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Chapter Text

There was a tradition of sorts. Some saw it as a playful game to tease the humans, but for the khandro it was an odd combination of both.

If a human could see you walking by them, it was a sign that they were of pure mind and had an open heart; someone truly on their way to enlightenment and they’d be rewarded as such with merit and blessings with her other sisters coming to them in dreams to teach them the vastness that existed in tantra.

Wise Body’s visit to the Buddhadharma sanctuary in the east also held another reason. Curiosity. It had been mentioned by the beings in the upper realms that The Wise Prince had gained a peculiar habit as of late. Often leaving his seat in the Spotless Vimala to walk among humans. Now, The Wise Prince ventured among humans, cutting through their ignorance with his flaming sword, and yet, on these excursions of his — that was by no means her way of saying he wasn’t allowed to do this — his flaming sword stayed behind in his pure land.

I have no need for it, he had answered when asked once.

The Wise Prince had never shown such interest in something in that manner before either. Never has he left without his flaming sword. Never. He always carried it, even when he answered the prayers that invoked his presence as a dharma protector. It had also been mentioned that whenever he returned, his mood was… different. Which, to her, was more amusing than anything, since The Wise Prince never bothered with something as trivial and fleeting as the ordinary human emotions.

The khandro were curious by nature.

Wise Body floated down from the sky and touched her feet down at the Buddhadharma sanctuary in the east, glanced around at the humans and—

Wise Body frowned at the uneven energy in the air. It wasn’t — she tugged her white robes closer. While the atmosphere among the humans appeared lively and joyous, negativity boiled beneath the surface.

Heavy, bad merit, bad karma, bad, negative, negative, like wading through an ocean of black oil and a buddhadharma sanctuary wasn’t supposed to have energy like that.

How had they accumulated such energy for the presence to feel like being placed in a jar of oil?

Wise Body hugged her robes closer, holding the loose cloth in her hands and began walking. Tersely at first, and slowly relaxing after she got more used to the feeling of oil trying to cling to her body.

It was… concerning.

Yes, it was concerning.

A mere handful of people saw her, and then, most of them followers of the enlightened monk Nyingpo, two followers of the ancient Tilopa and one follower of the great Rinpoche.

No followers of the man from Tsongkha.

None.

She continued walking, stopping only and glancing to her right when she heard a gasp. An elderly nun, seated at the end of a flight of stairs, looked at her. Stared at her.

Wise Body took note of the emphasis of yellow in her robes.

“Can you- can you see me?” The elder didn’t answer with words, just a faint nod and frequent blinking.

One follower of the man from Tsongkha had seen her.

“Know that your dedication to practise and accumulation of merit and good karma has been seen. My sisters will visit you with blessings and beautiful song. Keep your heart and mind open to the essence of the dharma and know that your rebirth in the shining pure lands will be true.” The elder inhaled, and kept inhaling before she caught herself and held her hands up in prayer, murmuring the mantras of the great enlightened ones under her breath.

“… Om mani padme hum, thank the great compassionate lord of love for looking at me so kindly. Om tare tuttare ture soha. Thank the great mother of Buddhas…”

Wise Body continued walking.

None of the practitioners of this generation had retained a pure mind to see her.

Children and young babies almost always saw her and her sisters as they walked among humans; none of the children or babies carried by followers of the man from Tsongkha saw her.

It was deeply concerning.

Wise Body stopped at the entrance of a nursery, curious, but more so in an attempt to comfort herself that someone would see her. Children had always seen her. Young babies stared up at her with wide eyes, not comprehending what the sight of her meant, but they saw.

Would someone see her?

Wise Body took five steps into the room, movement from a crib out of the corner of her eye. A crib placed further away from the others. A little girl pulled herself up by the railing, frowning at her first and then a gasp.

A baby was looking at her.

Wise Body stared back at her.

The little girl grinned, showing a single growing tooth, when she stepped closer.

She leaned down. The little girl’s hand reached out and uncoordinately touched her cheek with a light coo.

“Can you see me?” She asked, and the girl answered with more coos, face pats and slow blinks. Wise Body picked her up under her arms. “You can see me, can’t you?” The girl blinked slowly and didn’t answer.

Right, ordinary humans didn’t possess that skill as babies.

She held the child close to her chest and simply watched her, unable to quell the curiosity of why this child seemed to be the only one to see her; who had woken up from the looks of it, pulled herself up and saw her. The child stared right back at her, tiny babbled sounds that sounded an awful lot like ‘see me,’ left her mouth. The babbling continued, how the child kept repeating the same word that sounded so close to their intended meaning.

‘See me, see me,’

The child said it again, voice low and serious, if that description could fit for her — a thought that she was trying to imitate someone did strike here— chubby cheeks, wide eyes and curly hair.

“See me?”

‘… do you see me?’

“I see you, yes.” She paused as soon as the words left her mouth. Why had she answered, the child hadn’t even asked. The child couldn’t even speak properly at all. She stared at her closer, eventually changing how she held her so she could press a finger over her heart.

“Why,” she hoisted the child higher up, “for an ordinary human child like you, does your body hold such loneliness? Unless,” a thought hit her, and she walked over to a small mirror hanging on the wall by the closets and supplies kept in the room.

The child looked at her own reflection, looked back at her for a moment, blinking slowly, inquisitive almost before turning back to look into the mirror. 

“Wait, I’ve seen you human children-,” she smeared off some of her lipstick, the red smearing a light pink onto the child’s cheek.

The child blinked, frowned — the fat and the tiny indents in her cheeks making it a lot more pronounced than the previous one— and quickly tried to pat her own cheek, stopped for a moment to look into the mirror and resumed trying to pat her cheek when the mark was still there.

Wise Body stopped her incessant, uncoordinated patting and wiped the mark away with the end of her white sleeve.

“Hm.”

“Uh?” The child turned to her.

“I’ve seen humans do that to young children like you and they say it’s special when the child notices something different in their reflection.” She told her. “How old are you? You look younger than the children I’ve seen other humans test.”

The child blinked slowly, brows lowering into a frown as she leaned closer to her, mouth moving as she tried to mimic the sounds of what she said.

The child wasn’t successful in her attempt at mimicking, however.

“You’re rather… small,” she observed, minor concern sneaking into her tone as she patted the child’s sides, “despite the fat in your cheeks. I can’t tell if you’re the same age as the other children or younger than them. Though I suppose if you’re younger than them, it means you hold more merit than them.”

The child didn’t understand what she said, blinking slowly, as it seemed normal to be a child’s human nature to do so, staring at her, mouth moving as she tried to mimic what she said and the small ‘bahh dahh youh,’ under her breath being the result of her attempt at mimicking.

