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Behold
May 18, 2010 23:08:33 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 18, 2010 23:08:33 GMT -6
Behold: We speak of things, of life and circumstance. We speak, we learn. We make no judgement but pass it all the same. Behold.
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
The sun was high in the evening sky, falling just over the long stretch of the hills in the distance. It would be time to stop soon, but still the rage of a dawning battle moved the mountain of a man through the paths of motions far too familiar for any one man. The warmer weather stretched the days longer, and shed away the laughter. They all felt it coming, knowing the peace could only last so long. It was hand to hand in the dawning moment, a man who had outstepped his bounds found himself face down into the sand, his blood staining his lips, and sweat burned his eyes. It was not until the shadow of his opponent blocked the sun did he even realize the world had come crashing down. The cheers of the small crowd had started their chatter, but none dare start with the rumors that so spread as swift as the shifting sands about the turmoil in the home of the Lord General. "Let this be a lesson, gone are the days of hallowed remarks, and today marks a new day." Maahes's English had been perfected, though the rich deep undertone of his heritage still held well to the baritone that was his voice. "I ask only one thing..respect, and if you so wishto challenge. Step forward." His open hand, though covered in the blood of the others who had so wished to make themselves known was enough to not dare any move forward. When the silence fell over the battlefield, he would dismiss them and so would start the thinning of the crowd; the new recruits a hopeful bunch. He was pleased. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
In Rome, a man's worth was what his two hands could do in order to preserve his life. The spilling of blood was a time honored sport; the people elected champions in stretching suns as another man lay dying for his own incompetence. His broad, bronzed arms pushed the power behind his hands as he ravaged at their innocent ideals of victory over the larger man to appear triumphant. The intelligent of instinct never made anything easy for the naieve. She watched him, she watched them. Steadfast statue of alabaster pale stained only in the colors of her garments, intense with whites and burnished golds. A generation of admirers watched at her feet on the bench below, one girl holding fast to mother's skirts as a boy was rapt with amazement as the last spray of blood sacrifice was paid to honor the arena. "Will I fight like tha' one day, mother?" said the small boy, his light tones influenced only mildly by Scotland. "Yes, you will. For now we shall leave it to the grown men, and you will embark out to find your friends. Make sport with them. The men will want water, and I have goods to deliver." Three became four as both the lady's chief handmaiden and attendant for the children emerged to collect a fat, chubby hand as the other was busy sorting though his dark hair. The girl was animated, happy to put this part of the arena behind her. She enjoyed the stories of the men the best as she helped her mother ladel up water or deliver the rarity of a thick, country supper. It was the least they could do her mother would say, for those who do more for us than we have the right to ask. Eirian had been nothing but in the company of men at war. She knew, better than her Bible, the mind of a warrior. The spirit had burned he r more than once, but it also nourished her soul. "Hope, you will miss it, child! Come, the banners will always be there." "Always?" "Yes, child, always, as sure as we live and breathe. Your children shall see it. But a little girl will not get to here her tales if she tarries o'erlong." She was a dove with the small glint of silver-sharp beneath her wing, for be it habit or comfort, the sword Talion had fashioned for her in Avaria was never far when she drove her cart from the valley into the city (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
In a rush there was page after page, to study along side the General who now could handle his own paperwork, and knew well of the workings of how the underside of the army worked now. Captain after captain delivered their reports, a well documented territory now thanks to the aid from the Ebony Hall. He was thankful for at night when the world was quiet it gave him something to study. Just on the scratches of scrolls he could be there to oversea the innerworkings of each division, and reply with commands to change--improve. Things were to be more formal now with the crows that rest upon the Lord and Lady, Maahes knew that protocol very well. The pope had seen them worthy of a new title, and he would see to it they had an army well enough to defend it. "I like very much this girl." He spoke to the Archer's captain, a tall thin man with long blonde hair that reached his backside. His face was flawless save fora scar that stretched over his cheek. Be it a match of arms, Maahes would have him tied in knots, but a match behind a bow Brin Ya'ave would have him dead in seconds. "This child, I pick her." Maahes was very set on his plans for that one, and the smile on the archer's face knew he felt the same. "Serve her the papers, offer her the position and see to it she's outfitted right." It would be interesting no doubt, but if anything Skye could prove to him was sex had little to do with rank and title. "Now...leave." He threw his hands up and they all started to fall away. Eirian carried an olive branch, for this he was certain the white color of her wings could have been imagined should the naked eye miss them, but he was beyond thankful to see her. Of all on the Isle she knew the workings of a General, and though the dirt and blood from the day still covered him--she would care very little. She had been his Queen long before Bess. "Too few are the days you spend here." An observation as well his greeting, Maahes knew English..he just wasn't good at using it. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
Sex indeed had little to do with what a person could ascertain if they but applied themselves long enough to reap the benefit of the seeds sowed in a sometimes bitter harvest. She did not face the same challenges as women who bore arms, but there were still even to this day dissenters of female intelligence. Male bitterness peppered begrudging compliment at every commision, every piece of art, and every miraculous bit of work. While the Scholars had once been short on teachers, they turned to Eirian for her abilities with philosophy, theology, and greek. What woman would be awarded her do by the Egyptian will have earned it. Carrion seeking blackbirds hovered on the borders of the islands. Talk was populated with it as it was ideals. Her fingers were still stained by charcoal for want of never sketching enough the scenes of the Steps, the markets, or along the walls. Her eyes remembered hall corridors her body had never been. A walking tapestry never finished was she. Still, some portions were tightly woven already. "Too few are the days I have seen you anymore, always beside one another but never close enough General, never close enough." Hope was too happy to see Maahes to care that he was covered in the same gore that made her hide her eyes. Before she went off to assist Tabitha with giving the men both water and unloading wagon goods to be tallied amongthe supplies, she edged away from her mother to hug at his side. "You will come have supper with us, Uncle? Momma says we can stay, because she won't drive back at dark." Innocent eyes turned up hopeful. Could he also produce Eppie, and the others? Like a little bird herself, the nightingale's progency, the dove's eldest flew away to work and be entertained at the same time. Luke Saul waved as he passed by with Tabitha, but new if he strayed too far in one direction there'd be little hope of getting him back. "I brought you supplies some wool and spun bog cotton for clothes, some leather for clothes and armorments, plenty of dried lamb, venison, and cattle meat and an ample supply of fresher sausages as well. It takes the food of two armies to feed this one I have noticed." She paid more than tax to the state, but furnished supplies for all the divisions without asking, basics of fabrics, leathers, meats, and vegetables never went out of style. (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
She melted him, this Hope. Always have, and he knew always will. It would be to her marriage bed he would watch any man like a hawk, and even then he doubt the night would end well. "So tall." A lie, Hope was hardly any bigger, but it was about making her feel so; she was dearly beloved and very beautiful. "I.." He rose his eyes to Eirian, "Would like that, yes. It is good to see faces from home." Hands that had killed on her behalf, but only in the name of justice touched her round little cheek. There was little to change over him, and perhaps that was what drew the conclusion that everything about the General's marriage was in fact rumor--so few knew the truth. "I miss lamb. Thefields. They by now are so full of sheep. Tell me, how does the garden?" A favorite past time of retired and active General's, though this year his own seemed so far away. "Eppie will wish to see you." He spoke to Hope, "Perhaps we ask your mother if you can sleep over?" He smiled, always having the sort of expression that reached his eyes. "The children sleep in the floor even though I have a bed for each one. They make a castle in the castle of the pillows."Running his hand through Hope's hair one last time before he let her go, he would wave of a few men at arms to take what Eirian was offering, "Thank you. We are in good shape here." A look over the arena, "Now all we need is afight." There were many in the works, and the thought suddenly darkened over his eyes. There was going to be blood spilt here on Skye's soil if he had his way, but he had let the Underdark go long enough. It flashed then, the small bit of agony that was quickly stuffed back inside his chest, but oh how it wished to be free. "Your husband." A swift change of topic, "You tell him if he doesn't come see me soon I neuter him, like a dog." (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
"Talion is a content old man with a vegetable and flower garden that exceeds anything even my pasture raised hands can accomplish. Do not disturb his serenity..mm, I jest. He is very introspective these days, pondering a great many things as the childern come of age. Your company will be good for him. You, if all else, will stay with us. We are blessed with far too much room. Ourfields aer littered with new lamps, all is in bloom, and the waterfalls sound as sweet as flutes and lyres." She came closer to him, settling a satchel upon his desk as she took things out of it. These things were not to be lost in the wagon's supply, for she settled handsewn breeches that were numbed two, two sleeveless shirts, and a vest of leather. "If you are anything like my husband, children, and the men of our household you go through them too fast. " Hope was spell bound with the idea of spending the whole night with the Asad-Aziem children, and her long lost Eppie was found? She went giggling out of the office, nodding her head that she would certainly stay content as anything as if she belonged, and in a way they did. They all did, which is why he valley lacked in his absence as much as it did Ealora's. There was a strange symmetry when two women he knew had eyes that were blue, only Eirianwore the colors of infinite sky in hers. They were knowledgable, intimate in the conveyance of his plight with no words, in silent sympathy. "You are going to let me feed you, for you are thinning, in my opinion. The Queen is too busy with matters in Struan and the King all of the Isles to oversee their kitchens." She jested, canting her head. "Walk with me Lion? I have no more Lions among my lambs." (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
She could read him, like any other on the Isle--always could. Though the matter of his attire could speak for him, even his boots were wearing thin on the soles, and the hem of his pants were in bad shape. It was work attire, and even with Ealora's health she had never been the housewife, or tended to her husband as a wife should. Yet, still he loved her all the same. Indeed he was thinning, though the long winter with it's reign of peace had put on a bit where it was not needed. "She is busy, Bess..The Queen," It would take him a while to get it right, "I have not seen her or her husband since the ceremony." He would turn away from the arena to face the open set of stairs that lead to the barracks. "Come. If we are to walk together, I will at least not smell." No time for a proper bath, but at least a good wash down. The long set of stairs lead into a dark hall, lit by fire as the sun could not be reached, and he let out a small round of laughter where there should have only been sorrow. Turning a dark look over his shoulder, the fires burned over his face illuminating his skin in tones only natural to the desert born. "You should not follow." Amber eyes burned, "My marriage is falling apart, think of rumor that would come of you. Though Talon would know the truth. It is one thing we both agree on, respect." Idle conversation to avoid the talk he almost knew wascoming. "My bed is cold at night, and has been empty for nearly half a year. She has been a cold hard shell, whose mind has gone. I should have left her on that beach 5 years ago." He hissed, not really even talking to Eirian as he pushed open the door to his quarters, and started for a fresh change. Cold water would soon roll over his arms, and hands cleaning away the day; and often he contemplated a cleansing of his soul. "You can't judge me for wanting out. You were at your end too, once." Nearly 5 years ago, when Apollo had been gone for so very long, and Hope was just a heartbeat. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
"She would be as a woman who shares equal rule with a man, and he a man who became a King. It is nothing I miss. Queen of the hearth, Queen of my family's heart, and by God's grace that is enough." All roles of ceremony at the coronation now seemed to her so laughable: Duchess of Wales, Duke of Wales. All that were of Wales laid their sovereign birthrights at Scottish feet with ease, done with the fighting, they had no want to rule. Ever reluctant royalsheld the most grace. Seithfed was able to endure, Meurig was the shepard among them, touched by God the closest as to serve him. Eirian? Eirian was the shepard's daughter with the literal crook and plowshares. Time turned toward steps as body took on physical meaning of metaphors involving climbs to great heights. Eirian paused when he mentioned minds crafting salacious, sensational gossip. Indeed the serene woman broke the mold of her peace with a glare that brought any who felt sin to heel. She directed it back where they had come, as if seeing those who'd spoken ill of Ealora with such ease while recalling none of the generosity both who lived at Red Wall gave. More settlements where they could have made only a manner, business where they could have kept leisure."I believe God will twist tongues and dumb already foolish thoughts, Maahes. It is out of respect, for modesty I remain, not out of fear of feeding the gossip mongers." Eirian had not yet told Maahes that she sat with a mad woman beside a creek one lazy day in spring, discussing the crumble of marital bliss. He went in to anoint himself with water while she remained to converse at distance. "Your bed is cold and once mine was, for the many years of my marriage to Hope's sire it was cold, and the happiness too short to always keep it. I mourned him, only to hail his return, only to grow sick of absence. Yes, I did reach my end so if you have reached yours I bare you no judging. It is not my place to judge. I am not God." There was one thing she would say, not in defense, but in fact, "When one goes cold, the other must strive to not be so though the bitterness is doubly so. Without one upon the beach, you would not have your children, just as without the one who could not stay, I would never have had Hope.I do not know why some dreams fall to pieces while others endure to become real, Maahes. I only know that we must give our prayer to god in Thanksgiving here it is due, or we run the risk of growing dark." Those years ago, she was so close to succumbing to her pain and almost too blind to see years of love before her in a friend. (d)
Lord General Asad Aziem
"I've no risk of the dark." He spoke pulling away the dirty shirt, "I'm not the type to feel shame for my defeat, but she won." He was very bitter over the entire thing, "But I'll be damned before I let her around our children in state she is in. She is no mother to them, and I will not risk the sickness to spread. She turn it around on me." He brought a hand to his now bare chest, never one for modesty. "Am I to be thankful for the time? I.." He went silent eyes darting for the door as voices carried down through the halls with the setting sun nearly empty from the sky. Reaching out he took her wrist, pulled her into the shadow of armor hold, where his suit simply waited for it's next day in the sun. The tips of his fingers went to her lips only for a moment to quiet her, though Eirian if she wanted could be a ghost on the floor if nothing more then a sheet in the wind. It was eerie really. Protocol had it,none disturbed the General during the hour it took for the sun to set, or to rise for this was time for prayer; but the vioces that made their path known by small whispers must not have realized how well it carried. "Do they speak French?" He did not recognize the tone the two men spoke back and forth, the silent steps from shadow to shadow poorly done. She must have come this way...It was indeed French. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
