61, ASH 122
“Because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing. To be gorgeous, you must first be seen, but to be seen allows you to be hunted.”
“Where is he?”
Titus Argenti Mattia’s voice - baritone, and colder than ice - echoed throughout the marble-clad hallways without effort. It felt like the world bent to him; why wouldn’t it? He’d come for nothing. Less than nothing. And if he hadn’t been so clever or charming, if Bellona - formerly Ex Re’ha - hadn’t seen whatever it was that had convinced her to leave the echelons of her born class for a lower one, if only Mattia’s hadn’t managed to twist out every advantage (fairly won or otherwise) he could, if -
“Who? Father -.”
There were several hypotheticals Cetus entertained. If only his father was ever pleased with the present. If only he hadn’t decided the world (and everyone) was his obstacle to power. If only Cetus wasn’t his heir.
“The Nykara boy. Cetus, I -,” he sighed, deeply; Cetus’ heart ran wild. “I was too soft. With you. With him.”
Cetus felt the color drain from his face.
“10,000 Golden Avens, Father. We -,” everything suddenly became cold. The words left his tongue like birds fleeing for warmer shores. He’d practiced. He’d spent days trying to convince his own reflection the sale had been a smart thing for House Argenti. And he still fumbled.
Titus Argenti Mattia didn’t fumble. He didn’t reach the Consul of the Senatus Minor from nothing by fumbling excuses.
“My mistake -,” his father said, after a few moments, “- was to trust you with him. I hoped you were stronger. I’ll remember that you weren’t.”
“You’re crying.”
It was a voice like iced cakes and honeyed teas and molasses creams and fresh white bread; she was always sweet with him.
“I was.”
“Why?”
Cetus sighed, rubbing his eyes. The flesh was red and raw and he felt the area tender to his touch; it hurt, now, to dry his own tears. “You know why.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t -,” Gala stepped from the shadows, her form a perfect mirror to Cetus’ own, “- where I was leading the conversation. I’m already a few steps up ahead.”
He frowned. “You still know why.”
The other Cetus - Gala - smiled. “It will be crueler to let your father work.”
“He’s protected by the Sælyan Fae,” Cetus replied, “A soon-to-be Senator.”
“Ah, yes. Forgive me,” Gala said, smiling wider, “I’ve forgotten how stable those positions are.”
“He deserves to be happy.”
“So do you.”
“My father -.”
“- isn’t you, Cetus,” Gala interrupted, her form shifting into twinned cats, each one moving completely opposite the other; and so, she circled him, “You needn’t suffer for anyone. You’ve done no wrong.”
“So says the demon.”
“And wouldn’t a demon know? What is right and what is wrong and who has sinned and who hasn’t?”
“Khyan hasn’t done anything -.”
“- but take advantage of your kindness. He knew how your father would react. And, he knows that your father would blame you. And, he knows that your father will strike, given the opportunity. Senator Argenti has his agenda. We all understand this, save you.”
“...and so you wish to interfere. Father’s asked you, already.”
The cats nodded.
“And you will. Or have.”
The cats nodded, again.
Cetus looked at his Aidolon, wary; this was Gala, through and through. He could trust her to have his best interest - so long as they paired easily with hers - but little else. They’d sworn, long ago, to be each other’s guide. Cetus, as hers in this world, and Gala, as his in her world. But, she wasn’t human, or elf, and there were moments he felt so…far from her.
She was cleverer than him, by at least half, if not more. She had no body, not like he did, and changed faces as easily as he changed clothes. Gala hadn’t felt fear, ever, and Cetus seemed to drown in it.
“And, before you ask,” she said, both cats continuing around Cetus, “I interfered for him, not against. The lovestruck fools might see another sunrise.”
Cetus considered Gala, quietly.
“If I were a gilded Celestial, I’d wager you’d have already thanked me.”
“I think I would have.”
“Should I be offended?”
“I haven’t ever told you how to feel.”