“Yes, that’s right. You did very good.”

The child blinked before grinning. Eyes so wide and innocent… was that joy at being given attention she was seeing?

She looked around. The room was full of cribs and sleeping children. Her was noticabley placed away from the others, bare of colour when others had some.

She looked back at the child, observing her with a different gaze. “Are the practitioners here kind to you?”

The child didn’t understand her and thus didn’t answer.

“Your cheeks may be fat, but your body is rather small, do they feed you?”

Some babbling, but no answer.

She felt a distinct, obscure knowing settle in her mind; something not quite painful prodding against her chest.

The child couldn’t answer her, but she didn’t need an answer to know.

She placed the child back in her crib, soothed her whines and had her asleep with a single stroke over her nose. “I will see with my own eyes how they treat you, just so I know I haven’t completely fallen susceptible to delusion.”

“Wise body, they have always treated her like this ever since she was brought to the temple.” He’s in a different form when she met him this time, coming to a stop at her right. “The child’s mother prayed for me to watch over her and be her dharma protector and I came when her mind moved on, and all I’ve seen is this…” she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, watching his young, beautiful youthful face twist with anger.

The young wisdom prince was never angry.

“Absolutely ignorant treatment of her,” he settled on, “they’re too caught up in something so simple as her name to treat her as one of their own children. Some even believe, all because of her name and who they think her mother was, she’s a bearer of disease and is dangerous when she’s more pure of mind than most here when she can see us! It’s something I cannot stand.”

Wise body watched how the practitioners avoided the child’s crib, leaving her as the last. She watched how they didn’t give her enough food, under the belief she didn’t need it because ‘she’s from them, I heard they don’t eat as often as us.’

She watched how the child was left alone for most of the day, only some, a few handful of practitioners, pure and genuine hearted, interacting and playing with her.

The child always looked withdrawn when the other practitioners handled her, but she smiled whenever these few interacted with her.

“If they won’t treat her well, then we always could.” She said one day. “It’s not as if it would bother them if we gave one a bit more attention than the others, it’s what they’re doing.”

“That is a vengeful way of thinking, Wisdom body.” He told her, his tone not at all judging or angered.

“So? Vengeful way of thinking it may be, my sister has a wrathful form, so do you and I do not, but it will do no damage if we give the child what the others seem incapable of giving.”

“I’m only saying it’s a vengeful way of thinking,” he explained, “if vengeful in its reasoning, too. But you are right that it does no harm if we become her guardians.”

Young human children couldn’t talk.

Yet, the child recognised them and stood up in her crib and reached out toward them and giggled when she picked her up.

“The Prince is your protector, but I think… I think I’ll continue to visit you for a couple more years of your life.”

Chapter Text

Humans often thought that a dharma protector had to respond to a human’s prayer that incited their presence. That they were obligated to.

When they didn’t respond to their prayers, that caused resentment to fester.

Yes, The Wise Prince was familiar with humans. He ventured among them often, tried to cut through their ignorance with his wisdom when the opportunity presented itself — some humans saw offence if he just did, apparently— and he liked to think he knew them and their ways well enough from all the time spent observing and walking among them.

He always pushed back a little, tried to get them to think when he could tell they weren’t. He had done that ever since the dialogue with the lay human Vimalakirti.

One did not simply repeat the words on the page and get their wish fulfilled if they didn’t understand the words. Ordinary humans didn’t know this, but a dharma protector could tell if they truly understood the words they were saying or not. Besides, a dharma protector couldn’t answer their prayers if their hearts were clouded with such intense emotion and their minds closed off to their presence.

The dharma protectors wouldn’t be able to find them or reach out to them with their hearts clouded and minds closed off.

And those cries and pleas he heard now?

The Wise Prince waved at a dancing red khandro and asked her to look for them.

Despite this majority of ignorance, there were a small few humans with open hearts and minds with a single pointed focus that he could find. He could reach and communicate with.

The Wise Prince has been a protector to the children of two roaming families. Now in recent years, only one when the other family died out. The humans made it a tradition, something he didn’t understand at first, but when they came with gifts and offerings, insisting that he be the one to protect and watch over their children, he saw no reason to refuse them when they had been so kind to him and placed their trust in him.

Trust appeared to be difficult for humans, so he knew they were genuine.

He was the protector of a girl that he didn’t know the name of. Her mother didn’t say her name other than making it known it was this child, and the girl never gave him cause to intervene or guard her from harm.

Her family were painters.

The girl painted thangkas of him. Practised the Kalachakra Tantra. Roamed the world as a yogini.

She knew when he protected her from harm the first time. Humans didn’t just know like that. And when he was the one with the role of protecting her, she was often the one to reach out to him—

Are you alright? Are you tired?

Yes, I am well.

Good, Om a ra pa cha na dhi.

The Wise Prince found it odd, but kind in the way he often found humans to be.

He blinked when he heard the sound, frowned and focused to check if he hadn’t misheard.

Among the cries and pleas asking for kindness and compassion from the thousands and thousands and millions of people that reached the upper realm, there was one prayer.

Not a cry.

Not a plea.

A prayer.

The voice of this prayer was hoarse and weak, simple in their words— a mere wish— as they repeated his mantra and the words to incite his presence, unlike the myriads of other louder prayers he heard. His attention kept drifting back to it even with the sound of everything else.

The Wise Prince knew the voice of that human.

Human girl.

The Wise Prince, as her protector, left his spot in the upper realm to see why the human girl was calling him.

In the form of a human child, he followed her presence to a small temple.

She was seated in front of a worn statue of him, bowing to it in respect. The Wise Prince noted the slight… peculiarity of her bow. A bit adjusted. One arm cradled something to her chest.

He suppressed his presence as he stood back to observe Human girl. Her thinning hair tied loosely into a low ponytail, her clothes draping over her protruding, shoulders and sickly thin frame.

This-

He continued to observe her, a heavy feeling curling in his stomach; a feeling he attributed to taking this specific human form. 

It hadn’t been that long since he’d seen her, had it? She’d been so young, healthy and carefree. The first time he had protected her, it had been from a pack of beastly animals that she hadn’t noticed approaching while she climbed down from a tree. She had laughed when she first noticed them and asked if they were hungry. He didn’t sense one ounce of fear from her when other humans would’ve been terrified.

Then she knew it was him, when a human shouldn’t intuitively know like she did.

This was an example of the ever-eternal wheel of existence. She was going to die soon; he could feel the chill of Yama’s presence in the room.

Human girl continued reciting the prayer with a one minded focus. 

The Wise Prince watched, how she continued to recite the prayer as her breathing turned heavier, words coming out clear in exhales and straining his ears to listen to the words in inhales. He watched how she continued to recite the prayer while her body weakened, slowly slouching in on itself—

The faint movement of her shoulders stopped. “-Guard. Her.” 

