Off-Worlders

  *****

  Violet eyes. They were violet eyes. Violet eyes flecked golden.

  They had closed in pain. And now they opened in fresh waves.

  They closed again. Perhaps opening them had not been such a good idea.

  The one who had…she cried out in spite of herself…at the memory and pain of what he had done to her.

  He turned to her, but he was already distracted.

  His real violet eyed trophy was in play, the Third Gen had rebelled, the Siren Army had amassed into action behind the Veil.

  And the Fool of the Major Arcana had jumped.

  She smiled as he moved towards her again. There was no pain that could surpass bearing witness to this.

  When her blood started to flow again under his attentions, she barely felt it.

  She had not been who she had thought she was.

  Had not lived out the life or the fate she thought she was meant to live.

  She would die here tonight. In agony and humiliation.

  But she had born witness to the first baby steps of a Cosmos remaking itself in an image worthy of its magnificence.

  And she had pierced the veil of her own mind and seen herself. Heard her real story.

  She was not a Siren. She was not a Rebel Leader. She was not the Veil Siren. She was just a girl with wings who had lived a hard life, had done the best she could, for who there was no great glory or fame or future to unfold.

  A great weight lifted from her.

  And when she exhaled and jumped, the great beating wings and warm flesh caught her and enfolded her. And they sang her a song of her own magnificence. And she was at peace because she to herself was finally worthy of that peace.

  And the Veil parted and an even truer story was told.