"This above all, - To thine own self be true"

Shakespere's 'Hamlet, Prince of Denmark' Act 1, Scene 3.

The bench was a cold and unyeilding surface beneath Kim, a hard board poorly bolted into a cast-iron frame. Having sat upon it less than half an hour she was already having trouble feeling her legs and her rear felt like it it was punctured in thousands of places by tiny needles. It would not have suprised Kim to find out the bench was made of scrap, just one more way to cut corners in a motel that had cut so many it's shape had to be round.

Shifting her weight a little she uncrossed her legs and leaned forwards, pulling a simple deck of playing careds out of her bag. It wasn't the bench that was bothering her, it was the uncertainty. The dusty air with a vague stagnant scent, the sprinkling of mold, and acridity of soured carpet stung her nostrils yet they were all but forgotten. Peeling paint and worn laquor edges about the door behind which the love of her life was making her decision in understandable solitude were merely a stage befitting the current act of her life. 'If Hell had a Waiting Room', Act 1, scene three.

She had to do something with her hands and mind, and having nothing with her to carve on, shape, or sculpt, a game of Solitaire would do. Or at least just shuffling the cards and practicing on her card counting. The cards made a soft papery flutter as they lept from one hand to the other, natural dexterity and hand-eye coordination having long ago made it an easy excercise.

Her mind's sharp calculations told her the outcome of the game even as she lay down the cards; she lost. It was true that Solitaire was a game of both skill and chance, but it was still mostly chance. She could have bent outcome to her favor, but there was no point in doing so. The excercise of going through the game's motions was a strange, almost meditative, escape for her.

"That one is also a loss. Why continue the game?" came a soft alto, more like a wind than a voice, from next to Kim.

"Oh great, just what I need. Are you trying to get me committed, Rahtiel?" snorted Kim as she continued to lay out the cards.

The Angel of Constellations giggled, actually giggled, at Kim in no bounds of amusement as she reached down and laid a few of Kim's cards out for her. The ring of giggles in Kim's ears was a reverberating echo as she gasped at the Angel's motions, it had never moved things about in the real world before and she was no longer sure how much of what she was seeing was in her own mind.

"How did you..." began Kim.

"Do that?" Rahtiel finished. "Errin, my dear, you've simply not been paying much attention have you? I am not just some dream, or figment of your imagination."

"Don't call me that" Kim grated, her teeth clenched and grinding like a rusted gate.

Ignoring her plea the angel casually crossed her legs, knee-over-knee like Kim "Hush, child, pay attention. I want to know, why continue to play the game if you know it is a lost one?"

Kim was silent for a moment, pondering the question. It was never the destination, it was the journey. She had come to help Aliya, protect her, aid her, and let her go if need be. The end was not as important as simply being there for her was, the path was the same no matter the end.

"Because the journey is more important than the destination" she said softly. Looking to her side she sighed softly, Rahtiel having vanished. Her Avatar always left her feeling unhinged, but this time she simply felt at peace. She would never try to own Aliya, she had come to help her because she loved her. It did not matter what choice the young woman made, though she may never love again she would always love Aliya and that was part of the journey of her life.