Saga [The Secrets In My Shoes] -- Empire OC, Vignette

The Secrets In My Shoes

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Author: TheFallen
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Summary: "Not all who fight are soldiers."
Timeframe: Empire
Special thanks to: obaona - I never would've written this without her prodding, and she finally got a vignette out of me that made sense. Also to Emilie_Darklighter and KrystalBlaze, who came, saw, and beta'd like pros.

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I watched the soldiers of the Rebel Alliance prepare for battle, once. It was in the midst of the last great battle here, and the Handmaidens of the Divine had been called upon to bless them. They trudged through the mud in our rain-sopped tent, picking up their blaster rifles and rations. Their armor, though made only of animal hide and heavy mails of rusted metal ringlets, was all they had left from the pillaging of our once great villages. Our pristine robes were torn, and blood and dirt had crusted about the edges, but they seemed all the more thankful that one of us would place our palm to their young foreheads and say a prayer for safe delivery.

As a Handmaiden, I found it difficult to speak the falsehoods to those men - boys, really - when I said that they would surely come back home to tuck their children into bed that night. They had been grossly out-numbered by the new, self-deemed Emperor, and his task force was as swift as it was merciless; their savage murders had even then spread across the galaxy.

It was then I realized that not all who fight are soldiers. Even now, whilst the few remaining soldiers are preparing for their futile resistance, so are the Handmaidens of the Divine readying themselves for another journey into the demon pit.

We are not great in numbers, and, like the decrepit and sick villagers below, are too old and weary to be considered much of warriors any longer, but were they ever considered as such?

I would think not.

While they dig through the cold dirt of their built and rebuilt and burned out cabins to finally grasp the cold metal of their hidden blasters, we slip bone-weary fingers into worn grooves of stone to pry open hidden compartments carved in the earth. They sling packs of food and water across their scarred and thinning chests while we wrap our heaviest robes about our own bodies in preparation for the miles of walking that have yet to stiffen our feet.

The young orphans ask us why we go out into the danger that lurks all around the planet; in the shadows, in the trees, in the land that was once good and filled with fruiting life, but is now only ash-scarred and gray. I never answer them, because I simply do not have the answer.

Oh, I could give them false platitudes of it being the will of the Divine Gods. There are certainly enough of them to call upon. Nearly three hundred, each with their own duty, if my withering memory serves me right. They could have called upon us, asking us to help our fellow people, but in all truth, it is not an easy task for me, trying to put all of my feelings into words.

I have never been a very articulate woman, and my bumbling attempts at comforting gestures have always fallen in the eyes of the hungry young ones around me. All the little ones run and whisper amongst themselves, saying that I am just a woman of stone, that I never speak, and that I'm probably a likely candidate for an old spell-maker that lives alone in the woods. Ah, but only if they could know. In truth, I feel too much to put into mere words, and so I rarely try; and more prudently, I feel too much than what is proper for a Sister of my stature in a religion where the level headed and serene are rulers.

I have seen the devastation these plagues have wrought on our planet. For uncounted millennia, the Handmaidens of the Divine have lived and worshipped throughout this planet, about these same hills, and never in our records have we seen such devastation. We may be simple and secluded in our archaic castle, but our towers are far from being ivory. We have traveled the worn paths between cities, seeing the battlefields and death with our own eyes. We pluck children, women, and t

 

Master, you never cease to amaze me. Bravo. I loved it.

 

Thanks, Apprentice. You always make my day.

And a shameless up from the author.




tf

 

Gotta love double posts.

 

I LOVE this story! *proud beta*

Celtae, my partner in crime, I am soooo proud of you!

 

I just wanted to say that this has recently been accepted into the Archives! I'm very proud of this story, indeed.



tf

 

LE BEKK, I LUBB OOOO!!!

 

It's good.

 

It's great, and refreshingly different! I'd love to see more about the Handmaidens... somehow, I don't see them faring well under the new Emperor.

If I can't beg for a whole series, can I at least request a feature length story? (imagine this as a pleading puppy-dog eyes icon)

Renata

 

Really? Phew. Wow.

I might actually take this offer up. I've always wanted to do another story to this, but I never quite got a plotline set up.

Thank you very much for the kind words - they keep me going.

I'll let you know if I start chattering away in a Series.



tf

 

YAY! Lovely viggie, Celt! Of course, my evil partner in crime, you knew what I thought of it already.

-Emmi

P.S= PERSIMMONS!!!