just_muse_me: about your muse from the point of view of one of their family members.
[OOC: Based off of the latest graphic novel Rebellion Pt. 6; all characters mentioned aren't binding on any muses. (Dialogue paraphrased -- and badly, probably -- from the novel itself, but it was only right IMO. Placing this under canon because, dammit, this is the only time since IABD Molly has appeared in canon lately. And this new zen!Molly can't get out of my head. Oh, here are some keywords:
Papa -- Negative Karma.
Moksha -- Ultimate Hindu goal goal; liberation from death and rebirth.
Ujala -- Light. It's what Mrs. Suresh calls Molly and what she feels she has become to be.]
"Grandma Suresh, I've been here for a while now..." She began, biting her pink bottom lip as her violet hooded robe covered her tanned skin and sun bleached hair. She was eight but developing faster than Aasha, herself, ever did at that age. Blue eyes held so much wisdom and maturity for one so young, yet, with all the weight on her shoulders -- even now, after her slightest brushes with her own personal moksha, she still carries such a weight. -- as she gazed wondrously at in her brown eyes.
Aasha sighed inaudibly, "Yes, Ujala, I know. Then, you were very sad, my sweet. Covered in darkness..." Aasha trailed off, absentminded wondering if the little girl understood that she still was that way -- dark and sad. Lonely in an even lonelier and cruel world without any blood ties to keep her grounded. She seemed adjusted and serene but Aasha Suresh knew better; Aasha had to carry the burden of an old soul at a young age, too. Molly was just as adjusted as she could be. "Now, you are the opposite."
With only a beat after, her little Ujala chimed in with another question: "Will Mohinder notice, when I see him next?"
The softest of smiles appeared on the woman's face, even if it was covered with her own olive colored hooded robe. "He would be blind not to."
Her Ujala's head is still craned, gazing at her with imploring blue orbs. "Will I stay here forever?"
Her face was pleased with this thought; her eyes were not.
"Do not say such things, America is your home!"
It was the same response every time Ujala asked it; Mohinder would come for her. If he did not, then the older woman wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt by going to America herself and dragging her only son back by his ear. He made a promise, a commitment, when he took the little girl into his home. Aasha warned him that if he was prepared to take care of her, he should do it for the long haul, and further more the child came first.
She just hoped her son understood this, still. It would not only be irresponsible and cruel, but grossly unfair to the little girl whose life was filled with papa, or so it seemed.
Destiny often was a peculiar mistress. For her Ujala, whether she knew it or not, destiny came knocking in the face of a dark bronze young man with raven curls that went wherever they choose. There were others, too, but Shanti and her little Ujala were not the only ones blessed with a gift: her foresight gave her the opportunity to be able to bless and, sometimes, curse those supposed to share information with.
This would be a blessing in disguise. She only hoped her Ujala would take this path, rather than substituting it for another.
"--Why are you smiling?" The little girl's voice broke Aasha out of her thoughts.
"It would seem you have an admirer." Retorted the older woman, cheekily, even nudged the little girl good-naturedly with her elbow and an over exaggerated wink for emphasis.
Her Ujala merely rolled her eyes -- oh, how Mohinder would enjoy the adolescent years to come! -- but craned her head to the very person her guardian was staring at.
"Hi Molly!" When her granddaughter gasped, he kept on, demeanor good natured yet it reminded Aasha of a business man; small talk first before they got down to business, as Americans often say. "I'm Micah. I don't know if you remember me from--"
He didn't get to finish, her Ujala interrupted him rudely with an eye roll; "I remember. What do you want?" She asked, shortly.
It took all Aasha had not to give her arm a good pinch. She knew better. (And she couldn't stop the edges of her mouth to tug upward; she saw more and more of Mohinder's faults and virtues within the small child.)
The boy took the hint. Small talk was over with. "My friends and I, we need you to help us find--"
Her Ujala turned her back on them. While still a trait of Mohinder she cherished, it still was inappropriate, but she bit her tongue when she noticed the conflict within the little girl's eyes. Instead, she gently placed her wrinkled hand on her granddaughters shoulder. After the boy's speech and Ujala's silent refusal, it was another's turn to sway the little girl.
"Ujala, God teaches us to help our brothers and sisters." She reminded the little girl softly. Eyes darted to the skyline and by the way she spoke, it sounded like there was a great lump inside it. She confessed her worry about the life she lead before would return; what she really meant was that she was afraid of hurting someone, even herself, like her power had often done before. It was a lesson she had to learn harshly but Aasha was more than certain that, no matter how hard, her Ujala would come out shining brighter than ever. "Your past is not your future."
The girl sighed and with only a smile and a nod from the boy, Aasha departed the group, "I will go begin dinner. Talk to this boy, ease his pain."
She left without looking back. Mohinder would throw a fit to end all fits when he found out she let his ward -- his daughter -- go off on a very dangerous mission for however long, with only a group of twenty-something's and a boy no older than she to tag along for that matter.
Mohinder would live.