He waited.

He waited longer than he should have. Way longer.

The recitation didn’t continue. It had stopped.

The Wise Prince blinked before approaching cautiously. “Hey,” he crouched down to her left, lightly touching her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Why did you—,”

It took him a startling long moment— for someone like him— to realise that she had passed on to the upper realm after finishing her last recitation. Her body didn’t fall over, no. Her body had slumped in on itself while seated, expression peaceful and radiant like an enlightened human and arms still cradling—

Taking human form— a young child at the moment— surely must be the reason for such slow understanding. His accumulated wisdom had to be too complex for the human mind-

The Wise Prince felt it, although distantly, how wetness rolled down his face.

Why was a being like him crying like this?

“Oh…” there was a sleeping babe bundled up in old raggy cloth cradled to her chest and something deep in his being— the human form he had taken on— blazed. This was the one. Human girl had incited his presence to guard this baby. Her child.

The wetness rolling down his face was an unusual feeling.

“Why am I crying…?” He mumbled and wiped his face, the movements hurried and clumsy. “I am an enlightened prince. I have not cried in this way since millennia ago.” The Wise Prince was enlightened, he cried in compassion when he heard of the ignorance and suffering ordinary humans experienced, but that type of crying wasn’t like this one.

By no means was he like Great Chenrezig, whose head exploded from listening to all the pain and suffering from human beings. 

It just wasn’t like this.

“Wait—,” what had addled his mouth, he did not know. “You can’t — you have to wake up.”

Maybe he had taken a human form a bit too young, The Wise Prince tried to reason with himself. Human girl’s death was too much for the child human form he had taken.

Then came the immediate follow up. He did not reason with himself as he was trying to do now. That was furthering a state of delusion and fear of accepting the inherent nature of what was.

Human girl had died.

She had died praying to him, inciting his presence so he’d become her child’s dharma protector.

The baby bundled up in her arms blinked its eyes open, cooing softly when it noticed him; The candles behind him flickered rapidly, casting odd glimpses of light that made her eyes appear both gray and green.

The Wise Prince stared helplessly for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as the same blazing feeling returned, so strong and vivid he could imagine himself engulfed in bolstering flames. 

You will be protected.

I will do my best.

His face twitched as he caught how the thought had been worded. Best. That wasn’t something— he just did. That was it. He just did. The thought of doing his best hadn’t even been a topic since the millennia and lifetimes before his enlightenment.

The Wise Prince, as careful and gently as he could, grabbed the babe out of Human girl’s arms and held it close to his chest. He studied the face, taking in all the details— the fat in the cheeks, the colour of the eyes— 

Maybe he could see what the babe got from Human girl. Where she was in her child’s face.

… Humans usually did this, no?

The babe smiled up at him, and these… odd, tiny indents appeared on her cheeks and disappeared when the face relaxed. He didn’t know what that was.

“I think— I think you are like the khandro.” He mused. The babe’s energy was a lot more like Human girl’s and the khandro that danced in the sky than his or any other ordinary man. “You are a woman — no, you will be a woman, now you are a girl. An ordinary human babe.”

The Wise Prince looked at Human girl. She hadn’t slumped over or fallen to the floor, no. She was still seated, arms now fallen to her sides, and she looked so… frail.

“I can’t leave you like this, that would be disrespectful.” Leaving a dead human in front of his own statue of worship? No, that would be bad merit, and he wasn’t sure if the next person would be kind to her corpse or not since some humans weren’t.

Now, The Wise Prince remembered he had taken the form of a human child. Which was out of character since he didn’t just forget what form he’d taken. Other humans wouldn’t be calm, in simple terms, if they saw him taking a human body with him. Fear was most likely, then there was a possibility they’d accuse him and he—

The baby let out a loud ‘bah!’

— he didn’t exactly have time to calm the humans should they see him with Human girl’s corpse.

He pondered for a moment, and instead, he decided on something he very rarely did. Something he chose purely because he knew of Human girl’s Kalachakra scrolls and practice. He touched the top of Human girl’s head and with his own monuments of worship and her child as witness, declared. “You will be reborn in the Pure land of Vimala in the east, the spotless pure land of the wise prince Jampelyang, who renounced his kingship and the kingdom he had eons ago to awaken his mind and achieved enlightenment. Singing dakinis will come and tend to your corpse and belongings so they don’t fall into someone’s impure hands and bring merit to everyone in the vicinity of this prayer room. I have heard your prayer and seen your open heart and pure mind, and I accept your call to be your child’s dharma protector.”

He moved her so she was lying on the floor, pressed her worn prayer beads into a still warm hand. The Wise Prince turned to the statue she’d been sitting in front of— his Vimala form— three items placed as offerings, grabbed the worn and yellowed Āryamañjuśrī­mūlakalpa and a piece of paper with his mantra written on it in shaky calligraphy and placed them under her other hand.

The Wise Prince turned back around for the last item. Also, a piece of paper, though instead of a mantra, there was a name written in the same shaky writing.

Deki Kinzang.

“De-ki.” He tested it and looked down at her. At Deki. “That’s your name?” 

She blinked at him, and didn’t respond. 

Yes, ordinary humans couldn’t talk as babies.

“Well, I have to find you a place to stay, someone to take care of you since I can’t bring you back to Vimala. But I will make sure you are safe and well protected after I find a place for you to stay.”

In three days’ time, the nuns of the Eastern temple find a child left on their temple steps, bundled up in worn cloth and a Jampelyang protection pendant hidden in the cloth.

With the summer festival closing in and the preparations to venerate the wise Jampelyang and pray for wisdom to clear away ignorance, they took it as an auspicious sign and took her into their care.

(The silence was tense. Icy in a way that didn’t fit the festive mood around the temple. Everyone stared at the paper that had been folded into the cloth wrapped around the baby. That shaky writing, the obvious air nomad roots of the name despite the dialect.

Some had described holding a paper written in that dialect as ‘feeling the corruption crawl up their arm.’ She did not feel any of that.

Was it the shaky writing?

“That’s not her name is it? It can’t be.”

“It says so on the piece of paper folded into the cloth. Her name is Deki.”

“We should change it to Diki instead, to cut her ties to those heretics.”

“And who are you to do that? We do not know if her parents were one of them. They could’ve been painters and simply spoke that dialect without a connection to the others.”

“You are too—,”

“If we change her name out of that belief and her parents aren’t one of the others, we’ll be disrespecting them, do you understand? It’ll be a bigger disrespect if they are dead and weren’t of the others. So, her name stays as her parents wished for her to be called.”)

