“Larissa...she's gone…I cannot now find her.” Nareth sat gazing at the fire, a study in grief and loss, her back against a chair of Indian reed, her porcelain fingers resting on its wheels beside her. The drawing room of the Library was full; it’s hearth provided some comfort against the raging winter storm.
I rose from Grr’s arms, where he and I had settled, warm fur against flesh, upon one of the large brocade pillows that ringed the fireplace. Rhaven and Kryss read quietly, both pouring over open books in their laps. “She was never really in there, you know,” I said as I drew close and began rubbing Nareth's shoulder. "What's troubling you?"
“I don't know what I know, anymore, Joah. But...Dryl,” Nareth sighed. I could feel her shivering under my touch. Still cold, I thought. “Dryl gave me this blanket, but... I think no one else can see it.” Nareth pulled at something that wasn't there, wrapping it around her.
“The ghost girl?” asked Kryss, looking up from her book. She gazed at Nareth with unblinking, unclosing eyes.
Nareth nodded. “When I saw her...day before yesterday...there were parts of her...simply missing. Parts of Dryl...missing.” Grr listened, stirring slightly by the fire, and giving growls and yips in low tones to a strange lycan pup that had wandered in from the snow.
I began to work my thumbs in small deep circles between Nareth’s shoulder blades, intending to examine her wounds but hoping to touch the invisible covering. “Do you think the blanket is part of her?”
Grr quirked to attention. “Wha’? Wait? Missin’? Spook's got parts missin’?”
“I think it must be, Grr,” Nareth nodded. “She said...she had placed parts of herself into…me...the missing parts.” Nareth shivered again. “And...she made me sleep.” She shook her head, trying to clear it.
Grr looked slowly up at Nareth, his golden eyes unfocusing and looking Within. Grr, the Watcher. “When, yes, when she did,” he replied, “She…she bore your wounds, stigmata. She didn’t feel it, but I saw it in her, I saw you…in her….”
“We need to research her,” Rhaven spoke up. Her tone was harsh, her voice full of irritation. “Y’all don’t understand. She wants us to and what I just heard from y’all, we might be running out of time.”
“Rhaven...no one ever runs out…of time…time always keeps up.” Nareth gave a humorless laugh.
My fingertips moved up Nareth’s spine into the base of her head and then down to the small of her back, still seeking, as she leaned forward allowing access, her lips parting slightly. “Dryl may have placed herself within you, Nareth, to heal your injuries,” I said, remembering the night of Pontifex’s vicious attack. We had worked furiously over Nareth’s prone form as she lay dying in the street. I’d asked Dryl to touch her, to reach in, to try to repair the knife wound that had very nearly severed Nareth’s head from her body.
Kryss turned her head toward Rhaven. “What do you mean... out of time?”
Rhaven didn’t respond, but instead pointed to Grr as if he had proven her point. “You can speak in levels and planes that you know well.” She turned to Nareth, pushing aside philosophies for the time, her sense of urgency overwhelming her. “But I will be heard this time. She wants us to study her, to know her connection to us, to the Library, Herself.”
“Yup, Raven's Song, we have been studyin’ her, but do ya have a better way? Cause if ya do, it'd be welcome, too,” Grr replied diplomatically.
“She is in need...yes,” Nareth murmured. “She is so beautiful. And now…she is…in me.” Nareth look back at me and whispered, “Very small pieces. Quanta.”
I gazed at Nareth for a moment, pausing in my ministrations, before turning to face the dark witch in reply. “Dryl is a convocation of Spirits, Rhaven,” I said, “And while she is connected to the Old Woman in the Walls... she isn't Her.” I opened my hand to use the heel of my palm against Nareth’s hips when suddenly I felt it: a cold, moving blanket of something pulsing as though alive.
“Go deeper, Joah,” Rhaven insisted, her brows furrowing. “Pretty is pretty, but.... There’s more that she wants us to know. We need to look deeper.” Sighing heavily, Rhaven flopped back into her chair, her expression darkening as thick lashes shuttered her eyes.
Grr shook his head, golden fur glinting in the firelight. “Tha Library Spirit, came from elsewhere, tha Other. Dryl, she's made from tha bits and pieces of folks and critters that never made it over tha Wide River from tha Disaster.”
