capitol || noelani keona manu

I can’t leave what I left behind
And just let go, just let go

age: six

“But… but what is it, papa?”

”It’s a fish, my little sparkle. You know that. You’ve learned about them.”

The bowl is heavy in my arms, water sloshing along the sides with every small movement I make. My curious eyes shine with excitement as I stare down at my new pet. I’ve never seen a fish before in my life. It’s so tiny. I didn’t think they would fit in such small bowls. I want to hold it. I make a frustrated sound, lifting the bowl a little higher as it slips in my hands. Nanny Jezebel takes it from me, pacing away to place it on the low table in my room. I skip-jump after her, my feet only making fleeting contact with the floor before I bound forward another step. A bubbling giggle erupts from my mouth as I fling myself onto the couch just behind the table. My body folds forward across the gap so I can lean upon the table, one of my hands reaching out to dunk into the bowl. I get grabbed before I can actually do anything.

”Now now, Lani. You can’t do that,” nanny tutts.

I pull back, face crumping in confusion. It’s a pet. I must pet it. That’s what it’s there for. My eyes snap over to see papa as he’s leaving, perfectly cared-for suit smooth across his back. A small pang of sadness settles in my lungs and for a moment I want nothing more than to cry. I swallow down the urge, turning around to face Nanny Jezebel besides me. The pout on my face is ridiculous, at best. My lips are already pouty enough without putting extra effort into it. I snuggle up to her side, fitting into the space between her arm and her body as she wraps me up in comfort. The pout drops from my face as I curl my legs up, resting my chin upon my knees and circling my legs with my arms. My eyes stare outward at the bowl, following the slow movements of the fish’s fins wiggle back and forth. It’s cute, a rich orange and a little shiny looking. Its eyes are big. I giggle again, Nanny Jezebel skimming a hand over my ribs to make the sounds louder.

“Nanny Jezebel!” I gasp out, squirming away from her grasp and toppling onto the floor. I hear a please sound from her and I smile, whipping my blonde hair from my face. It’s all tangled from bed still. Nanny keeps trying to make me sit still so she can brush it, but I won’t stop moving. I’ll let her eventually. Right now, I only push it out of my face so I can peer up at the fish again. Sliding up onto my knees, I lean forward so my nose presses against the glass so I can stare at it. “Nanny, why can’t I pet it?”

She tutts under her breath, leaning forward behind me so she can comb her fingers through my hair. I wriggle as she separates knots little by little, scrunching up my nose against the glass what little I can to get away. My eyes never leave the fish, though. It could fit in my hands if I held it. It’s so cute, so little. It looks sad, though. It’s all alone in there. It must be lonely. I reach out with stubby fingers to stroke at the glass, smiling as the fish glides through the water. Nanny pulls me back a little so I’m kneeling between her legs. Her hands maneuver through my hair, twisting and smoothing it out as she braids it back out of my face. I hum in appreciation, tucking a stray lock behind my ear.

”All creations are fragile things. If I pet you too hard, you don’t like it either, do you?” nanny chides, patting my head three times, a little bit more force with each tap. I spin around to stick out my tongue at her, waving at her hand until she stops petting me. She smiles and I can’t help but do the same in return. I clamber up her legs before twisting to look at my fish again. ”See? But some animals are even more fragile. It’s even easier to hurt them. Fish are very fragile. It’s also a bit out of its element. They’re usually in bigger bodies of water, like seas and lakes and rivers.” I frown, staring at the tiny bowl my fish is kept in. It must not be happy in there. Maybe I can put it in the bathtub. That’s bigger. It would probably be happiest outside, though. The lake there is nice. Oh, I should put it in the lake!

“We can put it in the lake!” I cry, spinning around to grin at nanny. I start to clamber from her lap, but she holds me tight. Her laughter bubbles through the room around her ’no, no, no dearest’ and I huff, wriggling around until I can face her. “Why?”

