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Nowhere had she ever heard those words used in this way. She could feel their sound resonating inside her mind, spoken with an intonation that, despite having been spoken barely above a whisper, made the words heavy with a wistfulness she had not detected in their appearance before.
Truthfully, she had never heard these words spoken by someone else at all. She would have remembered. Since her first year at Fort Salem, when she'd been barely more than eighteen years old, these words had been a companion to her. A reassurance. A lifeline. And as the years passed, the words stayed with her. Sometimes they were a utopian idyll that seemed like the last thing someone like her should aspire to. But whenever she needed guidance, she found she could discover it between the lines, there. Sometimes it was the words that seemed to speak to her, seemed to be meant for her exclusively. Sometimes only one line would call out to her, revolve itself around her spiralling thoughts and slowly, gently bring them to a halt. Sometimes, she would find herself discovering words in the poem that weren't written on the page, but that only she in that very moment was able to discern from the sound the syllables created in her head. But for her, the words had never sounded like this.
She wanted to hold onto them, to keep this new interpretation without disturbing their weight inside her. Despite their unexpected heaviness, holding onto them, allowing them space inside her mind and body, their presence wasn't overbearing. Tally closed her eyes to concentrate more fully on the sensations, shutting out other stimuli as best she could. One by one, the words touched her with their new sound, their velvety breathiness, giving their content a new depth. Each word skipped across the surface of her mind, like a skipping stone in slow motion, causing small ripples that grew into…
A sudden shock went through her body. The words shattered inside her, all gentle sensation lost. Only with a moment's delay did Tally register the hand on her shoulder. The conversation around her was still ongoing, it probably never stopped. She blinked a few times, and when she turned her head to see who had disturbed her, hoping without allowing the actual thought for one person in particular, she looked straight at Raelle. So, back to reality it was. Hope really was an insidious asshole. "You okay, Tal?", her sister said once she was sure Tally was actually focussing on her. "Yeah, I'm fine." Raelle didn't look convinced by the discrepancy between her reassuring words and the uncertain waver in her voice. "I was just lost in thought, honestly. I think I'll go splash some water in my face and…" Their conversation had now drawn the attention of some of the other people around them. Abigail looked over with concern. Tally spoke up, no longer directing her words only at Raelle: "I'll just go to the bathroom and I'll be right back." Tally stood up, but was met with almost unilateral skepticism. She supposed, spacing out was usually reserved for Sight episodes, of which this particular situation was definitely not one. Her eyes only moved to the person who had whispered those impossible words for a heartbeat, then she looked back to Raelle and put her hand on her forearm. "Nothing happened, I promise." Raelle nodded once, then allowed Tally to walk past her out of the room. Only when she reached the bathroom and shut the door behind her did Tally allow herself to take a deep breath.
She knew, she'd have to go back and join the others if she didn't want to worry everyone. Especially tonight. It was so rare that her old unit had a chance to get together, just spend an evening together with no military duties immediately pressing upon them. She had been expecting a relaxing, fun evening with her sisters and instead had been surprised to find that not only Abigail had invited guests, but so had Petra and now the last remaining guests of both parties had congregated in the, admittedly giant, sitting room of the Bellweather "country house" - at least, that's what Abigail claimed this palatial building constituted. Which meant, in addition to Abigail, Raelle, Adil and Scylla there were also Petra Bellweather, Anacostia Quartermain, Sterling Woodlot and Sarah Alder waiting for her return. Picturing the scene, the friendly conversation between them, she cold feel the pieces of shattered stone settle in the pit of her stomach. There was no way Tally would be able to pretend she was okay for the rest of the night. Taking another deep breath, Tally nodded at herself in the mirror over the sink. Then she opened the door and went back toward the sitting room. She was grateful when Abigail walked toward her in the hallway, before she could make it back to the others. "I'm sorry, Abs." - "Oh, come on. You can't leave, Tally. Who knows when we might …", Abigail started, but Tally didn't let her finish. "I know. Trust me, I know. But please believe me that I have to go and be on my own for a bit. I'm alright. Nothing happened", Tally continued, seeing the worry in her sister's eyes. "I just have some stuff on my mind I need to sort through, okay?" Abigail nodded slowly while she studied Tally intently from head to toe. Then she agreed. "Okay. But if you need us, just reach out. We're here for you." Tally only nodded, relieved. A little bit of the tension in her muscles dissolved, even though the weight in her stomach didn't lessen. "And I'm sorry", Abigail continued, "for just springing this on you. Mom's party was supposed to be at our winter house, but the travel didn't work out…" - "It's okay, Abs. Really. And it was so good seeing you and Raelle again, and Adil and Scylla of course. I've really missed having some time for just us, just our group. Thank you for inviting us." Abigail grinned. "My pleasure." She pulled Tally into a tight hug, then moved back. "And now, go. I'll let the others know." Tally tried a small smile, although she wasn't sure whether she really pulled it off. "Thanks, Abs. Really. I'll see you soon." And with another quick hug, Tally turned around again and walked away.
