Homeland

Letter 9

Ah Citudaolle,

            I learned some interesting things from my little friend today.  Things I’m sure you’re aware of, your All-seeing Majesty.  I must say, I’m not too happy about this newfound information. 

            Alistriona and I have been talking quite a lot these past few weeks.  And while I spilled my secrets, she spilled hers.  She’s quite an average child, from what she told me.  Born and raised in North Carolina, USA.  Relatively good grades.  Enjoys playing basketball.  At grade five, she took up the violin and has been playing it since.  Had a few boyfriends, the longest one in junior year.  Dated around a bit after the break up, but was never in a committed relationship since. 

            She majors in mental therapy.  She also majors in history because “she likes it”.  That is the class we share.

            Once I asked her why she liked history.

            “Don’t you?”

            My answer was prompt.  “No.  History is stupid problems, repeated over and over again, by different people.”

            “Why do you take it, anyway?  You’ve lived through it all, and you seem to hate it.”

            “That is a good question.”  And that was obviously not the answer she wanted.

            “Why do you keep giving me these vague responses?  It’s rude you know.”  Alistriona says, extremely put out. 

            “I’m not used to talking so much, and revealing so much about myself.  I’m very cautious about what I say.” 

            “You’re paranoid.”

            I leaned forward and took a good look at her.  Her glinting green eyes, her sharp features, pale skin, and willowy frame.  “For good reason.

            “Tell me, when were you planning on enlightening me on your origins from Hell?”  It had been a while since I had to use my self control so much.  I felt like shoving her up against the wall and demanding what she wanted from me and how she got here.

            He eyes widened, and she laughed.  A split second too late.  “What in the world are you talking about?”

            “You’re lies are wonderfully woven, Alistriona.  But goodness, Hell has lowered their expectations on their defenders.”  I smirked triumphantly, as I could see the defeat in her eyes.  Also the calculating thoughts, on how she could use my awareness, but she’s honestly not that good.  Whatever she comes up with, I can handle.

            “How’d you know?”  She surrendered rather easily.

            “Alistriona?  Defender of men?  Presidium?  To protect or defend?  Really?”  I mocked her, testing her mental training.

            “Alina?  Alone?  Sempre?  Forever? Really?”  She mocked right back.  “I know your weakness.  You displayed it for the world to see.”

She’s good, I’ll give her that.  But I know the reason Hell wants me.  It’s because she’s not good enough.

Khlamuherguetora

*** Hi.  Did you like this chapter?  Was it in any way a twist?  I thought it was.  Sort of.  Was it to be expected?  Phooey.  With the way I'm carrying on, I might as well be Alistriona.  The desperate interrogator.

But please, comment and vote!