She turned the page.

"The Pathos." She whispered under her breath, hunched over with her back to the door and the book next to the candle she had lit. It wasn't one of the slim candles that Matron handed out at the beginning of the winter months, it was a thick, white candle from the dining hall walls. She'd taken it when no one was looking-- or she thought no one was looking. She was pretty sure another passive boy she didn't know had seen her sneak it. But she'd only seen him for half a moment before disappearing into a corridor with a candle stuffed into her dress and held close to her body under her armpit.

"A degenerative disease that causes depression and a loss of hope." She read the sentence again, pausing on degenerative and then skipping over it. It probably didn't mean anything important. "It is commonly triggered by long ex- excursions at sea. This condition d-dis--" She stopped again, and sighed, rubbing her head. This textbook was for advanced students. She'd been foolish to pull it out of an older boy's bag, but it had been so tempting.

She skipped ahead in the sentence. "Many pirates believe it is a curse (see The Legend of the Yellow Man in the end notes)."

Wendy turned to the end and read The Legend of the Yellow Man with interest, although in the end she went back to the regular text. It seemed to fantastic and silly, to her. A yellow man that stared at people and made them sick? It seemed more likely that it was a 'degenerative disease', whatever that was.

The small passive looked over her shoulder when she thought she heard something, closing the book quietly and shoving it under her pillow before relaxing and pulling it out again. She'd lost her page so she opened it on another random page.

"Poctout. This disease often lasts between a half- to full week. It produces tiny, pimple-like welts on the skin, mostly on the neck, back, and buttocks." Wendy blinked and reread the sentence. A new girl named Olivia had little pimples at the back of her neck, and she was so often scratching her back it made red welts. Matron had yelled at her the other day for it...

"Recommended treatment is bed rest and liquid." Wendy had skipped to the section labeled 'treatments' and now she was grinning triumphantly.

Adalare couldn't hate. Even after years of telling herself to, she just couldn't. Yet if there was one thing that would have that honor, it would have been windy nights. It wasn't particulalrly bad tonight, but she heard it through the windows as she finished her shift, through the walls as she laid herself to rest in the servants quarters.

Her skin felt cold, like it would never be warm again. The threadbare blankets weren't nearly enough to hold her, comfort her, keep the heat alive in her skin... wrapping one of the greying sheets about shaking shoulders, Adalare caught sight of her upper arm as the sleeve shifted up. Her... resistance was plain on the skin, greenish grey and poisonous purple dots of color. She was scraped, too, knees, elbows, everywhere that had tried to hide behind surfaces.

The wind let loose a small shrill, one that sounded more mournful than violent, however it gave voice to one of Adalare's own. Hiding a quiet keen in the sound of the wind, she breathed out her sadness. But it wouldn't last, not while she was alone. She knew better. Nights when no one could hear her, no one would find her, just asked for tears. She didn't know how many times she had waited for them to come, needing the release, denied it.

Now she denied the need. Gathering her blanket to her, she walked barefoot to her door, opening it silently. With a furtive glance, she dashed down the hall, and without bothering to knock, slipped into Wendy's room. Cautiously, soundlessly closing her friend's door, she turned to the dark-haired passive and smiled calmly, not a trace of her momentary weakness remaining.

"Wendy! Sorry for bothering you. I couldn't sleep."

Wendy had been so absorbed in her success that she didn't notice Via opening the door. She shut the book quickly and shoved it under her pillow, turning quickly with wide eyes that clearly spelled guilt. She tried to banish the expression and laughed, trying to distract her.

"You look cold." She said in a teasing voice, turning completely and sitting partway on her pillow. "Sit." She gestured towards the other end of her bed, tucking her legs under her dress and then putting her hands on her own feet, trying to will some warmth into them.

The younger passive tugged at the blanket that was under her and threw it at Adalare with a grin. The wool beneath her scratched her skin but she didn't mind it to terribly. One got used to such things after four and a half years.

"Cook almost got caught drunk again. I had to cover for her." It might have been a little obvious that she was trying to distract Adalare from the bright candle besides her. She'd obviously been too absorbed in her reading. Usually if she heard anyone approach she managed to get things out of the way in time. But Wendy had learned to walk quietly from Adalare, who was definitely the stealthier of the two (if only due to the temper tantrums Wendy would have when cleaning things).

gracefully moving to the foot of Wendy's bed, the older girl smiled, revealing lines that shouldn't have had a home on her young face. Tucking a loose strand of mousy hair behind one ear, Adalare accepted the undeclared invitation to share the end of the blanket, smoothing it over both of their folded legs. She wouldn't allow Wendy to be cold for her sake alone.