Chapter Text

Palmö was picked to be the child’s guardian because she was one of few who had experience in ‘battling.’ This experience of hers consisted mainly of getting the assailant far enough away from her and whoever she was with and running away.

They feared that something dormant would awaken from the child’s blood, and simply getting distance from the child and running away didn’t seem… like a sound strategy in her opinion.

The child kept quiet while Palmö carried her. Tense yes, but quiet. She hadn’t protested being picked up like one nun had said she would. She let her pick her up; she just didn’t lean close or snuggle for affection like a child usually would.

It almost felt like she was trying to lean away from her if she had to put a word to the feeling. To not be too close to her.

“Here we are,” she said and placed the child down in front of the playroom. “Go play. I’ll be back later.”

The child looked up at her for a moment before waddling inside, stopping at the center of the padded flooring, looking around and—

She almost seemed… hesitant, if Palmö could use that description, when she approached the toy chest. The child looked at her over her shoulder, and Palmö gestured for her to ‘yes, you can go play.’ The child looked into the chest, picking out one otter-seal toy.

One, lone toy.

The child waddled away from the chest and sat down on the padded floor with her back towards Palmö and began playing, scooting the toy over the floor and waving it in the air.

Like she’d seen other children do when they were playing.

The child’s movements were a bit — she couldn’t quite name it. Too practiced? Aware? Palmö lingered behind for a moment to observe.

It didn’t take long for her to get that feeling confirmed.

The toy waving slowed for just a moment, and the child’s head tilted to the right, at this certain angle that looked like she was playing, but Palmö saw.

Their eyes  made contact for a split second.

The child had looked at her out of the corner of her eye and noticed she was there and she resumed ‘playing.’

Wise Body didn’t really understand the merit of understanding that there was makeup on one’s face. Or in more correct terms, the human merit of a child understanding that there was makeup on their face.

There was a light tug on her leg. 

Deki stood there, holding a book out to her; A vibrant red bookmark between the pages. “I wanna reading.” 

Deki did everything early.

She began walking and talking months ahead of her peers. She’d recognised the letters and even began insisting on reading a little every day.

And still.

Wise Body couldn’t tell if the other humans were deliberately ignoring it because they didn’t believe she could have such merit or if they simply couldn’t tell because Deki was so frighteningly aware of everything around her and made it so on purpose.

The practised playing.

Never talking unless spoken to, and she wasn’t spoken to often.

Never making herself big and seen like children usually did, be it either by being needy for attention or crying.

When people were around, Deki was quiet. She didn’t talk a lot, and if she did, it wasn’t properly, like how she could talk. She didn’t move or walk often either. Deki didn’t do things she liked when people were around, she was just — still. Too still. Like she was trying to make herself smaller than she already was. To make herself seem uninteresting so they’d go away.

Was she even aware of how she acted sometimes? Wise Body wondered.

Wise Body crouched down and grabbed the book out of her hands, smiling gently. “We can read five pages today.” 

… Was it a good thing for Deki to be so good at this? Was it normal for ordinary humans to think this was a good thing?

Wise Body didn’t feel like it was a good thing when Deki was so good at this for some nuns to believe she was slow. Wise Body didn’t feel like it was a good thing Deki could, to an extent, suppress her own emotions and discomfort either.

She didn’t feel like it was a good thing that Deki had fooled her a couple of times before as well.

Deki beamed at her, grabbed her hand, and her loose curls bounced with each determined step as she walked them to a table in the library.

Wise Body soon found herself with Deki on her lap and the book opened on the page they ended on yesterday.

Deki bolstered through.

“Obsh-obse-obsava—,” Deki tried to vocalise the word. “No, I read that before.”

She glanced at the word Deki stopped at. “You have read that word before, yes.” Wise Body agreed, stroking circles on her back when she felt her slowly tense and frustration build.

Wise Body didn’t understand that. There wasn’t shame in struggling with something and no need to be frustrated, but that seemed to be connected to how young Deki was. 

Deki continued trying. “Obsev-obsse—,”

“Observant.”

“Obs-observant.” Deki turned to her and said it again, without struggle. “Observant!”

Wise Body chuckled. “Observant, yes,” she stroked her hand through her hair again, softening at how much Deki seemed to enjoy the gesture, preening much like the swans swimming in the clear waters in the upper realm. “That was very good. Good job.”

“Observant…” Deki turned back to the book for a moment with a small frown. “That means…” she turned to her again. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s,” Wise Body thought for a moment before thinking about the example right in her lap. “You’re observant.”

Deki blinked slowly. “What? Me?”

“You’re extremely observant. You know? Very, very observant. It means, you know a lot and you can see. You see what other children in your year don’t see.”

“Oh.” Her face changed into something more guarded, yet open to her. “Yes, I can see. I have to see.”

Wise Body’s hand paused in her hair when she took note of the expression on her face. 

This was-

She’d hit something there.

She moved her hand down to Deki’s back, careful with the words she chose next. “And why— why do you have to see all the time, Deki?”

Her expression changed again. She couldn’t hide her feelings that well this time behind something guarded and subdued like she had previously. This expression was a lot more appropriate for her age.

Wise Body liked that she couldn't hide this, but didn’t like seeing the emotion either.

Her brows scrunched up and her mouth pulled downwards in an effort to not cry. Sadness.

“People—,” her voice cracked, “don’t like me.” She lowered her head and nervously clenched her fists together in her lap “So I have to see.”

Deki’s back had gone rigid under her hand.

“Do they-,” no, that wasn’t worded right, “do you— do you have to see in case some of them are… mean to you?”

Deki’s answer came in a slow nod.

“You see because you don’t want them to be mean to you?”

She got another slow nod in response.

Wise Body’s heart ached. “Oh, Deki,” Deki’s entire body went stiff when she hugged her close. “You shouldn’t have to watch everyone like that all the time. They’re wrong for being mean to you.”

That must be exhausting for her tiny body. She circled her palm on her back. Constantly watching, observing.

“You can cry, Deki.” She said, after feeling the tension in her back change.

“No—,” she sniffled against her shoulder. “They don’t like me sad.”

There was a tragic beauty to humans. Permission to cry? To be sad? 

“You can, Deki. I’m here, not them.” Her eyes stung a little at the first sound of the cry, feeling a tiny hand clenching onto her robe. Deki made an effort to subdue her cries still, after she said she could.

How come her guardian hasn’t noticed yet? Wise Body didn’t know what to think of Deki’s given guardian. A bit too apathetic for her tastes to care for Deki properly. Treating her care and development simply as a task given to her by the other nuns.

No wonder Deki could waddle circles around her.

It’s around the third year when Palmö noticed this oddity in Deki’s speech. Something rather out of the blue and something she shouldn’t have at her age, most certainly.

