Chapter 8
Dear Readers,
It's been half a year since I last updated this story. In half a year, my writing style has stretched and changed. I've been meaning to finish this chapter (I think I wrote this part some time in January) but I've never been able to bring myself into the mind set and for that I'm sorry. There is so much ground I haven't explored in this, but the fact is, I can't write in this same third character anymore and the style I have now would clash with what's written here. Therefore, I've decided to post this chapter the way it is now and end it in a different style all together (first person, most likely). I will get on that ending as soon as possible and I'll try to see to it your wait's been worth it.
I am posting this chapter as I originally wrote it back in January. I haven't read it, but I've skimmed through it. The ending isn't exactly the best nor was it how I intended, but I'll piece it together later. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about any of you, even with my new projects (and mass pile of one-shots). If this chapter seems completely out of shape and in desperate need of a revised ending, please state that in review and I will get to it. I love this piece and I love the style I've used on it. Unfortuneatly, I haven't written in it in over six monthes. Feedback is great and cherished as always and quite frankly I could use it at this point. Nonetheless, enjoy what's here.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sonic or anyone. Cha-chow!
In weather, storms typically follow a standard cycle. Before every major storm, there is a period of calm. The sun shines and the air lingers. Suspicion hovers over every being as children play; adults scurry, and the world rustles with life. Suddenly, a roar thunders; a flash of light strikes; the sun is blocked by ominous gray clouds; and rain falls like water being tipped out of a bucket.
The same could be said with Sally Acorn's situation. After having spent the major portion of her day being stranded in her hut because of the blizzard, her own suspicions were nearly down. For once in what had seemed like years, she had a break. A temporary break; but nevertheless, a break.
For one day in her life, she had woken up from a break from responsibilities; an adequate excuse. Snow poured down as if there was no end and as the accumulation ranked up outside, the inside of her hut remained inviting. She had slept longer than usual. She had dreamed longer than usual. She had let her guard down longer than usual. And why shouldn't she have, anyway? Only a manic would've gone out in that snow. It seemed safe to her to assume everyone would be indoors for the day. It was only a default the raid was going to get moved which worked to her advantage because at this point, she had no set plan.
Not having a plan was not in her character, but after having laid her punishment on Sonic Hedgehog, not sticking to it would have damaged it in the same way. Why should she let him win, anyhow? What would it prove to him; that by laying a fake apology, being her only lead hope in combat, and by buttering up every word of flattery he could slide past every item of her rule? That by manipulating her, just as he had before, he could show to her; and to all of Knothole in that instant, who really had the power?
Power wasn't a matter of status; power was a matter of force. He had the power to manipulate her and though her status may give her the privilege to decree, the fact that he could find a way to 'mess with her mind' (how, she couldn't be too sure, because about two thirds of the time she doubted he had a mind himself) was practically the same as he being in her place himself.
This could be acceptable in a standard monarch; this could've been acceptable back before the Coup; back when Julian (at the time) manipulated her own father into giving him what was required; manipulating her own father into giving him the position; the equipment; and the entire opportunity to launch an overthrown.
An all-out war.
Sitting there, the thought had just struck her.
Could she be just like him?
Her father; the man she barely knew. Someone who she revered; someone who she respected; but someone who she was forced to realize had made mistakes. Someone who had been so oblivious to everything in the first place; someone who was trapped now; someone who she may never see again; someone who she may never have the chance to say she cared for.
That someone who could've been there for her; that someone who could've tucked her in at night; that someone who could've read stories to her; could've reassured her that in fact, there is some good in the world.
That someone who could've given her the childhood she wanted and longed for.
That someone who was gone now and at this point, she may never get back. Was she like him? Was she doomed to his fate? Today it may have been Sonic who manipulated her; but when she was queen (assuming she eventually had the chance to be queen) would it be someone else? Would it be her fault someday another war erupted? Would it be her own stupidity that destroyed an entire kingdom? Would it be her own stupidity that cost them the war now?
All those responsibilities came crowding to her head. Who did she have to confide in? Who would understand? No one, that was who! For a while, she thought she had someone. For a while, she had been so sure. For a while, she had been so stupid; so incredibly stupid.
And here he was, knocking at her door again; begging for a second chance. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to let him in, embrace him, and cling to the one hope she had left? Pour out all her worries like the blizzard itself and watch him shrug, say 'It's alright, Sal', and let life go on the same? Listen to him let out the phrase 'everything'll be alright' when it wasn't? When it'd never be…
Was she supposed to let his lies stain her truth? The war was a lost cause to begin with. Her childhood was a lost cause to begin with; SHE was a lost cause to begin with. Who was she joking now? She was barely fit to be a leader when she could barely lead herself. It was once said, 'Those who can lead, will lead,' and it was obvious who the real leader was.
He with all his confidence; that blur with his corny smirk; that hero who'd always promenade about Robotropolis, acting as if it was a stroll in the park; that Freedom Fighter who'd do reckless things yet still always save the day. That hedgehog who, in the end, would always win her fancy. He was the leader; she was the follower. Why she hadn't seen it before was beyond her. She could plan, but she couldn't lead. She had words, but she didn't have action in the way he did.
She had a past that haunted her; she had a future that scared her; she had fear itself. She had fear, and it made her vulnerable, and no matter how many walls she built around it, it would always be there. She had emotional attachments; in simple words, she had feelings too. She couldn't be a heartless drone like one of the SWATbots in Robotropolis was. She was never capable. She couldn't be selfless like Sonic was. It was just impossible.