"Not that cold. Just... haha, long days getting to me." Her smile was soft, and she was happy when the young girl changed the subject. "Oh cook. That woman will either kill herself with the bottle or kill us all while we're trying to hide it." Her eyes were on Wendy, but with a dip of her head, she made it certain that the other girl realized she was staying purposely silent on the matter of the candle.

Truthfully, Adalare had been the one blamed for it's disappearance. She had been released after a good, scathing diatribe about the intelligence (or lack thereof) of passives and her own pilfering ways. It had made her dulled, and allowed for... But Wendy needn't know that. Thing were hard enough on the beautiful girl as it was. Adalare only wished she could take every beating for her.

"What were you reading?" reaching forward, she tapped Wendy on the nose once, small smile plying about her lips. "You ought to listen more carefully next time, sweetling. I don't want you getting caught. Is it any good?" Curiosity was getting the better of her; if she was going to take the beating for the contraband might as well get some use out of it.

Wendy opened her mouth to ask a torrent of questions but Adalare was too quick.



Distracted, Wendy blushed and looked down. Was there anything she could hide from Adalare? At least she didn't know about the book...



...Or not. Wendy turned a deeper shade of red and smiled guiltily, "Sorry. You know you're the quietest. And it was really interesting." She glanced at the door and then got off of her matress, reaching underneath it and pulling out a wedge. If Matron came by and surprised the two of them with a book...well, Wendy couldn't let that happen to Adalare. She looked more tired than usual.

The smaller passive quelled the wave of worry that swept over her as she put the piece of wood underneath the door and sat back down on the bed to pull out the book.

"It's about diseases." Wendy whispered, turning the book around and opening it. She touched the binding reverently in her lap and scooted closer to the other woman for warmth. "I've been flipping to different chapters-- the ones with the most horrible pictures are the best!"

There was a certain degree of wickedness to her voice as she said this, flipping to one of her favorite images-- that of a man stabbed in several places all over his body. Wendy liked to pretend it looked vaguely like Crius.

(( http://images.coilhouse.net/wp-content/ ... ical01.jpg ))

"A lot of it is monic rot, but they also have the cures that humans use." Even as she insulted the monic in the book her fingers lingered over the strange symbols and traced some of it.

"Do you think I would have been a doctor?" She asked dreamily, knowing it to be folly even as she asked it.

Laughing lightly at Wendy's chagrin, not quite willing to agree with her statement about stealth. She was so easily caught unawares herself, it wasn't hard to believe everyone was. Perhaps her tread was light, but servants are not to be seen or heard or known. She was merely doing her job to the best of her ability.

A job that was slowly making her insane.

The though jumped in out of nowhere, born perhaps from the stolen moments alone when she thought of the outside world. Yet it was a though for another time, and other place. Right now was Wendy. Perhaps, not tomorrow, but sometime, it would be a time for Adalare...

"Diseases, you say?" Adalare sat, listening to the rest of it. Monic rot sounded like a lot of disgustingness, and it made her momentarily glad she was not imbued with the ability. It was blasphemous, but her existence was blasphemous. Religion was a dwindling part of the thin passive's life.

"When we were little, our parents would tell us 'don't go out in the rain, you'll get--' and they would name off some long, horrid sounding condition. And Crius would drag me to the library and we would look it up to see if it was all that bad." She grinned at the memory, happy times begetting good history. "And I'm certain you would have been an excellent doctor. You already have the ego!" She grinned brightly, throwing up her arms to protect her face from the onslaught she figured was coming.

Wendy's face darkened at the mention of Adalare's brother, and her hands gripped the book a little tighter. She was momentarily distracted by the ego comment, though. The small passive pulled her pillow from behind her and attacked Adalare with silent fury. "I'll show you a thing or two about ego, Adalare!" She hit her a few times and gasped when the book fell off of her lap. She put the pillow down and dove to retrieve it, picking it up carefully.

It was like a small, fragile bird in her hands. She dusted it off, although it didn't really need dusting, and smoothed out the cover. "I found out what Olivia has. Potcout. You need special ointments but I don't think we can get those...And it also says something about bed rest..."