“Rhaven, we will not force anything from Dryl.” Nareth voice dropped an octave or two, becoming more commanding. “Not ever. She is precious.” She shuddered slightly and went back to watching the fire.
“Glad ta hear that sentiment, Nareth-Realmwalker,” Grr said as he refocused his eyes on Nareth-in-the-World. He nodded as if confirming something to himself. “I really bloody am.”
I continued to explore while listening, my fingers drifting to Nareth's sides and swimming through the cold wrapper, until I leaned over her, resting my chin on her shoulder and folded my arms lightly around her waist. She leaned back slightly, savoring my touch.
Rhaven suddenly opened her eyes, snapping her head up to look at Nareth full on and unflinching. “She asked Us to research,” the dark-skinned witch intoned, her voice growing harmonic. “It was her behest and you were there. You heard not what We have said. Listen beyond your own ears.” Rhaven’s eyes began to glow as the voice of Omen overtook her. “You think you speak what We know not?” Rhaven’s black curls shook in negative. “It was Her request and, as such, it should be honored... or We shall take it upon Ourselves.”
Nareth straightened in her chair and blinked, confused at what seemed like a sudden deluge of voices. “You think you could stand against me?” she warned. I unwrapped my arms and stood back.
“You would raise to me?” Rhaven replied in a multitude of layered voices.
Grr flattened his ears. “Godlings…everywhere, godlings,” he muttered.
“You'd be unwise to try that Rhaven,” I frowned, meeting Rhaven’s eyes before returning my focus to Nareth. “Besides...You may not have understood the question that Dryl truly asked.” I moved my hands up Nareth’s arms in deep strokes, then over her shoulders, ‘til my fingertips touched her collarbone. She shifted slightly in her chair, accommodating my examination.
“We do want to study tha Spook,” Grr placated. “But…she ain’t here.”
Rhaven turned her glowing gaze to Grr, her expression softening as her chin lifted proudly. She appeared unmoved in the least by any threat spoken or implied.
“Have all tha looks ya like, Omen,” Grr chided, “But we can’t study what we don’t have in front of us.”
Nareth seemed to drift into a world of her own. “I was in Dryl, and Dryl is in me,” she chanted, laughing again and closing her eyes.
I lowered my lids slightly and dreamed a shimmer of flame, which began to spread from my fingertips, pulsing from gold to pink, then purple and violet. I moved slightly to Nareth’s side, never lifting my touch. As I lay fingertips to breastbone, a comfortable warmth flowed from my hands. My eyes widened as a felt the draw of something familiar, yet something I could not yet discern. “I wonder....” I whispered.
“Ask it of her.” Rhaven responded in soft melody. She expects it. She wishes it. She has much to tell us but wishes us to look.”
I ignored Rhaven; my thoughts were no longer on Dryl. All my focus was on Nareth as she closed her eyes tightly, her shivering easing as warm hands touched cold skin. As she relaxed my palms began to tingle. Then the room seemed to shift, going in and out of phase, as my fingers began to move of their own accord, first hovering lightly upon Nareth’s chest, softy grazing her breast, and seeking her bodice just above her heart.
My whole body gave an involuntary jerk.
Showing posts with label Rhaven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rhaven. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
She Tears Herself
It’s my fault. Somehow, things have turned upside down. Rhaven and Nareth tried to heal Severus after he savaged himself. My fault, again. He wouldn’t have done so if I hadn’t encouraged Redd to touch him, to determine by his degree of revulsion and longing whether she had a soul. But touch she did and as a result he tore himself. I assented to his healing. Nareth, this Nareth-Not Nareth Chylde, asked permission. I told her yes, use the passion of Larissa. Take it from the flames. Lar had been able to heal Severus once before, working in tandem with Rhaven. I couldn’t leave him lying eviscerated on the Library floor.
The healing worked, or worked as well as it ever does given Severus’ perpetual wounds. But what remained of Larissa was lost forever. Completely destroyed. That passion had been all that remained of her mortal form, lingering where the wards once stood, in the flames of the hearth. When it was taken, the Old Woman in the Walls shook. She nearly tore the building apart, threatening all of us in her charge, until she took me through the flame, reached out and snatched the passion of one less gentle and loving from the mind of Nareth: the Countess Báthory. Erzsébet. Now I wonder what I have done. Where once the heart of the flame was Eros, it is now bloodlust. My fault.
