2014-01-02 20:13![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lux_mariko
lux_marikoStory: The Broken Branch
Year: 2988
Word Count: 848
Rating: PG
Characters: Rubika, Shane Pryce
Warnings: I don't believe so.
The woman who answered Rubika’s knock was small and ancient. Which she’d technically known, of course—she was a messenger for Papi now, and she always looked up at least the basics of each family member she was sent to before going—but looking up someone’s age was very different from actually seeing them.
“You’re the new one, then?” the old lady asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “I’m Rubika Kesilen. Lila’s line.”
The old woman quirked a smile. “Come in, then.”
Rubika followed her into the little house, taking in all the details like Papi had taught her. Her official job was to bring Family news to everyone everyone he put on her circuit—one of three in the outer moon colonies.
But her second, unofficial job was collecting the information to share. Who had been born, who had died, who needed support from the Guardian, who had seen Grandfather, and so on.
Shane Pryce was new to Rubika’s route, living on Psamathe. She was over ninety years old, from Simon’s line, and had seen Grandfather a remarkable four times. Most Family members never saw him at all. There were enough Family members to populate a medium-sized colony, after all.
Mrs. Pryce was also one of the foremost experts on Family lore—probably because she’d lived so long—and Rubika had been looking forward to meeting her.
“I just have the usual updates, Mrs. Pryce,” Rubika told her. “I can give you the download or talk you through them, whichever you prefer.”
“I do know how it works, Miss Kesilen,” the old woman said, with a warmer smile. “Would you like some tea?”
Rubika flushed. Of course she’d know, she’d been getting updates for longer than Rubika had been alive. “Yes, please.”
“There aren’t many of Lila’s line left,” Mrs. Pryce mused while she set water to boil. “Are you from the blended branch or the Stygian branch?”
“Stygian,” Rubika said. “I didn’t know there was a blended branch.”
“They descend from both Lila and the third David,” she explained. “Most of the time, they claim David, they’re closer to him.”
“And that’s how they’re listed in the tree?”
“Yes.”
“The broken branch is Lila’s line, too, isn’t it?” Rubika asked, carefully. She already knew it was, of course, but she’d been trying to track them down for ages, with no luck. If anyone knew where to poke around next, it was probably Mrs. Pryce.
The old lady didn’t answer right away, busying herself with the water that was finally ready. When she settled again, she eyed Rubika, considering. “Not many are interested in the broken branch. The general feeling seems to be we’re better off without them.”
Rubika shrugged uncomfortably. “They’re my closest kin, apart from Mem—from my mother. I’m curious.”
“So you’re not seeking the fruit?”
She blinked. “What fruit?”
“Apparently not,” Mrs. Pryce said, seeming pleased. “I’ve only had two others ask me about the broken branch, and they were both looking for it.”
“I…what fruit?” Rubika asked again, not sure what else to say.
“Oh, there was a moderately talented poet from Amee’s line, long ago, who fancied herself a prophet,” Mrs. Pryce said. “She said a number of things, some of which have come true, some of which have not. One of them is a suitably vague end-times prophecy. It mentions the fruit of the broken branch several times.”
Rubika made a face. She had about as much faith in prophecy as her elderly cousin seemed to. “I just want to meet them,” she said.
Mrs. Pryce eyed her again. “Ask me again, the next time you bring me my news,” she said. “I might be able to tell you a little something, then.”
Rubika blinked, then nodded. “All right.”
“I like to be talked through everything, by the way,” she said. “How many were born to David’s line since the last update?”
After fully updating Mrs. Pryce, Rubika was sent away with a bag of cookies and a remarkably unsatisfied mind.
Next time, she thought, I’ll have a more innocuous question ready. So she won’t pull back or get annoyed so fast. Maybe she’d ask why the branch had broken off. That would prove she wasn’t interested in whatever prophecy. And it might point her in the right direction anyway.
Worth a shot, at least.
She climbed back into her ship and checked where she was headed next, trying to put her questions aside for now. Fretting about them for six months, until she came by here again, would do her no good.
Thalassa. Could be worse. Thalassa had some of the best theater in all of Human space. And she had a full day to kill there, too.
She didn’t have what she wanted, exactly, but she was a small step closer than she was before. It could be worse.
She started the ship and braced herself for exiting the artificial atmosphere, trying not to look too far forward, and just focus on the nice dinner and play she’d make sure to get once she finished with her contact on Thalassa.