"Darknes comes in many forms, Maahes. Be vigilant of it, even determination. No matter what each of you hold toward the other, our household worries of you -- I-- worry of you both. Our world is not the same without." The phrase lay unfinished. Averted eyes did not behold his bare chest or back, but found it of no never mind when he all but pulled her against him to concealher from view. What was going on? If eyes saw, would mouths open for wagging tongues? Cautioned for silence, he didn't even hear her breath as the command took living semblance. A nod of her long neck to move the head indicated that yes, it was French. Like any woman conditioned to be 'well born' it was a requirement to understand at least one of the most prevalent languages in Europe. Poorly concocted steps led to a poorly conocted plan? Just what were they aiming at? Whatever it was..the famliar ache to draw or the want to shut her eyes was hard to suppress. Worse yet, she felt from other directionsthings coming of which she had not told him yet. The supression of quarrel turned to mild violence on the towns at the first end of the Valley. War was infectious.Clan honor, individual honor. Gossip. all of it was irrevokably tied. She listened for what they said - not straining - thank God that senses were stronger in those with slighted sight. (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
Their shadows fell over the pair in retrospect with the guiding light, and though he knew nothing of what they spoke the voices seemed alive with the realization they had indeed found what they were looking for. Over the room the pair clad in solid black seemed to move like the grace of any given assassin, or well trained spy. At first he would have thought them to be sent from the Ebony Hall had they not been marked by an estate just off the coast boarding England and France. What trade had been made for information on the inner workings? Or were they simply there to gain access to the hall. It was a mortal wondering where the nerve of nations came about, but indeed the onset of a the newly crowned would generate enough suspense that all worried of the growing power. They needed to be alive, though his thirst for blood seemed to boil over him. Too long had it been since war, but the suit of armor that waited there upon the wall a token once of a memory--his first battle, was without it's sword. The screams went unheard, as there was only need for one and the blade ran through the chest of one, while the other sprang to life. A massive arm came to swallow the man's neck between his biceps closing the airspace off until there was nothing but a rumpled sack of bones in a very deep state. The dying of the other was a brutal sight, but his fingers curled out to the Lady Eirian pointing just before it fell cold and lifeless. Maahes's eyes burned into her own, "Something you are not telling me?" Rolling the dead man over he went over his attire, weapons of discreet manners, and substances in unmarked bottles. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
Her breathing stalled. The chest cavity paused as her eyes darted frantic around the environment. Silent keeper left to play the part of death dealer as she fell back against the unused suit of armor that lay in wait. Did it grow envious of watching its master move without it? He was death personified in all of its violence and pain! For all of the war she had seen, escaped sieges, for having been a messenger in a resistance and weilding her own sword it still never ceased to amaze her the potent desctruction men could cause. If the black clad figures sought to give, they only received. Not one was able to exemplify an artform against the Egyptian. Her back plastered against the wall while Maahes killed one, and broke the other with his arm. Incriminating finger lifted to point at the white washed figurine of a woman, strands of black hair rising to hide some unknown shame. Why...would they want her? The years had made her all but a valley hermit who emerged in to the city for the sake of her students, to deliver goods, or to perform a service. All of the adventure lived had been done just shy of thirty, the year she was coming upon. "I have no clue," she admitted, re-living the worst of her memories. Was it coming to that again, behing hunted? She remembered the Valley burning with a hired man's hatred turned to battleand grew sick. "That was all of them, do you think? The children..." She looked at the door, the wrapped blade on her back would be unsheathed with a quickness of but one hair on their heads was out of place. Just one! As she she passed the body of the bone-sac, she paused. Quirk manifested itself in a slight crinkle of skin to furrow on the head, dispating the sharp pain as images connected like a puzzle solved in mere seconds. "Vincere is my former guardian, as is his wife. Are they not in England now?" she recited a literature instead of asked the question "They are looking for ..something to get around the presence of the house. It is too hard, on their own. No one goes there now save its residents and those with audience..or a solemn few.Plans. Could it be plans?" What idiots. Alendral Sorschal may have vanished, but his plans would surely be no where but in his residential puzzlebox. What way in could they possibly be finding here. She gave too much away, leaving it to being adept. "The children." she stated, and simply left the chambers with no other ambition to find them,...that he could detail. (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
A look to the guard, he would send reason to sound the alarm, to raise the flag of guard and within a matter of moments the entire Isle would be locked down. "Get more men to the King, make sure the Queen is settled." He would standto follow Eirian, not pulling his shirt on until they were out in the open, having forgot he still had it around his neck. A few of the ladies gasped, not out of the sight of the half naked General, but what they were doing?? "Wait. " He took hold of her wrist gently, "What are you talking about? Vincere was never your guardian. Who is in England?" The quiet surface of the English secret had been given away in that moment. He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone came to call on Skye. She wanted to be after her children, but already each space was being cleared by the guards. There were no others to be found. The man who lived would be taken to his holding. "Eirian, what are you talking about." He hissed suddenly, looking down upon her demanding answers, "Are you in trouble?" He'd tear each arm limb by limb to protect her. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
"The Queen is in Struan, I called after her this day and they told me she had gone some days prior." It was pertinent knowledge, useful. It was knowledge he may have already known but blood and adrenaline could have erased it. Fluids made too much knowledge an evervescent thing, a light pulsing unwanted. Synapses responded by jarring facts clipped with suspcion on her mouth to speak but control kept it mum. Women gasped at the shirtless man and the woman of strange attitude. Would this not add to the talk? If she were in a mind to care she would have ceased their leering with orders of penance in lieu of offense, but had no cause to be offended by anything but his questions, his touch. Let go, Let go, Let go.. her eyes were screaming as her skin grew hot under his touch, forming want to pry in his thoughts. "There was a time when his Grace was my guardian, in Avaria, and for a time here. His wife shadowed Talion, but was never far from my steps either. They are in England. England is theirs to rule so they must bring it to heel. Surely you here of all the talk..you are in the Kings inner most confidences as a man in his service....." One day in court accounted for any matter of months in missed discourse, but she wrote often with those in the palace, as she did with those beloved around the isles. She began to pull..."Not in any trouble that I am aware of...Maahes...by all that his holy let go...let..go. They came from England, France. It is my..ardent...hope theyare not seeking a way in...to the Hall. My students chosen at the time of the project have access to continue upkeep of the art there, and tell me Sorschal is long since gone. If they are looking for a way in..they may look for for those with an intimate knowledge."Her eyes shut as the pictures flashed quicker. "Maahes, let go." (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
"My mind has been else where." He barked at her, seeing that she was criticized him, but in fact it was the other way around. He held her tightly though not aware of his strength. "I've heard nothing of England other then the men I sent to shadow, Vincere's wife." It all started to pull together. "I'm not letting you go alone." However, he did finally let her wrist go afraid of hurting her he held her so tight. Maahes had not been around many others outside of the arena, for reasons that were his own. He had lost contact with many people throughout the years, that now he worried he'd never get back in. "I can feel it coming, I know there are battles ahead Eirian. Adam must know.."He would have to. When her eyes shut it only worried him further, and he took her face between his palms gently, "Eirian..please. You are scaring me." His raspy voice pleading, unsure of what was going on with her. Was she in pain? Would she pass out? (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
"Of course he knows, he is the King and the wife of Vincere keep's his confidence always. I am not..one for gossip but there is a truth to some stories. Things have long since been coming...I..I hear the Archivist, the sweet child is gone across the sea. If you wish to know what you do not..you need to ask those whom know. The inner court..the inner court Maahes.The inner court and those whom move in Ebony, Gold, and White. Whatever is going on, it is a desperate move to attempt to take your arena ..by..sup..surprise." She was recovering speech that made sense,moving toward where the children were. A turn, and she could see them...laughing. Safe. Enjoying the stories of the men as some worry lifted from her heart. Face then fell between palms as she felt confined between rock and hard place. This was why she kept to the one medium that concealed all evidence of a sensitivy to the world, a sensitivity the world could never understand. "The children need to stay in the castle...and we should go to..the hall. I am not the one to cure your ignorance..I can' be. We need to make haste, to Master Voltaire..he would know. He.." she sighed, whispering. "Remem...remember when Talion would always say it was as if I could see things before and behind me? And together we saw much?" (d)
Lord General Maahes Asad Aziem
"I have always known something went on there. It was not my place to learn as to what. I provide them with force, they make plan for war." He took a deep breath, worry etched into his brow as he watched her struggle over words. "What have they done to you?" His question, but he did know the trust she spoke. Always had the valley looked up to her, and in that moment he let her go. He didn't believe in the sort, and would run her though should she admit it. However, he new somewhere deep inside Eirian had to know more. She was too fragile for this, no matter how many times she had proven him wrong; he would always think of her as the one who always got so winded. "They were sloppy..menlike that are used for only one reason. They wanted to be caught. They wanted on the inside, or they were decoys." He was ready to follow wherever she would lead, motioning for a captain to bring him the sword the man held between his fingers. "See to it they are home safe. They will stay the night in the castle. Come. Let us get to your Master." He worried the Hall was indeed in danger. (d
Lady Artisan Eirian Apollius
"They have done nothing but commision my service for these years. I oversee their artwork, my students and eye created them, their tapestries, the paintings..the other pieces as well..I know.." That was all she needed to state. The Valley was her pride, it was her life's work now when nothing else would last it seemed Eden would stand forever. She wanted to scream at his denial eclipsed by his deeper belief, but said nothing more of it. Fragility? Who would not be fragile with pain splitting your head, images pouring so much so that to open her eyes he could have sworn he saw...but no. He didn't believe in fiction, nor would she admit to it ever again in his presence. It was silly, and for her sake he would have commited her to the hands of a priest who's religious fervor would have harmed her. "No one who has tried to come to the hall as they do live to tell the tale, and where it was once infiltrated by people posing as novice.s..they..weren't kind." Had he ever once heard of or seen what they could do, as to why there never was a need for a single instrument of torchure on the island? Be damned Adam's mercy or Beathag's sense of what was right, they gave the power to the likes of him, of Claramae! It was well known a criminal had more to fear in the two hands of any Griffin soldier than he would at a rack, yet they would pray for a knight's beating if they had to endure one instant with the Ebony. "They will answer the door for us both, thank goodness. The building withstood fire when the underdark burned. I..." Fingers massaged her temples, abating their own ache. To touch even the wall was not to touch paper. "Believe me." To emphasize the last or to recall an earlier? She would remain against the wall, slid down it half way, not falling but not moving until it all passed. If he looked into the open eyes..he would see...(d)
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Behold
May 20, 2010 20:57:54 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 20, 2010 20:57:54 GMT -6
The arena walls felt like cold ice against a fever pitched figure before the sensation numbed to a blissful nothing. She was still conscious, viewing the world with an amount of clarity that would have startled him. Around the schismed rims of prismed gray slight sight was a world of riveting brilliance. It was pretty. It was beautiful, and would be envious not to be studied. The artisan's mind conjured up relevance to a world made in aesthetics of a pain that only went mild now. The world turned, no matter what.
If the General stepped up alongside, he would see the world through her eyes*.
Kalidescopic illusions were made by the setting sign shining through sapphire gems. She closed her eyes again, ending the moment. With nothing to say, she only smiled at him haphazard before turning against the current of where he would go to seek out more information on the men who had violated an inner sanctum of his command.Where would she go, what would she do? She had no secret to tell him before today nor had fears until the moment a finger pointed at her in accusation of an unknown reason. In the sudden moment, she realized what the world was trying to find, and the secret lay somewhere between her eyes or the creations of her hand.
"When you have time from the cause, follow me," she spoke so soft that the breeze amplfied her words to only a whisper. "I will be waiting outside of the Arena, the children will have already been sent along to the castle." Before he could protest or reach out to grab her, it seemed she dissolved like vapor. She moved down the steps, colored white and gold attire fluttering behind her. Eirian had a way of bing the most constant thing in a life, and the most fleeting.
*
The sun was by now a weak ball of nothing wavering on the coast for the sea to swallow. Cool air from the sea played with her hair and raised goosepimples on exposed skin. Pulling up a shawl around her shoulders, she stood sentinel like the men on either side of the Arena entrance or posistioned on the city's walls. She stood sentinel, waiting for Maahes' arrival. Eirian never broke a promise that she could help, often going to unbelievable lengths to prove the belief in loyalty again and again. So it wouldn't be a cause to fault what happened in the next sequence:
She sought a place of refuge, so sought the alcove of another archway to rest her weary being. Her back was hardly pressed to the right side of it when hand seemed to materialize from the stone, only men were not myth. Man did not come borne of stone, so it meant that he had been the unaccounted for thing gone missing from the lot. Thick, strong hands squeezed around the middle of her torso before one hand climbed up to clamp her mouth shut. He had not accounted for her ability, just as she had not accounted for him. No, he did not plain to wrestle with seeming fragile pray as the woman's teeth sank in the soft tissue at the thumb, causing him to groan as her mouth opened in a scream.
He recovered quickly, reaching for a shoulder to jerk as his body went in to motion to escape this place with her in tow. The next interruption to his plain was the drawing of Seren Goggeld* and the immediate cut across the top of his hand. Eirian stumbled back towards the open street, the guard already advancing to cease a chase that saw them stare in the unbelievable agility of the woman. She was like a deer! Unfortunately, the man in persuit of her was a wolf. Soon, one wolf became two, and two became four. The men on guard were matched in numbers perfect to the naked eye. "Where's the General, the alarm!" All sprang to assist, bless their souls. Swords and fist, limb and limb connected. She was tossed behind one guard who made himself a shield, and then to another. Her pursuer watched their formation, and on the first opening he got punched a man in the face, pulling her forward. In battle no one had time to quarrel over the likes of a woman, and with an advance on him a griffin man reached out for her hand but was forced to defend himself. Eirian caught only air.
"Maahes!"
1*. in her eyes - shades of sails, the shape of ships shift to the outline of another green country. Figures forming to fight until the moment the eyes were sealed, wherein the last image was a sheen of fire.
2*- Seren Goggeld - Welsh, North Star, the name of her sword
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Behold
May 21, 2010 12:37:09 GMT -6
Post by Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem on May 21, 2010 12:37:09 GMT -6
Passing rhythms of trembling hearts sounded like drums in his ears, for in her eyes he could see them all. The burning of the ships, the way the sea looked so black, and even the falling stars around them burned at his skin. Her tiny hands were so cold, despite the burning of her flesh, but still he felt afire with the touch as he slowly helped her to the ground.
