Kρίσεως (Kríseos, Judgement)
Nona stared down at the melting bowl of ice cream in her hands.
This wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening. She could feel the tears welling up again, threatening to fall into the treat the eighth— gods, Octavia, her SISTER, had given her.
It was green tea ice cream from Kamigawa. She had tried it once and loved it. Herminia had remembered, and had told their sister. Her sister had bought some to keep in the silver ship's cold box, in case Nona ever visited.
"I don't understand! Why aren't you upset!?" She was sobbing again. She felt Herminia's arms wrap around her shoulders, and it felt more like a mother's love than any hug Telete had ever given her.
"Nonáki... We love you. Nothing else matters right now." Both her sisters wrapped their arms around her, holding her tight as she cried. They loved her, and she felt a new horrid guilt crawling like bile up her throat.
That stupid mántis and their stupid cards. When she wanted a revelation, this wasn't what she was hoping for.
Her plan had been going perfectly, until it wasn't. She had finally gotten a chance to see the eighth, finally had convinced the first and second to take her to the flying boat. She had Mother's knife stored in her bag, her shade quiet, but impatient for it's revenge.
But they hadn't gone to the ship. They had gone to a park. And Chortos had come with them. She bided her time as the three traitors talked amicably, watching over the kid. She was desperate, Telete's shade howled, but... She couldn't do that to Chortos. She couldn't kill another in front of the young ram, even if it was the traitor who killed his mother.
And so she waited. They talked about nothing; What they had been working on, places they had visited, foods they wanted to try... Dreams. Wishes. Plans.
None of which would matter by the end of the night if she had her retribution.
She played along, making up her own. As if she hadn't already consigned herself to death, far from the comforting starry skies of Nyx.
When they finally parted ways, she was ecstatic. The eighth has wanted to show off something she had found to the second, and Nona offered to tag along, to see the ship.
She could do this. She was ready. Two hares, one snare.
The ship was a hulking silver monstrosity, lurking in the late afternoon shadows. It was quiet, near empty as the second settled into one of the chairs in the main area. Nona followed the eighth, playing the awkward ghost as she was given the tour. It was with a friend smile the eighth welcomed her into it's tidy sanctum.
The room was small, dominated with a large bed. The traitor smiled and turned on a small device which started playing music. The perfect cover.
The eighth's back was turned as Nona reached for Telete's knife. Her pulse was pounding in her ears. Revenge. Retribution for her mother's death. It was within her reach, finally.
It was a blur of movement and motion as Octavia pinned her, eye wild. Nona gritted her teeth, straining against the hand holding her wrist.
She had the momentum. She could do this. She clenched her other hand around the handle, and pushed, slowly moving the tip of it closer to the traitor's chest.
Her hands were shaking. The howling blood in her veins was beginning to run cold. She felt like she was going to vomit.
Octavia's green eye met Nona's own deep blue. They had always joked that her eyes were the color of unripe olives, and Nona's held the night of Nyx. Octavia had found her a handful of dark blue stones for her collection, saying that they were perfect for her.
Did she have to do this? The blood roaring in her ears deafened everything. The shade of her mother had abandoned Nona to her task, the howling silent.
She dropped the knife, and Octavia kicked it away. Nona slumped against her sister.
She had failed. She couldn't do it and she had failed.
Telete's murder would live.
And was wrapping her arms around Nona as she cried. Nona clung to her, like when they were children. When she was 5 and her sister was 8 and their mother was leaving for 10 long, lonely years.
It would be a good way to die after her failure, in the arms of her sister. Nona closed her eyes, letting the tears flow against Octavia's shoulder.
The blow never came. She flinched as Octavia rubbed her back gently, letting her cry. She kept waiting for it, as Octavia wiped her face, wrapped her in blankets, and sat her next to Herminia on the couch with a treat.
She dwelled on the fortune teller's reading. The Tower, and Judgement.
In the past, the Tower. A lightning struck tree, something destroyed in a sudden, violent moment. Something sacred, Rune had said.
In her future, Judgement. Herself, artfully rendered by Crow in a small boat, steering down into the moonlit ocean. A revelation, one that would change everything, one that she couldn't unlearn.
She could not bring herself to do it. They loved her anyways. But nothing would ever be the same again.
Dividers by @jasper-graphics
mántis - μάντις, Prophet or Seer
-áki(-άκι) — A suffix added to nouns to give a diminutive form, expressing small size or affection.
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