most who met them thought they shared a mother. but in truth, they only went to the same school, far away from either of their homes and rich enough to turn them from rebels into citizens when they came of age.
one preferred green. one preferred gray. they each had a talent for the arts of life and death. together they learned, until the day they were offered a choice: to specialize, become greater. become someone worth being.
the one clad in green chose the path of life. she began by learning to treat cuts and scrapes, then gashes and broken bones, then organ damage and fatal wounds.
the one clad in gray chose the path of death. she began by learning the shape of bones, the stages of decay, the strength of failing flesh.
healer and resurrectionist. the healerās skill was great, and her power greater, and this endeared her to the people she served. she grew to whisper wounds shut in a single word, to cure a childās illness with a brush of her hand.
the resurrectionist was not as beloved, for she lacked a crucial power that people around her sought: to bring the dead back. that a spirit once departed could never return was common knowledge, but often logic left those in mourning. time and time again she had to say: i cannot bring them back. i cannot ease your pain.
āthey love you,ā said the resurrectionist. beyond the temple walls a crowd stood vigil - not in rememberence but in thanks. the healer had saved the life of the high priest earlier, when his heart had stopped in the middle of the solstice ceremony. āyouāre a hero,ā she said.
āit was nothing,ā the healer replied. āit was easy.ā
āit wonāt always be,ā said the resurrectionist. āsomeday youāll meet someone you canāt save.ā
the healer raised her chin. her eyes were hard in the darkness. āwe will see about that.ā
yousharknotpass
discoholicmusic
izzy806