“It doesn’t belong in the lake. The lake is much bigger than its bowl. It won’t survive out there. The world is too big for it. We must take of it right here, as much as we can.”

cause I believe in what I cannot find
I just don’t know, just don’t know

age: ten

I feel more at peace here than ever in any place before. I’ve only ever known my home. Here, though, here I could live forever. Dark trees tower above me, branches fanning out with rich emerald plumage to catch the silver beams of the moon and let the byproduct twinkle down across my skin. My eyes can hardly take it all in. I swivel my head around to look out across the clearing, blinking quickly to clear the haze, but it doesn’t go away. I can’t bring anything into focus.

”Lani, come on.”

The voice that whispers in my ear sounds so far away. My head whips around, eyes searching for its origin, but there’s no one here. Where is here anyway? How did I get to this place? I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, but everything seems so blurry now. My vision swims as I try to clear it, breathing strained as the trees before me melt and morph into darkness.

”C’mon, dearest. You’ve got to wake up now.”

I whine low in my throat, eyelids fluttering open just slightly at the call. There are hands on my shoulders, shaking at my prone form, but I can’t bring myself to move. Everything feels so heavy. I feel as if I can hardly breathe. It seems as if I’ve fallen into the darkness along with the trees from moments ago, but I know it isn’t true. That was all a dream. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. This, lying in my bed, is real. I blink slowly, groaning quietly as Nanny Jezebel’s voice rings in my ear again, a hushed whisper in the darkness.

“Lani, please. We have to go.”

The lead in my bones keeps me drugged down as Nanny shuffles about the room quickly. I can hear her quiet murmuring as she shoves clothes into a bag and tucks my favorite stuffed animal in beside them. She hurries back to me, shaking me a little more frantically. I let out a shallow breath, lifting my arm with difficulty to push her away. All at once, my senses seem to start coming back to me. Lani, please. We have to go. Go? Go where? My eyes widen as I push myself up, staring at nanny as she brings over a new shirt and pants and a jacket, telling me to get changed quickly in that careful, quiet tone. I bob my head in quick, short jerks, slipping out of bed almost silently before changing. As soon as my shirt is over my head, nanny is behind me, fingers making quick work of my hair. The moment I am finished putting on my shoes, she lifts me up to rest against her hip and walks to the door.

It’s darker than my dreams outside. The moon is hidden away somewhere beyond my sight, the night sky only just illuminated with twinkling stars. Our entire home is cast into the pitch. None of the lamps are lit out in the courtyard. Not even the guard light is lit by the gates. Unease settles deep in the pit of my stomach as nanny toes past papa’s room, her footsteps hardly making a sound against the wood. The stairs don’t creak even the slightest bit under her carefully placed steps. I wrap my arms a little tighter around her, eyes squeezed shut. We’re leaving. I’ve never seen the world beyond these gates. Never have I stepped foot outside of these grounds. Now, nanny is doing it for me.

“But what about papa?” I whisper, the words hardly hitting the air between my mouth and her ear. She shakes her head with a single twist, a silent command for silence. I whimper against her neck, burying myself into her side as she hurries through the courtyard to the gate. With her free hand, she pulls a key from beneath her cloak and slides it into place, turning it slowly and waiting for a near-silent click. She steps through the threshold, not bothering to pull it shut behind her. There is quiet sound from somewhere behind us within the house. Nanny moves a little quicker, but I can’t move at all. This is the closest I’ve ever been to the outside in my life. I have lived here forever. Papa said I would live here forever and a day, but I am leaving this place and I have dreamed about this, but how can this be real? My limbs still feel heavy with sleep and my eyes are sealed shut and my head longs for darkness again.

Maybe I am not awake after all. Maybe my dreams have finally tried to adapt to my suspicions. For so long, I have dreamed of being in far off placed only to wake when I have realized it isn’t real, it isn’t something I can cling to, it isn’t possible. Surely, after some time, my mind would adapt. It’s drawing me further into the dream. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad never to wake up from this one.

