[Mkguild] First Impressions (14/?)

[Nathan Pfaunmiller]

Here we go again!  (Note to Pethron and Misha: You don't need to kick me
when I enter chat this evening.)

_____________________________

            Paula sat on the edge of her bed, feeling far colder than she
should have, even in the freezing weather that the Keep was suffering.  She
had been restricted to the house since the incident in the training grounds,
not as any sort of punishment, but just as she waited for her father to make
a decision regarding her training.  After DeMule had come and recommended a
change of approach in her training, her father seemed to be having second
thoughts about insistence that she train with the longsword.  At any rate,
he had asked her to wait on his final decision before going back to train,
so that they could avoid any further problems with the other trainees.



            To Paula, those instructions simply meant that she would be
forced to sit around the house alone while her father worked, praying he
wouldn't come home drunk again.  In the hours that she spent in such a
state, she tried not to remind herself of the change that she had
undertaken.  Her new form was so different, however, that every feeling was
a constant reminder of her change.  Looking about was worse; a turn of the
head caused locks of hair to fall before her eyes, and dropping her gaze
reminded her that she now very often wore clothes that had once been her
mother's.



            Very often she cried, huddled in her bed, tears coming on tears
as she found herself unable to stop crying.  The tears themselves pushed her
to further tears, as each one that fell called to memory her father's
counsel against tears, only to further strike home the blow that crushed her
soul.



            Everything her father had loved about her was gone, twisted
instead in such a way as to remind him of the loss of his love.  She had
seen him in the quiet house before, eyes red, looking towards her.  Often
his eyes would widen as he thought he saw his wife returned to him, only to
remember that death had taken her, and the Curse had now robbed him of his
son as well, leaving behind only painful memories.



            Paula had cried until she had no tears left after waking this
morning, and had been sitting with only the company of her thoughts for
several hours since.  She didn't realize how long until she heard the door
to the house open quietly, followed by the sounds of her father dropping
everything where it belonged.  She realized that it had been at the very
least six hours that she had waited there.  She turned to look at the door,
but was simply too defeated in heart and body to rise and go to meet him.  She
was spared the necessity when her door opened slowly, allowed her father to
peak around the door.



            As his muzzle became visible around the door, she mused with
some bitterness that he had been spared her fate.  As an animal keeper, and
one that bore the familiar and welcome form of a dog, he had been spared the
stigma that many other Keepers faced, whether because of being strange sorts
of animals, being stuck as children, or being one gender outwardly, while
forever left with the thoughts of another gender within.



            Her father sat beside her on the bed, looking over at her
quietly.  He could see the streaks that the tears had left on her cheeks.  The
part of him that saw her as his fallen wife's image returned wanted to reach
across and wipe the tears away, muttering simple words of comfort, while the
part of him that saw her as his son wanted to chastise her for weakness.  He
found a middle ground between the two for now, just waiting for her to
become calm so that he could talk to her.



            The resulting silence was heavy in the air.  Paula feared to
speak because she was loath to hear her voice, and she feared that her
father would punish her when he heard the trembling in her voice.  For his
part, he father simply waited, occasionally cursing himself for allowing her
to suffer further, but otherwise stoically sitting by while she got her
emotions in order.



            Finally, Paula spoke.  "Hello, father," she said in a whisper,
disguising her weakness behind words too soft to be discerned.



            "Hello, Paula."  She flinched at the name, but knew that it
would remain with her for the rest of her life.  Her father continued.  "I've
come to a decision regarding your training with Master DeMule.  I wish for
you to continue on with him and learn the ways of a warrior.  Many other
women in this Keep have already done the same."



            Paula nodded.  She had suspected as much.  That still left the
question of the manner of her return.  "Have you given thought ton Master
DeMule's recommendation, that I be trained with a lighter weapon?" she
asked.



            Her father nodded.  "Yes, I have."  He paused here, and Paula
knew then what his decision had been, even though he wouldn't speak the
answer outright for several moments.  "Paula, you know that this Keep has
seen many heroes come and go over her history.  Now, in our time, there have
been such heroes as to merit remembrance for all the ages to come, all in
the last ten years.  There is one guiding factor, though, one thing that all
of those heroes had in common.  They refused the easy road.  Each of them
had choices, and each time it was a choice between an easy, good path and a
more difficult, but far better path, they chose the latter."



            Paula nodded silently.  Similar stories had flowed unflinchingly
from her father's mouth ever since she was old enough to remember.  Those
great defenders of the Keep were the measure by which all were tested.  Other
people simply fell short in his eyes, but he could control the activities of
his son.



            "This is that sort of choice now, but now it is your choice.  Don't
let the easy path point you away from the better, more difficult path.  Your
change will make this path more difficult.  There is strength in you.  While
I am not proud that you broke your competitor's arm, it does please me that
you had it in you to do that."  He offered his most sincere smile, but it
had long ago lost its charm.  "I want you to keep training like this.  It
will be hard, and you will have to face it down every day with everything
you can muster, but I know you can do it."



            Paula looked away.  She knew this would happen; only when Jack
had suggested this course of action had she dared to hope.  Now she knew it
was gesture, a respite from her humiliation but nothing more.



            "Paula, I know you don't like it," her father said.  He had
leaned close, placing a paw on her right shoulder and embracing her softly.
It was a gentle, caring gesture, more genuine in its intent than anything
she could remember him doing in ages.  "I know you can do this," he
whispered in her ear.  He pulled her close, taking care not to press too
hard or make her uncomfortable in her new form.  It was a simple gesture, a
simple, caring gesture that carried more weight than all the rest of his
words.



            His explanation was certainly lacking, and the way he had led up
to it was clearly meant to make her feel guilt.  Still, Paula wanted to
believe.  She wanted to believe that the caring father that carefully held
her there would be there every day she returned from her training, available
to hold her, to whisper comfort to her, and to have her cry on her shoulder.
She wanted to believe that he could be that man...



            She turned, pulling him closer to her and crying on his
shoulder.  He held her softly, still taking care not to make her
uncomfortable.  Through the tears he heard her choke, "I will do it, father,
I'll do it for you..."  She tried to say more, but her chest heaved as she
shook with sobs.  He sat there, running a hand through her hair, eyes
closed.


            As they sat there he tried to bring himself to accept his
daughter for her changed self.  Everything seemed so wrong; everything that
he had known for the last ten years seemed to be disappearing, and he didn't
want to accept it now.  Perhaps if he gave it time he would come to accept
it.  For now he would comfort her and try to convince himself that he had
made the right choice.


!DSPAM:4e7692a9251011080519667!
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