It is a sad and bitter irony that now Severus is feeding, while I am not. He found a lycan, a willing one, and somehow the healing impelled him forward to a place where no amount of pleading on my part had been able to take him. I could have compelled him, but I would never have done so, so great is his self-loathing as an Incubus. But who will impel me? I’m bone weary and ravenous. I haven’t fed since the time of Pestilence and some avid spirit still stirs insatiate within me. I nearly killed Grr. I pulled from him to the point of blindness and hemorrhage. What if I do it again? The dark yet whispers to me and I hear the pan flute. Jack’s blade yet sings and its twin calls louder. I touch the stone of Eden in my pocket and wonder was I ever in the Garden?
The healing worked, or worked as well as it ever does given Severus’ perpetual wounds. But what remained of Larissa was lost forever. Completely destroyed. That passion had been all that remained of her mortal form, lingering where the wards once stood, in the flames of the hearth. When it was taken, the Old Woman in the Walls shook. She nearly tore the building apart, threatening all of us in her charge, until she took me through the flame, reached out and snatched the passion of one less gentle and loving from the mind of Nareth: the Countess Báthory. Erzsébet. Now I wonder what I have done. Where once the heart of the flame was Eros, it is now bloodlust. My fault.
It is a sad and bitter irony that now Severus is feeding, while I am not. He found a lycan, a willing one, and somehow the healing impelled him forward to a place where no amount of pleading on my part had been able to take him. I could have compelled him, but I would never have done so, so great is his self-loathing as an Incubus. But who will impel me? I’m bone weary and ravenous. I haven’t fed since the time of Pestilence and some avid spirit still stirs insatiate within me. I nearly killed Grr. I pulled from him to the point of blindness and hemorrhage. What if I do it again? The dark yet whispers to me and I hear the pan flute. Jack’s blade yet sings and its twin calls louder. I touch the stone of Eden in my pocket and wonder was I ever in the Garden?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Your Battle-Wounds are Scars upon My Heart
I stood near the large windows of the Library gazing at the milling crowd on Luxuria Lane. Rhaven and Zoe were at the open doorway, chatting about the snow, which, inexplicably, fell white and soft from the every hazy Toxian sky. At least, I presumed the snow was what they were discussing. I could only hear Rhaven’s half of the conversation, having blocked Zoe’s telepathic communications from my mind. Zoe, Rhaven told me, had lost the ability to speak as her telepathy grew. The new Omegan had persisted in her steadfast refusal to communicate in any other way, despite my warnings. I, as well as others, had many reasons to disallow any sort of telepathic communication. I knew I would have to deal with her later, but at the moment, my thoughts were on Grrbrool.
He hovered near the open hearth, alternately crouching and standing, the recent, familiar look of confusion and fear on his face. He sipped tea from an army-issue metal cup, such a mundane and heartbreaking thing to watch. It reminded me of how far from himself he still was. No one had been able to help him completely. Faye’Li had tried, even Rhaven; Dryl had sung to him. But the song wasn’t enough. He remained mute, only able to express himself through sad and bitter song.
I feared trying to reach out to him. The harm I’d done to him already weighed heavily upon me. I’d even sought traditional healers in an effort to avoid touching his essence. I’d visited the hospital to find medical assistance, but psychiatrists were few and far between in the City, and most would plainly benefit from receiving the services of their kind themselves. After seeing the painting, however, I knew that that the risk of touching him was one the Old Woman in the Walls wished me to take. It was an invitation, to a place about which I was greatly uncertain, but there was no mistaking who and what I’d seen upon the beach of the Summer Country’s shore. The Old Woman had told me more.
I turned away from the window and toward my Beloved, beginning to cascade warmth over his being, the image of a pup in the womb floating peacefully and securely, eager to be born in my mind. “I want to tell you about a place,” I whispered. “A place of pure love, a place where the Mother spent an age.”