Gala laughed, a brittle candy sort of sound, “No. As much as you’ve wanted to, you haven’t.” The cats melt away and a woman’s silhouette dances along the walls. “Still, you’re curious. I can tell. How it brims and boils and bubbles, clear and growing, inside you and reaching to your throat and mouth and the words -.”
“Why?” Cetus asks, cutting her short - she’d only go on forever, elsewise. Gala loved the way she sounded.
“That is the question.”
“And the answer…?”
“Your father is as obsessed with finishing House Nykara as you are with protecting it,” she said, after some thought, “Or, protecting Khyan. I provided a different perspective. That is all.”
“...and father left it? He’ll leave Khyan alone?”
“Khyan is a distraction, Cetus. House Nykara has already fallen. There are better things for your father to attend to,” The shadow of Gala broke out in a wide, toothy grin; crescent-shaped and glowing. “Mattia knows better than most how to keep a grudge. He stokes what fires he has left, but there are many flames to see to, no?
“And many things to burn.”
Her glowing smile widened, “But you mustn't be mad, mortal mine. It was all I could do to buy your selfish friend and his Starborn lover time enough to plan for your father’s eventual strike.”
Cetus’ mind spun with possibilities.
“Hilana carries a rune. Elementalism.” she grew small as she disappeared into the shadows, “I wonder why. She refused -.”
“- two. I know.”
“Thrice is charmed, or so they say.”
“She’ll push back against her father - and mine, if it comes to it. If she hasn’t married yet, I would be shocked to hear she does so now. This is hardly the plan you imagined, Gala. An irritation at best,” Cetus stood, suddenly, already heading to the door, “I won’t let her be surprised. This -.”
“- is the price, Cetus. A distraction to buy the soon-to-be Senator Sælyan and Khyan peace.”
He stopped, his hand tight against the handle.
“Besides,” Gala said, “You said it yourself. She’ll push back. If she’s as strong as she pretends, she’ll endure.”
Cetus sighed. “I don’t like this game, Gala. It isn’t fair to Hilana.”
“No. But it solves a problem that worried you.”
“And I should be happier?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
“Where is he?”
Titus Argenti Mattia’s voice - baritone, and colder than ice - echoed throughout the marble-clad hallways without effort. It felt like the world bent to him; why wouldn’t it? He’d come for nothing. Less than nothing. And if he hadn’t been so clever or charming, if Bellona - formerly Ex Re’ha - hadn’t seen whatever it was that had convinced her to leave the echelons of her born class for a lower one, if only Mattia’s hadn’t managed to twist out every advantage (fairly won or otherwise) he could, if -
“Who? Father -.”
There were several hypotheticals Cetus entertained. If only his father was ever pleased with the present. If only he hadn’t decided the world (and everyone) was his obstacle to power. If only Cetus wasn’t his heir.
“The Nykara boy. Cetus, I -,” he sighed, deeply; Cetus’ heart ran wild. “I was too soft. With you. With him.”
Cetus felt the color drain from his face.
“10,000 Golden Avens, Father. We -,” everything suddenly became cold. The words left his tongue like birds fleeing for warmer shores. He’d practiced. He’d spent days trying to convince his own reflection the sale had been a smart thing for House Argenti. And he still fumbled.
Titus Argenti Mattia didn’t fumble. He didn’t reach the Consul of the Senatus Minor from nothing by fumbling excuses.
“My mistake -,” his father said, after a few moments, “- was to trust you with him. I hoped you were stronger. I’ll remember that you weren’t.”
---
“You’re crying.”
It was a voice like iced cakes and honeyed teas and molasses creams and fresh white bread; she was always sweet with him.
“I was.”
“Why?”
Cetus sighed, rubbing his eyes. The flesh was red and raw and he felt the area tender to his touch; it hurt, now, to dry his own tears. “You know why.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t -,” Gala stepped from the shadows, her form a perfect mirror to Cetus’ own, “- where I was leading the conversation. I’m already a few steps up ahead.”
He frowned. “You still know why.”
