The Foundry | Part One | Chapter Ten
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part One | Thrice Bled Heart
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Chapter Ten
Echo was waiting in the terminal surrounded by so many others. The energy was hectic, arrivals and departures scrambling the same, folks just trying to make headway through it all. Something terrible had happened.
She’d seen them sitting across from her and not believed it, no idea how they’d known to find her here, confused as to what changed regarding how determined they were to never do this.
Just the sight of Rory made Echo’s heart sing, as always, but even moreso when they could look at her with softened eyes. Despite the fact they often seemed so sad, as they certainly had under these circumstances.
There was a long period of pensive discussion from across the way. Eventually, Echo had felt it silly to be speaking as people passed between them. She’d been bold and just moved over to sit on the same bench.
Apologies weren’t really necessary under the circumstances, but Rory shared one all the same, as did Echo, and it made a biggest difference inside. Something held within for a longest time, even before her failed run on The Gauntlet, and that dishonorably self-made exile from The Foundry was finally releasing.
Never had she been truly at peace with Rory. The way she’d loved them was too much to handle because of how little space they had to receive it, and she’d felt that way since the first time they held each other.
In response to that most incredible healing she’d received in their arms, Echo told the worst lie she would ever tell — and she’d done it repeatedly, to their face — pretending she wasn’t more in love with them than anyone she’d ever met. Also neglecting to mention that from the night after their first kiss, she found herself acknowledging a sensation of feeling born to thought never before heard inside, ‘I’m so fucking hers.’
She thought they had to know. It seemed so obvious to her, and she’d said it in every way which was remotely acceptable to Rory. Still, there were many times where she’d looked Rory dead in the eye and lied straight to their face; told them she wouldn’t fall in love with them when she already had. When she knew she could never love another person more. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it possible to feel the same with anyone else — it was that her love for Rory was clearly maxed out. She’d simply not believe a more powerful emotion could be felt.
To stand before them once more, and speak with them again — now a grown woman in so many ways, as she hadn’t been when they’d spent their time together — was all Echo ever wanted in coming back to The Foundry, when it came to her hopes with Rory.
Near the end of their conversation, after much time allowing those holdings in their body from of all which had passed between them to fade, and as a biggest surprise to Echo, Rory moved closer.
There weren’t words. Rory just leaned her head onto Echo’s shoulder. They’d rested that way for what felt like an incredible amount of time, somehow alone together, despite the bustling crowd around them.
It was the single healing moment Echo had been seeking; it was everything.
She woke up from the dream feeling confused, having gone to sleep a lie; some construction of her buried hurt transfigured to anger made a persona.
The deceit was gone, and she was back to the root of it all over again. Facing not only what she did in that classroom, but how she’d broken Ashe in her hurt, and every bit of the false-persona of grandeur she’d allowed herself to stride around in — it made her think of that look on Leopold’s face, and how he’d clearly felt bad for her.
She was understanding why now. This had been a lesson seemingly unlearned many times over.
Also, quite truthfully, an unavoidable part of the way Echo would process her grief. She’d long had people try to teach her better ways, espousing ideas of how she ought communicate or channel her feelings better, and was made to feel quite wrong for the way she was. There was a line somewhere which Echo felt people left unseen, regarding how to balance the acceptance of self as one was, including the traumatized parts in need of healing, with the equally valid pursuit of self-improvement.
Echo knew first hand, from many examples within her contradictory nature, and how she’d been forced to find a way despite the lack of space within society to help them flourish — some things just couldn’t be changed.
What she sought now, and would until the day she’d actually settle with someone, were only people who’d respect the way she was. The ones who loved her for it.
She’d realized then; she owed someone a biggest hug.
An oddest thing it was, Echo thought, to see Leopold crying like that. He was such a rock for her, always. He’d been just like her long ago; one of the few to survive death in simulation, connected to his mech and beside his companion intelligence. She loved him.
There were times where she’d thought herself perceiving some attraction he’d held towards her, and he was a very cute boy. His presence would even cause her to think about how nice it would feel to have someone around like him, helping her feel cared for that way he did. A lot of men would be prone to making her feel that way.
Echo found it unfortunate he was boy — specifically, a cisgendered one — which had proven itself a deal breaker romantically. Though, it did take the pressure off, and allow the friendship to go farther than it ever would otherwise. She’d have surely fucked it up if that weren’t the case, is what she thought.
It wasn’t even the private-parts of cisgendered men; it was that damned smell. Boys smelled like hell to Echo; the horrors of her childhood, intimate spaces shared with frightful men, or worst of all her father — there was no hope to feel at ease in their arms.
Most everything within Echo preferred women anyway; their ways of resilient authenticity, tenacious self-exploration, fearless creativity, and how often it would be done before odds most daunting. She thought they were the prettiest too. It was only that ability men had to make her feel seen and cared for as a woman, in some strangest unknowable way, whatever that even meant, which she’d often find most lacking in those she truly pined after, and made it all kind of sad.
They’d been laughing about the way she’d dismantled Ashe with such horrifying ruthlessness. Reflecting on how insane that really was. She’d been thanking him repeatedly for stopping the recording.
“When did you stop it though?” She’d eventually asked.
He just smiled, and it scared her for a minute, Echo though he might’ve kept it in secret. Leopold was honest when he’d told her, “I turned that off right when you started.”
Leopold knew Echo well. She was grateful for him, and all the people she’d found some means to hold a friendship with this way. Feeling into how bright her love was burning — even removed from that touch she found so precious, and any romantic wanting which made her light soar — was when she’d finally realized the most important thing to her life would always be her friends.