Grr nodded slowly and swallowed, his eyes turning toward me as he set the cup on the floor beside him. “A world where all is peace, grace, and pleasure,” I continued gently. I walked closer to him, reaching out to wrap one arm about his waist, envisioning the pup born gently below warm waters.
Grr shuddered and lightly relaxed into my embrace. “There’s a blissful, crescent shaped island in an azure sea.” I spoke as if singing a lullaby, tendrils of essence enfolding him as the pup rose from the warm sea to a warm beach filled with delicious scents. Grr began swaying in the crook of my arm, relaxing, as I’d not seen him do in a long, long time.
“It’s a place you can't go to if you strive...” I whispered. Grr wrapped his arms around my back and waist, flattening his body to press against me, fur to flesh where exposed. “A place where your need takes you.” I leaned into him with my whole being, breathing in the scent of his fur, humming, envisioning the pup, a coyote pup, running along the shore...running up to the tree's edge, sniffing at each bright green plant.
“Hhh… rrr… how?” He stammered.
“When you accept the love of the Mother, Beloved,” I replied. “Accept her healing. I want to take you there.” And I did want to with every fiber of my being, although I didn’t know how. I am no planes-walker. I don’t know the outside over there, how to get to it or to come back. But the Old Woman had wanted me to offer this to him, and offer I did. I pulled back slightly to look deep in Grr's golden eyes. “I want to walk the path with you, Beloved.”
As he leaned his head over my shoulder, I felt a rumble from his throat. “We lay upon the hill that, lay beneath the Wolf Sky,” he sang. “I felt the dark, and with the thunder rolling, our howl preceded the storm…” he trailed off, burying his head softly against my neck.
I sang quietly back to him, “We lay within the bird hat lay beneath the Wolf Sky, we lay within its wing and we felt the bird within us….”
“And with the thunder rolling,” he replied, “We left the ground for the sky….” His mournful cadence broke off and he held me more tightly.
“And we will,” I whispered. “We will.” I pulled back again and looked at him deeply. “I’ll need your mirror, Beloved… if you want to go….”
“Always with the beloved crap,” a sharp voice interrupted. I stepped out of Grr’s embrace to see Ardere yawning and scowling slightly as she brushed snow off her shoulder with a curse under her breath. “So sappy.” The smirk on her face was evident as she stood flicking the razor sharp claws at the ends of her long, red fingers.
I shook my head, fearing the moment lost. “No, Ardere... please don't...."
“Please don’t what?” Ardere snickered loudly. “Wander where I can freely go?” Ardere arched a brow and tilted her head toward Grr. “Is that mongrel still spouting gibberish? I still stand by putting it down.” Grr had begun to look alarmed. He began patting himself, looking for his pouch.
“Tea…. ” Grr muttered, seemingly not understanding the danger at hand.
I stepped closer, sensing his alarm and realizing that his brief moment of lucidity was gone. I only hoped that Ardere wouldn’t make it worse. I shook my head at her again mouthing no.
“T-Tea…” Grr stammered. He began looking around the hearth, locating the metal cup he’d laid on the floor and picking it up with one paw.
Ardere grinned wider, quite pleased with unbalancing me. She winked and gave me a lascivious look, then blew a kiss. “Doesn’t matter, Joah,” she laughed. “Your sentimentality bores me.” She turned toward the door, her hips swaying. “Ta ta,” she wiggled her fingers in a mocking wave.
I turned back toward Grr, confused. “Tea?” I asked. I realized for the first time that his pouch… and the mirror… were missing.
Ardere stopped at the threshold of the door looking from Grr to me as he searched, cup in paw. She gazed at the place on his side where his pouch usually lay. “Maybe someone pinched it.... never know.... “ She laughed and left. I wouldn’t have put it past her to take it.
Grr nodded as she left, although I wasn’t sure to what. He held his muzzle closed as his ears flattened. He looked at me and pointed to the half empty, cooled tea in the metal mug, then drew close, dipped his paw into the tea and flicked it at my face. I startled at the wetness against my cheeks and began to exclaim surprise, when he redipped his paw and flicked the tea at the fire, where it sizzled for a moment.
Then the world fell away.
With thanks to Vera Brittain.