The other Cetus - Gala - smiled. “It will be crueler to let your father work.”
“He’s protected by the Sælyan Fae,” Cetus replied, “A soon-to-be Senator.”
“Ah, yes. Forgive me,” Gala said, smiling wider, “I’ve forgotten how stable those positions are.”
“He deserves to be happy.”
“So do you.”
“My father -.”
“- isn’t you, Cetus,” Gala interrupted, her form shifting into twinned cats, each one moving completely opposite the other; and so, she circled him, “You needn’t suffer for anyone. You’ve done no wrong.”
“So says the demon.”
“And wouldn’t a demon know? What is right and what is wrong and who has sinned and who hasn’t?”
“Khyan hasn’t done anything -.”
“- but take advantage of your kindness. He knew how your father would react. And, he knows that your father would blame you. And, he knows that your father will strike, given the opportunity. Senator Argenti has his agenda. We all understand this, save you.”
“...and so you wish to interfere. Father’s asked you, already.”
The cats nodded.
“And you will. Or have.”
The cats nodded, again.
Cetus looked at his Aidolon, wary; this was Gala, through and through. He could trust her to have his best interest - so long as they paired easily with hers - but little else. They’d sworn, long ago, to be each other’s guide. Cetus, as hers in this world, and Gala, as his in her world. But, she wasn’t human, or elf, and there were moments he felt so…far from her.
She was cleverer than him, by at least half, if not more. She had no body, not like he did, and changed faces as easily as he changed clothes. Gala hadn’t felt fear, ever, and Cetus seemed to drown in it.
“And, before you ask,” she said, both cats continuing around Cetus, “I interfered for him, not against. The lovestruck fools might see another sunrise.”
Cetus considered Gala, quietly.
“If I were a gilded Celestial, I’d wager you’d have already thanked me.”
“I think I would have.”
“Should I be offended?”
“I haven’t ever told you how to feel.”
Gala laughed, a brittle candy sort of sound, “No. As much as you’ve wanted to, you haven’t.” The cats melt away and a woman’s silhouette dances along the walls. “Still, you’re curious. I can tell. How it brims and boils and bubbles, clear and growing, inside you and reaching to your throat and mouth and the words -.”
“Why?” Cetus asks, cutting her short - she’d only go on forever, elsewise. Gala loved the way she sounded.
“That is the question.”
“And the answer…?”
“Your father is as obsessed with finishing House Nykara as you are with protecting it,” she said, after some thought, “Or, protecting Khyan. I provided a different perspective. That is all.”
“...and father left it? He’ll leave Khyan alone?”
“Khyan is a distraction, Cetus. House Nykara has already fallen. There are better things for your father to attend to,” The shadow of Gala broke out in a wide, toothy grin; crescent-shaped and glowing. “Mattia knows better than most how to keep a grudge. He stokes what fires he has left, but there are many flames to see to, no?
“And many things to burn.”
Her glowing smile widened, “But you mustn't be mad, mortal mine. It was all I could do to buy your selfish friend and his Starborn lover time enough to plan for your father’s eventual strike.”
Cetus’ mind spun with possibilities.
“Hilana carries a rune. Elementalism.” she grew small as she disappeared into the shadows, “I wonder why. She refused -.”
“- two. I know.”
“Thrice is charmed, or so they say.”
“She’ll push back against her father - and mine, if it comes to it. If she hasn’t married yet, I would be shocked to hear she does so now. This is hardly the plan you imagined, Gala. An irritation at best,” Cetus stood, suddenly, already heading to the door, “I won’t let her be surprised. This -.”
“- is the price, Cetus. A distraction to buy the soon-to-be Senator Sælyan and Khyan peace.”
He stopped, his hand tight against the handle.
“Besides,” Gala said, “You said it yourself. She’ll push back. If she’s as strong as she pretends, she’ll endure.”
Cetus sighed. “I don’t like this game, Gala. It isn’t fair to Hilana.”
“No. But it solves a problem that worried you.”
“And I should be happier?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