Year: 2988
Word Count: 848
Rating: PG
Characters: Rubika, Shane Pryce
Warnings: I don't believe so.
The woman who answered Rubika’s knock was small and ancient. Which she’d technically known, of course—she was a messenger for Papi now, and she always looked up at least the basics of each family member she was sent to before going—but looking up someone’s age was very different from actually seeing them.
“You’re the new one, then?” the old lady asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “I’m Rubika Kesilen. Lila’s line.”
The old woman quirked a smile. “Come in, then.”
Rubika followed her into the little house, taking in all the details like Papi had taught her. Her official job was to bring Family news to everyone everyone he put on her circuit—one of three in the outer moon colonies.
But her second, unofficial job was collecting the information to share. Who had been born, who had died, who needed support from the Guardian, who had seen Grandfather, and so on.
Shane Pryce was new to Rubika’s route, living on Psamathe. She was over ninety years old, from Simon’s line, and had seen Grandfather a remarkable four times. Most Family members never saw him at all. There were enough Family members to populate a medium-sized colony, after all.
Mrs. Pryce was also one of the foremost experts on Family lore—probably because she’d lived so long—and Rubika had been looking forward to meeting her.
“I just have the usual updates, Mrs. Pryce,” Rubika told her. “I can give you the download or talk you through them, whichever you prefer.”
“I do know how it works, Miss Kesilen,” the old woman said, with a warmer smile. “Would you like some tea?”
Rubika flushed. Of course she’d know, she’d been getting updates for longer than Rubika had been alive. “Yes, please.”
“There aren’t many of Lila’s line left,” Mrs. Pryce mused while she set water to boil. “Are you from the blended branch or the Stygian branch?”
“Stygian,” Rubika said. “I didn’t know there was a blended branch.”
“They descend from both Lila and the third David,” she explained. “Most of the time, they claim David, they’re closer to him.”
“And that’s how they’re listed in the tree?”
“Yes.”
“The broken branch is Lila’s line, too, isn’t it?” Rubika asked, carefully. She already knew it was, of course, but she’d been trying to track them down for ages, with no luck. If anyone knew where to poke around next, it was probably Mrs. Pryce.
The old lady didn’t answer right away, busying herself with the water that was finally ready. When she settled again, she eyed Rubika, considering. “Not many are interested in the broken branch. The general feeling seems to be we’re better off without them.”
Rubika shrugged uncomfortably. “They’re my closest kin, apart from Mem—from my mother. I’m curious.”
“So you’re not seeking the fruit?”
She blinked. “What fruit?”
“Apparently not,” Mrs. Pryce said, seeming pleased. “I’ve only had two others ask me about the broken branch, and they were both looking for it.”
“I…what fruit?” Rubika asked again, not sure what else to say.
“Oh, there was a moderately talented poet from Amee’s line, long ago, who fancied herself a prophet,” Mrs. Pryce said. “She said a number of things, some of which have come true, some of which have not. One of them is a suitably vague end-times prophecy. It mentions the fruit of the broken branch several times.”
Rubika made a face. She had about as much faith in prophecy as her elderly cousin seemed to. “I just want to meet them,” she said.
Mrs. Pryce eyed her again. “Ask me again, the next time you bring me my news,” she said. “I might be able to tell you a little something, then.”
Rubika blinked, then nodded. “All right.”
“I like to be talked through everything, by the way,” she said. “How many were born to David’s line since the last update?”
After fully updating Mrs. Pryce, Rubika was sent away with a bag of cookies and a remarkably unsatisfied mind.
Next time, she thought, I’ll have a more innocuous question ready. So she won’t pull back or get annoyed so fast. Maybe she’d ask why the branch had broken off. That would prove she wasn’t interested in whatever prophecy. And it might point her in the right direction anyway.
Worth a shot, at least.
She climbed back into her ship and checked where she was headed next, trying to put her questions aside for now. Fretting about them for six months, until she came by here again, would do her no good.
Thalassa. Could be worse. Thalassa had some of the best theater in all of Human space. And she had a full day to kill there, too.
She didn’t have what she wanted, exactly, but she was a small step closer than she was before. It could be worse.
She started the ship and braced herself for exiting the artificial atmosphere, trying not to look too far forward, and just focus on the nice dinner and play she’d make sure to get once she finished with her contact on Thalassa.
