The Fates (Book II)

7.8 - The Story

Let's revisit the camp, to check in with Lachesis, and get a little glimpse into Rider's mysterious past :) ...

P.S. For anyone wondering - Rider's backstory is based on that of Perseus in Greek mythology, though there will be some twists on the traditional myth, as always ;) Just so everyone knows that I didn't choose the four-syllable names introduced in this scene to confuse readers on purpose, hehe c:

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Scene 8: The Story

2020 B.C.

The entire camp somehow felt tense, uneasy and even afraid of the sense that their leader had changed. Apparently he had, in drastic ways, over the past few days. And seemingly not for the better. The only soul in all the camp who wouldn't know was Rider's wife. These were the only days that Lachesis had known him. She had no way to tell whether he had been different before, and if so, how. All she knew, all she cared about, was that he was beautiful now. Inside and out.

And that he was in love with her sister. That he missed her. This she also knew, but she preferred not to, because Clotho didn't deserve all the favor and love she'd received all her life. Lachesis had endured eternity spent in her little sister's shadow, in the Cave. Had been resigned to that, because she'd been fooled into believing that Clotho was perfect. That maybe she deserved it.

But now Lachesis knew that wasn't true. The youngest of the Fates was flawed, just like the others, and it wasn't fair that she should steal everything from her sisters.

Granted, Clotho had met this man first. So perhaps she hadn't stolen him from anyone. But whenever Lachesis tried to remind herself of that, to let herself see reason, she would lay eyes on Rider again and forget.

Long after night had fallen, he entered the tent. She was seated on the bed, fingers twined in her pale golden hair, which she had been braiding and unbraiding over and over again, till he came in. It was always so tiresome waiting for him. But always worth the wait. Every night, he arrived when the hour was late - almost as if in hopes that she would be asleep already - but that was silly. Surely at least some part of him was glad to come home to his wife's loving smile.

She asked him the usual questions, about his day, to which he always gave the shortest answers possible, keeping his back to her all the while. After her umpteenth inquiry tonight, though, Rider stopped answering altogether.

Lachesis felt blush rising to her cheeks in a mad rush of human emotion - shame, anger, pain, and... whatever.

With a deep sigh, she surrendered. "I am sorry; I suppose I should know better than to ask you anything, when you clearly don't want to listen. When... when you don't even care enough to know my name."

At those words, something in the empty air between them shifted. Just as she'd intended. She had spoken in the saddest, sorriest tone that she could manage. It wasn't that the words were not sincere - they could not have been truer - but she figured it couldn't hurt to speak in such a way as to make him feel something, anything, for her. Even if it was only pity, she would take what she could get, and hope that someday it might blossom into more. For wasn't that how human feelings worked? They were meant to grow and evolve over time, it seemed to her.

Rider had felt and heard the heartbreak in her words. And though it was true that he'd changed for the worse, of late, he hadn't yet sunk to the level of a heartless monster. He knew that such a time might come. And that it might be soon, at this rate. But not yet; not today.