(The other nuns didn’t like Deki’s attachment to the spelling of her name, Palmö didn’t really care, but Deki wouldn’t respond unless the person said ‘Deki.’)

Deki, having lived three years, had a slight accent to some of her words and her intonation was off while speaking. It wasn’t from Kham or the dialect where her name spelling came from.

No, it was odder than that and especially confusing and Palmö didn’t understand how. Deki had a classical accent when she spoke. How Palmö narrowed it down— because the nuns worried when they heard the accent— was the interchangeable use of ‘nged’ and ‘na’ when she referred to herself instead of ‘nga.’

‘Nged’ was classical.

‘Na’ was from the old language. (This wasn’t because Deki couldn’t say the ‘ng’ sound, she’d checked. Deki could say it, could always say it before other children could, so the ‘na’ was a deliberate choice on her end.)

Palmö waited while she picked a book out, and when Deki had picked out a short book written in the classical language —

She tried to grab the book. “Deki, what are you doing — you can’t read that yet-,” 

Deki turned her torso to shield the book from her. “No, I can read!” She exclaimed louder than Palmö expected. “I can read, maybe not good yet, but I can!”

Deki would not let go of the book, and Palmö relented, anticipating a similar exclamation later when Deki found out she couldn’t read the book because it was classical.

Later, it turned out, Palmö was the one who got surprised when she overheard Deki reading from the book and talking to someone in the classical language when she went to get her for dinner.

There was an unfamiliar nun seated beside Deki on the padded toy room floor. Deki had pouted and given the unfamiliar nun a hug before she ran toward and past her toward the dining hall.

Palmö, knowing well that she should be running after Deki, stayed behind and looked at the nun. She couldn’t put her finger on it. “Who are you?”

Deki didn’t hug just anyone.

The nun smiled, and something about it was a bit too perfect to be human. “I am Sister No One, though you might know me as Sister Dancing.”

(There. She had the same accent as Deki.)

That was an old joke. An old, old joke about the khandro and how they played with humans. That didn’t have anything to do with this. “What?” Palmö didn’t understand, but the nun couldn’t stop giggling at the joke. “You should probably follow her unless someone decides something.”

Palmö couldn't find 'Sister No One' after dinner and Deki knew who it was, but wouldn't tell her. She couldn't go asking around or in the archives either when looking for a Sister or Brother 'No One' could be compared to asking if the monster under the bed was real or not.

Deki had lived through four years when she was first assigned chores after classes. Sister Palmö wasn’t the one to assign her these chores, though. It was a teacher of the older students who by no means had the grounds to assign her these chores.

She had a face, and Deki could tell from her face that the teacher didn’t like her. That teacher was being mean to her by giving her these chores.

Deki was supposed to clean three prayer rooms during her entire day, only exception for the chore was class, but they had to be cleaned by the end of the day. The rooms weren’t large like the other ones, so it wouldn’t take forever, but it was still three rooms and Deki wasn't big yet.

When Deki had asked why she had to clean three prayer rooms alone while her classmates did their chores together so it could go by faster, the only reply she was given was that-

“It will cleanse your being.”

Deki had bathed that morning. Washed her hair, too. New soaps and freshly washed robes. She didn’t understand what about her being that needed cleaning.

But she set to work, waking up early and deciding to begin with the largest room — it wasn’t that much larger than the two other rooms — before breakfast, get partially done before class started, leaving the last two for after class. (It was likely she would’ve gotten done with the first room before breakfast, but someone kept knocking over her bucket so she had to keep refilling it.)

Deki continued with these chores for a whole month until Sister Palmö noticed it.

“Deki?” Sister Palmö’s voice came from the doorway of the last prayer room. Deki glanced up at her briefly while she scrubbed the floor. “What are you doing inside? It’s sunny out. The whole class is outside; why aren’t you outside with your friends?”

Deki didn’t know if she was trying to be mean or not when she said that. Friends. She didn’t have friends. The adults didn’t like her, which led to the older girls not liking her, and that led to the children not liking her.

Couldn’t Sister Palmö see like she could?

Wasn’t she supposed to be observant? White Lady said she was supposed to be while Deki was not supposed to see.

Deki sat down on her knees and looked up at her, properly this time.

Sister Palmö had that face, too.

It wasn’t big like everyone else, but it was there. Deki could see it.

Her guardian didn’t like her either.

Which was fine. She didn’t mind. Deki liked spending time by herself.

“I don’t have friends, Sister Palmö.” She put the washcloth in the water. “People don’t like me here, I thought you knew that already.”

Now, Sister Palmö’s face changed into something different. Deki hadn’t seen her have that face before.

Something about her face made her look away. She nibbled on the inside of her lips before picking the washcloth up again, wringing in and resumed scrubbing the floor.

“What — Deki, of course, people like you.”

Deki simply shook her head. Some were kind to her, yes, but she didn’t know them; their names or who they were. She didn’t see them often either. “No, they don’t. You don’t either. Which is okay.” Deki caught herself immediately after the words left her mouth.

That was an adult talking rule, White Lady had told her once. You weren’t supposed to say certain things. One she had broken by saying something she wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

Sister Palmö wasn’t saying anything. The silence —

Uncomfortable. Deki didn’t like how she wasn’t saying anything or the stare she felt boring into the side of her head. The other nuns scolded her when she broke that talking rule. They weren’t quiet.

Deki glanced up at her. “You have a face,” she said. “It’s not big like everyone else, but I can see it.” She sat up to wet the washcloth again, taking the moment to look at Sister Palmö, watching her eyes and face and doing the same expression she’d always seen on her when she thought she wasn’t looking. “You look like this, see? You have this face.”

Sister Palmö still didn’t say anything.

Oh, she hurt her feelings by saying that, didn’t she?

“So…” Deki looked away, feeling unsure. She picked the washcloth out of the water and wrung it. “I would like to finish cleaning this prayer room first, and then I’ll go outside later.”

This time Sister Palmö answered her, looking down at the floor. “Deki, you don’t — you don’t have to finish cleaning the prayer room if you don’t want to.” Her mouth tensed and her brows wrinkled at the front briefly. “You can go outside now, if you want. I didn’t assign you the chore, so you don’t have to.”

Deki understood she didn’t have to do this when that teacher had assigned it to her just to be mean, but it was kind of… fun in a way. She was alone while cleaning the prayer rooms. There was no one talking, no one looking at her, saying mean things about her.

It was quiet, so she didn’t get distracted from her chores. (Well— except whoever kept knocking over her water bucket in the beginning. They’d disappeared after the first week.)

Deki had come to like the quiet she had when she cleaned the prayer rooms. It was just her and the statues watching her clean.

