02-23-2009, 12:02 PM
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  Aurèle saw the subtle darkening in her sister’s eyes, saw her go hazy and recall some memory, and just as soon turn girlish and bright. She didn’t know. A peculiar thing happened then. Tayui began to explain why this was an irrelevant bit of information, and suddenly, Aurèle laughed. It was almost hysterical, that sound. The laughter was a sudden and unchangeable response; she laughed because it was the bohemian answer she might have expected from her silly sister, and she laughed because a part of her wanted to cry. If there was one thing that Aurèle had learned to do, it was control herself. To hide those impulses and hide the horror in her eyes, hide everything except the hubris and the mockery because without it she would collapse on herself like a paper dragon. She saw the bodies each time she closed her eyes. She felt iron twist in her gut each time she thought of the matter. She had no desire to go back, no desire to confess, and knew that her survival depended on silence. The laughter settled into her chest again, and she smiled honestly—though at what, exactly, was perhaps harder to say. “I hope the children have names, at least.” |