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I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites

Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 52: ANSWERS

                What is beauty? What is beauty to me? Malia sank into the velvety armchair, her dull mood unbothered by the lively air around her. Frida had granted her party a large hall furnished with everything they could need, to reside in for as long as her niece searched for her coming of age answer. The princess’ human companions in particular marveled at the lavish quarters, gazing around the spacious chamber with silent, and yet evident, enthusiasm.
                Malia couldn’t blame them. She didn’t miss life in the northern palace, not at all, but there was no denying the appeal of silk beddings, clean marble floors and fragrant carpets. Her friends deserved to enjoy it thoroughly, probably more than she ever had.
                Malia could technically take as long as she wanted to find her answer, but she couldn’t shake the need to hurry. Knowing she was the main obstacle for their progress, despite it being within grasp, rushed her mind in unhelpful ways: a hasty brain wasn’t usually the most lucid one.
                “Your answer could be a word, or a concept, or a color…” Frida had pointed out, “It’ll be acceptable as long as you explain why you chose it. Likewise, your explanation can be a single sentence, or a hundred pages worth of rationalization. You’re free to shape the declaration you’ll present in front of the council of witnesses.” The southern queen had gone on to say Malia was also free to read the records of all the answers given by previous generations of Eirians. Some references might give me the push I need to come up with something meaningful… or coherent at least.
                She lifted her head and her glance landed on Hedera and Licorice. The twins were standing near the window, sisters to the flowers adorning the windowsill. The two had a talent for looking dignified; in Hedera’s case especially when she had her mouth closed. I can start with them. “What is beauty to you?”
                “Balance.” The ancient demons replied in unison, at a speed that made it seem they had been waiting to be asked, even though they hadn’t. To them, the answer came naturally.
                “That makes sense…” Malia turned to Aldous, who was still trying and failing to decide which bed to call dibs on, “What about you? What’s beauty to you?”
                “Me? Hmmm… I’m not sure. I guess if I have to give a response… I’d say beauty’s a feeling.”
                “A feeling?” Malia pressed.
                “You know, like the feeling you get when you see the stars perfectly reflected on a lake, or when the clouds get all colorful at sunrise, or when roasted pork has that shiny, dark glaze. I think beauty is that tingly feeling that makes you go ‘Ah, this is beautiful’. Something like that.” Aldous finally made up his mind and sat on the bed closest to the balcony. “Don’t laugh, alright? You’re the one who asked me.”
                “Why would I laugh?” Malia was appalled, “You’ve got it more figured out than me! Maybe you should be an Eirian.”
                “Oh, I like that. Praise me more, go on! I won you over with the mention of glazed pork, didn’t I?”
                Malia ignored him, mostly because she couldn’t wholeheartedly deny it, and she shifted her attention to Gorken, “It’s your turn now. What is beauty to you?”
                “You.”
                “Come on!” Malia complained, flustered, “I’m asking you seriously here.”
                “I replied seriously.” Gorken made sure to take off his boots before he sat on the bed left unclaimed, “Although I’m not sure there’s a point in defining beauty individually within a community. It’s not something that exists outside of us, but a consensus. People just agree on what to call beautiful, and that’s how the word has a meaning.”
                “Boss, you got it backwards.” Bayard intervened. Malia was thankful for that, since she hadn’t processed much of what Gorken had said after the word ‘seriously’, and she didn’t want to play the part of the blushing buffoon yet again. “It’s because beauty exists outside of us and because we’re able to perceive it that we can call things beautiful. It has power precisely because it’s an undeniable value. There’s an internal logic to beauty that goes beyond human conception.”
                “Bayard, a word salad about perception and existence doesn’t change the basic fact that a word is a word. We invented the word beauty because we wanted it to mean something. That’s it.”
                “It’s beneath you to invalidate someone else’s point with disdain, Boss.” Bayard stood, “If your mind is lazy don’t engage in discussion in the first place.”
                “Guys!” Malia caught up with the moment, “There’s no need to decide if someone’s right or wrong. All of your opinions are valuable… I’m trying to gather references. So thank you for humoring me, all of you. Let’s relax, yes?”
                “As far as I’m concerned I’m still winning.” Aldous joined Malia’s efforts to soften the atmosphere, “A good piece of crispy honey-glazed pork is more beautiful than anything within or beyond human conception.”
                “The pig would disagree.” Licorice added flatly. They couldn’t tell if she was allying herself with Aldous and Malia, but her voice dissolved the last remnants of tension.
                “Honey glazed onions are good too.” Aldous was proud of his rebuttal.
                “Not for the onions.” Licorice’s victory was monotonously settled.
                “At this rate ‘food’ will end up as my coming of age answer.” Malia stretched her arms upwards, “I have a pending mission in my aunt’s library. Maybe that will clear my head. I’ll be back in a bit.”
                Other than the guards at the entrance, Malia had the whole library to herself. She walked and walked across the hallways of pages, reveling in their company, as she sought to find a section about hybrids, about healing demons, about magic that wasn’t an affront to nature… But the books wouldn’t offer her more than their company in that regard. Every tome even remotely related to her hopes was as brutal as Kadem’s rejections had been, without the sympathy or the pity the silver witch had shown. No theory, no formula, no experimental magic achieved results contrary to Malia’s fears. If it hasn’t been done before, if a method hasn’t been discovered, I just have to create it. Even as she told herself that, her thoughts betrayed her, morphing into ways to apologize to Gabrielle for failing, for breaking her promise.
                The cold creeping up her skin reminded Malia that time waited for no one. She felt her icy fingertips against her cheeks and decided to call it a day. She wondered if her aunt’s library was enchanted, or if books themselves were the primordial form of time-bending magic, because there was no way nighttime could have come so quickly. The bright Eirian palace was now shadows and flickering torches, the exuberant gardens were ominous shapes in the dark. Her rumbling stomach informed her that indeed she had spent long hours reading and studying. Long hours searching. Long hours failing.
                Her friends were asleep when Malia got back to their room. She regretted missing dinner, but the kitchens were always awake in a large palace. She snuck quietly past her companions and into the balcony, eager to stare at the stars before doing anything else.
                “Is something wrong?” Gorken’s low voice was almost a caress, “I’m sorry I fell asleep before you came back. I didn’t mean to.” He sat next to her and wrapped the heavy blanket he’d brought with him around Malia.
                “Thank you.” She said, “And you don’t have to apologize for that. I’m fine. It’s just…”
                “It’s just?”
                “…I had a feeling I had changed. After so many things happened one after the other, truths and training and healing and travels… I felt I had become stronger. But today… First when we talked with my aunt, then when looking for ways to heal my master, I was reminded that I’m still me. It’s not as easy as deciding to change and then doing it right away. It should be obvious but, I guess I let myself down. A little bit. I’m fine though. I know I just have to keep at it. Simple as that.”
                “You don’t need words of support then.” Gorken patted her head, “I’ll say it anyway. You’ve never let me down. If anything, you’re always surprising me.”
                She stifled a modest laugh, “You must be easy to impress.”
                “Don’t make me snatch back my blanket after I was such a smooth gentleman.”
                “You can try, but I won’t give it back.” Malia smiled, “It’s warm.”
                “Should we go back inside? I can go with you to the kitchens. You must be starving.”
                “You sure know how to beguile a lady.”
                Gorken held the door open for her, “Who’s the one who’s easy to impress again?”
                Malia cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. “Not me.” She said as she went inside.
                Gorken wasn’t one to accept defeat, but as he followed Malia to the kitchens of the Eirian castle, his pounding heart decried him as beaten. Maybe she’s right.

