𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄. ( jason grace )

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞. The Three of Swords

IN HER FIFTEEN YEARS OF LIFE, KEERTHI AYER HAD (LEGALLY) CHANGED HER NAME TWICE.

It wasn't something life-altering, her mom—walking the line effortlessly between science and pseudoscience—had wanted a different change of perspective, and Keerthi, none the wiser, hadn't thought twice about it. Now that she had time to think twice (and more than that), maybe that contributed to how easy it was for her to switch things up. And by switch things up, she meant switching her entire persona. As though the hopping of names caused her to also start hopping identities.

"It's an instinct. It's a habit," she'd tell everyone else automatically.

Not really. By this point, it had turned into more of a lifestyle. Like how she'd jumped from Nina to Anika at the age of one; and from Anika to Keerthi at the age of thirteen. She slipped through the fingers of the rest of the world, she slipped through the fingers of her own self as well.

Nina was an innocent baby unbeknownst to what would come upon her later in her life. Anika was...well, she was a whole lot of stuff that made Keerthi both stew in guilt and cringe late at night when she couldn't sleep. And now the curtains opened up to Keerthi—who was all of the above plus a jumble of everything else; Keerthi was a mess, to put it lightly.

The escalation of it all was quite awestriking, honestly.

Ironic, too.

Nina meant a bunch of different things, but goddess most prominently—Keerthi didn't know what Nina was feeling, but she figured a baby wouldn't be feeling much of a goddess. Anika meant a bunch of awesome things too: graceful, brilliant, sweet-faced—all the things Keerthi guaranteed Anika didn't feel. (Strange how that worked; people could compliment you, behind your back, to your parents, even to your face, but you'd have a hard time seeing it for yourself. Insecurity was a bitch.)

But then came along the name Keerthi—a blessing and her gavel. Keerthi had a love/hate relationship with her name. It was pretty, gorgeous even, people loved it, and she definitely held an attachment to it that she hadn't had with her other names. But it was a double-edged blade. For Keerthi meant fame—short, simple, to the point. Except it was a whole lot more complicated than that.

"Don't be silly," her mother had laughed when she brought up the totally realistic idea that maybe her name might have been the reason for her sudden desire for its meaning. "You've always been attracted to the idea of being famous, your name didn't change that about you."

Gee, thanks Mum, she'd thought. Way to make me feel shallow.

Normally her mom's words meant everything, she looked up to her; but this time she couldn't stop thinking there had to be a connection. Come on, it was all right in front of her. In front of everyone, really. Keerthi (the name) which symbolized fame. Keerthi (the person), who ached for it so that sometimes it felt like her heart was twisting into painful knots and her gut convulsed with a trembling delight whenever she thought about the idea of it.

Whatever. They didn't really get it. Not to that extent anyway, and she stopped trying to explain. Oh, you wanna be famous? Doesn't everybody?

Yeah, okay. Alright. She was not going to go down that road. Truth be told, that particular road made her feel like a shitty person. That road was blocked, detour required.

This was where facades were extremely helpful. Though it had gotten to the point that Keerthi Ayer didn't know much about who she really was as a person (personality tests and MBTI types could only take her so far); there were a couple of specifics she was brutally aware of—one of which was her desire to be the best...no, not that actually, it was more so to be known. And that shit was dangerous because it was hungry all the time, and most of the time she was absolute shit at feeding it.