It couldn’t have anything to do with… no. There was no way. The reverence with which the words had been spoken, it seemed familiar with their sound, their syllables, their meaning. Tally shook her head to clear it of the swirling questions. She had to focus on the road, at least for now. She turned on the radio loud enough to drown out her own thoughts as she drove into the night.
Once she had arrived back on her base - she hadn’t been stationed at Fort Salem in a while - she parked her car on the driveway, ran into her house and went straight to the old wooden chest in her bedroom. Most of her visitors who caught a glimpse of it thought the chest was purely for decoration. It was made from old wood, the metal long since showing signs of corrosion. Some people looked long and hard for that kind of statement piece. But to Tally, the oversized wooden box was so much more than that. It was one of her most prized possessions; and that even before one considered its contents. The chest had been the travel chest of one of her ancestors. It had been in storage in California, long forgotten by the family, until Tally needed someone to talk to and summoned her ancestor on her first Samhain at Fort Salem. She told her about the diaries of a friend, of the guidance contained in the now historical handwritten pages she had kept safe so many years, so many wars ago. She had advised Tally to seek comfort in them when her family was out of reach. And so, on the first leave the army granted her, Tally went back to California, where she indeed found an old trunk with several diaries inside. Her mother knew nothing of where Tally’s sudden interest in antiquated furniture stemmed from, but she agreed to let Tally take the entire thing with her to Massachusetts. Ever since then, wherever Tally lived, the old chest came with her. Its mere presence served as a reassurance that the army was her home, had been her family’s home, even if her mother would never acknowledge it.
Now, as she knelt on the soft carpet before the trunk, in the bedroom of the house she lived in by herself, with the only light coming in through the window from the street lamp outside, Tally felt the tension return. It rolled through her body in waves. The stones in her stomach hadn’t moved since leaving Abigail’s. She hesitated, although she was absolutely certain about what she would find when she opened the chest. But it would be physical confirmation. She wouldn’t be able to deny it any longer. Gently, Tally reached out for the wood and let her fingertips skate over the cool surface. The familiarity of the sensation served to ground her, as it had done innumerable times before. With one more deep breath, she lifted the lid.
Immediately, she was enveloped by the familiar scent of the old books. She couldn't help but be reminded of all the times she had sought them out. Ever since the chest had arrived at her first dorm room in Circe barracks, the one she'd shared with her unit, she'd never gone more than one or two weeks without reading (or re-reading) the diaries. Tally reached for one of the diaries and took it out, just looking at it for long moments. She remembered the day she opened the first one, the very first time she read the words inside. When she now opened it to the first page, there were those same words. The words she had heard Sarah Alder whisper earlier. How was it possible for her to know them? Outside of these diaries, each one beginning with the same lines, but always adding a different ending to that first page, Tally had never been able to find them. Tally turned the page. In neat, though old cursive, lines the diary was filled to the last page. In reading about how this witch, this friend of her ancestor's, had made decisions about her leadership in military campaigns, how she had dealt with mistakes both on and off the battlefield, how she had felt love and loss for her sisters, Tally had felt like she had gotten to know her. She had dreamed of meeting the diarist. She had imagined comforting her through loss. And, more than Tally would like to admit, she imagined showing this witch the world as it was now. Somehow, she had begun sharing her life with the diarist. The other witch becoming a presence she took with her, wherever she went. She was who she went to for comfort in the worst of times. She was who she thought of when something wonderful happened. And over the years, Tally had found that no person could compare to the longing, the understanding she felt for the woman who was long dead. Tally had never learned her name. The diary entries weren't signed and she didn't dare call on her ancestor again to ask, for fear she might discover that Tally had fallen in love with a ghost. In love. Only, maybe not with a ghost. Could it be…? Could the diarist be Sarah Alder? How could this diary, the one she was holding right now, have belonged to… her? Sarah Alder and the witch in her diary - the same person? It seemed ludicrous to Tally. She put the diary next to her on the floor and reached back into the chest to pick up a specific volume. A period in the witch's life Tally had always felt closest to was covered in its entries. When she found it, she settled more comfortably on the floor and opened the book to its first page. There were the familiar first lines again. And Tally couldn't help but hear Sarah Alder's voice whisper them. But instead of increasing the weight in her stomach, this version of the poem, the ending, it settled something in Tally. And for a moment, her shock lessened a little and, for the first time, allowed for the possibility that her witch might be the only one from the time of the diaries' creation still alive today. That the witch she had never felt a need to hide from, to lie to, to be anyone else but herself around, that this witch might be the same woman whose words alone had made Tally fall in love with her. Still, it seemed impossible. What was she supposed to do with her suspicion? What was she supposed to do with this confusion? And where was she supposed to put all those feelings? Tally didn't have the answers right now. But she still had the diary in her hands and so, she gave into the pull and began reading its pages again. Only this time, she couldn't forget about Sarah's voice. The voice that seemed to fit the words she was reading so well, now that the idea was in her head.