Their stares did feel a bit… human sometimes, but Deki didn’t say that to anyone. (A nun had asked her once, in this voice she didn’t like, about how she found the chores to be while she was refilling the bucket and Deki had answered with ‘the statues stare at me sometimes,’ and the nun replied with ‘but of course! They’re judging you!’ and couldn’t stop her giggles. They weren’t the nice giggles either. They were the mean giggles. Deki saw that nun later that day talking to that teacher.)

“I know,” she answered. “I know she did this just to be mean to me, but I kinda like it. No one bothers me, no one’s mean to me here; it’s quiet and I get to be alone.” She said. “I’ll finish cleaning, and I’ll go outside later.”

For once, Deki found the expression on Sister Palmö’s face, it was there for just a second, to be foreign, and she didn’t understand why.

Only White Lady looked at her with that face.

She didn’t keep count of how much time had passed since she told Sister Palmö she knew she didn’t like her, but someone approached her one day while she was outside with her drawing charcoal and coloured wax.

A girl who looked to be the same age as her. Deki didn’t know who the girl was.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m — I’m drawing?”

“Ooh!” The other girl sat down in the grass beside her. “What are you drawing?”

Deki didn’t know the proper word or why she thought so when she looked at her, but something about the other girl’s face was like a knife.

“I’m—,” Deki looked down at her drawing, feeling unsure. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “I’m trying to draw the trees — those ones over there, the thin ones.”

The other girl gasped, eyes moving from her drawing and to the trees repeatedly. “Woah! I think your drawing looks really great!”

This girl didn’t have the face like everyone else did. 

She didn’t know what to do with that information.

Deki examined her drawing more closely. “You think so?” 

“Yeah!” The other girl grinned. Again. There was something knife-like about her face. Blinding. Strong. Fire. “It’s a lot better than what I can draw, but then I can’t really draw that well either.” She laughed while rubbing the back of her neck.

Deki really looked at her.

There was Fire Nation in her face.

“What?”

“You’re not from the Eastern temple, are you?”

“Hehe, no, I’m from the Western temple,” the other girl wiggled back and forth in her place. “Man… I tried to be cool about it, too. What gave it away?”

“That you’re talking to me.”

“Why? Did you do something bad?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So…” the other girl frowned. “Why would it be weird for me to talk to you?”

“I don’t know,” Deki shrugged. “People don’t really like me here.”

“… why?”

The other girl didn’t like the answers she had, so she continued to sit with her in ‘protest,’ as she called it and did not stop talking until the nuns called the children in for dinner.

Deki never learned her name when they were outside, but she tore up some extra paper she had so they could draw together instead.

It’s after dinner that Deki learned the name of the other girl when Sister Palmö pulled her aside before leaving.

“Deki, wait a moment, will you?” She asked and gestured for her to come into another room., “I have someone I want you to meet.”

There, peeking around Sister Palmö’s legs, was the face of the other girl, barely holding back a grin the moment their eyes met.

“This is Semyang,” she introduced. “She’s from the Western temple.”

“Semyang?” Deki tested the name on her tongue. It wasn’t — her name, Semyang, it wasn’t a normal name, like what everyone else had.

The name Semyang was like how her name was Deki.

Deki and not Diki.

“Yes, exactly,” Sister Palmö nodded. “I thought the two of you would get along well when you both have unusual names.”

Semyang bounced on her feet and — apparently Sister Palmö took too long and she shot toward Deki, arms open, and pulled her into a hug.

“We’re going to be best friends!” Semyang pulled back from the hug, her hands still holding onto her shoulders. “That I promise you.”

Whether Deki wanted to or not, Semyang dragged her along with her. “Come on! This way! I saw this statue earlier, and I wanna see it again.”

It was mid-arm pull on Semyang’s end that Deki had the split second to look up at Sister Palmö and see what face she had.

She didn’t know what her face meant. It looked kinda sad and kinda happy at the same time. Her eyes looked different, but Deki couldn’t explain it.

“Did Sister Palmö ask you to come to me earlier?”

“What — no, well, she did later after we got inside. I didn’t tell her that we met each other outside.”

“So you,” Deki struggled to wrap her head around the thought, “you talked to me because you wanted to?”

“Yeah, duh?” Semyang answered as if it was something so simple. “I thought you looked lonely, but—,” a smile that Deki would call embarrassed, broke out on her lips. “It was also kind of hard to approach you? Which hasn’t happened to me before. I don’t know how to explain it. You have that pretty kind of lonely, you know? When someone looks lonely and you walk up to them, but you stop and look at them first before talking to them.”

“… You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course you are! Why wouldn’t you be?”

That, Deki realised, was the first time someone called her pretty and meant it.

When Deki had lived to her fifth year and they started having more homework and tests every week, the teachers began accusing her of having cheated or outright just not believing that she had written the answers.

They always said it like that, too. 

“You can’t have written these answers.”

Deki was — well, they didn’t like it when she was sad. They didn’t like it when she was angry. So she didn’t show them she was hurt and angry by what they thought.

But Deki was unbelievably angry at what they thought about her; That they treated her like they did. Hurt that the effort she put into her studies never seemed to be enough and ashamed over whatever they could see in her that she couldn’t see.

It was so uncomfortable and burning, almost like her chest had caught fire, that Deki didn’t want to be angry a second time.

“Did you hear it?” Deki bit the inside of her cheek to keep quiet when a group of teenage girls walked past the unlit hallway she’d taken shelter in to be alone after what happened in the classroom. “Yeah — apparently a student cheated.”

Someone giggled. “No way, really?”

She didn’t cheat. The inside of her mouth tasted weird. She didn’t cheat on that test. 

Deki studied hard, like everyone else. She read all the books the teachers asked them to and more, took notes, asked questions — and when the teachers didn’t answer her, she asked White Lady or Wise Man and they always answered her.

Deki only stopped biting the insides of her cheeks when the group had walked far enough away. She inhaled through her nose, hastily wiped her face of tears and swallowed — the weird taste in her mouth continued down her throat and lingered.

She took another breath through her nose, quick and shaky. Quiet so others wouldn’t hear her because it would bother them and they’d get angry at her and she really didn’t want to be around them right now.

Deki bit her lip, wiped her face again when her eyes stung with more tears and tried to relax her face and get some control of her face back.

She would get better with her feelings.

A hand touched her elbow. “Deki?” She turned to see Wise Man crouched down to her height. His face and eyes were sad; his eyes wet, the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly and his brows tilted upward.

For a moment, Deki was reminded of Sister Palmö’s face back in the prayer room last year. Sister Palmö’s face hadn’t been as big as Wise Man was now, but close enough for her to remember.