He hovered near the open hearth, alternately crouching and standing, the recent, familiar look of confusion and fear on his face. He sipped tea from an army-issue metal cup, such a mundane and heartbreaking thing to watch. It reminded me of how far from himself he still was. No one had been able to help him completely. Faye’Li had tried, even Rhaven; Dryl had sung to him. But the song wasn’t enough. He remained mute, only able to express himself through sad and bitter song.
I feared trying to reach out to him. The harm I’d done to him already weighed heavily upon me. I’d even sought traditional healers in an effort to avoid touching his essence. I’d visited the hospital to find medical assistance, but psychiatrists were few and far between in the City, and most would plainly benefit from receiving the services of their kind themselves. After seeing the painting, however, I knew that that the risk of touching him was one the Old Woman in the Walls wished me to take. It was an invitation, to a place about which I was greatly uncertain, but there was no mistaking who and what I’d seen upon the beach of the Summer Country’s shore. The Old Woman had told me more.
I turned away from the window and toward my Beloved, beginning to cascade warmth over his being, the image of a pup in the womb floating peacefully and securely, eager to be born in my mind. “I want to tell you about a place,” I whispered. “A place of pure love, a place where the Mother spent an age.”
Grr nodded slowly and swallowed, his eyes turning toward me as he set the cup on the floor beside him. “A world where all is peace, grace, and pleasure,” I continued gently. I walked closer to him, reaching out to wrap one arm about his waist, envisioning the pup born gently below warm waters.
Grr shuddered and lightly relaxed into my embrace. “There’s a blissful, crescent shaped island in an azure sea.” I spoke as if singing a lullaby, tendrils of essence enfolding him as the pup rose from the warm sea to a warm beach filled with delicious scents. Grr began swaying in the crook of my arm, relaxing, as I’d not seen him do in a long, long time.
“It’s a place you can't go to if you strive...” I whispered. Grr wrapped his arms around my back and waist, flattening his body to press against me, fur to flesh where exposed. “A place where your need takes you.” I leaned into him with my whole being, breathing in the scent of his fur, humming, envisioning the pup, a coyote pup, running along the shore...running up to the tree's edge, sniffing at each bright green plant.
“Hhh… rrr… how?” He stammered.
“When you accept the love of the Mother, Beloved,” I replied. “Accept her healing. I want to take you there.” And I did want to with every fiber of my being, although I didn’t know how. I am no planes-walker. I don’t know the outside over there, how to get to it or to come back. But the Old Woman had wanted me to offer this to him, and offer I did. I pulled back slightly to look deep in Grr's golden eyes. “I want to walk the path with you, Beloved.”
As he leaned his head over my shoulder, I felt a rumble from his throat. “We lay upon the hill that, lay beneath the Wolf Sky,” he sang. “I felt the dark, and with the thunder rolling, our howl preceded the storm…” he trailed off, burying his head softly against my neck.
I sang quietly back to him, “We lay within the bird hat lay beneath the Wolf Sky, we lay within its wing and we felt the bird within us….”
“And with the thunder rolling,” he replied, “We left the ground for the sky….” His mournful cadence broke off and he held me more tightly.
“And we will,” I whispered. “We will.” I pulled back again and looked at him deeply. “I’ll need your mirror, Beloved… if you want to go….”
“Always with the beloved crap,” a sharp voice interrupted. I stepped out of Grr’s embrace to see Ardere yawning and scowling slightly as she brushed snow off her shoulder with a curse under her breath. “So sappy.” The smirk on her face was evident as she stood flicking the razor sharp claws at the ends of her long, red fingers.
I shook my head, fearing the moment lost. “No, Ardere... please don't...."
“Please don’t what?” Ardere snickered loudly. “Wander where I can freely go?” Ardere arched a brow and tilted her head toward Grr. “Is that mongrel still spouting gibberish? I still stand by putting it down.” Grr had begun to look alarmed. He began patting himself, looking for his pouch.
“Tea…. ” Grr muttered, seemingly not understanding the danger at hand.
I stepped closer, sensing his alarm and realizing that his brief moment of lucidity was gone. I only hoped that Ardere wouldn’t make it worse. I shook my head at her again mouthing no.
“T-Tea…” Grr stammered. He began looking around the hearth, locating the metal cup he’d laid on the floor and picking it up with one paw.