"Eirian.." He felt his voice quietly rumbling through his chest, the feeling of the defeat enough to surpass the ache to hold her close, did they see heaven? Was this what he watched? The fires that pulled on his wife's ship enough to make him cry out shaking free from her gaze, and breaking the link. He let her hand fall, and in turn pulled away trembling to shake free that feeling. He suddenly felt as if he were standing it that room alone.
There was a calm silence, where the rest of the world had lost their way suddenly finding their direction in the tiny hands of the little song bird. Maahes had always sought refuge there. Exotic lands, where laws held no match for her grace would be forever what separated them, she the wife of his once King, and he devoted to his faith. There was refuge in the coming world, that fell back around him like broken glass--tiny fragments sounding out as they conflicted with the floor. It was strangely like his life right then, all he could do was watch it fall apart with the hope that somewhere it would be put back together again. He left his fate with God, not her visions.
She spoke, he listened with a new outlook on how the world turned; through the eyes of the sparrow he had watched the earth move below it's wings, the wind through his feathers. It had captured his breath only to return it with a full force that extended his lungs in a heavy sigh.
"I'll not be long.."
It was through new eyes did he turn from her to face the man whose attempt should be laughed upon, this decoy he felt for certain. Fires came and went, but the blood that boiled beneath this heart could not be put out. African drums whose chants taunted the nights, beat inside his chest, and from there this man's mortality would be sealed. Even the guards who held him, feared for the lives to be lost, and held the prisoner out by his arms. With a single motion a heavy hand came to sweep the man's feet from the floor.
"Who sent you." Three words that snarled from clenched teeth, as the Lord General barreled down upon the man. No answer. Silence. The fool would be shaken, as that same heavy hand that held him by his neck started to squeeze. "WHO SENT YOU!" Laughter there, and nothing more.
It was wild, the way the captive's eyes turned a bright yellow, the veins behind the whites of his eyes forming around the iris; foam started to form around the corner's of his lips until it spilled out over his tongue. Maahes let the man fall, the laughter continued until there was nothing of the life at his feet..poison.
"He took it before we could get to him sir." The guard shook in his steps, and the beast gave a heavy growl, the words to follow nothing any could understand for so few spoke Arabic, but suddenly the guard was thankful for he was certain the Arab put a curse on his soul.
"Deliver the bodies to the Ebony Hall, bind their hands, and tie their arms." Strange orders, but they were indeed carried out, with the solemn promise that they would never be so foolish again. Did the General have reason to think them not dead? The hearts inside the bodies chest had in fact stopped, but Maahes was no fool.
"General! General!" Came the voice of reason whose words were laced with panic, and suddenly it came crashing down. There was no more beautiful horizon, nor skies filled with stars--suddenly all that was there, was the space between he and Eirian.
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Behold
May 21, 2010 22:39:03 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 21, 2010 22:39:03 GMT -6
She moved fingertips in frantic spasms to make the air materialize into a hard grip that would stop her spinning backwards through space. Farther and father away were the guards becoming, farther the arena. The conflict ahead of her was a resolution to the situation that sought to drawk her backwards, and away. Fear, instead of causing paralysis, invigorated the body to become an untamed thing. She twisted, turned, kicked. She cried, spat, and clawed. The man and the woman in his arms fell headlong into walls, down into the streets. Already some guards were dispersing to move with the rhythm of Maahes impending rage while others were trying to close the gap Eirian's abduction was causing.
The military district became alive! Oh, the world was paramount to an explosion on the edge of being! Balled fist gained ground on closed male hands. His hand would come up against the back of her head, making the color of the stone inlay streets fracture into a million little pieces. "Ow!" she wailed, whimpering after. One of all things became two, and would never have focused if it weren't for a pair of voices. They were shrill, and only a mother would have known the voice of her own children.
"Mama!" Hope was beside herself, shrieking as she ran forward. Luke was close at her heels despite his age, both of them seperated from their care-taker in the melee. "Let 'er go! Let 'er go you lout!" Luke listened to the hard talk of the country men in the taverns, and his rage could only manifest in what he'd heard men say in such times. Balled fist, red eyes were distinctly child-like. Eirian became cognative again. Her world closed in on them, automatically wanting them safe from harm. "Hope! Get back, take your brother! Get away!" The little girl was stubborn, and somewhere between her lineages was craddled a bedrock of ire. Why not? She was made of up an ancient race from the East and a people of the West who long survived holed up in their castles. She ran forward anyway, ducking, dodging until she was able to catch her mother's hand in a spill taken when she pushed her tiny body into the man's knees, causing him to stumble.
She caught the back of his leg against her own back, but still held on with a fierce determination to her mother's hand. "GET AWAY FROM MY MOMMA!" She wailed. Crawling through his arms, Eirian coiled herself around her daughter. He was pulling, hitting. He'd take them both if necessary, but they didn't want a useless child. They wanted the mother..
They wanted the seer, the one who could scry. They wanted the one who could draw what her mind recorded or find things in the sea, or so the story went. "Come on, come on!" He snarled, kicking Eirian in the stomach, she groaned, arm pulling inward. She pushed Hope away...only to see her too, kicked. There was nothing left of frailty in the woman then. Were she not already so tired, she might have been her own savior.
"DON'T TOUCH HER!"
Black hair whipper wheeled as she was able to at last fix on the dagger in her gown, now with free hands. It sank like teeth in the groin, where wam, scarlet liquid coated her hands. In retaliation, he threw the threatened mother back so hard her right arm dislodged from its place in her shoulder. Both of their cries puncated the air, but the knife would was far more shallow than the ruining of bone. Gritting his teeth, he limped forward to collect his cargo, and dissolve in to the shadows of the alley.
*
She was too young to understand how the world worked with all of the ways rules were bent, underlined, or broken for the want to create a new one. She was too young to understand the shades of gray in an agenda, but was old enough to realize the injustice of the sharp boot that connected with her small stomach. Even as she stood up, she huffed for air. She strained her face, sucking in her lip, biting at it until blood was drawn. Eyes watered, as she realized in her innocence the first tinges of what it was like to have remorse, and to feel lesser.
Her hands weren't strong enough to hold on. "Mama?" she whispered, looking around to the right and left. Revisiting her earlier panic, Hope began to twist in all ways despite the bruises that bloomed black-blue on her peach kissed alabaster form. "Mama?!" Her mind connected events too well. Her little brother came upon her first, with the guard not far from his heels.
Luke couldn't take the sight of his sister hurt, and were he but that much bigger he would have exurted all the strength he had in his limbs. Like Hope, the world with shades of gray made little sense, but he understood the concrete facts of pain, absence, and fright. He put his arms around his sister, burrying his face against her. Tiny eyes glared, daring anyone to touch them. Anyone! Hope wrapped her arms around Luke, and began to cry. He too, began to cry, and their anger was as palpable as their heartbreak. They cried for Eirian, they cried for Talion, they cried for their care-taker Tabitha who was the first to answer their prayers. She took them up into her arms, only to find that Hope struggled against her before locking her arms in. "They took mama, Tabby, They took mama n' its all m'fault.."
"Nay, nay don't you say that, my love no!" Tabitha, for her part, was aghast. She was so lost in the throng of men, held back for her own safety that she could only listen in horror to the abduction take place. "Take us to the General.. NOW." The tone of soft spoken women was never to be underestimated, for like the General, the Lord of the Valley, and the Lady Artisan, she too survived the crumbling of the land who's dream of white walled city in the hills haunted them. Honheldagus had been her mother, and she still stood a testament to the stone that made the base. "NOW!" She boomed, making Luke flinch for he had never heard that tone. She advanced, her petite arms baring the burden of her lady's children. Her eyes didn't tear, but her heart raced.
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Behold
May 23, 2010 11:11:31 GMT -6
Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on May 23, 2010 11:11:31 GMT -6
The world moved so slowly, as he stood outside his body watching it pass. Maahes felt powerless, and the fear that wrapped his awareness mirrored that of the falling night. His heart could have been the sun as it sank on the horizon, for he felt it lost from his chest, and somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Hope's cries unearthed him, and in the whirlpool of the men at arms he felt himself drown. All around the arena was alive, as the army mobilized moving to lock down the city, but somewhere he felt the fates were too late.
Imtheochaidh soir is siar A dtainig ariamh An ghealach is an ghrian
She had slipped through his hands. Heavy might hands, like mountains they held up the sky, but could not even keep the moon from fading with the night. Eirian was lost, and with the word reaching his ears of a ship gone in the harbor there had been answers left for fallen. He could bring with him the sun, a thousand burning days spent in the desert had never felt so cold.
Fol lol the doh fol the day Fol the doh fol the day Imtheochaidh an ghealach's an ghrian An Daoine og is a chail 'na dhiadh Fol lol the doh fol the day
It was distinctly primal, the hunt upon the streets where the sun had fallen from the sky, and the blood trail was illuminated by the moon. Wolves through the woods, lions upon their plain--the Serengeti this night made of stone streets and tall tall buildings; with the blood trail all that was left of the Lady of the Valley. It was not her own, the cold irony scent of the blood too thick to be her own, and with this he held his hope. The trail would run cold as it met the sea, and the beast would cry out onto the night. Such a sound to shake the trees, as he went to his knees with the anguish of failure. The lion's roar to the night sprang tears to his eyes, as the rage insisted his body to tremble. The men behind him were at a loss, unsure of where to turn, unsure of how to handle the man before them.
Maahes turned on them, looking more an animal then a man,
"FIND THE PIRATE." The words stole the streets, the harbor silenced by the blinded rage, and deep rooted failure, "NOW!" The men jumped turning to enlist the riders to sweep the valley in search of Apollo's brother. After what seemed the length of the night Maahes struggled for his breath, his heart broken inside his chest, but still the orders found refuge on ears waiting to take action.
Imtheochaidh a dtainig ariamh an duine og is a chail ne dhiadh Fol lol the doh fol the day Fol the doh fol the day
"General?" A voice behind brought him back down.
****
The castle had become home, with many games to be played in the great hall. However, on this night suddenly all could not find their laughter. Maahes had ordered Tabitha to take the children home, to keep them inside and safe. Yet even in the castle walls did they feel secure?
Eppie, who was now 7 stood shoulder to shoulder with that of the oldest--Issa. Neither of them of the General's blood, but deny these children he would never harbor such a thought. In her youth, tragedy had stolen her voice; this silent muse who stood now for the pasta 4 years watching this family with eyes heightened by the lost words. She needed little expression to make the children of Eirian understand how sorry she was, and held onto Luke like a little mother. She tried to comfort him the best she could, while Issa tried to cheer him up with jokes of sword play. Perhaps even somewhere along the lines of frogs, for at that age a rain puddle could hold attention for the length of the day.
The triplets who were hardly 3 seemed delighted as their friends returned, and could understand very little of what was going on. However, they watched as the first born sat behind Hope and decorated her hair. Confused, they had only ever watched as the dark skinned woman did so to their father before a ceremony, but Ra, one by one put flowers in the moonchild's raven black. Feeling the hurt she felt, and understanding at best he could at 5 it appeared nothing could be said. He like his father did not speak much, but what words were needed at times like this? None of them had seen their mother for nearly a month, and started to realize the answers given to them were repeated too often.
"Daddy bring her back…." He spoke quietly, finished with his ceremony, "Or I will." Brave soul indeed, Peregrine couldn't help but smile as he pulled from the doorway. The son of the General no doubt would be a mighty force.
The famous uncle, whose face was mirrored upon ever folklore illumination, and tapestry of Avaria. More so then Apollo did he seem a child born of the land, but never the less a man of Skye now. Even wore the colors of the Lamont men around his hip, a rather vulgar version of a kilt, worn too low for dress standards, but Rosalind didn't mind.
"A great mighty force moves through the city." The eccentric pirate spoke out over the young who always were indeed ready for a good story, and though Nora had always been weary of this man was thankful for his presence. Peregrine's eyes were wide as he started in on how the mighty Griffin got it's start, and where their father would be quick to take up the wings. It was a story of magic, folklore and myth, mixed with a bit of modern legend they were happy to hear it. "From the mountains it will rise," He stretched his hands as high as he could to sweep them like the wind down the valley, "and return all lost--home." The children cheered, and collected their treats while the pirate sought the eyes of the Lady's handmaid.
"Tabby..come talk to me in the hall?" He had questions, she had answers, and what he hoped was a lead as to where they had taken her. He grinned to her, promising to go easy as it would be her first time, but when the silence of the hall bit at him harshly he was thankful to have the time to reflect before she joined him. All happy smiles, and flirtatious manners lost their path upon his face, exposed then of deep lines of worry, and a frown of the feeling he had lost part of his heart.
"Is this Avarian plot?" He turned on her, leaning against the wall to listen. Outside in the harbor the Lee had pulled itself from a grounded summer, and would be ready by morning to leave. "Have you an idea as to why?" All could be summed up with one little work why? "General is prepared to invade Avaria as we speak, he'll kill what is left of that land, or die trying. Give me a reason to think otherwise.." That land meant the world to him, but he never understood why.
Rosalind was going to be heartbroken, but would understand. Eirian was part of the very few he could officially call family, and none could hold on to what they loved like this one.
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Lyrics, Harry's Game--Clannad Translation I will go east and go west From whence came The moon and the sun
The moon and the sun will go And the young man
With his reputation behind him I will go wherever he came from - The young man with his reputation behind him
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Behold
May 23, 2010 13:11:19 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 23, 2010 13:11:19 GMT -6
"Tabby..come talk to me in the hall?" He had questions, she had answers, and what he hoped was a lead as to where they had taken her. He grinned to her, promising to go easy as it would be her first time, but when the silence of the hall bit at him harshly he was thankful to have the time to reflect before she joined him. All happy smiles, and flirtatious manners lost their path upon his face, exposed then of deep lines of worry, and a frown of the feeling he had lost part of his heart.