“Are you alright?” And she thought of lying because Wise Man was an adult even if he looked very young. Wise Man wasn’t like the nuns were, though. Deki shook her head and lost control of her face, feeling it scrunching up with more tears she tried to control. “No,” she shook her head, voice cracking, “I’m not.”

Wise Man pulled her into a hug and picked her up.

“I’m angry, I’m hurt and I don’t understand why —,” his hand circled over her back. “Because I didn’t cheat! I didn’t cheat on the test, and I don’t understand why they think I did, and they won’t tell me—,”

“Oh, I know Deki,” he comforted, gently swaying side to side, “I know you didn’t cheat. You answered everything correctly.”

“So why?” Her voice hurt. Why think she cheated? Why say it in front of everyone that she cheated? 

“They are—,” she heard him lick his lips and swallow, “they are severely deluded and cling desperately to something they’ve believed to be true for their entire lives.”

… Anger was something innately human.

As was passion.

“I don’t understand, but I didn’t cheat.”

“Only a cheater tries to deny the claim.”

“As does someone innocent if the claim is based on lies.” The Wise Prince couldn’t help the small, prideful smile at Deki’s quick retort to the teacher.

“I read and studied everything you asked us to. I took notes on each book, so I’m telling you, I did not cheat!”

He’d wager Deki studied more than every student in her class combined.

“You know, when I first visited it was like wading through oil.” Wise Body leaned back on a student’s desk, eyeing the teacher out of the corner of her eye. “Some parts were thinner and other parts were thick, and I could feel it cling to my skin — most of it stemming from people like this teacher.”

“I didn’t notice at first when I left her here.” An enlightened prince who resided in the upper realm in his Vimala pure land, omniscient and with the finest wisdom at his fingertips — that was a very human mistake. “It was only afterwards that I began to feel it.”

He’d been in the form of a child then, and children were humans in their truest form. Emotions.

Everything was emotional and acted out of emotion.

“Hm? You misjudged something?” Wise Body tilted her head, a sly smirk on her lips. “When’s the last time you did that?”

“Several lifetimes ago.” He smiled wry. It had been after he renounced his title as prince and his kingdom and he’d begun his path to unlimited wisdom and enlightenment, but before he received his own Pure land. 

Deki’s hands trembled slightly while she glared at the teacher with a controlled rage, too much for her small body, and only then, did the teacher stop— no, that was not right at all.

She faltered.

The teacher faltered in the face of Deki’s righteous anger and she did not stop completely, tapering off like an unsteady line of water.

“You know they picked her guardian solely from her experience in combat, right?” Wise Body said, “they believe this— delusion,” her entire face twisted, as if the word was forced out of her mouth. “That there is something in her blood, a darkness that they keep dormant with the teachings of the man from Tsongkha, but they believe his teachings can fail and that the darkness will awaken if she’s angry or showing strong emotions.”

The Wise Prince wanted to laugh, however, he didn’t have a history of laughing at human ignorance. This one, though, his mouth twitched a little, without his input, as Wise Body told him of the shared delusion.

What was it that Deki called it? A mean laugh. A mocking laugh.

“I do not believe holding my sword in the hottest of flames can cut through this shared delusion they have,” some maybe, but not everyone when there were those who clung so desperately onto it. 

“I comfort myself sometimes,” It had been a pleasant surprise when he’d returned to Vimala after leaving Deki at the temple to be met with an advanced, colourful kalachakra mandala in the sky where Human girl was seated in the center. “With the knowledge that no one here has reached her mother’s affinity and level for the kalachakra tantra.”

And Deki, so aware of herself and her place in the world, was showing the same affinity for it.

Deki had gone outside later that day, sometime during the afternoon when the sun wasn’t as high in the sky anymore, to a secluded spot by a hill, not that far from one of the smaller spires.

She’d spent a good hour or two writing a letter to Semyang about what happened after she calmed down from crying.

She’d brought her ink painting set outside, too, with slow and measured steps so she wouldn’t spill anything on herself or the grass. (The temptation to draw one, straight line across her sleeve was there, though.) The original plan was to add something else to Semyang’s letter, so it wasn’t just sad and angry, but instead, sad, angry and a little happy.

(Deki was going to add the small ink painting of a lemur climbing a branch and send it later when it dried.)

That had been the original plan.

Now, Deki was several painting strokes into another painting she didn’t know what would be.

She dipped her brush in ink, gently dabbed off excess and cupped her hand under it — Deki paused for a moment and looked at her hand cupped under the wet brush.

What if she—

… No. She shook her head. Tempting, but no. She’d have to talk to the nuns and she still didn’t want to see them.

There was also the chance her body would forget this drawing feeling and she wouldn’t see what it would end up as. That was a no-no. Unknown painting subjects were much better than getting scolded.

Sister Palmö had reluctantly gotten her the set, something about not knowing if Deki could care for it properly, but Deki had burned through enough drawing charcoal and coloured wax on her drawings to convince her.

Unlike charcoal and coloured wax, ink had an almost bottomless supply at the temple, which drawing charcoal and coloured wax didn’t.

It was like her own little world whenever she drew or painted. Deki smiled while her hand drew this long ink stroke. She could control what she painted, who was happy, who was sad, what got broken and what got fixed.

(If asked, there were some drawings of those who were mean to her losing things and breaking things, but Deki had felt so guilty afterward she’d drawn them again with the things they’d lost and broken things not broken.)

Deki was so in her little world that she didn’t notice something walking toward her.

“Um…”

What—

“Oh.” Startled, her hand pushed the brush down, leaving a blotchy spot on the paper. Deki inhaled to calm herself, lifted the brush off of the paper and turned to look at who it was.

A girl.

This girl wasn’t Semyang, though.

This girl was in her class. Deki didn’t know her name. They didn’t speak to each other either.

She would often see her with a group of nuns at the small spire before, though. Walking to and from the spire during the midday and late afternoon. Before they even were in the same class. 

This girl wasn’t supposed to speak to her. People didn’t like her. They didn’t speak to her like this. She wasn’t Semyang, who was from the Western temple and didn’t know that people didn’t like her here.

“Hi…” Her classmate said after a moment of silence.

Deki looked at her. Her throat was moving weirdly, even when her mouth wasn’t open. “Hello.”

Another moment of silence passed, longer than the previous one and Deki was unsure of what to do. She glanced down at her painting, to the brush, the inkwell and then back to her classmate. Her throat kept moving oddly as if she was talking, but her mouth wasn’t moving.

“I- um,” the other girl’s eyes squeezed shut, and it almost looked like she was angry, but no anger came. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

(Deki only noted afterward how she kept clenching and unclenching her hands and occasionally picking at her nails.)