She cared too much.
That may have been the one detail that set her apart from her father. While he had an agenda, she had feelings. She was naïve, but she was happily naïve. All when she was five; all before she was exposed to the evils that were war.
She may have had a chance to have a normal childhood; she may have, or so she liked to believe. Even with position; even with her 'upper upper strata' conditioning, she may have been able to pull off a near-normal infancy.
She may of, though by now, it was a lost hope.
And was that the reason she was holding on to Tails so tightly? That because in those blue eyes of his, she saw a reflection. That because in those big blue, hopeful eyes of his, she saw herself?
Was that why? Was that the reasons that confined her? Was it her own emotional damage that was getting in the way of all else? Of all her plans; of all her friendships; of all her dreams and hopes; of all those stupid days spent with him; of all their silly arguments; of everything they had had in the beginning?
Was it the reason she rolled her eyes at him? Was it the reason all her thoughts always wandered back to him? At five, she was always with him. And now, was she really that different?
What brought her so close to him, anyway? What made her think the way she did? Why was it always about him; Sonic, Sonic, Sonic! His ego; his lack of brains; his grin; his flowers; his words; his thoughts…
Why, why, why?
But most importantly, above all else, why now of all times did she want him back? That someone she was so mad at; that someone who she could just kill…
That someone that even with all their differences she just wanted to bury her face in and hide for awhile? Why were her blue eyes trailing towards the door when they should well be on her papers? Why was he the first thought she woke up to and the last she went to sleep to? He was a friend; an annoying friend, but still, a friend…
She couldn't shut the door on him. She couldn't shut him out of her life. Not only was it physically impossible, but had he never been there at all, she wouldn't be what she was. She'd be a snob; she'd be an arrogant, uncompassionate, condescending snob. She wouldn't understand his class; even with Bunnie, Antoine, Rotor as her friends, she wouldn't understand.
She wouldn't understand why she enjoyed those summer days; she wouldn't understand why she enjoyed those unfair games of tag; she wouldn't understand why he was the first person she wandered to when she needed someone. She wouldn't understand why she saw so much in a silly, little immature boy. She wouldn't understand people like him; she wouldn't understand herself; she wouldn't understand those warm feelings she got when she thought about their good times; she wouldn't understand why it meant to much to be in his embrace….
She wouldn't understand 'true blue' friendship; she wouldn't understand comradeship; she wouldn't understand war; but most importantly, she wouldn't understand love.
Love.
There, that was the reason! That was it! The one word she never set straight to him. The one word she always denied was the reason she cared. She loved all her friends, but not to the extent she loved him. She loved herself, she loved her kingdom; she loved freedom. But they were different isotopes; they were just hybrids of the feelings she got off from him. As disenchanted as she liked to act by his boastings; as bored and lackluster as she liked to act to his flowers; as indifferent and nonchalant as she liked to act about those past few days, the feeling was always there and now it was shattered.
It was broken before she even gave it the chance. He won the war before she even begun to fight. Her papers were still in front of her; her problems were still right in her face, and it was overwhelming; it was too much. The fact she pretended she could carry her load on her own was just ridicule to herself and her own character. She couldn't do it alone. She couldn't blame her lost childhood on her problems.
She was too busy living in the past to realize what had been in front of her the past couple days and she was ashamed. It was too late now to give up her argument. It was too late in the debate to let the rebuttal take her out. She had to compromise; she had to wait and knowing him, it wouldn't be too long. Sooner or later, he'd be back knocking at her door.
After another tedious half hour of reviewing and comparing plans, Sally had mustered up the strength to take a look outside for herself. Opening the door, she saw a near masterpiece of snow; every inch of Knothole covered in pure white. Tails would enjoy it. This time tomorrow, she imagined, there'd be slides. It'd be a snow day; the first of the year. There would be snowball fights, snow foxes, whatever that little child would fancy.
Leaning down, she picked up a sample of snow herself, rolling it up into a perfect sphere and examining the quality. It felt moist in her fur; freezing to say the least, but it just sat there and she just stood there, once again, taken away from her own thoughts.
That perfect silence continued for about a minute as the cold breeze drifted into her own hut. It would've been longer, had a familiar voice not caught her attention.
"Never thought I'd be seein' you holdin' a snowball…"
"I never thought I would be either. You know, if we aim just right, we may be able to obliterate an entire army with these, Sonic…"
"Whatcha sayin'?"
"Mmm…I don't know, watch out!" She tossed it at him, it landing directly in his face. It dripped down the hold of his jacket, over his eyes, a small pile accumulating at the tip of his nose. Wiping it away, he rolled his eyes.
"Har har, very funny, Sal…"
And she laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she really laughed, but laughter poured out of her. "I'm sorry, Sonic…"
"Nah, it's okay. I sorta deserved it. Nice aim, Sal."
"Thanks, Sonic. I've been working on it." Watching what was left of her snowball continue to drip down, she covered her mouth, fighting the urge of a second giggle. He was a masterpiece; a dripping wet masterpiece. The blue on his quills never seemed to strike her that way before; the way it nearly took on an icy color. All in all, Sonic Hedgehog could be considered an award-winning ice sculpture. "…you know, Sonic, I uhh…I wouldn't mind some company now. You can come in."
And in turn, all she got was a smile.