She read on, and the combination of the painful loss the diarist had eperienced while writing and the way it seemed to fit everything Tally knew about the former General of the Army brought tears to her eyes. She continued to recognize connections, similarities she hadn't been able to see before. Tally began to cry in earnest, cradling the diary to her chest.
She didn't know how long she had sat there, on her bedroom floor, crying surrounded by old books, when she was harshly brought back to reality by a loud knock on her front door. She considered not answering, but when the knocking continued, she sighed and moved to get up. Only now did she realize she was still wearing her coat and shoes. She hadn't changed at all since leaving Abigail's "country house" earlier. Tally shook her head. Whatever. She quickly wiped the remaining tears from her face, then she walked to the front door and opened it. And then she stopped breathing. Because before her stood Sarah Alder.
"Hi", Tally managed after a few beats of silence. But Sarah didn't seem in the mood for idle chat. "Have you been crying?" - "Uhhh. What? Uhm. Why are you…? Uh…", Tally was lost for words. She gave up on trying to formulate a suitable sentence and moved aside, motioning for Sarah to step inside. When Sarah did, Tally closed the door behind her, still trying to regulate her breathing. Having Sarah in her house, right now, after the way the previous hours had gone, added another loop to the rollercoaster Tally felt she had been thrown onto earlier. There was no way Sarah could know what Tally had just been doing, or why she had been crying. So, there was probably a completely normal reason for her to show up at her house on a military base in the middle of the night. Right? So, she should be a normal hostess and not behave like her entire world had just been thoroughly shaken. Tally nodded to herself and finally turned around. Her resolve was immediately shattered when she saw Sarah stare at her open bedroom door - or, more accurately, into her bedroom, where the diaries lay in plain sight, on the floor in front of the old travel chest.
Sarah turned her gaze to Tally and Tally saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. Sarah's voice, again, was barely above a whisper: "She kept them." Tally only nodded. "She did." This was it. There was nothing uncertain about it anymore. The diaries were Sarah's. "I didn't know they were yours. Not until…", Tally said slowly, trying to hold onto and identify at least one of the emotions running through her at high speed. This time, it was on Sarah to nod in understanding. "Not until tonight. You heard me." - "Yes."
For a moment they just stood there, looking at each other, trying to understand. Then, both started speaking at the same time:
"Should we sit…?"
"Were you cry…?"
They exchanged shaky smiles and Tally pointed to her living room. "Maybe we should get comfortable first." Sarah pointed to Tally's shoes and coat. "Yeah, probably." The tension broken, at least for the moment, they both left their coats and boots by the front door and moved to sit on the sofa in Tally's living room.
"So", Tally began when they were settled, "I've read your diaries?" The words came slowly, but she needed to be absolutely sure.
"Yes."
Tally had expected to feel shame at the confirmation. To feel like a dirty stalker, who had breached the privacy of another. But instead, she found a peacefulness settle inside her. Instead of completely wrong, it felt only right.
"I've always dreamt of meeting the woman behind the diaries. I …", Tally hesitated, unsure how to put her feelings into words.
"Is that why you were crying when I arrived?" Sarah didn't look at her.
"No, not at all." She hopes it works as the reassurance she means it to be. "It's just… overwhelming." Tally clears her throat before turning fully toward Sarah, prompting her to look over at her, too. "I'm so incredibly grateful I got to know you the way I have. In person, but especially through what you wrote." Tally can feel tears return to her eyes, but she tries to swallow them down. "The… Your diaries have been… They are very special to me." Tally stops again, swallows.
"Oh, Tally -"
"No, please.", Tally holds up a hand to stop Sarah from speaking. "Your diaries have been the most important companion I've had in my life, beside my sisters."
Tally can't hold her tears any longer and she drops her gaze. She feels a gentle hand cup her jaw, a thumb wiping away the tears on her cheek. She looks up again and sees that Sarah is crying, too.
"You are a gift." Sarah says, still looking at Tally, and there is wonder in her voice. Tally smiles a little, through her tears, and moves her hand to gently stroke Sarah's hair. "May I get to know you anew?"
Tally's smile grows into a grin. She blinks her remaining tears away, removes her hand from Sarah's hair to cover Sarah's hand on her cheek with her own. Tally tilts her head forward until her forehead rests against Sarah's.
"I'd like that.", she replies. And adds in whisper: "But I'm already in love with you."