Description

I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites

Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 52: ANSWERS

                What is beauty? What is beauty to me? Malia sank into the velvety armchair, her dull mood unbothered by the lively air around her. Frida had granted her party a large hall furnished with everything they could need, to reside in for as long as her niece searched for her coming of age answer. The princess’ human companions in particular marveled at the lavish quarters, gazing around the spacious chamber with silent, and yet evident, enthusiasm.
                Malia couldn’t blame them. She didn’t miss life in the northern palace, not at all, but there was no denying the appeal of silk beddings, clean marble floors and fragrant carpets. Her friends deserved to enjoy it thoroughly, probably more than she ever had.
                Malia could technically take as long as she wanted to find her answer, but she couldn’t shake the need to hurry. Knowing she was the main obstacle for their progress, despite it being within grasp, rushed her mind in unhelpful ways: a hasty brain wasn’t usually the most lucid one.
                “Your answer could be a word, or a concept, or a color…” Frida had pointed out, “It’ll be acceptable as long as you explain why you chose it. Likewise, your explanation can be a single sentence, or a hundred pages worth of rationalization. You’re free to shape the declaration you’ll present in front of the council of witnesses.” The southern queen had gone on to say Malia was also free to read the records of all the answers given by previous generations of Eirians. Some references might give me the push I need to come up with something meaningful… or coherent at least.
                She lifted her head and her glance landed on Hedera and Licorice. The twins were standing near the window, sisters to the flowers adorning the windowsill. The two had a talent for looking dignified; in Hedera’s case especially when she had her mouth closed. I can start with them. “What is beauty to you?”
                “Balance.” The ancient demons replied in unison, at a speed that made it seem they had been waiting to be asked, even though they hadn’t. To them, the answer came naturally.
                “That makes sense…” Malia turned to Aldous, who was still trying and failing to decide which bed to call dibs on, “What about you? What’s beauty to you?”
                “Me? Hmmm… I’m not sure. I guess if I have to give a response… I’d say beauty’s a feeling.”
                “A feeling?” Malia pressed.
                “You know, like the feeling you get when you see the stars perfectly reflected on a lake, or when the clouds get all colorful at sunrise, or when roasted pork has that shiny, dark glaze. I think beauty is that tingly feeling that makes you go ‘Ah, this is beautiful’. Something like that.” Aldous finally made up his mind and sat on the bed closest to the balcony. “Don’t laugh, alright? You’re the one who asked me.”
                “Why would I laugh?” Malia was appalled, “You’ve got it more figured out than me! Maybe you should be an Eirian.”
                “Oh, I like that. Praise me more, go on! I won you over with the mention of glazed pork, didn’t I?”
                Malia ignored him, mostly because she couldn’t wholeheartedly deny it, and she shifted her attention to Gorken, “It’s your turn now. What is beauty to you?”
                “You.”
                “Come on!” Malia complained, flustered, “I’m asking you seriously here.”
                “I replied seriously.” Gorken made sure to take off his boots before he sat on the bed left unclaimed, “Although I’m not sure there’s a point in defining beauty individually within a community. It’s not something that exists outside of us, but a consensus. People just agree on what to call beautiful, and that’s how the word has a meaning.”
                “Boss, you got it backwards.” Bayard intervened. Malia was thankful for that, since she hadn’t processed much of what Gorken had said after the word ‘seriously’, and she didn’t want to play the part of the blushing buffoon yet again. “It’s because beauty exists outside of us and because we’re able to perceive it that we can call things beautiful. It has power precisely because it’s an undeniable value. There’s an internal logic to beauty that goes beyond human conception.”
                “Bayard, a word salad about perception and existence doesn’t change the basic fact that a word is a word. We invented the word beauty because we wanted it to mean something. That’s it.”