"Is this Avarian plot?" He turned on her, leaning against the wall to listen. Outside in the harbor the Lee had pulled itself from a grounded summer, and would be ready by morning to leave. "Have you an idea as to why?" All could be summed up with one little work why? "General is prepared to invade Avaria as we speak, he'll kill what is left of that land, or die trying. Give me a reason to think otherwise.." That land meant the world to him, but he never understood why. * The Lady Tabitha took on the name of a cat to appease a game the children played when Hope was still Luke's age, and Luke was a babe. She would always allow them that, and when adults utilized it, it never ceased to bring annoyance. The pirate meant well, he always meant well even if they were too simple to see the complex beauty of his ways. He asked if it were about Avaria, and she shook her head. "No, my lord. It isn't. It can not be. His majesty gave them the gift of self-rule and choice. They have touched it not since it was liberated before young Master Saul was born, and Lady Hope still a young child. It is naught to do with any of their pasts. Avaria sleeps and Wales is a member of states now, long have they sat in peace. You know this as well as I do." She crossed her arms, pondering with frustration the reasons at hand, "My Lord Apollius is retired, giving only advice when consulted or commisioned. He nourishes our land and is loved by our children. My Lady Apollius only comes to Turas Lan on behalf of those students who do not travel to seek her out anymore, what, perhaps...for a week within a month she is here? If even. They are a kin of goodness and peace. Lord Apollo does not believe in God as his wife does, but I would say he has blessed us and we are amptly blessed." Tabitha began to pace. " What reason would Avaria have to attack one member of this court, when this court could turn on it and smote the ruins in a day? Despise I the corruption of old, but I would not wish that on Honheldagus, nor any of it. I am beside myself trying to think of what or whom would wish after such at time. She does nothing my lord but tend the land, her family, its people..and art. She is every manner the lady of art. What art would they want they could not commsion..this is black, Peregrine." The last was whispered as she watched through the door the Children of the Valley. The triplets were the same in age to Luke, who's third birthday was coming within the summer. His sister would age, too. Eppie was one year older than Hope, and Hope would soon be six. In no time they were joined by the Lady Aimlee, the handmaiden for the royal children. The twins Murieall and Gabriel were perfect companions at two for those who were three, and Ahmlaih, or Amy as she was called, was still small enough to break every heart with her sweetness. She remembered when both of her wards were no more than six months or so of age. Now they were old enough to attempt to make sense of this. "My Lady tells me oft in her dreams that she knew of her children's will long before they had it in this world. She knew who would be a girl or boy, and what was one of the things they would seek. Luke charms, and Hope inspires.Both are intelligent. Hope is a child of many lands. Luke is a child of that as well. She could see them, and when she sewed or spun cloth for their benefit...she made things..that stay with them now.." She wanted to touch them, and be as innocent as they. Whens he reached out her hand, she fell back against the wall as if hit by lightning. The idea was too horrible to speak on, yet too possible not to recount. She righted herself, pulling Peregrine by the arm further down the hall so their words had no audience. " My Lord, I have considered a terrifying thing. No one would want her, except if they knew." She whispered low. Always did Eirian never become garish with what God had given her, for men would see it as cursed. Rumor of vision was chalked up to no more than keen introspection, anywhere that is, save the Valley of Stars. The people there knew and believed in all family's way. People would whisper a question to her, and she would not be false, yet seek no fame for it. Like any who were different Christ made her fear fire for what she could control, so she was as modest with this gift as she was with her actions. Still, there were times when a King asked of her a favor, as though she were the Witch of Enoch. "Do you think she's been taken somewhere, forced to...desired to..reveal? My Lord the things they will do if she refuses, and what will they do if she does not? It is not a myth and you know it! Have a care sir..have great care. What will come for if they suspect the children, our Lord Apollo? My lord what I tell you tell no one else, not even the General. He is beside himself enough. Lady Hope is afflicted with such a gift, as is Master Luke to some degree, it is stronger in Hope because she is older, and I think because she is a woman. Please. Promise me you will say nothing. I swear unto you I did not believe it until in the midst of last summer, Hope told me her mother was calling. Our Lady did not for many moments, until a voice broke over the hills, but Hope swore she heard it many times over before. There are times when the children will do a task, or a game, listen..to when you swear nothing is there. This is the the young are, and their age one might say..is what causes it but..the Lord Apollo. My lady told me, when we lived in Honheldagus, that she had long seen, and shared dreams with, her lord. I do not know what God does in creating such things if we are to fear them, but I swear to you the children are baptized. Our lady is pious, and that piety puts them in such danger off of this island, it frightens me. Are they what are claimed to be? I have seen things, with them, no one but those of us in Arianna Hymerodraeth see. "* "Eppie, it's cold to me, can I have that blanket?" Hope grinned up to her friend, accepting the gift from the silent angel. All of them were coiled in blankets after eating what treats Uncle Peregrine had given. Davina joined them, the eldest of the royal daughters, bringing her own ribbons and flowers to be braided in hair. For the boys, she brought some of Aodhan's old wooden figurines that Luke appreciated with zeal. He, too, would be a great warrior like the men he had seen. He would have great adventures! "Momma is cold," she muttered, braiding a strand of ribbon into Davina's hair as Eppie was finishing hers. Davina said, "I hope they show her some kindness." "They were mean, 'Vina, Eppie. But Momma is strong."
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Behold
May 24, 2010 10:44:44 GMT -6
Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on May 24, 2010 10:44:44 GMT -6
I can't see the moon
the thin fibers that hold me together strain against the tautness the weight becomes unbearable and I can't see the moon
following the sting, and clouded by haze of my own making, I seek it that feeling of discovery, of self worth and I can't see the moon
wisps of smoke shelter me through the torrents lost in agony, inconsolable and I can't see the moon
darkness crowds the dark thoughts suddenly you are out of reach and I can't see the moon
life is just an illusion darling but I'll believe you if you tell me it isn't so yet I still can't see the moon
I lost my trust, but never should have I am not the one you feel and I can't see the moon
I thought I found you, but you weren't there at all somehow you forget I am next to you. your beauty obscures and I still can't see the moon
all the anger I have felt slips through my fingertips live while you can because I can't see the moon
paradise awaits on the other corner of life, knowing if you love a lot you'll find strength to sing alone and perhaps you will see the moon
there are a thousand things I want to say but I can only think of one.
yet I still can't see the moon.
Eila Mahima Jaipaul It was such a funny thing to watch, this world falling by it's strings held together by the hands of God, or those who worked in his name. Such a corrupt world, those that dare dabble in the puppet-master's art. They were all pawns in the game of life, and suddenly he found himself without his Queen. Peregrine, played for both sides, the light and the dark; filtering them only with reason and corruption his key. However, when it came to matters of his family the pirate kept on the right. Tabitha's words were stuttered, as if she were afraid to admit the truth, but he knew in the matter of how her heart beat in her chest that there would be his answer. She struggled with the concept, or even admitted it freely; just simply wanted only to be free of the burden. He knew that she worried of his opinion, as the subject was indeed very fragile for lives were burned for less. Yet, she had to understand no harm would ever come to the Avarian Queen's heart.
"Lady.." He took her shoulders gently between his hands, the palms warm his fingers cool like silk felt even through the fabric of her sleeve, and he spoke in a voice that could have took place of a gentle spring breeze. There was a childlike glint in his eyes that was soothing, along with features that seemed to be calming in every way. Damnably handsome man much like his brother, but suddenly it seemed within seconds to be the older of the two; his likeness in every painting within the white castle. "Tabitha." The voice sounding then like that of the mountain, and equally as old; her eyes would fall inside limitless pools that could have mirrored a likeness to that of the Lady Eirian. "Of all upon this land, M'lady, there is not another who understands her more." His hand smoothed over her own as he brought it up, by way of comfort clasping it between his palms. "You need to remain calm, and tell me everything."
Hope
***
The Arena startled to life, lit by oil drums that circled around the famed colosseum; to act as the sun as the warriors prepared for invasion. Maahes knew little of where they were to go, but his heart pulled for Avaria--it was the only to make sense. Though, along the base of his spine he felt he was wrong. The Beast in this moment relied on the pirate, whose intuition never failed, and already Maahes worried he gambled too far within the devils hands.
"General.." The voice spoke out from the stand where Maahes sat watching, collecting his thoughts, and put together a plan, "We're ready when you are, Sir." So true was the famed army who could rise up like the sun, with only a single night. This was well practiced. The captain's heart would break seeing the state of the man, who stood so strong, but even the heaviest of trees could break. Maahes, was simply beside himself.
"Perhaps this was God's will." Broke the silence of the mighty Arab, who spoke not of Allah with all fear pulled over his eyes, melting with confusion as he simply did not understand; and refused to believe in Eirian's gifts. Falling silent again, the captain stood waiting for him to continue, but nothing was to be sad further.
"Sir?" Came the distant voice, of a man who had stood on the flat with Maahes now for moments, but strangely felt as though he was standing alone. Perhaps this was God's will. That Eirian be captured? That she slipped through his hands? Suddenly, this captain would bring his hand to touch the back of a beast, his heart pounding in his chest, but how could he not reach out to the suffering soul? Maahes turned at the touch, defeated.
"Bring me the caretaker of my children, and wake the King."
"Sir!?!"
Maahes turned a look over his shoulder to the man, that could have brought the walls down with pity.
"I need to speak with him, and would not ask if it was not important. He needs to be aware of the abduction, my motives, and a few..personal things." Lord General spoke as turned the wedding ring, removed from his finger, over in his hands. His heart ached, but he could live in denial no longer.
***
The moon was high in the mid-night sky, filtering in through the window upon the bedded floor that held tightly the children of the lost mother. Eirian's very spirit could have touched to them there with the moon, and Peregrine was certain he felt her on his back as he scaled the exterior wall so carefully. Was that her hand to hold him if he slipped? Thankfully, by now he was a master of this trade. The guards would have never let him in, not with who he was, or the reputation around him concerning the General's wife. However, he needed to speak to Hope. She would not be asleep, not the darling little sparrow who once so sweetly perched on his shoulder. In fact...was she waiting for him on the window seat?
"Good evening, Princess." Face to face with the beloved daughter, he would smile, an impish grin; some pixie devil born of the trees. Extending his hands, the fabled story of a boy who never wished to grow up suddenly came to mind, and how he pulled children from their windows to meet their death; Neverland only purgatory between Heaven and Hell, sounded about right, as he never did touch the gates of either,"Come, child. We need to have a talk." He needed her sight/ Asking a lot this pirate was, but the fate of her mother depended on it as well the fate of Avaria. Such precious lives to be placed in tiny precious hands, and no one better to keep their well guarded secret then that of he.
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Behold
May 24, 2010 21:59:41 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 24, 2010 21:59:41 GMT -6
THE HALF MOON SHOWS A FACE OF PLAINTIVE SWEETNESS
The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness Ready and poised to wax or wane; A fire of pale desire in incompleteness, Tending to pleasure or to pain:- Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness To perfect loss or perfect gain. Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness; This world is all on wax, on wane: When shall completeness round time's incompleteness, Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?- Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness To finished loss or finished gain.
By Christina Rossetti The Lady Tabitha shut gray eyes, allowing them to cycle behind parchment thin pale lids pulsing with veins. The tiny blue network aided to compensate for what the paper lids lacked, blood bulking substance. Shadow fell against sunk in orbs as she steadied in his hands. To tell him everything would be to relay a story that should never have been hers to tell. In the light of silver dreams she spoke in the tone of a dream. Before she could talk of a life's story, she brought up a point. It was this:
"I beg to differ, my lord. You, as I, are among those who know her far better than another. Those that know her best are unaware of her absence, and how her Lord husband shall be angered. The others are too young to speak. One other perhaps such as us is away, and it is my knowledge that if you have nothing concrete to relay, it would be better not to tell the Majesties. Yet you..if you are like her, God help you help her in this. And god forgive me, for betraying her to you."