Ardere grinned wider, quite pleased with unbalancing me. She winked and gave me a lascivious look, then blew a kiss. “Doesn’t matter, Joah,” she laughed. “Your sentimentality bores me.” She turned toward the door, her hips swaying. “Ta ta,” she wiggled her fingers in a mocking wave.
I turned back toward Grr, confused. “Tea?” I asked. I realized for the first time that his pouch… and the mirror… were missing.
Ardere stopped at the threshold of the door looking from Grr to me as he searched, cup in paw. She gazed at the place on his side where his pouch usually lay. “Maybe someone pinched it.... never know.... “ She laughed and left. I wouldn’t have put it past her to take it.
Grr nodded as she left, although I wasn’t sure to what. He held his muzzle closed as his ears flattened. He looked at me and pointed to the half empty, cooled tea in the metal mug, then drew close, dipped his paw into the tea and flicked it at my face. I startled at the wetness against my cheeks and began to exclaim surprise, when he redipped his paw and flicked the tea at the fire, where it sizzled for a moment.
Then the world fell away.
With thanks to Vera Brittain.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
From Here On
Joah sits quietly in her small room at the top of the stairs, contemplating the moon, as she so often does. Tonight, the moon is full, two weeks ‘til the new moon, two weeks ‘til GrrBrool shifts to his near-human form. She wants badly to bring him back to her before then, to heal the broken creature that walks like a ghost through her days. Her sense of guilt overwhelms her, knowing that it was her own vulnerability and longing for the void that opened the door within her to Pestilence. Had it not been for Lorne…for the bit of the Garden…
So long ago, the Garden, she thinks.
But while she’d been a vessel of conflict and longing, Omega had been seduced by Her own desires for power and had opened Herself willingly. Joah’s earlier quiet accusation had hung in the air; Omega had failed to protect Her House, had, in fact, been the breaking stone that had shattered Grrbrool’s will and crushed his spirit.
“I thought…I could best it, Joah....” Omega had said quietly, the memory of War still tracing a shadow on her smooth face. “I thought...the power…I thought I could use it, to advantage. There were factors…I did not consider.”
Factors like the twist in Denenthorn, like Severus’s injuries, the problem of Del, the Harbinger…and a crew of loyal but inexperienced Omegans: Rhaven, Zoe, Wire, Blake. Still in all, Faye’Li had remained constant, seeking help of the Coven, leading the Institute to safety in a time of turmoil when its leaders had fallen.
Joah shifts as she gazes, wrapping her quilt around her and looking to the moon as if it could answer the questions in her heart. In the end, she remembers Lorne kneeling beside her as blood soaked through her stockings and her dress, pooling on the floor. Though a bitter frown clouded His face, He still gave His hand to Denenthorn, His strength to Rhaven, while Meng Po had joined in, whispering, “Pestilence has nearly stolen everything from her.” Joah had opened herself to their healing, the bright, warm touch of Denenthorn’s hand on her forehead, the feeling of rushing back into herself as energy from the four poured into her. So much life…so much loss.
“What is past... is past,” Omega had said. “We must not mire ourselves in regret. This experience has taught us…much about ourselves. Let it be worth the price we have paid for such knowledge.”
Joah looks at the moon.
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
September 1, 1939
W.H. Auden
So long ago, the Garden, she thinks.
But while she’d been a vessel of conflict and longing, Omega had been seduced by Her own desires for power and had opened Herself willingly. Joah’s earlier quiet accusation had hung in the air; Omega had failed to protect Her House, had, in fact, been the breaking stone that had shattered Grrbrool’s will and crushed his spirit.
“I thought…I could best it, Joah....” Omega had said quietly, the memory of War still tracing a shadow on her smooth face. “I thought...the power…I thought I could use it, to advantage. There were factors…I did not consider.”
Factors like the twist in Denenthorn, like Severus’s injuries, the problem of Del, the Harbinger…and a crew of loyal but inexperienced Omegans: Rhaven, Zoe, Wire, Blake. Still in all, Faye’Li had remained constant, seeking help of the Coven, leading the Institute to safety in a time of turmoil when its leaders had fallen.
