Marzelle was wasting time.
My Original Controller was big on procrastination, but nine years? That was sloth.
I had to get the ball rolling somehow.
Of course I couldn't tell the kid myself; I didn't care, and it wasn't my story to tell. It was hers.
I had been watching them and waiting, waiting for the day the story would be told, but Marzelle in her infinite wisdom seemed determined to keep Lady LaMartin a secret.
But, pray tell, how does one keep someone's identity a secret if they named another person after them? Was Marzelle trying to forget? If she was, didn't she know that the best way to remember a person was to name another after them?
Most important...why was this a concern of mine?
Oh yes. I remembered why. I missed being a part of her, and exerting some level of logical influence.
I smiled to remember those days, the days before I became a silver cat with large, cold, gray eyes. The days of the infinitely complex entity that she was and we were, before I had to leave because she teetered on the edge of insanity, the kind that comes from having two distinct yet not complete persons in one mind, one body.
Oh, those days!
Yet, that was her story, not mine, although I was an integral part of it, and like I said, Marzelle was wasting time. I wanted the discoveries to begin quickly for the child, especially the discovery that her middle school graduation was the same day as the much vaunted Exhibition. I had a solution to that little problem, one that ANYONE would have thought of, but if Marzelle didn't listen to me while I lived in her mind, would she listen now I was out of it?
I craved the chaos that would follow, logical as I was.
Craved it so badly, I was ready to tip the dominoes myself.
YOU ARE READING
Memories of SIGAL
FantasyOvidia Origon. A young girl saved by the nobility of a Mahican Harbinger named Marzelle, who raises her as a daughter. Now, nine years later, just before the end of middle school, and haunted by a strange song, she must delve into Marzelle's past...