*
Hope Olwyn Apollius, Luke Saul Apollius
The hope of the venture lay in the hands of a girl who's name was the same as what was most craved in a world destitue of good. In her eyes, too, lay the secret to all of man's triumph if they but knew how to speak the language of partial sharp color, semi-shaded twists that formed a play with no words playing against the backdrop of her eyes. Sable was most prominent, lit up by the schism of mother's blue that burst like the stars. "What, Uncle Peregrine?" said the innocent sage. All of her playfellows, save Luke, were long since abed. Various colors of hair lay across childhood forts in states of braided glory, whilst under elder arms the smallest found repose. Luke sought Hope's arms to guard him from the palpable pain he felt in the absence of his mother, yet he was comforted. The wind told the boy stories that no one could hear. Imaginary friends held substance; angels bent down to brush him with wings if a branch were low enough, and he could tell the difference. Apollo's careful, judging stare was set inside a young face. These children...babes of the moon. "What do ye want to talk about," came the sing song refrain of his thought that brought him hence. Unlike others who would fall head long to the end, Hope was sensible. She knew her Uncle meant no harm and was used to his antics, having grown up with him in her rafter or just around the bend many of her days. "I bet it's about Momma.." He was small, so luke's percpetion handled the immediate obvious. Poor son, stuck trying to process a still secret no one but all of them knew. He didn't want anyone else to know, for it only made it more real, like the voices in his head (d)
Captain Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont
I need you to come with me." He curled his hand around her own, leaning forward so she could take the climb, and smiling to the son of his brother. "I'm a betting man, Luke. You would win this one, shall we wager?" He grinned perching on the edge of the window, wondering if perhaps they could slip through the secret passage and Luke would not be left out. He knew the son of Apollo no doubt wouldn't want to be without understanding of what was going on. Nor, would he be so willing to let the pirate leave with his sister. "I need you show me where your momma has gone. Can you do that?" He knew they could, climbing in through the window he felt so very alive on the inside of the General's quarters, all the while fearing for his life. "Some think they've taken her to Avaria, but my heart tells me something else." He spoke with a sober face as the stone beside the fireplace moved and down into the depths of the castle they would go. (d
Mistress Ada de Sauveterre
Genevieve slept soundly no matter what happened, save the rare occasion when ... she didn't. Her first year in life -- Ada claimed most of the second, as well -- had been miserable for both mother and daughter, but equilibrium had been reached, and peace attained, punctuated by the rare night in which neither slept. Only Ada was awake this night, still trying to untangle her hair from the day's braiding festivities. No matter how she angled her head in the looking glass, she could not see the black ribbon one of the girls had ingeniously blended with Ada's equally black hair, and her glorious curls now stood out from her head at odd angles, the ends fried, and Ada herself looking every bit the witch those dwelling in the castle whispered her to be. And quite mad, Ada thought crossly, her eyes cross-eyed, her fingers going numb with lack of blood. It was at precisely that moment that Genna let out the most bloodcurdling shriek Ada had ever heard in her life -- it was inhuman, and frankly, she was startled such a noice could come from such a very tiny body. One, she thought with a bit of bitterness, she had bathed, oiling soft curls to detangle the mess, having the benefit of an omniscient eye when it came to her daughter's hair, whereas her own was .... Somewhat more challenging. "Hush, darling," she whispered, stumbling off of her chair and almost simultaneously pulling Genevieve from the little pallet and drawing her warmth against her chest. Genna immediately calmed, wide blue eyes staring over Ada's shoulder, but neither of them would return to sleep any time soon. She slipped out into the hallway with Genna, humming a lullaby from her little village as she went. *
Hope Olwyn, Luke Saul
"They think she was stolen to where Papa comes from?" The look was studios, one that decided that she did not relish this information nor find that it was correct, yet at the same time she was unsure of what she could provide to her Uncle. It wasn't disobdience that kept her back, nor Luke behind her. It was a sense of fear so strong it tied around the siblings while the other slept. How strange that as little hearts raced Genna should cry out in some sort of alarm. Dream's haunted, did the little girl seek relief? Hope was not a pale child by nature. While given to light skin, part of her blood was said to hold indigenous life in as much as an Emperor's palace. It kept her soft in peach shades as she was kissed daily by the sun, yet the drastic shift to ashes was enough to arrest any heart. Luke clung to her, their heads moving to look at one another. "Uncle Maahes won't be happy, Lady Tabitha won't either. You will get in trouble. You should be honest about it." She said, eyes brimming with tears as she imparted an old life lesson to an old soul. He didn't fail at it. Peregrine was just ambivalent. Still, how does a child hold back when the secrets under the tongue could help? Tell-tale signs of discomfort mounted before she turned to the hallway. "I ..don't want to go where..it would be better to tell you." She confessed as she crossed the floor on bare feet to Peregrine, " I dun wanna either, Olwyn..but..Momma." "I know." Genna's scream stayed with Hope, recycling in the brain as she suddenly began to say. "Are Genna and Miss Ada coming too?" She liked Genna, with the same fervor she liked Eppie. Both of them were different in some way from other girls, like she was. (d)
Captain Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont
A small nod of his head when the question of Avaria, and he curled his fingers through the child's own, "It's a sacred place, Hope. Your uncle Maahes, would have it crumble to find your mother. You must know he will, Hope. Many lives would be lost under his hand simply to return her." The cold hands seemed enough to sooth him, and he thought of Eirian in this moment a worry rising heavily in his chest where the pirate thought his heart to beat. Though...suddenly, he found it again, "What!? You won't break a rule for me?" Closing his eyes he laughed, Luke darn well could melt his heart with the little words. Looking down at Hope when she spoke of Ada he had to wonder, "No..why?" Perhaps that was where they would go, and as the world opened back around them he found himself drawn to the sage. "You won't get in trouble. Tell them I kidnapped you. Aunt Rosalind has the keys to the city." Meaning a fierce stare, and a wicked way with words. (d
Mistress Ada de Sauveterre
"What did you see, sweeting?" she asked Genevieve, angling her head to see her daughter's eyes. Genna smiled back, but had nothing to say, instead setting her heavy head on Ada's shoulder and sticking her thumb in her mouth. It was very adorable indeed, but Ada knew her progeny well. She merely sighed and kept walking, turning down the halls and intentionally losing herself, if only for the pleasure of finding her way back on her own merits. With the way the guards seemed to melt away from them as she walked, she could only imagine what her hair looked like. Truly frightening, perhaps, was the description they sought; without the child in her arms, it might have been a different walk entirely, filled with the ribald jests Ada adored flinging back, and which turned her love's cheeks a beautiful shade of russet to rival any apple. She inhaled deeply and let out the breath. She missed him already. She thought coming to the castle would help ease the feeling of something lacking at the end of her day at the shop, but the oddity of being in the castle was equally off-putting. She felt Genna's hand drop from her mouth as she dozed off again, followed not five minutes later by a blazing shout directly in Ada's ear this time. She almost dropped her child, throwing her across the hall, but held on by sheer force of will, if more than a little deafened on one side. *
Hope Olwyn, Saul Apollius
"Please." The little girl was emphatic, tugging on the pirate's shirt. Luke had to agree. He saw no wrong in Miss Ada given her visits to the Valley often came with the chance for him to sojourn in her lap. He was small, so bereftof the necessary adjectives to describe the joy he got in pretty beings being near him. Already, the living compass began to tremble as she looked out at the phase of the moon, her eyes already moving to the exact spot. Luke pointed. "She doesn't like it there," came the blunt telling, much like his father that way. It was as if being in the open air rubbed the girl the wrong way, but whatever he wanted was coming to the fore. "Hurry up Uncle Perry? I..want tae go, and come back." How gone was the jubulation from an always giddy voice, as if she would slip out of his hands to run the distance over roof tops if it were concievable"Aunty Rosey, would be cross at ye too, she thinks we need a good bed time." Hope turned out to the hall, merely looking in that direction. A voice with no words began to beckon at any that had the heed to listen to it. It was too soft to be aged, but it was potent. (d)
Captain Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont
"This way." He whispered knowing they were close to the Lamont suits, and soon would open up through the wall--spilling out in the hall where Ada would be. The scream would have nearly found Luke on the floor, as his heart raced wildly in his chest. Letting Luke walk, he came up behind the sage and touched her elbow gently while a hand came to rest along the back of the small wide eyed wonder of the child that shared his blood. "Is she unwell? I can send for Jean." He met the eyes of her mother, loving her just as much as the first time they met. So much had happened, did she know? Genna's curls were so soft, Pere felt his eyes become heavy with the desire to curl her against him. No. She doesn't like it here. No doubt they would have all been happier in an oversized French bed. Goodness, he would have to break this playing by the rules, Hope. No blood relation of his would worry over Rosalind being cross over a bedtime. How many nights did he go wake Honey up just to pull her out on the rooftop so they could dance under the moon? (d
Mistress Ada de Sauveterre
"Oh, Pere," Ada said by way of greeting, holding Genna out to him by reflex and blinking with exhaustion. Her scalp hurt, her fingers tingled, and she was deaf in one ear. Her hair had never looked wilder. Maybe a holy fool wandering from town to town, rather than a temptress Jean-Claude had worried would topple France, she blamed herself more than Genna. She saw something in her dreams, but would never say. Sometimes she pointed out the window at the blue sky and said cheerily, "La dame," but Ada could make no sense of it. Jean-Claude did not bring his ladies around Genevieve, and few ladies came to Ada's shop. "Ma petites," she greeted the children, once liberated of her child, holding her arms open to encompass one or both of them, her grip was wide and had plenty of room for hugs. "What are you doing walking about at this hour? It is a strange time, indeed, for games." She flashed them a smile and turned to Peregrine, shaking her head briefly. "Non, she is not sick, she has dreams. Sea and stars, I do not know what she sees, and I am not certain I wish to know." She paused then to rub at her ear. *
Hope Olwyn, Luke Saul
Hope was usually a font of information, a story always being told, but for now she slid down Peregrine's arm to be exchanged. Pere for Ada. It was the exchanged her little heart craved even if she didn't understand why. She went in to those arms, holding harder than a usual hug would entail. How much of the world did the pair hold in their hands? Luke, too, snuggled into Ada's side as he watched his sister's eyes brim with fresh tears as she sniffled. Brave soul pulled together as she whispered, "Please go outside with me? I have to...f.find Mama." It was the tone, or perhaps the desperate cry echoing in her silence for only the knowing to hear that said her mother was alreadygone. "Uncle..Pere needs me to look." " For once, she wanted nothing of glistening roof tops or side streets. She wanted no games, no delights. "Can Genna come too, if she isn't sick. It's bed time." But there would be no sleep for her tonight. Luke tugged on his sister, pointing to a window. He left, putting his ear as close to the sill as he could reach. Dear God, how crazy they looked! They had no words to articulate the fear of being so odd. Normal people did not go about in the middle of the night with ears on sills or worrying over the wind blowing, or time they couldn't track on a clock. "Please....Luke.." She couldn't finish the rest. She couldn't finish is listening. She only tugged on Ada before walking in the same direction Luke went, nearly bowled back by a wave of fear. She went white again as she held the ledge, and held her brother. (d)
Captain Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont He took her from Ada, and felt the desire to simply take them both in his arms. She looked so tired. He cradled his girl against his chest, laughing as she sucked her thumb, and happy to have her in arms reach. "I've been drafted to sail to Avaria. General thinks there is still life on that land. He'll destroy it all to bring Eirian back." Was she aware at what happened? Did she know? Gossip traveled fast, and silently he pleaded with Ada to look around her at the lost little souls at her feet. Jean-Claude had been gone for how many days now? "They could not have taken her there." He whispered then, "There isn't a motive. Everyone on that isle.." He kept quiet, Ada knew the truth. Every man woman and child had been killed, by a natural force that left their bones over the stone streets. Ada knew the truth. Ada gave birth in the middle of the truth. Peregrine however was sick with worry, knowing well that everything would be ruined should the army invade. "I just need a direction to sail, Hope, and its not something I'm asking either. Ada...maybe you can?" Get something else but tears from the lost little soul. (d
Mistress Ada de Sauveterre
Ada had heard. Gossip indeed traveled quickly, particularly when the weather was lovely enough that there was little work for a healer to do, even when she went looking for it down at the docks. The harlots loved to talk, the sailors would share their stories, but the real news was at the castle, and its verification was here. Her heart went out for these children, as much as it went out for Genevieve. She could not solve their problems, but Ada was the balm to soothe the injury. She took Hope's hand, and when Luke followed, held his, too. Such little fingers in her own, such worry on little brows. She sat down behind them while Pere spoke.Ada knew his worries without needing to be told. She had been there. She had seen them. She had lived them. Whatever had drawn her to Avaria had been powerful enough to upend her world, to break all her rules, to nearly rend her heart in two in the process. She almost hadn't survived, for plenty of reasons that still kept her up at night, in visions of green with a running stream, and her hand waving slowly through the waters of her fish pool. What purpose might haunt her until the day she died, but as time passed, it was easier to forget her role as a pawn. There were some games that even a rulekeeper for kings and their knights could not decipher. She sighed, and with it, reached within her to pull at the large, ornate handle and draw the door open. Men would seek knowledge, a lust for power, the carnal joy and bliss that followed a tempting lure even for those who did not come seeking. But there were uses that were as pragmatic as Ada herself, and she drew the comfort around them like their favorite blanket. *
Hope Olwyn, Saul Apollius
"Take me out!" She said in a terse, whispered wail. Luke nodded his head with that seriousness men get when women demand to be listened to, but his own eyes were off. The sheen in them, the way they held light was beyond one plane or the next. She snuggled into Ada again, but couldn't they please leave now? Peregrine was discussing something that evidently set her little being ill at ease. She swallowed screams, lips a thin line with no breech despite the feverish past her little lungs worked. " Now...now. It hurts." What hurt? A child need's the assurance of elder peers to know the world would not fall down at the mention of a single word. So much of what was stone pillar for a babe was washed away like sand, leaving three pillars where there were once perhaps six. To speak of Avaria was to have the child shake her head, a tug on Ada's hand as she took Peregrine's. Peter Pan was her hero; tonight the voyage from the tower to the ivory coast of elysium wasn't desired, only necessary. She couldn't explain to them in long words just how wrong Maahes was, yet she was afraid to show them. The only thing was, she knew she had no choice. Ada's comforting escape was in a way that began to pull at her want to stay, but something kept her purpose intact. The Pirate scooped up the little party to wisk him away in his unique fashion after returning the small French dream keeper to its mother. What was it, ala piggy back, ropes? She began to even dicate his climb in whispers pulled apart by the air for deciphering. East. East. West. South. South. This became her right, left, and down. Luke was content to hang upon Ada, little fingers gripping. His sister disturbed him, he'd never seen this state..nor did he ever think to wish to see it again. Unbeknowest to him, he became her mirror, repeating the same directives a second after even as Ada, interjecting his own little "I'm sorry. don't be scared." To whom did he speak?(d)
Mistress Ada de Sauveterre
"We will sleep, and all will be brighter in the morning," Ada whispered to them as they went, noticing even Genna had quieted. Her daughter was close to speaking full sentences, all in French, and could be very effusive when in the mood. She was a happy little girl, and pleased nearly everyone who met her, but she could be a little strange at times -- one of many traits inherited directly from her very strange mother. Perhaps Ada would follow them into their dreams, perhaps they into hers. Nowhere she led was ever scary or dangerous, and sometimes, even minds with the most to process required good, clean sleep. "We will have a very big breakfast," she added, more for Luke's benefit with a smile. She would be with them from the momen their heads hit the pillows to the moment they rose again. Peregrine would wish something green to dream beneath, but Ada could be domesticated, as unlikely as that seemed from sheer appearances. For once, she looked wilder than the pirate. *
Hope Owlyn, Captain Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont
"No." Luke couldn't help but to succumb, for he was but a year older than Ada, no older than the triplets Maaahes' lineage claimed. Three was so very small for being awake for so long. Four was still some time off yet, and thecourse of his thoughts couldn't help but to surrender to better things than a night without his mother, the first he had known in his entire life. He went with her everywhere she went, from the great capital back to their Eden. Hope's eyes wavered, but the pull to go beyond the window was so that Peregrine looked at Ada as if for once the mystic was too much to ascertain. That was why he put the girl upon his back, vowing to have her back sooner rather than later. He questioned the need for direction more in method than in demand for proof-positive thought. His logic was sound if his methods lacked credibility. Darkness swayed the pointer of any means necessary tonight. He was ambivalent to the fact he relied on a 'compass' that was not even old enough to articulate, an oracle still in its foundling stages, but empathized. Hell, he even envied Luke Saul! After all, he would have far nicer 'pillows' to nestle in sooner than he! "Down. East. East. West. South. South." He would be led out of the range of hawk-sight with extra assitance, placing him not far from the place where her heart was torn. "I can't..go to sleep yet. I can't..I can't....mmm that way." Peregrine, for all of his tricks, was reluctant to let her down. Luke in Ada's arms began to whisper little things. West. South. Go there. What eyes he had were too weak to follow what the words told him were directions, but at times the voice is as powerful as a picture. Yet he smiled, curled into his comfort. The Pirate knelt at the beginning of the cracking, crusting brown spots that denoted a man's blood trail. TIme was already wearing it away, feet that thought little over a few drops of blood. The Griffin could not spare the whore, the riff-raff, from themselves. The little girl was touching the wall, being led by sense. (d)
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Behold
May 24, 2010 22:04:07 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 24, 2010 22:04:07 GMT -6
MOON'S ENDING
Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill, In the dawn clouds flying, How good to go, light into light, and still Giving light, dying.
By Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) What youth saw... To be guided by innocence expecting the explicit direction the aged offer was as crazed as seeking daylight clarity by moonshine, but it was not a time for convention. Nothing was conventional about the child with tiny hands stretched between against the old mud side of a haphazard building in the district of the military. It was one still in need of reinventing to the standard of a new age. Mud-brick had a voice; if the walls could talk to anyone, they would not speak at all. Secrets were surrendered to the initiate of rarity. Hope chewed on her lower lip, turning to see if Peregrine was still behind her. Invisible strings made the girl child an unwitting marionette even as will pulled back to remind the unseen puppeteer that he pulled a living child. Ginger fingertips traced a faint pattern in the dust. She captured his hand, holding it in her own as she used his fingers to tell by touch, by sight, what words had yet to say. Two hands were there, one small one large. In the pattern, a large hand flecked in blood covered up all but the drawn finger marks of a smaller, graceful one. The poetry of violence was lost to Hope, but would it be to Peregrine? The blood trail broke to an eratic spectrum, hither and yon across the alley's breadth as they turned a narrow street opening up to the sea side of the city, just beyond the dockside pubs where the walls slid in to the dark. The fragile slip of woman had not gone in to the dark a lapsed entity. She fought, resisted the will of the captor. It was commendable. "Mama?" She asked, a question, as if expecting an aswer. Head tilted, racing with the turn of wind only to settle for looking at her feet in disappoint. How the broken heart could fool! Yet, the child looked up again, and her heart had little to do with a matter of the mind. "Uncle Pere," she turned in to him, before the man would gently edge her along. She only went forward with his hand. As the moon hit one corner, or a rat moved toward new trash, the small girl flinched. She recoiled back, as if about to be hit by a run away carriage when none were in sight. Suddenly, the edges of the street faded into subliminal image if one looked with the eyes of a child(1*) He felt his niece grow cold. She moved, a victim of some shock he couldn't soothe. Eyes darted out one last time to the back of the alley before their feet touched the unstable sand. She slipped, falling to her knees in the stuff near enough to pull back the horror induced reverie..until she found a trail of blood. Pulling back the sand was a task for adult hands, a tracker. Her own skimmed the top until she stood on her feet, toddling over the hillocks, the man-made dunes from passing patrols as their horses kicked up the sand. They walked on the edge of civilization toward the place where the gypsy, the criminal, or the secret hid. Encampments began to dot the coasts in summer out toward the coves as the gypsy who called the city year-long their home reunited with family from far and near to partake of the heaviest of the faire seasons. Past the light of their fires speckling the coast wandered she, a little moon throwing off flickering lights. No one approached the child for she was not alone, but the curious watched. They watched and questioned among themselves the matter at hand as the child unexpectedly thrust her hand into the sand with zeal. In the sand was her beacon, her lighthouse from the shore. She craddled her treasure in hand despite it being covered in blood... Her mother's blood. In no greater irony, it was the one known piece of finery Eirian wore without second thought, a crufix of silver studded on a chain holding sapphires. She pressed it close to her heart, eyes going wide again as if she watched some distant scene take place.(*2) At one of the bonfires, a woman watched. Her heart was not hard to the evident distress of the babe, and their oddity was beginning to unnerve the others. Would the pirate seek to contain her as the woman approached? Tzipporah was the name of the sympathizer. She was so named because her father and grandfather had been among those to claim the Egyptian heritage of all travelers. She was so named because he had heard it was the name of a Christian prophet's wife, and because the woman who had delivered her was Jewish so it was a good way to repay the debt. Tzipporah touched the arm of Peregrine without reserve, for he was not unfamiliar to beach, "What is wrong?" she asked the pirate, the gypsy prince, "She looks, at nothing, but looks like she have fever, aye?". The man was full of riddles, but tonight had none to spin. "She is trapped in her mind, and I am reading it. She is telling me where to go to find a mother she is missing, and hasn't the words." The woman paused while she felt the eyes of her family begging her to say nothing. Was he not one of the gadje as well as of the Roma? Would he not give his loyalty to the gold flags that gave them coin? "Last night,while we play fiddle...I see something against rocks. Struggle it looked, but I look again, it is gone. That way." Mouth remained mum as to all of the details, but it was as much for her own protection as it was for the sanctity of an innocent mind. what youth felt... * Eirian was exhausted from the struggle. The burden of the toil measured itself out in metered paces from her captor, the throb of her arm, and the sickening realization of each step trying to carry her from Skye's shores. After the streets gave way to sand she could no longer fight. After her hand slid back along the wall, unable to catch anything on which to hold, she was spent. He carried her across his shoulder, hopping from shadow to shadow. Getting to the coves would be the hardest part for he had to pass the patrols, the wall guard, and encampments. With little struggle from his hostage he made it as far as the encampment outcroppings before her shut eyes opened to see where he was going. He rested, leaving her on her side coiled as he sat to drink from a skin of wine. Intelligence bid him disarm her of the small, curved sword yet he did not account for the unbroken arm creeping over sand, pulling the body to grab at it. She swiped, cutting the side of his face. His orders were to cause her no undo harm, but given her arm was already where it was not supposed to be...and the cut she inflicted..his anger would get the better of him.* Hope would be picked up, hand pointing in the direction the Pirate would have to go. She curled up in his arms and whimpered in pain. In time, she sobbed in his arms, trying to wrap her little body around his as if to break her nerves of the habit of disobeying what she wanted. The entire time she clutched the blood stand crucifix, watching with half opened eyes until words formed once more. "He hurt her, they are going to hurt her. Hurt others too? People are scary." By now his compass had done more than show him a world she could not fathom, but illuminated his as the unknowing sage she was. Somewhere, Luke Saul slept in peace. He muttered incoherent from time to time, but knew peace in Ada's arms with Genna as his companion. For Hope, the world was too vivid, too harsh. "Mama was over there. The boat's gone." Her constant contact afforded him a view that stretched beyond their hour and behind it, all at once (*3). The heart sickening truth was that they were but mere hours ahead, and not a day as thought. The sickening truth, was that the ship had blended in that moved from that cove both of them watched. The child slid down her Uncle's body as if to touch the space before them, but could only go a few steps before she covered her hands over hear ears to shield them from something no one else could hear. "I want to go home!" she wailed. "I want..I want.." She ran back into his arms, holding him until her cold sweat soaked his collar, until she slipped into shocked silence again in his arms, uttering only "Papa.."The tide played cold over rocks and remnants of olden times, leaving knew writ in the last remaning piece of presence to validate the child's eyes: The silver edge of the Artisan's avarian bladeKey1 - The images of shadow outlines in fluxuating shadow-play, filling out only to dismantle, but the actions remain the same. A fight between the captor and the captive, drawing blood before the captive goes lax once more. 2. - The italicized 3rd person of Eirian, viewed in black and white, flickering. 3. - The evening as it was known, and a differing perspective from just North of where they stand. A ship embarking with its cargo in a direction opposite of the Avaria the general so wishes to persue. The ship is England bound.
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Behold
May 25, 2010 10:01:08 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on May 25, 2010 10:01:08 GMT -6
Tabitha's TaleA Story of Strange GiftsShe Spoke to the Pirate, the Dream-Dancer, the Moon Chaser.. I. "There aren't many that know my Lord, that I was born in the old country we left behind. I remember white stone going high in the mountainside, and riches alongside sickness. Somewhere in that middle was me. We were not poor enough to be destitute nor monied enough to be stable. We lived a life of daring flux that we laughed at even as the table dwindled with contents for supper. My father contracted lung sickness from the heavy moisture in the air matched with the dank of debtor's prison. He died, when I was eight years of age, and my mother lived long enough to see our meager savings were enough to place myself, my brother, and my cousin Anne on a ship bound for the closest islands. It was all she could afford, but she realized beyond the mist bank were better things that lived even hours away, even if the people who lived on that better couldn't see us." "We made it to the west side of the Isle we are standing on. My mother didn't come with us, but left word for my literate Aunt that we were able children. Anne's own mother had immigrated years before with intention to make a life for us all. How strange that she would have sent for us at the exact moment of our arrival. Fortune is strange, that way. I learned early that many here defy or command fortune with their actions. We lived on the farm in the Cullins, craddled in the fertile Valley when it belonged to the land itself, and bordered the lands of several clan lords. In time, my aunt was able to produce enough livestock and secondary barley crops to make a small fortune, to us it was one. The cottage of two rooms became four rooms with an upper loft. She built a larger, better smokehouse, and looked at the chance to place her girls for she promised my mother she would do so. She traded with the mayor of Broadford and Torin oft enough, so Anne was sent to Broadford, and I to Torin. Torin was smaller even in those days than Broadford, but my education was no less better. I followed the mayor's wife and learned everything there was to know about the household of a class that was coming to be called gentry. I learned how to maintain the accounts by more than my sight. By this age, I was eleven, twelve, a late learner, but my Aunt insisted I become literate. To this day I pale in comparison to my cousin Anne, but I know enough to endure." "Along with books of numbers, I learned words. I saw my Christian name written for the first time, and was made to do it over and over until hen scratch became passable. There were lessons in how to buy the better cuts of meat, to see the shafts of grain, and to make deals in the market. There was needlework, prayer, and manners alongside a country work ethic. The woman was equal parts stern and tender, and I loved the mayor's wife. Betwixt herself and my Aunt's often visits, they were mother to me. I got along well, and by the time I reached my majority it was time return home or make the decision to stay in the Lady of Torin's employ until my marriage. I elected to return home, anxious to put my skills to work on my Aunt's farm. Anne chose to stay in Broadford until the planting or harvest times, so that she could become more worldly. At any rate, time passes as it should. Anne came to stay again at the farm for good after she went one year beyond her majority. I think it is good for you to know this, because it lets you to know that I do fathom both ends. Honheldagus and I only parted for a little, and the Valley was in my heart before the arrival of our lady." II. I was still young even at the age of my majority, for that is only sixteen. I had no craft to apprentice to wait for my eighteenth year or an inheritance that required great maturity. I was near my seventeenth year the first time I saw the great Griffin Court come from the war in Scotland on their boats. My Aunt went to the city to attend a matter of business, with myself and Anne in tow. We were also set to visit my brother, whom by this time was now twenty and established as a member of the guild of silver smiths. Turas Lan had always stood a myth to me, that thing but thirty miles from the farm but no more real when you can not touch it. How magnificent! All of its glory, though, washed away from me when I saw the ships filled with people who had seen better days. Not even I looked as this when I left Honheldagus. I was dirty in the cheeks only for tustling in the streets with my sister, but I left in the last dress my mother ever made me. It was brown, and tied with a bright yellow sash." "That was my first view of victims of war, of injury and horror stories I had only heard old veterans discuss at suppers when I put it on the table in Torin. We were sheltered, Anne and I. Even my brother's exposure to war was only in making chainmail and studding prepared leather with links and pieces for saddles, reigns, and fashioning bits to accompany bridles. He was wanting to cover my eyes, but I wouldn't let him. He was right though, to tell me it would haunt me all my life. I saw a legless man and a woman who bled as they carried her. There was an orphan child and a man with wasting sickness, and I could relate to none of them. It was the people who had made their escape possible that captivated me the most. The man who was to be our King had one ship in hand while the woman who was to be Queen had another. I remember their faces now even if they do not recall me. The Physician, The Marshall, The King's Weaponsmaster. A man with features I had never seen before, slanted eyes, who at the time was said to be the husband of the woman who came after him. I remember her most of all, because she looked like she couldn't be real." "The Queen was bound in the breasts by leather, and with axe on her back you'd think I would recall her, but it was the pale hand on the ropes leading down the gangplank to the dock that made me freeze. Anne, too, was spellbound. She looked like something from a fairy story! I swear to you sir, I had never seen a woman that matched what a bard sang about. Oh, for certain we had seen what was beautiful or what was handsome, but we had never been spellbound. I averted my eyes, thinking that some entity was placing an enchantment on my eyes. Still, I prayed to God as I watched her walk. The dirt on her hands still didn't hide how pale the white. Her hair was the deepest jet, and her eyes burned into me the memory of seeing an angel for she smiled before the crowd swallowed her whole. My