I can hardly keep my focus on anything now, body going slack in nanny’s arms. She fumbles with something before us, a small jingling noise ringing from her palms. Her heartbeat quickens and soothes my usual restlessness into absolute serenity, my senses only just picking up the quiet footsteps from behind us. My eyelids flutter only once more before I feel my head go completely fuzzy with oblivion again.

“Jezebel, I think you’d better come back inside…”

and it feels like
It’s wrong, but you know

age: nineteen

My hands are covered in splotches of purple and green, a hint of pink inked across my left palm and trickling up my pointer finger. There are lines of royal blue swirling over the inside of my right wrist and up my forearm, splintering into waves of pale frost before it even reaches my elbow. I stare at the bloom of colors for a moment before sighing, left hand reaching up to brush my hair from my face with a harsh sweep. The dye on my hand smears across my forehead and hair. From the corner of my vision, I can see purple twirled into blonde.

I feel so tired. There is no reason for the exhaustion swimming through my senses, but I feel as if I’m passing between waking and dreaming for hours on end. The haze in my head hasn’t cleared since I rose from bed this morning. I had dreamed about that night again. My memory of it is so foggy, as if it was a dream itself. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t. That night, I had let myself drift off in nanny’s arms, but when I woke in my bed, everything had changed. Everything felt so strange. It still is.

There’s a tension in my muscles as I stand, bare feet slipping across the floor so I can step outside onto the walkway. My eyes blink away the sleep settled beneath my eyelids, vision clearing as I stretch and lean into the railing so I can peer into the courtyard. As always, there is a man sitting by the gate, dozing against the wall. Ever since that night, there is someone on watch. There is a constant presence, a clear signal to everyone in the house. Leaving isn’t an option. The thought settles a heavy weight in my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe against the pressure that builds and builds there. I will live here forever, it seems. Forever… Forever is a very long time. There mere idea of it frightens me. No change, nothing new to see. My teachers have stopped coming to teach me new things. There is nothing left for me to do but to sew and knit and crochet and paint and dance and dye and repeat, repeat, repeat. I am so very tired of it. I want to do something new. I want an adventure. I want freedom.

I sigh, turning from the courtyard. Papa will never just let me leave. Never. He wants to protect me, but he tries too hard. I’ve grown up in this little house, have known maybe fifteen people in the entirety of my existence, have never seen the world. I want to see the things I’ve dreamed of. Open markets and tall trees and fires as spiraling higher than myself and fountains and dogs and all of the things I’ve only read about. For so long, I have dreamed. I don’t want to just dream anymore. I want to live.

With another small exhale, I lick across my bottom lip. My face scrunches up at the strange taste there and I rub at my lip, only to realize therein lies the problem. The dye is bitter tasting and lingers in my senses. I pad back into my room and turn to the bathroom, twisting on the water and soaping up my hands. The majority of the wet dye washes away, but my skin is still covered in patches of rainbow pigment. A quiet noise drifts into my room followed by a dull thud. I poke my head back into the main room, spirits lifting when I see the strange Avox boy who smiles at me sadly sometimes. He hasn’t noticed me yet as he arranges the food he has brought for lunch. A small, mischievous smile flits across my lips as I tip-toe over to the door, slowly closing it until I can click the lock shut. He turns to face me, startled for a moment before he sees the look on my face. There’s a resignation in the way his eyebrows drop and his shoulders slump.

“Hello, Bo. How’re you?”

