakesh]

The most fitting. This one... does not fit. Does not suit the roles. Does not speak well enough. 

"This one understands," they whisper again, a slight hitch to their breath. "This one will do this one's best."

[NPCs]

The Bright winces a little. Evidently, this means more than we realized... well... "Some of the crowd parts have a line or two," he says gently. "Would you like one of them, to... get some practice?" I certainly can't take any of the real speaking roles back from the kids I just gave them too but adding in a line or two shouldn't be a problem. Just something small and quick. Maybe snip a line from the narrator?

[Helene Dakesh]

She-who-was-Dakesh looks up, eyes shining. "You mean it?" they ask, in a fair imitation of the other children. No; they are a child, and honestly feel wonder and gratitude. And yet... something feels just a little off, as it always does. "This one will do this one's best! This one will make Brightness proud!"

[NPCs]

Tilge tries to mask a wince. "I will do my best. I will make Brightness proud," he corrects her gently. "You're going to have to use personal pronouns for the lines. Can you do that?"

[Helene Dakesh]

She-who-was-Dakesh nods vigorously. "This one will not adulterate the lines." Adulterate? What kind of child uses 'adulterate'? 

[NPCs]

"Can you practice right now?" Bright Tilge prompts her.

[Helene Dakesh]

She-who-was-Dakesh shifts uncomfortably. "This one does not know what lines to recite. What shall this one recite for Brightness?"

[NPCs]

"Well... how about we start with you repeating what you just said, but doing it like a-" normal child. "Line from the play? Use 'I' instead of 'this one' for instance."

[Helene Dakesh]

She-who-was-Dakesh nods. They straighten their back, lifting their chin as they recite in an even, rhythmic cadence more suited to reciting epic poetry than speech: "I do not know what lines to recite. What shall I recite for you?"