She trailed off, staring hopelessly at the book. "So I guess that means she'll just have pock marks." Even though it could be avoided.

The passive didn't want to think about it anymore. Even if she found the cures to all the sicknesses her friends came across...well there wasn't much of a chance to cure them. Unless she stole some things from the infirmary...

Wendy bit her lip, deep in thought.

"I don't suppose you have a shift near the infirmary...?" She asked slowly, picking at her dress somewhat nervously.

The tossed pillows had made her heart much lighter. Wendy always did that; she could turn the brunette's existence into living with a shared secret, or a smile in the corridor. They were close, so close, that Adalare would go into foolish schemes with the girl, an always make sure the blame would find it's way away from Wendy. She could deal with the school's beating, they were nothing new nor overly horrid. They gave her a chance to shake and stay silent, which was a boon on some days.

Nodding, Adalare sighed at the thought of poor Olivia. "Oh, that's a relief, I was afraid they would take her off duty. She'd never get any real rest that way... they'd just hound her until she broke or force her to work while very ill." As she began to see the direction of Wendy's thoughts, she steeled herself. She couldn't say no, she could never say no to Wendy. Licking dry lips, she stared at the ceiling and arranged her schedule within her mind.

"I do... It'll be a bit of a stretch, though I think I can make it. As you said, I'm stealthy." She forced a grin/ "What do you need?" In fact, she had no intention of sneaking around at all. She had a better option. Crius was friends with everyone. She would just ask him to acquire the items. He would accept-- so long as she agreed to his demands, and she would, like she always did. Her soft heart would be undoing of her, an older passive had said to her once. Well, better the undoing of me than the undoing of others. Besides, it was for Wendy, who was just as giving if not as soft.

However, Wendy would need a show to convince her that Adalare would be alright. "Let's see... I clean the medical halls on the twenty seventh, and that's right down the hall... if I can manage to sneak in during their lunching hour, I can certainly get the materials. What should I be looking for?" She leaned in over the book, trying to make sense of it. "I'm afraid that's all monite to me."

((you know her so well!))

Wendy had been on the verge of arguing and then she paused, considering. "I don't know, Adalare...you're always doing all of this for me. I don't want you to get caught." The unspoken reason of why she didn't want Adalare to get caught was present in the air like a tangible force. When they'd been fighting she'd spotted the bruises on the older passive's arms as her sleeves had crept up. She wasn't sure whether it was from the Matron or from the Scum, but it made Wendy unhappy.

She hadn't been beaten lately...it'd been almost a month. Wendy wasn't sure if it was because she'd gotten more stealthy or because she'd been too busy thinking about the things she was reading to mouth off to her superiors. She suspected it was the latter.

Besides, you wouldn't know how to read the labels on the bottles...

The thought made the tips of Wendy's ears turn pink. She knew it wasn't a fair thought. Silence stretched between them and the younger passive sighed.

"I know you could do it. I was just thinking we could switch, this time." She bit her lip, playing with the edges of her dress again, "To give you a break or something. Since I'm working laundry the twenty seventh."

A break from trying to take the blame for my schemes. I hate it when you do that. And a break from...someone else.

Wendy felt that the most sheltered place from anyone was in the laundry room. Nobody but passives went there, except the occasional student who thought they had stolen something.

"You get to deal with girls asking you if you know where their pink underwear is." She made a face at Adalare, shaping it into her imitation of the galdor girls.

"Are you sure you haven't seen one of...your type wearing them?! I'll report you if I find you've stolen my lacy corset! It was very expensive!" Her voice went up a pitch higher and she looked incredibly snotty.

I used to talk like that...

Adalare shook her head. Wendy's concern was sweet but toally uncalled for. So long as she was taking abuse of any kind, she might as well take it all. She'd already suffered the worst she could, she sometimes mused in deep self-apathy, might as well spare others. A beating was nothing, not really.

Patting Wendy's hand, she grinned with as much truth as she could. If Wendy had known her in the beginning, when Adalare was young, these watery smiles never would have fooled her. But... Wendy came after. So she had only ever seen the quiet expressions.

"No, I'm right by there. You keep your laundry. You know I'd just finish quickly and then be sent to some other job." Adalare was one of the hardest workers, and the matrons knew it. They would tell if she was slacking, and she would hate to ruin Wendy's plan because of her own oversight. No, better to take whatever Crius had in mind. Wendy, and Olivia she guessed, should have their medicines. Besides, he was close to a break though...

