primrosella | Quest 121

Once upon a time there lived a king whose only son was very sick, and nothing in the world brought the little prince any joy at all. Then one day, he heard a nightingale singing outside his window, and the music was so sweet and so lovely that the boy began to smile for the first time in years. The king was so glad to see his son smiling that he ordered all his men to chase down the nightingale and put it in a cage, and bring it back for his son so that he might always have that beautiful music to lift his spirits.

The end of the story is predictable enough; the nightingale refuses to sing, and the prince grows sad, and he begs his father to let the bird go and be free of its cage. And when he does, the nightingale stays outside the window anyway, and sings for the prince, and they all live happily ever after. Or so the story goes.

I feel like that nightingale, sometimes.

I made a mistake, and I'm sorry for it, and I hate that I can't ever take it back now. I hate that I'll never know if I might've made a difference that night. I hate that people died when the prison exploded, and I hate that they were ever there in the first place, suffering through what they did. I hate that I couldn't save everyone somehow, even if it's foolish to think that I could've.

And I hate that one of the reasons why I didn't go that night is because my friends were trying to protect me.

I don't know why I keep blaming myself for it. Maybe it's because my friends were hurt while I stayed unharmed, safe at home. Maybe it's because I couldn't think of an answer that would let everyone live happily ever after. Maybe it's because I know I've done horrible things too, and yet no one came for me, the way that they came for my friends. Maybe it's because no one else seems to believe that those things are as horrible as I think they are.

I don't know what to do, and yet I know I have to do something. Doing nothing is what got me into this mess in the first place, so perhaps doing something will get me out of it. I hate that I don't know why I'm so upset. If I knew, I could figure out how to fix it, but I don't and so I can't. I wish I could fix it so that things like that would never happen again.

If I had gone to the prison that night, I think I might've died. I think it's likely that I would've been caught in the explosion, still trying to free people from their cells. That's the trouble with racing a clock that you can't see; there's always the risk you'll take too long and never know it. So maybe my friends were right to keep me home.

But it should've been my decision, not theirs. Maybe that's why I'm still blaming myself.

Or maybe it's that, when it comes down to it, I'm more helpless than I'd like to admit that I am, and sometimes there really isn't anything I can do to fix a problem. I can't save everyone. People are going to get hurt and I won't be able to stop it, and I can't change that.

But it should've been my decision.

I know what everyone else wants. But what do I want? What do I want?

...All I know is that I want to stop feeling like this.

There's also a story about a king that offered a rich reward for anyone that could make his sickly daughter laugh, you know. Perhaps that's not such a bad idea. I don't know how rich of a reward I can offer, but I'm willing to try, since there's precedent for it, anyway.

[OOC: Yup, she's cursed. How 'bout them elephants? And I promise she'll start to cheer up soon, too. Last weekend just hit her pretty hard, that's all.]

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[At first, all Sam got was an astonished stare, since she clearly wasn't expecting anything like that to occur just now. Then, after a minute of gaping, Rosella managed a squeak of a giggle, and a weak smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.]

You found yourself another eyepatch, I see...

[Sam couldn't help but grin.]

Arrr, it turns out they be rather easy to get a hold of.

[And without warning, Sam fired on her.]

Sam!

[Instinct number one, of course, was to screech her protest. Instinct number two, to duck away and try to shield herself with her hands from the incoming darts. And instinct number three, old reliable, was to grab her nearest pillow and hurl it in the direction of the door.]

Bwahahahahaha.

[Sam dodge out of the doorway and let the pillow go past.]

If you don't like it, then defend yourself!

[With that, he tossed the second gun at her and took off.]

[For a minute, Rosella thought about quietly getting up and shutting the door, and leaving it at that. And yet...after that minute had passed, she slowly retrieved the gun and turned it over in her hands, recalling how the handle fit into her hand, and how to work it, and then walked quietly to the door.

She could still close it. But she didn't.

Peeking around the doorway to make sure the coast was clear, she crept out after Sam.]

[For a while Sam was worried that Rosella wasn't going to come out. He really didn't know what he could say or do to comfort her so he just decided to go with being weird. It was all he really had going for him.

By the time Rosella had come out, his mind was wandering to other ideas he could come up with to cheer her up.]

[It wasn't like Sam was exactly hard to spot, what with the cape and suit and all. And two lessons didn't make you an expert, but it was at least enough for her to know how to aim and fire a gun. And at least these brightly-colored ones didn't kick nearly as much as a real one did.

He was holding still. That made things easy.

Silently, Rosella took aim, squeezed the trigger, and sent a dart flying toward the back of Sam's neck.]

[The dart caught Sam by surprise, startling him. With a shout, he spun around and fired his gun.

Only the cape swirled around and actually batted aside the dart as it left the barrel on its way to covering up his face.]

Gah, stupid cape!

[Again, she found herself managing another slight smile as she fiddled with the gun, trying to recall how to make it able to fire again.]

I don't take lightly to highwaymen in my kingdom, you know.

[Sam swept his cape to the side and raised his gun to fire, peddling backward.]

That's why I'm a Highwayman hyphen Pirate.

[Nodding, Sam fired at her.]

I take even less lightly to pirates than I do to highwaymen.

[Still absorbed with fussing with the gun, she almost didn't make it out of the way in time. As it was, the dart glanced off her arm, and she shook it a little in response.]

The cape is terribly dashing, though.

[And she took aim again, firing off another shot.]

[The dart hit Sam in the face.]

Nice shot! I mean, too bad, but I'm already wearing protective eye gear.

[Sam took another shot at her, only the gun didn't fire.]

Wait! It's not firing!

It isn't? What happened, is something broken?

[She wasn't about to fire any more darts, now that Sam had said to wait, but she did look curiously from her own gun to Sam's, wondering what the problem might be with his.]

I- I don't know-

Oh screw it.

[Sam just took the dart out of the gun and threw it at her.]

Erk!

[Caught momentarily off-guard, Rosella threw up an arm to try to deflect the dart, accidentally squeezing the trigger of her own gun as she did, and thus firing a dart straight down at the ground with a snap.]

...Well, bother, I think I just wasted a perfectly good shot.

Quest 121

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