lord, the sunlight around her seemed to burst as she did that, making it glow in many tiny pieces. Anne watched her walk away, telling me that she could still pick out her dark head amidst all the crowd heading toward the old castle in the hills. " III. "We were touched that day by God, for it was only by his hand that we would have even the chance to be asked to serve a woman who was nothing less than noble. The court we learned was a mixture of high born birth and no birth! Imagine, what it was like for us to hear that there were people of lesser substance in robes! Anne couldn't believe it, my brother Christopher wondered how it could be, but I only said ' what it would be like to serve such as them!' Anne was the first to say it would never be possible! Little did she know how wrong she was." "After the Clans warring was done and the power of the new reign secured, the Lady chose for herself and then-husband a plot of land so that she might appeal to the countryside she missed and the inspiration the new life yielded. She wanted to please him, as much as to please herself. The Lady Eirian did well in choosing the Valley, for its few residents then already knew how beautiful it was. Why did we need to travel, when the knowledgable came to us? We had everything we needed in livestock, timber, grains, fish, and cloth. The Valley is filled with agrarian sorts. On the days after, and for many months, we would be among those who watched the home called Arianna Hymerodraeth take shape. I told my cousin that the Lady of so fine a manse was the maker of dreams. I was right. She was the High Lady Artisan, and it seemed like overnight the island bust at the seams to see the beauty of her art as they did to be healed by the Physician's hand, or see the Marshall with his horses. For all my want of it, I was not bold enough. One day my Aunt sent us with gifts for our new Lady, and it was Anne who took up the invitation from the Head of the Household, Mistress Bette Reed, to stay. I feigned the necessity of staying to assist my unwed aunt, yet was so jealous! At once Anne took to the estate like a fish unto water. Soon, my visits were filled with the astonishing prospect of seeing my cousin not far from the hems of the Lady herself! How to such a posistion, I asked her, and how quickly it happened? She told me that Mistress Reed was in the kitchen with her, planning the evening meal when the Lady emerged. She sat with them, listening to the chatter of women and saying the country life, its words, were most soothing to her. Anne giggled, saying how could talk of mutton be soothing? Before Mistress Reed could admonish, the Lady said it was because she had raised sheep as a child, and would do so again! Anne smiled, and the Lady spoke to her to learn of her life! From then on, Anne assisted the lady in intimate things, such as the laces of a gown the Lady could not reach, or in doing her hair. She was amazed at how capable the Lady was, but realized assistance came only when it was necessary. Still, there was much for Anne to do. A suitable companion was proper of a Christian woman in the country, so that none thought ill of her reputation. " " I visited often, assisting in establishing the household without being asked, tending the new gardens and helping the women at their chores all for the chance to be near them. It did no damange to my aunt's repute, only heightened it. In that first part of a year I watched a dream come to being, and a dream defer. The Lord of the estate never came to see what his wife had done, nor to watch the child that in turn came to grow in her belly. Anne said that her grace was so that she never spoke ill of her lord nor did any less than pray for him in public or private, but one would have to be a fool if they didn't believe some part of her wasn't bitter or angry. In the first year of her arrival we saw her grow round with child. Anne could not bring herself to say anything ill against Eirian, even when the shock of a woman seeking a divorce came about, and even when we realized it was a legal thing to do! Still, in that same span we learned how absence was longer than what we had seen. If a woman could make for herself a land and give her child a chance, not constrain it to an absent name, wouldn't we all do such?" "The Lady became the betrothed again, and courted. Much to my disbelief, it would be me, not Anne or Christopher, that recognized the man on who's arm she walked while we all lowered our heads in respect. It was the Avarian King himself, the General of high proportion! My fortune was sealed for me on the day Anne took sick, and the Lady sat at her spinning wheel. She sought a basket for her spindle, and it was I that gave it to her. By this time I had no less than moved in, and settled a visiting sort of servant among the lesser women. Anne's stature was higher than my own, but I did it with aplumb. When our fingers touched, my eyes were opened to a place not of this one. We both looked on Honheldagus, and it was then she knew of my origins. Without fail, I sat upon the lower stair of a room that moved in steps down to its center, and she listened to me. I helped her to stand upward after, and accompanied her to her chambers. It was only then I saw that as her hand reached for the door, it did so in method." "The lady was blind." "My lady, please, won't you let me.." "It is alright, Tabitha. I have done this many days since I was a girl. It will be right by morning. I have only exhausted myself, that is all." "Let me help you, please..""She let me take the ribbons from her hair to brush it, unlace her gown, and let me stay as she spoke until she fell asleep. I told her of Honheldagus and what faint memories I had of seeing some of its famed warriors, and she spoke to me of what turmoil it knew. She loved Avaria as much as she loved the Valley, and of the two it was the first that could kill her. I didn't understand then how something so fragile could ever rule something so demanding. Didn't Kings elect wives based on posistion or ability? Yet I remembered as she slept, what it was like to merely brush her hand and see in to a mirror. I knew then that what the body couldn't do, the mind excelled at, and the Lady ached many days without a word. As I tended her in place of Anne during this time, I learned of the scars that came of injuries effecting her sight, and why her back had faint ghost marks from whipping. I learned what made her grow ill, often made to more than it was. She was so seeming frail that everyone treated her as if she would vanish. It took her a great while to make this be gone, but the worry was valid." "There is no need to tell you the rest, for you saw it with your own eyes. She did not bawk at her husband's country nor shirk away from her duty. She gave birth to a girl who stole all of our hearts, that Anne helped to deliver with another midwife of similiar name. I became the caretaker of the infant Hope not long after her birth and even in the days where the Apollius family moved to Honheldagus. I lived in better settings than as a child, but there was more danger. " Our lives, our souls, are intertwined. I do not wish this any other way. IV. "In time, we all came to the Valley and live in their service. I am the lady's handmaiden now, and Anne is as well, but has taken to midwifery best of all. Christopher has come to be one of the personal smiths. All of us have traveled back and forth with her, yet it is my face you see most of all because I am never far behind the hems of her dress. I began my service to her at seventeen, and I am twenty two years of age now. I can tell you that the Lady's gifts came out at times where no one would really see them, and at some times when the knowing asked her directly, and she would whisper to them her prophecy. She told me that some things are as reflections in a pond with no clear course for future changes as we change, yet other things are certain. I know that I have seen her eyes soften as she has spun, sewn, painted, woven, or drawn. I know that in drawing the details come quicker, and in weaving she might make a symbolic map of where things have been, where they may go . I know she finds images in water, and a certain sound or person might trigger a moment's pause. I know that she can move in a dream, and that it has taken her great practice to tame what has been with her since the day she lost her sight for many months at the age of nine. She told me it was her journey to the land of the Scotts that began to cement each ability in place as one year turned to the next, and her proximity to certain people that made it what it was. She says she thanks the old General for without him, she would have never learned to make sense of it as it was his people that had no fear. In the East, she said, she was revered for her gift and even learned to dance, but in the East she couldn't stay. In the west, she merely kept it behind the curve of her smile. In the West, she said, it was the General-King Apollo that helped to ease the pain of possessing it, for she had never told a soul until she touched the land here...and even then, he had known by default for years. " "My lady is pious, but still fears what any would fear of a Church that is as horrid as it is merciful. She fears the stake, torchure, ridicule, and wishes no ill for family nor friends. She is able to place her ability into the art the world adores, and in private entertain with her abilities at the dance. I think her thoughts are in every work she has ever touched, but no one knows how to look. Long have those that said to ask her to but weave your standard is to increase luck walked alongside the likes of us who know why it is lucky. I am afraid for her Peregrine. I am afraid that she will not come home, and by the time you find her, the nightmare she speculated on will come to pass. She told me she saw much of fire in the time ahead."
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Behold
Jun 11, 2010 7:51:00 GMT -6
Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Jun 11, 2010 7:51:00 GMT -6
((Reserved for Log of Maahes/Pere/Ros fight))
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Behold
Jun 11, 2010 7:59:52 GMT -6
Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Jun 11, 2010 7:59:52 GMT -6
The strength in youth astounded him, even now with the very spirit of the moon against his shoulders, yet even she fell victim to her exhaustion. Joining her brother who was already asleep against his chest. Hope was such a small child, petite like her mother—no blood of Apollo’s, she carried his spirit,, and for this he was thankful. Somewhere in the midst of the night he had stolen her from the rest, talking of stories long gone from a childhood he never knew. It was in idle conversation that the stone streets under his feet became the dirty path, and the clear sky became clouded by thick heavy branches so full of their summer dressings.
It was when her questions did not continue did he know she did sleep, in the pool of his pale strands Hope’s eyes were closed, as little still fingers were curled through his hair as if she were afraid she would fall even in her rest. She had cried for her Papa, and it had nearly broke his heart. He could use his brother now too. In the evening before, the Lord General had made a visit that resolved with a broken window, and the scabbing cut under his crown of curls, as well other various marks across his features that healed uncommonly fast. Maahes was blind with the thoughts of Avarian undoing, as well a deep rooted homesickness with wanting to return to the Isle, but things just were not the same there as they once were.
The midnight hour was close at hand, and though the heavens above could hardly be made out through the thick foliage, the dancing stars seemed to go in circles around the moon. The time was right.
Luib, sat before them in the hills of Hope’s birth, but somewhere through the lines he worried she had never known of its giving nature. Peregrine often slept in the trees when times were most tough, the aged old oaks always having the wisdom and giddy pleasure in seeing the night through. He knew she would be safe here. A dark shadow seemed to remain over the thoughts of her mother, and he couldn’t help but feel the heartache was not through. Hope and Luke needed something more nurturing then the hostile home of the Lord General, and Peregrine needed to clear his mind.
England
Hope’s vision could have only been about England, but with it there he worried that there was little direction as to why or where they would have taken her. Thankful Jean-Claude was already rooted in the recovering lands, he worried of the old scientist as well.
Peregrine went to the door and knocked, his voice so very tired seemed desperate, but still the children did not wake.
“Conlaed!” He called out, “Breanna..Wake up.”
Worry befell him, what if they were not home? What if she had their child? Neither of them would ever turn away the children, and for this he was thankful..he didn’t know where else to take them, that he trusted. Something much darker was at foot here, and his ancient bones knew the truth.
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Behold
Jun 12, 2010 0:34:12 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on Jun 12, 2010 0:34:12 GMT -6
Creeks are winding Just seeking their way Harly tryin' to reach the sea Raindrops falling From skies to the earth Bringing life to you and me Lakes of silence A magical sound Keeping secrets in the ground The Second Element - Sarah Brightman Hope. It was the name of a girl with jet in her hair and split stars in her eyes holding blue in the center of sable. It was the feeling that humanity craved when despair took hold, when the night was too long and too profoud. Light was simpler. Hope brought the source of her name to the people closest to her but kept none of it for herself, because youth could marr the beginnings of sage wisdom. She was too small to understand how wide her mind would reach but old enough to know the reason for the hole in her heart. Peregrine told her that they were going back to the countryside though he did not say who at first would keep them. She prayed it would be to her home, to her father, but found the prayer gone unanswered as to put a dent in her faith of the God that everyone in the Valley embraced in some way or another. Never had she doubted prayer or ritual in the service to diety, but wanted to scream at the sky if she knew how to make the stars fall. "Why," was all she could say, clutching at her cloak with cold fingers, "Why did you take mama? Where is Papa?" Summer whispered on the hillsides enough to warm the time under the moon, but she couldn't feel it as well as she used to. Other senses though were too keen. Without Peregrine, how would she sleep? Adelaide was already gone, and she had not seen others familiar to her. Rosalind, or Beathag. Not even the Marshall or his wife. The width and breadth of heart-family shrank by the hour, and now Peregrine was leaving her. God was terribly unfair. He took her and Luke to a place called Luib, only there telling them that they would stay with the Prince of Fire Eaters and his wife, The Scarlet Flame. She knew her mind could see them spinning flame decorated tricks but it didn't process that this would be safe. Nothing would ever be the same.. would it?