She turned to look at the wall, trying to remember what it was like to be a galdor. Wendy's impersonation was very good, she had to admit. Wriggling her toes underneath the blanket, the brunette looked up at her young friend, a question forming in her eyes. "Is it..." She paused, trying to find the words.

"Is it wrong I don't want to be a galdor? That I don't want to hear the mona?"

"I guess..." Wendy assented finally, not looking entirely happy. "It's a cream called hydroquinone." She reread the paper just to make sure and then nodded, "Yes. Hydroquinone. They'll probably have a lot because I think the illness is um. Common among our age group. And really old people. I don't really know what it looks like..." She pointed to the word, "But this is what it should be labeled. So just find the letters that kind of...look like that..."

She wasn't going to pretend Crius actually taught "Addie" to read. That would just be an insult to both of their intelligences.

Adalare's second question threw Wendy off guard. The younger passive frowned, folding her arms to keep herself warm. "It doesn't matter either way." She finally said after a breath, "We're not galdori. We're not ever going to be galdori. It doesn't matter what we want. What they say we should want. We're passives." There was a time Wendy would have said that with displeasure-- where the very word would have fallen off her tongue as if it didn't even belong near her.

Now she didn't know how she felt about it. She was a passive. She had hated herself for years...still did hate herself. But she had also come to accept this affliction. "If you don't want to be a galdor that's fine. You won't ever be one anyway. So I guess you're lucky in that way. You want what you already have."

Jet black hair fell over her eyes and Wendy brushed it back without a thought. "If...if the mona don't want to talk to us, that's their own business. There's nothing we can really do so we shouldn't spend time thinking about it."

Hypocrit. As if you don't think about it. As if you don't think about how you weren't chosen. The mona didn't want her. Her family didn't want her. All she had was Adalare, and although they were virtually sisters, Wendy had never felt comfortable using her as a support. She went through so much already...what right did Wendy have to add to that burden? All she really had was herself. And that wasn't enough sometimes.

Sometimes I'm in a big black well and I can't find the way out.

"We are what we are. Does that make sense?"

Is that what you wanted to hear?

She remembered a similar discussion, oh, how many years ago was it? It was before she and Wendy had become close, she recalled. Back in the bleak days before understanding. Three years... how much had changed in their minds. How little actually had in life.

"Yes... I guess so. We never were, were we? We never really belonged with them." Adalare closed her eyes, poignant smile creasing her soft lips. She was something different from them, her masters, her tormentor. Just because it was different, did not mean less. Passives weren't a breed of galdori, any more than wicks or humans were, just because the same blood flowed through them meant nothing. They were separate, separate but... Thoughts that has filled her musings with sour discord now strung together a melody that she could almost hear, a lesson almost understood--


Softly sighing, Adalare found herself wishing Wendy would have been spared the life of servitude they both knew and were forced to live. Wendy could have been great. She was so smart, so pretty, so quick-witted and mercurial. She would have been an excellent galdor. Instead she was here, waiting upon the offspring of galdor society, her talents withering away with the likes of Adalare. I should be here. She shouldn't.


Wendy's pause made her silent thoughts known. Although the older girl could not fathom her friend, she wished that the other passive would at least let her try. Wendy thought Adalare couldn't see it, but she saw the lines of worry, the pouts and scowls of dismay and mistrust. Wendy had her own internal hatchers to deal with, and she never shared. It was fair, since neither did Adalare. But forever wanting to rescue others, it wasn't enough for the brunette.

"We are what we... but we can better ourselves, correct?" Adalare grabbed the book, gently, as though it were something infinitely precious. The cover felt like so many others had in her hands. She had seen the text's sibling in the hidden alcove of Crius's... she would think about stealing some for her. But it would be so difficult, getting the key multiple times from her brother. She would think on it. "I am so proud of you Wendy, for keeping up with your learning. I wasn't as good about it. Tell me," She paused, finding the words. "do you think it would help to know?" She meant for more than merely solving their fellows daily problems.

A part of her mind struggled violently with this thought. I belonged with them, she thought to herself angrily-- although she kept her face smooth and sympathetic. She didn't know how to express what she felt-- how she wanted to go back to her childhood. Even though Wendy knew now how spoiled she had been-- how selfish and idiotic she had acted among her peers-- even through all of that, Wendy wanted to go back so badly. It had all been so much easier back then.

