different… it just might take more time with her.
As if she knew I was thinking of her, Thana climbed up the stage, moving to stand beside me, inching toward me with hesitance. She must’ve left the others, either having finished eating or finally deciding she needed to speak with me.
She did not wear the dress that she’d woken up in; it was the dress she would wear for any performances in the future. Today she wore clothes that were more her own; if I had to guess, I’d say they appeared in her tent, almost as if by magic. Jeans and a t-shirt that was holey and see-through. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, her face free of makeup.
Thana looked like she wanted to be angry with me, but at the same time, she also looked as if she wanted to tuck her metaphorical tail between her legs and run away in fear.
“My dear Thana,” I purred out, “what brings you to me today?” It was the first time she’d approached me since I’d given her the news of her permanent stay here with us, and I’d done this enough times to know you could never truly anticipate what they would say.
Thana, for instance, was unloved in the world, even by her family. I knew. I could sense it. She had no friends, no one at all who cared for her. Why was she not happy to finally have a family who would be everything for her, should she give them a chance?
Some days I felt so far removed from the world outside, I hardly felt human. Perhaps I wasn’t. Perhaps I never was. Maybe I’d been created by this place to be who it needed, a protector of sorts.
“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling, as if she knew she should not approach me, but she couldn’t help it anyways. “Why me?”
“I told you, you were—”
“Unloved, yeah, I know,” Thana cut in, and I frowned at her. Being interrupted was not a favorite thing of mine. She would learn in time what to say and what to do when near me. “But why me? Why not anyone else? Surely there had to be someone else there—why didn’t you do another show?”
Waiting a few moments, I let the silence grow thick between us, so she could realize what she was asking. “Why did I not choose someone else?” I questioned, paraphrasing what she was saying. “Why did I not let you go and set my sights on someone else, bring someone else into this family?”
Thana lost a bit of her confidence. “I…” Her trepidation both irritated me and confused me. She lifted her hands in the air, bringing them to her face, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
I said nothing, merely watching her. Comfort was something I could give, I supposed, but at this point, I did not know if it would do her any good, if she would be susceptible to it. Thana had to open her mind and accept this place, accept me, for any of this to feel good to her.
And it could feel good. It could feel amazing.
“Thana,” I spoke, lifting an arm, reaching out to her. She wanted to step back, to move away, but she didn’t, allowing me to touch her, to trail my fingers against her smooth jaw. Her arms fell to her sides, as if she was enraptured, and maybe she was. There was an alluring darkness to this place, to me, one that broke down even the strongest of wills.
Thana would belong to this place, to me, wholly and completely, soon enough.
“I chose you because you were the only one who called out to me,” I said, moving toward her. We stood on the main stage, alone, not a single soul in the large tent other than ours. Then again, I was certain many would claim we no longer had hold of our own souls, that this place had devoured them on the nights we died.
Because, as much as one might not want to believe it, you had to die to stay here. You could not embrace eternity and its void while still clinging to that pathetic thing called a soul.
“You needed me, and I heeded your call,” I went on, my hand dropping from her face, trailing along her neck. She tilted her head to the side, her breath hitching, as if she was immediately intoxicated by my touch. Such smooth, cold skin