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Behold
Jun 12, 2010 0:37:47 GMT -6
Post by Breanna Keelan on Jun 12, 2010 0:37:47 GMT -6
Wasn't it you Who was breaking the light The second element
And the rainbows arise
Oh, wasn't it you Who was standing a fight The second element
From the earth to the skies
The Second Element - Sarah Brightman
Breanna Keelan
The Keelan's lived in the light of their blessing with the knowledge no one would take it away. Only cooking fires burned in the hearth warming the whole of the home, nothing to eat out the side of a home. The vardo wheels turned with ease over the land as summer's call was sounding. Ripe, golden days shone on a green country that was by far the best of any place in the world to Breanna. Skye had given her what no amount of traveling the whole of the world couldn't. The racous calls of the Gypsy Lane were symphonic piece illustrated in laughter and color. Customers making the bells ring above the doors she owned (two standing in number!) made business a delight. The greatest of all things though was the gentle peace she knew as a mother once again. Illona suckled on her teet with an insatiable hunger that matched her mother's for life. (d)
Conlaed Keelan
Conlaed would smile down at his daughter, offering his finger to her while she feed. The smile seemed to grow, as she slipped her hand around it. Quietly, he ran his thumb in a small circle on the back of his daughter's hand. There was a soft smile to his wife, "I feel truly blessed...." He leaned down to kiss his wife's forehead, before turning to meet another new customer (or, was it a well-wisher?) *D*
Breanna Keelan
"We are so blessed. Illona is all ours, look. She likes your finger. Silly girl, are you finished suckling?" Breanna pulled her breast back out of the babe's mouth at the sound of the door . Fixing her gown, she pulled the shawl around her body so it concealed Illona from the world. What did the world want to bring them? An open door revealed to Conlaed the form of Peregrine. The pirate man rushed in, speaking the words of his cause as he flew threw the shop making the wind chimes dance harshly in his wake. He spoke of absence; The Artisan who gladly took business of the gypsy folk was no where to be found. He spoke of war poems and an angry Egyptian who wanted to tear to pieces an Avarian landscape only to find nothing for she was taken to England. All of these things done in a whirl of bohemian chaos. He left them with a gift, the gift of a small girl with dark hair, brown eyes, and trembling. "Uncle Pere?" she cried. The pirate knelt down, kissed her forehead, and promised to find her by a moonlit window. He told her that she would be safe with these sweet, colorful people who would sew bells on her clothes and give meaning to her every desire. (d)
Conlaed Keelan
Well, you could pretty much color Conlaed gob smacked! Even for Pere, this had been a rather bohemian whirlwind. Had the Bre or Con even gotten a word in edge wise? Hell, had Pere given them the name of the child? "....." Even for a being of myth, this was a bit far from the ordinary. But all those thoughts were past in a instant, before Conlaed became his cheery self. There was a smile, as he went about the counter and crouched down to be on the girl's eye level. There was an easy smile, as he said,"Welcome to our home, chavi...." He was doing what he could, to be as nonthreating as he could. (Damn it all! Had Pere even told anyone the girl was here? The gypsy folk already had the blood libel of 'baby/child stealing' on their heads!) Conlaed grinned, "I have seen you at our shows, dah?" There was a pause, before he offered, "I am Conlaed....the Prince of Fire-Breathers?" And he would introduce Bre by her stage name as well. "Do not be afraid. Your uncle Pere is a friend to us!" And would be getting a dope smack applied to the back of his head the next time Conlaed saw him. He would rise, offering a hand to their child. "Come, if you are hungry we have some sweets still...and you can tell us your name?" (D)
Breanna Keelan
"Uncle Pere, please! I want to stay with you!" She shrieked at a pitch enough to crack the glass with her heartbreak, her eyes could move tears from stone. Blood from old trees. The small child had the power to render the world helpless against her apathetic plight. Pere was heartbroken to see his little niece so horrified, but knew she would be comforted. Any one whom had truck with her mother would be felt by a mind more intelligent than the heart left to its own devices. "Uncle...Pere.." she whimpered, turning to Conlaed. She stepped backward, seeing him with seperation anxiety, not with sense. Slowly, only slowly (it would not help Conlaed's mind the girl was screaming in a row of gypsies, so anxious, so left alone by her keeper. Worthy of two smacks.) would she look upon Conlaed with memory of a brighter day seeing the color of his fire in flamboyant perfection. She touched him, and smiled. What did Pere give to them to keep? She looked up to him, stepping in, and held him. By the time Breanna came down the steps she found herself introduced as the Scarlet Fire, the light possessed better half of a man who also bound books. Hope stood amidst their world of dust covered volumes, penny pages on propped up poles against the walls, wire thread with glass beads, semi preciou stone under silk. Light was thrown out in star shapes from wrought iron lamps. "Peregrine!" Breanna hissed out at him, but he was gone. Only the night wind was testament to him ever being there, so it left a mother's eyes to turn down toward the little girl who pressed herself in to her husband's leg, "Ah, so you come to stay with us, little one? Your name is Hope, hmm? Such a prety name for a pretty girl." By the advent of another knock another delivery came in the form of a small boy clutching a stuffed bear. Bluntly he stated, "My Uncle told me to stay with you." He was three, perhaps, possesed of strong voice He came in, seeing his sister, ran to her arms (d)
Conlaed Keelan
Above the children's head, there was a clear expression from husband to wife -- Pere would be dope smacked no less than four times. One for each child's heartbreak, one for bringing up the old blood libels in the minds of the ignorant gadje (the crying had not helped), and the last to inform him that he was a god-father. There was a brief softening of his features, as he moved his wife. Quietly, he said, "Illona sleeps well?" He was worried that Illona had awoken (which would have earned Pere another smack). There was a smile down at the chavi and and chavo. He would crouch down again, and make introductions to the boy as he had with the girl. Again, it was in exchange for the boy's name and ended with the enticement of sweet breads. It was then that Conlaed would motion for a handcherif from his wife, before cleaning the faces the children. "Welcome to our home." (D)
Breanna Keelan
Luib was amid the Cullin Hills the children called home, even if it was not craddled in the magnificent Valley, Peregrine had the sense to know that not only would the children never be turned away, the country might begin to heal them. Even traveling in the city, the children would be safe in their vardo, the mystery shop, in their arms. Gypsies were never touched with willingness by many even if the libel against them faded to a dull din on the island of infinite possibility. Illona began to cry, and her mother sued her. The children looked up at Conlaed after reciting their names, Hope for the girl, and Luke, for the boy. Luke went over to Breanna and asked, "Why is she crying?" Breanna knelt down so he could see her .It was no easy task for a woman still mending from labor, but the grace of a dancer assisted such action, "She has fed, and is tired. When you were little,you were the same way. Illona is very new. She is not as good or patient as you are." She brushed her hand against his face until Luke moved into her open arm. "Conlaed will find you a sweet bread, some milk too? Or tea with honey dah? Come, let us go see. You must learn of where you are." Hope held on to Conlaed's hand, Breanna held Luke's. The pain of missing a mother was radiating from them like heat. All they craved was love...her love. They would make a poor substitute but do all that they could. (d)
Conlaed Keelan
Conlaed would smile to Hope and do what he could to draw her attention away from the missing of her mother. He would ask her if she wanted bells sewn in to her clothing, for Conlaed could do it! Perhaps he would tell them both stories, later, to lull them to sleep. It had been sometime since he had an audience. Once the children were in the kitchen and provided with there sweet bread and milk, Conlaed would quietly leave to turn out the lights in the front 'business' portion of their shop. While the lights were turned out, he left a small lantern glowing. Enough to let those that had true need of them know they were in. He would also not bar the door. Travelers themselves, Conlaed and Breanna honored many of the old laws and customs of hospitality -- never would a weary soul be turned away from their door. (D)
Breanna Keelan
That was why Peregrine chose the for the sacred task so close to his heart of guarding his brother's children. It was not the first time an Apollius child crossed the threshold of their lives; Saul sank in the warm sand of the encampment on a summer past, drank of their spirits both of the vine and of their blood, told his stories over guitar strum. Now the youngest would be fostered as if they were the next generation of Keelan children. If only for a little while, bells, sweet bread, and the glow of fire would stand for family to the Apollius children. Breann astood closer to her husband as eyes spoke with no words. What had befallen the Artisan, what would take such a woman? Who would dare? The answer was not one she truly wished to know, but it was so cruel to see the children without mother when she had only just become one. Illona was posistioned over her shoulder, held just that much tighter. (d)
Conlaed Keelan
There was a faint gesture of not knowing. Peregrine had rushed whatever news he had brought, while Conlaed focus had been trying to win over Hope (and then Luke). It broke his heart. They experienced a special pain, Con and Bre. For they could not only know the heartache that came from missing a mother.... but, as parents before and parents now? Also know what it was to loose a child. Was this not so similar? But those were concerns to be talked about later, in the quiet times that came later. For now, he would smile and be a warm and caring soul to the children (who had finished their snacks). Once more, he would offer a hand to each child. Then he would lead them to a spare room, so near their own. How long would he stay there, telling fantastic and wondrous stories to lure the children's minds from all that was dark in the world? Eventually, they would both drift into the land of slumber. Hopefully, with Conlaed's tales in their head instead of anything else. (D)
Breanna Keelan
In time belly's were full of treats and their bodies warmed by the thick quilts of a thousand different colors the Keelans kept. Life was color; tonight shades of gray fell on the small family. Hope watched Conlead talk until her eyes grew heavy and Luke curled into her, both children in a world the Vagabond Prince made for them. She didn't find him so different from her Uncle Peregrine now. In another room, Breanna sat on the edge of the bed she shared with her husband. In another room, Busy-boy and Hawk slept, unaware of what transpired. (d)
Conlaed Keelan
There was a smile, as he at last tucked the sleeping children in to bed. (Sans the good night kiss, of course.) Then he would head toward the master bed room, although.... Conlaed would pause, opening the door to step in just a bit. "Hsst! Hawk. Busy." He was quiet, keeping his voice loud enough to be heard in their room. When they were moing to get up, he would still them. There was a smile, "Easy, chavos. It not morning yet....I only wake you to tell you that we have borders now. Go quietly about your chores in the morning, dah?" Such good lads! He would fill Hawk and Busy-boy in on what had happen in the morning, since it was likely that the men of the household would be awake before Hope and Luke. Then he would go to his own bed room, sighing softly. (D)
Breanna Keelan
Hawk gave a salute to the Rom Baro in charge, turning over in his bed while Busy boy looked bleery eyed with a hundred question until the need fo sleep pulled him back down again. Soon, only the sounds of the night came in through the open window. Gentle hand shut it, putting the latch across the shutters so not too much air kissed the flesh of the babe. She wanted to run on that wind, run from fear and speculation. "Conlaed..." (d)
Conlaed Keelan
He would take his wife in his arms, holding her close. He kissed her softly, lovingly. "I know not what go on....." And he would then tell her all that Peregrine had told him. Such as it was. Even then, it seemed, what was known was very little. (D)
Breanna Keelan
"Who would want to hurt such humble woman? I do not want to understand it, but we will take care of them. What of their father - maybe we keep them until he shows no? They must pine for him too. I am worried..what if they are all not well?" Breanna kissed him again, holding their daughter between them. "The summer fair season. What we do, it start in few days...we taken them along, on island. Do we leave word for Peregrine?" (d) Conlaed Keelan
There was a smile, "Surely even Pere know when we do most business, dah?" He was thoughtful for a few moments, "Perhaps that why we given charge of the children?" But that way lay darker thoughts. Thoughts of what happened to the Artisan and her husband. Although, outside of the Griffin Castle, there were not many places safer than Liub. For in Liub, there lived a 'fire breather'. One who was more than most. (D)
Breanna Keelan
A fire breathing man with his wife who tamed the element much as she did him. Dancing swords were sharp enough to inflict hurt if being were threatened. She leaned back, letting her head lapse on the headboard as she sighed. Smiling, she looked at him with a nod "Dah, you are right. We will criss-cross many places. We can even take them home, find their father. We can linger a great many places, and we have Busy and Hawk to help us care for them. But what of Peregrine, and others? Ada around him much, and Peregrine's wife .Where is he going? Even...even the patroness is not well. You know they say bad things of General's wife, that she is not well. I am afraid for them, what is happening?" (d)
Conlaed Keelan
There was a shake of his head. After a long while, he murmured, "Perhaps.....they are like the Fisher King?" Invoking the old legends that - most likely - they had seen with their own eyes. T'was oft said that the land and the nobility were one. Was there some great sickness in Tarus Lan, that moved to touch all of them? (D)
Breanna Keelan
"All of them are tied, you know? Peregrine to his wife, Rosalind, to Ada, to General Maahes to Ealora..now the Artisan, her husband. That wave of misfortune frightens me. So soon after having Illona. Were it not for the children we should sit on other soil, but supersticion hard on a Roma, dah?" She smiled half-heartedly, kissing the forehead of the baby before passing her to Conlaed. Gypsy speculated with folk-lore the way of a world of nobles run on sense, but nothing in Skye made perfect sense. It was broken and bent, fractured to filter different and that was how they liked it. Yet even for the isle things were tense. "What of the war they speak of, how how tense things are..I not see it..but you not think it will touch here?" The idea disturbed her. (d)
Conlaed Keelan
There was a sigh, before he said, "I know not....." He smiled, taking his duaghter into his arms. How he was the proud papa! The only women that he had eyes for in his life were his vest'acha and his chavi. And? He fawned over them both. "We see what come. If need, we send Busy to Peregrine that say we go elsewhere." (D)
Breanna Keelan
"Dah. Our house is so full now. So much life," She watched him hold the baby. The subject changed to reflect the purity of the life in his arms. "She is right there, with you. Your little Illona. You believed so much in her, I pray for her, so many times to give you our promise. She has fough tlong to come to us, I think." Was her spirit the same as the soul of a lost child when first bonded or a child made up of all they had lost? Was she her own, distinct and beautiful? "No one will ever take her," shesaid more to herself than Conlead, but the fire-dancer met every word of it. (d)
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Behold
Jun 14, 2010 7:28:26 GMT -6
Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Jun 14, 2010 7:28:26 GMT -6
Avarian Coast:
Avaria opened around the shell of the sea, the cool crisp water’s never clear but today were a bit more transparent. There with the tender break of the calm glass like surface the Rebecca Lee made her motion towards the shores. The river outlets were perfect for dock as all that remained of the city was left in ruin. It was a strange feeling to sail this shore, and never did he forget how eerie it all felt. Peregrine wanted to call it home again, and from the way the General watched with open eyes he figured the Beast to feel the same.
“She is not there Maahes.” A ghost of a man, the pirate he had left behind there standing just off the shoulder of the Lord General, “I tried to tell you.”
“Perhaps in the ruins.”
“No..there isn’t any life. None have survived.” Bones lined the shores so clear even from the miles out the shape of the skulls could be made out. “Listen to your heart, Maahes, she’s not there and you know it.” Pride in the body of the Lion, would be proof enough he would not rest until he at least searched through the castle.
“You have to just let me look.” It was a whisper that surprised even the pirate, whose scarlet scarf fell under his hat, and when he gave the nod to the crew to dock he would sigh.
“As you wish.”
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Behold
Jun 16, 2010 16:13:15 GMT -6
Post by Peregrine Inveryne-Lamont on Jun 16, 2010 16:13:15 GMT -6
“Papa,” She cried, over and over again the shrill scream of the smallest Sauveterre, clung to her mother’s shopkeeper until the middle of the night seemed to crack. There she had known pain, and in it this little girl suffered. Marcelline could hardly rest, the bitterness in the child’s agony could not be cured, not by her hands alone. She would not sleep, she would not eat, and with it the keeper kept close tabs on the ships returning to the docks. She waited for Peregrine, the speculated father of this Avarian moonchild. Yet, even when the pirate returned she would not stop.
“She has been like this a week..Peregrine..I.” Marcelline gave him the child before his feet could even flatten upon the boardwalk, and this was twice now Genna had been handed off to him in such a manner. She was such a happy child, what were they missing? Still, she cried her three year old mind unable to communicate what was wrong.
“Papa, papa.” She cried putting her little hands on either side of Peregrine’s face to keep his eyes inside her own, as if to dare him to try not to understand. She was saying it as clear as she could.
“She has been crying for you, begging for you.” Marcelline spoke, but Pere hardly listened the seriousness of his sobering face reading further into the mind of the child.
“Non, she does not call me, Papa.” He spoke quietly though not breaking his gaze from Genna, he chilled, “Is Jean-Claude, still in England?” The keeper gave a nod, and held her hand to her chest as if she suddenly understood. “Adelaide?”
“The last I heard she was to return sometime last week, Sir. I’m worried sick.” She spoke as she watched Genna calm in Peregrine’s arms, against his chest she knew now finally someone understood.
“You don’t have to be.” He finally spoke, looking then to the frazzled assistant. “She would tell you. Right baby? Just have to listen.” He smiled bouncing her just a little, as Genna seemed to give in finally and put her cheek against his chest. He had to get to England, but what to do with Genna? A grin crept over his face, and he would start to make his way to Luib.
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Behold
Jun 18, 2010 11:59:05 GMT -6
Post by Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine on Jun 18, 2010 11:59:05 GMT -6
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Behold
Jun 19, 2010 22:28:35 GMT -6
Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on Jun 19, 2010 22:28:35 GMT -6
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