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nottobemourned
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For someone who had received a very fatal stab wound while fighting in the most legendary war of all time, Penthesilea of Cyrene, Queen of the Amazons, certainly had a lot of expectations as to what could possibly happen next. There would be a boat; that much she knew for sure. Everyone from the Athenians to the Spartans, the Trojans to the Amazons' own neighbors in the West said that there would be a boat to ferry her into the Next World. And Penthesilea knew that that many people, who mostly hated each other and frequently disagreed just on principle, could not possibly be wrong.
She was not expecting to wake up on the ground, in dirt, with the sun glaring in her eyes. As she groggily sat up and pulled herself to her feet, Penthesilea wondered why she'd thought the After Life would be a dark place with perhaps the light of an eternal moon and stars. She couldn't exactly remember anyone saying outright that it was so.
Penthesilea tried to shake off the uneasy feeling she had. There was no reason do be so rattled by a sunny sky, even when dead. Especially when dead! With all the light she could easily observe her surroundings and protect her soul while in this precarious position.
As she looked around, Penthesilea observed that Land of the Dead was, indeed, in the West (a fact that she was sure would please the Amazon's Egyptian neighbors). And the waiting area of the After Life was evidently a very pleasant and temperate forest. There were many trees that she did not recognize, some of them larger than she ever could've imagined. But she supposed this was because these trees kept growing after they died.
Once she'd grown accustomed to her surroundings, Penthesilea heard the gentle rushing of a river and was quite pleased that it sounded so nearby. It took hardly any wandering at all to find it. And although she did not yet see the boat she expected to ferry her into the Eternal Resting Place, she was confident it would come. She eased herself down, to sit on the bank of the river, and waited.
Tags:
penthesilea, white rabbit
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"Well, I'm most certainly dead," Penthesilea assured him confidently. "I remember my death vividly. I was fighting in the war over at Troy," She began with a dreamy sigh, as if describing a fond, tender memory.
"My unit had just made an impressive push forward when I found myself face-to-face with Achilles. Of course, you'll have heard of Achilles--" But Penthesilea did not actually wait for Rabbit to tell her if he had or not, she just continued on with her tale, "Honestly, it was an honor to be slain by his hand. A good hard death. My sisters will be proud, I think. Sword to the gut on the battle field!"
She looked down at her stomach a made a slightly displeased face. "It makes me almost wish the wound was still there to be shown off."
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It shouldn't have been possible, but somehow Rabbit grew paler as this strange woman spoke of war in aplace he didn't knwo with people he'd never heard of. And that ghastly wound she described! Rabbit was beginning to think that, dead or not, she was quite mad. He needed to get away, he determined, and soon.
"I, uh, I'm sorry?" he ventured, not qutie sure what else to say. "You, uh, you do have a rather large knife. If you wanted to, I'm sure you could recreate the wound," he added helpfully.
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Rabbit shook his vehemently. "I've never heard of it," he reiterated. "And please, I do wish you'd stop saying I was dead. I truly don't recall dying and I really don't think I am dead." Though, with his current state of confusion, he couldn't say for certain.
He frowned at the river, narrow and swiftly moving, then looked at her. "Uh...I don't know as a ferry would fit in that river. Not very well at least. But if you're dead, I don't suppose that matters much. You really do look rather healthy, though. It's a shame...Anyway, I don't have time to wait for a boat," he added with renewed agitation. "I'm late for, well, everything!" Oh, the queen was sure to have his head and his cottage was burned down by now for sure!
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"Well, the trees were a big clue," he muttered under his breath as he continued in his vaguely southward direction. Louder, he said, "Well, I've been walking for a good while and have yet to come across any homes. And this area seems a bit wilder than the territories in Ozland. Also, if I'm not in Ozland, then the closest areas I'm aware of are the Sleeping Woods, a jungle I can't remember the name of, and a lake I also can't remember the name of." Anxious and uncertain he might have been, but his intelligence was still up to fair bit of deduction.
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One would think, having followed Rabbit for quite some time now, that an experienced warrior such as Penthesilea would begin to expect some of his erratic behaviors. But alas, she did not. She was still trying to keep track of her surroundings when Rabbit bolted even faster. Shocked still for only a moment, Penthesilea clumsily started running faster. As fast as she could. Sprinting, really, ignoring everything about her location, concentrating only on catching up. But Rabbit faded farther and farther away. With what little breath she had, Penthesilea shouted out to him, "Rabbit, slow down!" But from that distance she couldn't be sure if he'd heard her.
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