As A Stranger Or A Friend?: The Swallow And The Drowned Sailor

Mariel - 30 Sun's Dusk, 1245 A.D.

"Call yerself somethin' else, even when ye be alone. Razor yer hair off. Nay trust anyone, nary one. Run, walk, crawl if ye have to, but get far away as ye can, and nay look back. Most of all, stop bein' honest. Nary one gives a shite 'bout ye, so stop givin' a shite 'bout 'em."

"Okay. I will."

"Nay ye will no. Go on."

"Goodbye..."

"Aye, go on."

"But I did as you asked...are you proud of me?" I whispered as I rubbed the top of the blue card tin with my thumb.

I pulled the ratty blanket over my shoulders just a little tighter and looked into the flames of my tiny hearth. This room, the drafts within it, and the echoey, droning chants of the monastery were the most constant of companions since I'd arrived at the Holy City of Evios. Though contrary to its name, this place was neither holy nor blessed; instead, all was dark and slow-moving. The skies wept endlessly, and the people were always sick and wandering and stinking of their own feces. The wailing of babies could be heard now and again, though not because they were asking for their mothers' breast, but because they were breathing their last and wanted at least one other soul to know about it.

In this forsaken place, I took on the mantle of Sister, shrouding my face and entire being to become a servant to those in need. I, along with the rest of the Convent, moved just behind the dead, housing them humbly in the ground and providing comfort to those who would soon join them. This tin and the shieldstone around my neck were the only reminders that my life was not always this crushed existence; for certain, I was being smothered.

Since departing Axtapor's side, I spent day after day running and stopping time to skip from one place to the next. Always under cover of darkness, as I was sure he would have approved of, and collecting scraps of food tossed out by stall keepers at the end of each day. But in this place, there was no need for such urgency or secrecy. No one bothered to learn a face or ask a name. We were all simply shells, moving aimlessly until our time came, and we departed to the world beyond. So I could stop running because no one cared to know me or where I had come from. In fact, I stirred no interest at all.

That was what I wanted, right? To return to a life where I could live in some form of obscurity. My 'normal' life. I opened the tin and gently smoothed my thumb over the card that lay on top. Yes, this is what I wanted, to be unknown... But who was I? I shed the cloak of 'fugitive' so eagerly, but what I found underneath was a creature, raw and confused, that was utterly unrecognizable to me. A shell. Yes, simply wandering...