She would call for cake, and they would bring her cake. She would call for toys and her parents would take her to the toy shop. Even her studies had been glorious. An excellent tutor had taught her to read and write, and how to act like a lady...

All of that, in the past.

It made her sick.



Not us. Was the answer that flew to her lips. Wendy bit it back and shrugged. If they could better themselves they would have been far from Brunhold-- making a living or something. Wendy's mind couldn't exactly grasp what Making A Living entailed, but her father had always spoke of people who did so in high regard.



"Oh Adalare, you know it was easier for me." The younger passive said, implying that she didn't have a certain presence breathing down her back all the time. At her second question she sighed. "I don't know."

Her head thumped onto the wall and rested there, brown eyes looked up at the ceiling. It was getting warped from the humidity in the servant's quarters. "Sometimes I think I do it because it will make Them angry. Because if they found out I can read they would be afraid." Her voice had cracked in the middle and trailed off into a whisper. It was almost as if she was admitting to asking for beatings.

But that wasn't truly it. She didn't want to be beaten, she wanted freedom. She wanted to be able to read in public. And was that so much to ask?

"They might lock me up forever." She murmured suddenly, pulling up her knees to her chest and hugging them with her arms, still staring blankly at the ceiling. "They might lock me up forever and when I think about it I'm scared...but I don't care. I still do it. I think..."

Trying to formulate her words was difficult. "I think...it helps." She frowned, "They try to keep us dumb, you know. So when you...do this..." she made a gesture towards the book, "It's like you have an extra edge. For me it's like winning. Just in this little, secret way...I'm beating them."

Her tone was not lost on Adalare. She simply refused to give it mention. Whatever had been seen and said was said. She could not take it back, could not undo a moment of it. The life she led wasn't hers, and if she could somehow change it... well, she wouldn't even then. This was who she was, who she was meant to be. Wendy could get away, but not Adalare. Bad things happen.

It was better not to dwell.


She was deathly still, the thoughts she dared not think in the real world opening in this world of hers and Wendy's, where books were read and passives were people. They would be afraid... the words sent familiar chills down the girl's spine. Fear wasn't something for the galdori... was it? Not the sorcerers on high, not the living, walking gods, they couldn't possibly fear their slaves for reading. They were 'living disasters' she had heard one matron say. We are strong. She heard it echoed in the yells of her masters, the demands of the matron. Because we cannot be controlled... we are strong.


"I... I think I understand." She softly placed the book where it had been before, folding her legs back under the covers. That is your weapon, your 'mona.' Like... like the walls. It is both a defense and an offense. You are becoming even more what they fear. Someday, will you be able to do anything with it? Pressing a fingertip to her nose, she tried to smile. It was a mostly wasted venture.

"How... how about we secretly beat them?" It was as close as Adalare would ever come to asking for help. Teach me, she thought, and let's revenge ourselves upon the system together.

Wendy's eyes locked with Adalare's and stared into them. She tried to read the other girl's expression. Was there a subtle change? Was there a small amount of steel in her friend after all?

Her mouth drew itself into a thin line. Wendy knew she would be disappointed if Adalare backed out now. In fact, she decided suddenly, Wendy wasn't going to let her back out. Not any more.

She leaned over and pointed at the large letter in the beginning of the page. It was embroidered with green vines and flowers, as if the letter sat in the middle of the garden and had been left there to erode. It was the letter T, and it was followed by a much smaller h and e.

"What letter is that?" She asked probingly, not bothering to look down onto the page. Instead she kept her eyes on Adalare, sternly. There was no flinching away now.

"T-tee... it's the letter 'T'" Adalare's voice was uncertain as she leaned in closer, eyes squinty in the candle light. Suddenly, the word hit her. She could remember that, she had the basics after all. "That is the word 'The.'" She grinned at Wendy, her eyes bright. They were doing this together, Adalare would actually get to learn without-- without-- without the repayments Crius demands for his services.

It was always better for him when she went along with it, it seemed. Recently, she had been saying no more and more often. It was Wendy's legacy in her friend, even if it didn't truly free her. Now, she was freeing her in an entirely different way...

Someday I swear you'll be free, Wendy, she thought. What she didn't hear was how her intended you sounded so like a we.