Joah shifts as she gazes, wrapping her quilt around her and looking to the moon as if it could answer the questions in her heart. In the end, she remembers Lorne kneeling beside her as blood soaked through her stockings and her dress, pooling on the floor. Though a bitter frown clouded His face, He still gave His hand to Denenthorn, His strength to Rhaven, while Meng Po had joined in, whispering, “Pestilence has nearly stolen everything from her.” Joah had opened herself to their healing, the bright, warm touch of Denenthorn’s hand on her forehead, the feeling of rushing back into herself as energy from the four poured into her. So much life…so much loss.
“What is past... is past,” Omega had said. “We must not mire ourselves in regret. This experience has taught us…much about ourselves. Let it be worth the price we have paid for such knowledge.”
Joah looks at the moon.
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
September 1, 1939
W.H. Auden
Sunday, December 7, 2008
In the Time of Pestilence
She remembered it all.
Lorne, leaning over the balcony railing, armored and wings spread, full of cold and silence as He watched Joah floating above the mantelpiece, her fingertips dripping maggots to the floor. The rushing sound of Sariel’s Sword unsheathed, stained with War, Lorne’s voice demanding for the Thing to leave, to return home. The Thing felt Joah’s body, her spirit tug as It watched Him reaching down through her and laughed.
“It shall already have been,” He spoke. The Thing grinned in reply and fed upon the imprint of the Void within Joah. It taunted Him, shifting shape to His firstborn, Lilith, reminding him of his failures before, of what he had lost.
Lorne watched wordlessly, and then raised His hand, palm up, and lifting the Sword: a squeal of metal cutting through metal. It sheared through His gauntlet palm, flashing red, exuding pure self-destruction into the throne room the Thing had made in Joah’s psyche.
Rhaven stood quietly, gathering her energies, preparing for anything.
“Joah needs fixed,” Brianna said in a hushed tone.
Grrbrool sang and raved and quivered, but was of no use.
The stench of rotting garbage began to fill the Library. The Thing fought against itself, touched by War and without the strength from its lost Sister-Brothers. It too, reached along the cord between Lorne and Joah. It, too, knew His weaknesses. The Thing's face began to shift; it’s eyes opening wider as the smell of rotting flesh assaulted the room. Long red hair streamed from Its head, creamy skin upon a beautiful face, wide eyes approximating innocence. “You’d do this to me?” It lisped.
"Joah isn't Joah. She's Pestilence and had me infested with Death," Blue hissed.
Denenthorn growled, “I want that sorry excuse of a Horseman gone and I want Grr and Joah back, Lorne. BREAK HIS SPIRIT LIKE HE AND THE OTHER THREE BROKE GRRBROOL'S."
Severus watched in silence, absently picking at the fresh and still dripping scourge marks left by Lucifer, pale eyes staring blankly.
Lorne sheathed his Sword and moved closer. Not Brit, not Eve he thought looking at the face before him. A set of scales dropped from his torn, empty hand, a haze of black drifting after the red along the link way, "You are called too early, tool. That you are here before the intended hour means you are called not by the One you serve, but the Adversary."
A cruel smile formed upon the lovely mask as the Thing changed its appearance back again to Sariel’s firstborn. “You are the Adversary, Old One,” it hissed, grabbing its belly in pain as it felt the gnawing of Famine’s black mist. The roar of birds’ wings arose from the hearth, screams and caws and claws scratching. “The stars are right. My time is now.”
“Your time is up,” Denenthorn snarled.
Suyuan stepped up behind Rhaven, her small warm hand coming to rest upon Rhaven’s shoulder, exuding energy, as Rhaven extended her wards, drawing Zoe and those about her into a protective cocoon.
“Turmoil,” Brit murmured, peering inside and coughing at the stench even outside the Library’s door.
Lorne lowers His hand, the scales sinking back into His palm, stepping down the stairs closer to the Thing. As he nears, He raises both arms high to the side. From each palm there grows crawling tendrils of wood, cricking, and snapping until they form a handled staff. With a sound of metal on metal, the blade of Death’s scythe extends, and He swings it, sending it through the body inhabited by Pestilence, passing it through without any visible mark left behind.