“I-I-,” she cleared her throat, took another deep breath and exhaled before resuming, “My name is kind of weird, too, you know.” The other girl sat down in the grass beside her. It was reflex that Deki turned away slightly to shield her ink painting, but the other girl didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s supposed to be Peśa, like from the sacred language, but everyone just calls me Pesha because the adults say it flows more with the dialect.”
“Oh.” Deki didn’t know how to answer that. She always corrected the adults when they said ‘Diki.’

She’d even correct the nuns if they’d written her name wrong on tests.

(Peśa, Peśa… that meant ornament, no? She’d have to ask White Lady later.)

“So, I just thought I’d tell you, if you want to be friends.”

It was there so briefly. Deki didn’t know what the feeling was. Warm and so unfamiliar, and she took a good second to look at the other girl as she picked at the grass. Warm, unfamiliar and— she’d imagine this was what others felt when they came home to someone and ate dinner together. Something like home. But just as quickly, she shut it away behind something high and unbreakable. Because Deki knew.

No.

No, people don’t like me here.

So, Pesha— Peśa? Peśa?? What was she supposed to call her—

Her classmate wasn’t supposed to be talking to her. She wasn’t supposed to have approached her in the first place.

It was a truth Deki saw as absolute.

This wasn’t like Semyang who didn’t know like people here knew.

On one hand, Deki wanted to ask her to go away, but on the other hand… she was curious where this would go. If Pesha— for now—  was trying to trick her or… maybe she was genuine.

Then that would make her the first friend Deki got here. At the Eastern temple where people didn’t like her.

“I believe you, you know.”

Deki blinked. “What?”

“That you didn’t cheat on the test like the teacher believed you did.” Pesha picked at the longest grass shards now. “I see you sometimes while you’re in the library, you study a lot. More than others in the class, so I don’t think you cheated.”

That wasn’t. Deki didn’t expect that.

“Oh,” There was that feeling again. Deki forced it away, back behind the high and unbreakable wall that made it so she didn’t get angry or sad in front of others. “Okay. Thank you for believing me, you’re very kind.”

She put her brush in the inkwell. Why did she get so unsure all of a sudden?

“I don’t know what friends do.”

“You don’t?” 

“No— I mean, I don’t know what friends do here.” At the temple. This temple. Deki didn’t have friends here. Semyang wasn’t here, and she was the only friend Deki had until now. (She was friendly with Semyang’s friends, but Semyang had a lot of friends so she wasn’t friends with them yet.)

“What do you mean? Are friends different in other places?”

“I don’t know.”

Pesha looked at her, and Deki felt it. She glanced up to see how her face looked and quickly looked at the brush in the inkwell.

Confusion, but it was genuine. True. Honest.

“Some friends do a lot of things together,” Semyang, “and other friends don’t do that many things together. It just depends on who the people are.”

Deki mulled over the answer and tried to imagine it. “I guess that makes sense…”

A beat passed and Pesha asked. “What are you painting?” 

“What— oh…” Deki looked at her painting. It looked like a squiggled pattern of some sort. A mandala maybe?  “I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“But you have to pay attention when you’re drawing or painting.”

“Not all the time,” Sister Palmö had said the same thing when Deki tried explaining it. “Sometimes your body finds a feeling and just decides before it asks the mind.”

Pesha tilted her head. “How does that make sense?”

Deki went back inside when the nuns called that it was dinner, unsure if she had made a new friend.

Then, Pesha began waiting for her after classes were over, something that had thrown her so off and it took a week before Deki felt safe to think she wasn’t trying to trick her.

Sometimes Pesha would sit with her at lunch.

(Deki did not miss how a certain few nuns looked at Pesha when she sat down at her table.)

She’d come to her when they were outside asking if she wanted to play together. Deki of course said yes.

How could she say no?

“Are we friends?” Deki asked while she sat between Pesha’s legs and got her hair braided. 

“I’d say we are, yes.”

Unlike Deki who only had Semyang as a friend before, Pesha had other friends, too.

“And... do your friends mind that we are friends?” Pesha’s rhythm stuttered so badly that Deki felt confident to make her own answer. They mind, then. 

“I can have more friends,” her tone was off, “what they say doesn’t matter.”

They did care, but Pesha wanted to be her friend.

That was— she didn’t know what to say.

Her throat kept getting choked up and Deki kept swallowing to make it disappear.

Pesha would be her first friend here.

Where people didn’t like her.

A heavy feeling tried to settle in chest and she took deep breaths to make that go away, too.

(Deki couldn’t quite let go of the tiny possibility that Pesha was tricking her. She needed to get better control of her feelings.)

“I can call you Peśa if we are alone, if you want.”

“… I’d like that yeah,” her fingers twitched in her hair. She could imagine her face. “I will call you Deki and write it as Deki and not Diki.”

Deki couldn’t quite stop her smile there, no matter how much she tried.

… The first time Deki had been allowed to bring her charcoal and coloured wax with her outside, she’d been too caught up in her own little world to notice it.

The Wise Prince and Wise Body, however, weren’t.

Over the course of a week, there was a group of three nuns and a single girl that would walk the trail on the small hill to the smallest spire at the temple.

Each time, without fault, that child would gaze at Deki’s back as she drew with her charcoal pencils and coloured wax completely lost in her own little world, until one of the nuns would notice and chide her for looking at Deki.

The Wise Prince didn’t have to be close to feel the bubbling curiosity coming off of her in waves— it was practically a bright, flickering beam that illuminated the darkness behind his eyelids— and this… rebellious want to approach Deki and how a strong emotion, unclear to him, but very human, would stop her from venturing off the trail and away from the group of nuns to approach Deki. 

This day was no different.

While Deki was trying to balance four rocks because she wanted to draw them on top of each other, the group of nuns and child walked the trail on the hill, and the child gazed at Deki as she tried to balance the rocks for longer than usual. Still so curious.

The rebellious want to approach Deki—

… No? No. That wasn’t a ‘rebellious want,’ today. That had changed. Hm. Wouldn’t that in human terms be a ‘longing want?’ A longing want to approach her, but lacking courage?

“I don’t understand.” He said, watching the groups back as they passed. The child continued to look at Deki over her shoulder for a couple of more seconds before looking back ahead. 

She hadn’t done that before.

Wise Body, who’d been helping Deki balance the rocks, straightened up, walking toward him, stopping at his left. She gave the passing group a glance. “What is it you don’t understand?”

“That child with that group of nuns,” he began, “it’s clear that she wants to approach Deki, but she doesn’t. Why?” 

Wise Body sighed, her lips pressing together. “It’s the three nuns with her,” she answered, “I have not seen a child with more fear in their body than her and it’s because of those nuns…”