Still Grrr

The windows of the largest Companion training-house in Sihnon shimmered, with the first rains of Spring.

Inara Serra, though still a child, no longer viewed herself in those terms, had loved the rain, while she'd still been living with her parents. It had whispered across the eaves, like chanting, like that of her mothers, as they had knelt in the Buddhist temple of their town. It truly had been beautiful to her.

That was before, she'd learnt how wild and unruly the rain could be. Nearby to where she lived, a small village had been built on the corrosive soils of a river bank; overpopulation made for poor choices. And when a powerful rain had hit, the ground had became swollen, and everything, even the people, had been swept away into the river.

The tapping on the window now distracted Inara, as she copied down tiny Chinese characters, into thin columns, with a slender paintbrush. It was a fiddly job, her eyes had begun to blur. The brush slipped out of her hand, a drop of ink spread across the page.

Inara looked out onto the street, as she tried to get the ink stain out. Children were playing, jumping into muddy puddles, because they were children, it was natural to them. She had learned how to control that part of herself, to forget it.

There was something moving rabidly against Inara’s shuttle roof; there was a storm. She couldn't sleep, the wind outside howled like a rabid animal.

She felt the isolation, alone in her shuttle. She’s been gone for so long, it no longer felt like home.

Inara made her way up to the bridge. She half expected to find Wash sat at the controls, but his dinosaurs for months had sat untouched, like a shrine. The new pilot was sat in his chair. She was mesmerized by the storm outside.

“River?”

“It’s too late,” River said, “Spring showers have gone, and the storms has come.” River’s fingers hovered near the windows, tracing the movements of tendrils of rain. It was a strange ballet being performed, the lights from the control panels, like a stages spot-light.

River was so young, but her mind had been overrun with the histories of others, they'd drown out her own. It had made River too old, too soon. Inara would like to think that River could get it back, but she wasn't sure that it was possible. For any of them.