He raises a questioning eyebrow before shrugging, turning to sit down on the floor. I roll my eyes, gesturing to the couch that is right beside him, but he refuses, shaking his head and settling down upon his legs. Frowning, I step over to curl up on the couch beside him. An experimental hand reaches out to play with his hair, but he pulls away to sit closer to the table. I huff a small amount before reaching out to grab the bowl of friend rice before me. I eat with slow, measured bites, keep my eyes trained on the Avox. He looks almost bored. I suppose I do bother him like this a lot. It’s not the first time I’ve pretty much locked him in a room with me. It is not my intention to bore him. I just want someone to talk to. I miss talking to nanny more than anything. Hardly anyone else in the house will listen anymore. Ever since that night, the whole atmosphere has changed.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Bo finally turns to look at me. I’m usually not this quiet. Today, though, everything just feels so wrong. There’s an itch deep in my marrow that I can’t scratch no matter how deep I dig. I can’t sit still for long, ever, but today it is especially maddening. I want to walk and run and climb, but there is nowhere to go. There is never anywhere to go. When I’m unable to sit any longer, I put down the bowl and clamber to my feet, twisting to walk towards the door before turning quickly and walking into the bathroom instead. The cold water I splash against my face only aggravates the itch even more, my toes scrunching against the floor and my hips wiggling as I try to keep myself still. What can I do but sit and wait and wait and wait for something that will never come? My head falls forward to thud against the mirror, my own eyes staring back at me from somewhere beyond. I look so lost, so sad. I have the same dead look in my eyes as Bo. The realization stings like a slap across the face, my legs fumbling to move me away from myself, but I can still see it trapped within the mirror.

I turn away, dabbing at my face with a hand towel before letting it drop to the floor. Bo is still sitting on the floor, a curious, concerned look woven across his brow. A shake of my head sends his eyes to the floor. I feel so completely cinched in that I can’t breathe, each inhale only a shallow breath to fuel my anger a little further. My hands clench in my hair, fingers kneading into my scalp as I let out a low whine of frustration. Tears prick at my eyes and I can’t help but whimper at feeling so weak. I blink them back hurriedly, covering my face as I twist away from the confused Avox.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bo. Ripred, I feel so trapped and so angry all the time and I can’t do this anymore. I want to be free to come and go as I please. I mean, I love papa so much, but he’s keeping me locked up here like a prisoner. I want to see people and be able to walk until I literally can’t anymore and I just want to breathe. I just- I just want to-“

I take in a shuddered breath, a choked sob forcing its way past my lips. My head shakes as I stumble forward to the wall, sliding down it as my tears begin to fall. I don’t remember the last time I ever cried in front of another person. I’ve refused for so long to let anyone see just how destroyed I am at nanny’s absence and papa’s distance and my own confinement. I can’t do it anymore. A quiet shuffle draws closer to me and when I look up, Bo is kneeling before me, his own eyes holding back tears. He reaches out his hands toward me, palm up, gesturing for my own hands. I blink at him in confusion before letting my own hands fall into his. He squeezes tight, the weight in my chest lightening a little with his help. Then, he makes a short, aborted nod, his face steeling into a look of determination.

For a moment, I don’t know how to respond. What is he so set on? I blink at him in confusion for a moment before he stands and walks quickly over to my desk. I stand up on wobbly legs, following him over. He’s a flurry of movement for a moment as he finds paper and pen, hands shaking as he scrawls in messy penmanship, ‘We’ll get you out of here. Servants’ entrance. Tonight. Be ready.’ Tonight? My mouth pops open, cold shock spiking through my veins.

“But- But Bo, papa will-“

He shakes his head, reaching out to pull me against his chest. I let out a quiet whimper, eyes clenching shut as I cry against his chest. But Bo, papa will kill you for this. There’s no doubt about it. This is suicide. I shake my head against his chest, trembling at the weight of his decision. He pulls away to write again. When he looks back at me, there is a small content smile on his face. ‘Believe me. If there’s anything I’m willing to die for, it’s freedom. I’ve done it once before. I’ll do it again. Do you trust me?’ All I can do is nod. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I can feel his mind is made up. I smile back at him, lips curling up at the thought that begins to echo in the back of my mind.

Tonight, I’ll be free.

a song for tomorrow
get gone and you’re on your own