She made a meal for two, just in case she did return sooner than she expected, and ate by herself jubilantly enough. Her cheeks were damp with tears but they weren't tears of sadness; they were the same tears any grandmother or mother experienced when their heart was filled with pride. Her Ujala not only would find the light she had been looking for, but she would also become the thing she cherished most in the whole world.
She would become a hero.
Papa -- Negative Karma.
Moksha -- Ultimate Hindu goal goal; liberation from death and rebirth.
Ujala -- Light. It's what Mrs. Suresh calls Molly and what she feels she has become to be.]
"Grandma Suresh, I've been here for a while now..." She began, biting her pink bottom lip as her violet hooded robe covered her tanned skin and sun bleached hair. She was eight but developing faster than Aasha, herself, ever did at that age. Blue eyes held so much wisdom and maturity for one so young, yet, with all the weight on her shoulders -- even now, after her slightest brushes with her own personal moksha, she still carries such a weight. -- as she gazed wondrously at in her brown eyes.
Aasha sighed inaudibly, "Yes, Ujala, I know. Then, you were very sad, my sweet. Covered in darkness..." Aasha trailed off, absentminded wondering if the little girl understood that she still was that way -- dark and sad. Lonely in an even lonelier and cruel world without any blood ties to keep her grounded. She seemed adjusted and serene but Aasha Suresh knew better; Aasha had to carry the burden of an old soul at a young age, too. Molly was just as adjusted as she could be. "Now, you are the opposite."
With only a beat after, her little Ujala chimed in with another question: "Will Mohinder notice, when I see him next?"
The softest of smiles appeared on the woman's face, even if it was covered with her own olive colored hooded robe. "He would be blind not to."
Her Ujala's head is still craned, gazing at her with imploring blue orbs. "Will I stay here forever?"
Her face was pleased with this thought; her eyes were not.
"Do not say such things, America is your home!"
It was the same response every time Ujala asked it; Mohinder would come for her. If he did not, then the older woman wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt by going to America herself and dragging her only son back by his ear. He made a promise, a commitment, when he took the little girl into his home. Aasha warned him that if he was prepared to take care of her, he should do it for the long haul, and further more the child came first.
She just hoped her son understood this, still. It would not only be irresponsible and cruel, but grossly unfair to the little girl whose life was filled with papa, or so it seemed.
Destiny often was a peculiar mistress. For her Ujala, whether she knew it or not, destiny came knocking in the face of a dark bronze young man with raven curls that went wherever they choose. There were others, too, but Shanti and her little Ujala were not the only ones blessed with a gift: her foresight gave her the opportunity to be able to bless and, sometimes, curse those supposed to share information with.
This would be a blessing in disguise. She only hoped her Ujala would take this path, rather than substituting it for another.
"--Why are you smiling?" The little girl's voice broke Aasha out of her thoughts.
"It would seem you have an admirer." Retorted the older woman, cheekily, even nudged the little girl good-naturedly with her elbow and an over exaggerated wink for emphasis.
Her Ujala merely rolled her eyes -- oh, how Mohinder would enjoy the adolescent years to come! -- but craned her head to the very person her guardian was staring at.
"Hi Molly!" When her granddaughter gasped, he kept on, demeanor good natured yet it reminded Aasha of a business man; small talk first before they got down to business, as Americans often say. "I'm Micah. I don't know if you remember me from--"
He didn't get to finish, her Ujala interrupted him rudely with an eye roll; "I remember. What do you want?" She asked, shortly.
It took all Aasha had not to give her arm a good pinch. She knew better. (And she couldn't stop the edges of her mouth to tug upward; she saw more and more of Mohinder's faults and virtues within the small child.)
The boy took the hint. Small talk was over with. "My friends and I, we need you to help us find--"
Her Ujala turned her back on them. While still a trait of Mohinder she cherished, it still was inappropriate, but she bit her tongue when she noticed the conflict within the little girl's eyes. Instead, she gently placed her wrinkled hand on her granddaughters shoulder. After the boy's speech and Ujala's silent refusal, it was another's turn to sway the little girl.
"Ujala, God teaches us to help our brothers and sisters." She reminded the little girl softly. Eyes darted to the skyline and by the way she spoke, it sounded like there was a great lump inside it. She confessed her worry about the life she lead before would return; what she really meant was that she was afraid of hurting someone, even herself, like her power had often done before. It was a lesson she had to learn harshly but Aasha was more than certain that, no matter how hard, her Ujala would come out shining brighter than ever. "Your past is not your future."
The girl sighed and with only a smile and a nod from the boy, Aasha departed the group, "I will go begin dinner. Talk to this boy, ease his pain."
She left without looking back. Mohinder would throw a fit to end all fits when he found out she let his ward -- his daughter -- go off on a very dangerous mission for however long, with only a group of twenty-something's and a boy no older than she to tag along for that matter.
Mohinder would live.
She made a meal for two, just in case she did return sooner than she expected, and ate by herself jubilantly enough. Her cheeks were damp with tears but they weren't tears of sadness; they were the same tears any grandmother or mother experienced when their heart was filled with pride. Her Ujala not only would find the light she had been looking for, but she would also become the thing she cherished most in the whole world.
She would become a hero.