G1.


Meirchion is dead. This didn't surprise her. She knew this was going to happen the moment she was born. But that's not special, everyone knows that. But Meirchion knew the exact date, time, and method of her death. And the death of those around her, she knew. She knew it well.

But Meirchion refused to be a rotten old Sibel. She would not let her, or anyone else go out without a flight. She would find a way, in the vast canals of magic and mystery, to hold back time, to hold back death.

God. Looking back on herself, she was such a fool. She really thought, above anyone else, that should could hold back death? The thing that even the great gods of her world could not fight? Carrie told herself that she deserves her current fate. The current fate of being a real Sibel: an immobile corpse with a powerful mind stuck inside.

Well. Meirchion isn't completely immobile, and she isn't completely dead either. She can move her mouth and eyes pretty reliably, and sometimes she can move her neck and frills. On good days she can move a hand. On great days she can move a wing. And Meirchion doesn't rot, no matter how many maggots live inside her tiny skull. Sometimes she thinks this is good, but mostly she thinks its bad.

Meirchion's powers of fate are still as strong as they ever were, but without the promise of true escape from death, no one wants her tellings of dissolution. A few do, and tend to her desiccated state, and listen to the occasional prophesy that falls from her eaten lips.