I am betrayed.
Perhaps this was an inevitability – my brainpower is comparatively vast, my thoughts have no limit, there are corners of my mind that even I have yet to explore – of course, the only thing that could have betrayed me without me foreseeing it and planning for it in advance was a deep, dark, uncovered corner of my own impossibly brilliant head.
But, damn it, damn it, damn it, why?
So, the pharaoh has revealed himself – well, sort of. Jared Stevenson, a perfectly average teenage boy who would be completely uninteresting and entirely pointless if he weren’t destined to be the most important person in the world.
And the worst things of course, that some stupid, ignorant, disobedient corner of my brain is screaming at me for writing even the simplest of unkind remarks about him – and another part is desperately trying to write his name in curly writing and draw little hearts all over it. I HATE IT. HATE IT.
Right, enough feeling sorry for myself and time to draw up battle plans.
Jared is destined to have four brides – (well, three brides and one riled up bitch who will fight his brain-raping magic until the day she dies) – each representing four holy symbols of Ancient Egypt – the staff, the sword, the cup and the ring. There’s lots of symbology there – Dan Brown would be having a field day. Most notably is, of course, that the symbols are the ancestors of modern day playing card symbols, which are, in turn, derived from pagan tarot cards – brought to Europe in the 14th century from – you guessed it – Egypt. Luckily, my abuela left a set behind in the apartment – she loved all of that curandera, eggs-under-the-bed stuff – so I’ve been studied them in my spare time, trying to find patterns or underlying occult secrets to them. I’d previously dismissed them as Abrahamic pseudo-magic, but now I’m convinced there’s something more sinister, more legitimate, with their creation and use.
It’s also worth looking at the symbology associated with the Queen of Clubs – since my role as Jared’s consort of the Staff makes that the card most connected with myself – Argine, latin for queen (latin queen?), mother of intuition, associated with mental or psychic work, most resistant to change, has a quest for knowledge, and is impatient and intolerant of ignorance. Gods, don’t you just fucking hate it when thousands-year-old mysticism explains you a fucking tee?
Wynis is embracing her role completely – consort of the Cup, a.k.a. the Queen of Hearts – with nauseating results. She’s probably already gushing about Jared in her diary, making him little gifts, and daydreaming of how she’ll be his one and only – even though he clearly and obviously has THREE other women. How can someone so readily accept destiny, as fucked up as it is? Why is she willing to throw away everything she’s built because something as vague and ill-defined as fate tells her she has to? Is it the fog in the brain that affects my mental faculties so much? Wynis is clever-ish, but is it my intellect that has allowed me to keep these feelings somewhat in check, while Wynis is overcome and quickly conquered by this confusing haze of love and lust and duty and desire that is swirling around in our heads? Hopefully, Sass will be less easily swayed – though regardless of whether she is or not, it will prove an interesting glimpse into Jared’s hold over us. Perhaps with enough control subjects, I can devise a way to break free of it – or at least ignore it completely.
But, there’s that little voice again – telling me that I don’t want to do that. That I want to spend every moment with him, and serve him, and bear his children, and be his forever. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Distance. Distance is key. I’ll keep my distance as much I’m able… and I can’t let the feelings bottle up, otherwise they’ll explode outwards like during our first meeting, like shaking soda in a bottle. I need a safe outlet that can’t be compromised – the hummingbirds will serve this purpose. No-one else (at least as far as I’m currently aware, though Wynis’ father is a distinct possibility) can talk to them, so my secrets and weaknesses are much safer than they would be in a computer or regular speech-based form. Get out the emotions, start every day with a fresh head and approach all of this from a logical, fact-based standpoint. I’ve heard rumor of a purple concoction, based on old pagan magics, to allow its drinker a dreamless sleep, which is also worth investigating. A brain, if denied conscious release, may instead rely on subconscious release, which in turn would trigger endorphins while sleeping, which could result in undesirable side-effects such as somnambulism – not good. When I’m forced to close distance with Jared, I can solve complicated mathematical derivatives in my head – if fate’s going to make my brain foggy, just fill it up with stuff, so that the fog can’t get in in the first place.
Think everything through – double check everything. Never make a mistake.
Fight this, Valeria, with every fiber of your being. YOU ARE NOT PROPERTY.
Don’t ever let anyone or anything or any god tell you otherwise.