Tales of a Child Eternal [NSFW]

[Helene Dakesh]

They nod. "This one does not understand why this garment is unsuitable," they say, touching the vest once more with two small fingers. 

[NPCs]

"Well, we discussed that already, about how she wouldn't wear it. And how it wouldn't suit for the innkeeper himself either, because it's too fancy for his lifestyle," the Bright explains patiently.

[Helene Dakesh]

"This one understands the resource requirements. But why would she not wear it?" Their tone is still faintly puzzled.

[NPCs]

The Bright frowns a little, then smiles as it clicks. "Ah, never seen a vest before? That's fair, it's very uncommon for a simple village like ours. Vests are really only worn by males," he explains. And some very forward women, but that's mostly a big town thing.

[Helene Dakesh]

There's that word again: 'males'. A 'wife' is a type of 'female', She-who-was-Dakesh knows. A 'female' is also a 'woman', or a 'girl' if young.  And 'girl' is what She-who-was-Dakesh is called. So it's only natural that the 'wife' would not wear garments meant to mark one as 'male'. 

And yet.. and yet... "Only? Truly?" She-who-was-Dakesh frowns. "This one... cannot wear a vest?"

[NPCs]

"Truly," the Bright confirms. "You could- if you were playing a male role, in a play, then you could wear one, just like Patty is wearing the attire of a rogue despite not being one. But that's pretend. You're a little girl, so you're not supposed to wear vests. And the innkeeper's wife is a woman, so she doesn't wear men's clothing either. It's just not proper."

[Helene Dakesh]

I am a little girl. 

She-who-was-Dakesh stares up at Bright in mute horror as the realization settles in. They had been called a girl before; frequently, in fact. They had been addressed as 'girl' or 'miss'. But never had it been stated so baldly. They are a little girl. They will grow up to be a woman. Their path is locked, set for life. There is no escaping it. They will never be able to wear a vest like this one. They will never be addressed as anything but a girl. It's not proper.

[NPCs]

Bright Tilge stares a moment, quickly growing concerned with how... distraught the Child is becoming. And rapidly so. "Child... what's wrong? Try and talk to me," he says firmly.

[Helene Dakesh]

"This one-- This one--" they stammer, their hands shaking, their voice tiny. "This one-- May this one be excused?" They don't wait for an answer; instead, they flee, away from the schoolroom and toward the adjacent library, where they can find comfort among the stacks. Please, oh please, let the books take this away. Let this go away. Bright Muse, let me find peace.

[NPCs]

The priest stares, mouth open, as perhaps the most rule-abiding- once she's taught a rule at least- child he's ever taught leaves class with only the barest lip-service to permission. He rises to follow but... No, I should ask Grower Lothan to speak with her. She has the best connection as poor as it is. And maybe she'll have an idea on how to talk to her.

[Helene Dakesh]

The-one-who-was-Dakesh wanders the stacks a few moments, fingers trailing along the spines of texts, comforted by the presence of knowledge. In books, everything makes sense. Facts are laid out in text, bound together into books, fixed and immutable. Arguments are laid out in a logical fashion, one fact after another, building to a coherent picture. In stories, things happen for reasons. Everything makes sense; everyone the hero or heroine meets is destined to help them in some way, or to hinder their quest. Everything recorded is recorded for a reason, and by the end of the story, no loose ends remain, no mysteries to be resolved. Everything and everyone has their place, and knows it, and is content there, or else they are the protagonist, looking for a new place to be content. Everyone belongs somewhere.

No-one feels as lost and alone as The-one-who-was-Dakesh.

It is to stories that they turn now, looking through the historical accounts for tales of adventurers they can pretend to be for a little while. Given their current distress, one title jumps out at them, and they snatch their fingers back as though bitten. Fearless Females: Tales of Rebelles Against the Social Order. 

Hesitantly, they reach out again, closing their fingers gently on the spine of the book. They pull it free; the book comes easily, having enough space to slide out rather than being wedged into an overfull shelf. They sit on the floor, then stretch out onto their stomach, reading through the book. Reading about the females. Looking for someone to pattern themself after. 

If this one were named, perhaps this one would be content. Perhaps this one would have a place. Perhaps...

But what name? There was Lidda, the rogue from the play, known for being crafty. There was Mialee, renowned for her intelligence. There was Kara'el, known for her faith and bright personality. But none of them matched The-one-who-was-Dakesh. They were not stealthy or sly. They were intelligent, but had no magic talent, struggled with the arcane. They were devoted to Alydra, but they did not glow, they did not have wings. There was none that they could look up to, could imagine being.

Until...

The final story in the book was about Helen. Helen wasn't the bravest, or the smartest, or the most devoted. Helen was simply beautiful. Her figure was so feminine, so glorious to behold, that men came from far and wide to seek her hand, to take her to wife. She had an enchanted apple from Alydra, and she used that to determine which of them were the wisest to take to husband; she begat children, and the children were wise and beautiful. She fit into society. She was glorious. She was.... female.

A name can be an aspiration, The-one-that-was-Dakesh told themself, running their fingers over the page. Not Helen-- I am not glorious. But Helene -- one who is like Helen. One who is Helen-esque. Helene. I am Miss Helene who was Dakesh. No. Miss Helene Dakesh. That is me. That is my name.

[NPCs]

When Grower Lothan is finally found and free to speak with the Child, it's late enough that they come with a tray of tea and some savory pies. Setting down the tray on the small table next to the samasran's book fort, she runs a hand over the girl's hair. "Hello, child. I heard you had something of a rough day. Can you talk about it?"

[Helene Dakesh]

"This one has chosen a name." The child looks up at Lothan, meeting her eyes calmly, their expression even, serene. 

[NPCs]

Lothan's face blooms with a smile. "Really? That's wonderful! What did you decide on?"

[Helene Dakesh]

"This one is now know as Helene who was Dakesh."