                “It’s beneath you to invalidate someone else’s point with disdain, Boss.” Bayard stood, “If your mind is lazy don’t engage in discussion in the first place.”
                “Guys!” Malia caught up with the moment, “There’s no need to decide if someone’s right or wrong. All of your opinions are valuable… I’m trying to gather references. So thank you for humoring me, all of you. Let’s relax, yes?”
                “As far as I’m concerned I’m still winning.” Aldous joined Malia’s efforts to soften the atmosphere, “A good piece of crispy honey-glazed pork is more beautiful than anything within or beyond human conception.”
                “The pig would disagree.” Licorice added flatly. They couldn’t tell if she was allying herself with Aldous and Malia, but her voice dissolved the last remnants of tension.
                “Honey glazed onions are good too.” Aldous was proud of his rebuttal.
                “Not for the onions.” Licorice’s victory was monotonously settled.
                “At this rate ‘food’ will end up as my coming of age answer.” Malia stretched her arms upwards, “I have a pending mission in my aunt’s library. Maybe that will clear my head. I’ll be back in a bit.”
                Other than the guards at the entrance, Malia had the whole library to herself. She walked and walked across the hallways of pages, reveling in their company, as she sought to find a section about hybrids, about healing demons, about magic that wasn’t an affront to nature… But the books wouldn’t offer her more than their company in that regard. Every tome even remotely related to her hopes was as brutal as Kadem’s rejections had been, without the sympathy or the pity the silver witch had shown. No theory, no formula, no experimental magic achieved results contrary to Malia’s fears. If it hasn’t been done before, if a method hasn’t been discovered, I just have to create it. Even as she told herself that, her thoughts betrayed her, morphing into ways to apologize to Gabrielle for failing, for breaking her promise.
                The cold creeping up her skin reminded Malia that time waited for no one. She felt her icy fingertips against her cheeks and decided to call it a day. She wondered if her aunt’s library was enchanted, or if books themselves were the primordial form of time-bending magic, because there was no way nighttime could have come so quickly. The bright Eirian palace was now shadows and flickering torches, the exuberant gardens were ominous shapes in the dark. Her rumbling stomach informed her that indeed she had spent long hours reading and studying. Long hours searching. Long hours failing.
                Her friends were asleep when Malia got back to their room. She regretted missing dinner, but the kitchens were always awake in a large palace. She snuck quietly past her companions and into the balcony, eager to stare at the stars before doing anything else.
                “Is something wrong?” Gorken’s low voice was almost a caress, “I’m sorry I fell asleep before you came back. I didn’t mean to.” He sat next to her and wrapped the heavy blanket he’d brought with him around Malia.
                “Thank you.” She said, “And you don’t have to apologize for that. I’m fine. It’s just…”
                “It’s just?”
                “…I had a feeling I had changed. After so many things happened one after the other, truths and training and healing and travels… I felt I had become stronger. But today… First when we talked with my aunt, then when looking for ways to heal my master, I was reminded that I’m still me. It’s not as easy as deciding to change and then doing it right away. It should be obvious but, I guess I let myself down. A little bit. I’m fine though. I know I just have to keep at it. Simple as that.”
                “You don’t need words of support then.” Gorken patted her head, “I’ll say it anyway. You’ve never let me down. If anything, you’re always surprising me.”
                She stifled a modest laugh, “You must be easy to impress.”
                “Don’t make me snatch back my blanket after I was such a smooth gentleman.”
                “You can try, but I won’t give it back.” Malia smiled, “It’s warm.”
                “Should we go back inside? I can go with you to the kitchens. You must be starving.”
                “You sure know how to beguile a lady.”
                Gorken held the door open for her, “Who’s the one who’s easy to impress again?”
                Malia cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. “Not me.” She said as she went inside.
                Gorken wasn’t one to accept defeat, but as he followed Malia to the kitchens of the Eirian castle, his pounding heart decried him as beaten. Maybe she’s right.