dolevalan: (surest way to a man's heart)
[personal profile] dolevalan
Title: Measure
Fandom/original: original
Rating: G
A/N: ...as done as it's going to be, I fear. The prompt was "out of sync."




Though Anya Evans didn’t look old enough to be a grandmother, she felt old enough to be one. Things were somehow much different than when her own children, the two she’d known, were this age. Katiya was big enough to sit in front of her on the horse, but not much bigger. She held the mane, like she’d been taught, little hands tight in the horse’s hair. The horse, one of Anya’s two usuals, didn’t like the little girl’s scent at first. But he’d always been an obedient animal, and he accustomed himself quickly.

Katiya was an odd blend of both twins and neither. She had Nicolas’ propensity for smiling, and (for the most part), his looks. She looked like a prettier, slightly fairer version of Anya herself, in fact. But there was something of Stella’s quick perceptiveness, her tendency to quietly take in everything around her.

Anya wondered what this little girl would grow up to be. Different in a way that included her in no group by default.

She’d cope. Anya had.

The girl had a lot of patience for her age, but eventually got tired, and a bit sore tempered. Anya almost chuckled. Well. The temper had certainly come from her side, at least. She stopped them and took the child down. They ate a little, and she let the girl wander for a little. There was nothing too dangerous nearby, relatively speaking.

Taking a drink of water from her waterskin, Anya reflected that Nicolas should be here, with his child. Not, of course, that leaving a girl with her grandparents was a bad thing, or even uncommon in other families; though it had never been practical for her, it made a certain amount of sense.

But she could see the growing divide in her son. She didn’t know what to do about it, but she knew it could mean nothing very good for Katiya. He was like a sled with its runners on uneven ground.

It would be bound to crash, sooner or later.

Anya got up, pulling Katiya gently but firmly back from the edge of a little drop off the riverbank. Katiya protested for a moment, but was quickly distracted. She was a sweet-tempered girl, for the most part. Might grow into an angry streak. Considering her bloodlines, it would hardly be surprising.

Still. As she got older, Anya wondered if she would have anything to say to this child. They were creatures of different worlds, in so many ways. And she’d never been much good with children. Even her own.

Perhaps, she thought, especially her own.

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Estelle

January 2012

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