The Thing jerks violently, shrieks from the walls as a flock of ravens bursts from the hearth and pelts to the floor, beginning to decay instantly. The visage of Lilith drops from the Thing’s face and her eyes blaze white. "You think this will stop me? How many vessels do you think you can protect at once? I'll just take another...and another...choose Old One...which of these should I take?"
“But she should be dead,” Brianna blinked, “not...not go into another...it worked with the rest...."
Denenthorn growled, “I hate something that doesn't know when to quit..."
“Just give Joah back,” Blue hissed at the Thing.
Lorne drops the scythe, which disintegrates before it hits the ground. He then reaches up, wrapping His fingers around Joah's ankle, pulling her bit by bit closer, while rearing His injured hand back. The Thing looks at the Old One and grins as she is pulled down. "I believe I'll grant Blue and Denenthorn’s wish," she laughs, looking at Brit. Joah's body slumps and a rush of locusts flies from her mouth toward Brit, shattering the Library windows. The stench of rotting ravens permeates everything as the locusts fly.
Brit screams as she is surrounded, turning one way and then another, seeming confused at the mass of insects that surround her. Lorne turns, opening His mouth in a deafening howl, trying to pull them into His mouth with gale force winds, as Blue sends streak after streak of fire after them. Denenthorn clutches Blue’s arm, transferring strength to her ‘til he understands the attack is aimed at Brit, and then rushes out the door.
“Fuck!” Grr howls.
“Oh, fuck no!” Denenthorn cries in alarm, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter.
“Go, if you need to Denny,” Rhaven yells urgently through the swarm, “I’ll try to heal Joah…”
The whirlwind continues around the floating Thing, Its hair flying wildly, wind swirling through the broken glass, pummeling Brit, lifting and tossing her through the air to the outside wall of the Library. The glass grazes her skin in prickles and points, sticking like tailor’s pins as she attempts to stand, coughing and pulling locusts from her hair.
“Not my daughter, bitch!” Denenthorn snarls.
Suyuan gasps, covering her mouth as she recoils, gripping Rhaven as a cool breeze surrounds them both, and Meng Po materializes to gaze down at her.
Lorne rushes to Brit, his throat tight, fearing her dead, hands reaching for her shoulders, air still dragging harshly into His mouth. A red glow begins to emanate from him, and the Thing’s body contorts, Its eyes and ears leaking blood, though It continues to pound Brit, tumbling and turning her, glass flying in shards, as she covers her ears trying to block It from reaching into her mind. It roars back in anger, blocked by the thing about Brit’s neck, as it slams her into the wall once again and drops her to the concrete, bouncing once like a sack of flour. Severus whirls around, striding out of the Library, uttering in Enochian as he gestures towards Brit and draws a glowing Theban symbol with one clawed hand, expelling all of his stolen soul essence into her in the form of a protective healing ward. The cuts in Brit’s skin begin to visibly heal.
Denenthorn begins to glow with power as he feels Brit's every hurt and pain, the Library begins to sing in the minds of all as a shield of healing and comfort enters those that mean no harm.
Lorne closes His eyes, sighing, and reaching back along the link way within Joah, looking about for any trace of the Horseman left to grab onto. “Joah?” He says into her mind, “Joah? I need your help.”
“Come on Joah...Sister by fate,” Blue urges.
Joah’s mouth opens slowly, blood spilling from her lips as her body shakes. The Thing feels her resistance, feels Joah grabbing, grasping the link between her and Lorne. "Lorne...." she half stammers, half whispers in her own voice.
Kneeling in front of Brit, Lorne raises His hands, palms open, and speaks into Joah's mind, "Joah? Where is the sigil?" The wind whirls in a deafening roar as Joah pushes against the Thing, calling on Creation’s power, Legion’s words echoing in her mind. She lifts up her shaking hand as the thighbone of a rat appears upon it.
Lorne reaches forward to Brit, trying to hug her close. He holds His injured hand out, willing the thighbone to it as Brit uses his cape like a rope to get to her feet. She coughs again and stares wide-eyed at the thighbone as it melts into the bit of black shown through the gash in Lorne’s gauntlet. He holds her tighter as the gauntlet itself melts away in a wave leaving His original flesh and clothing behind, spreading until even His wings are gone.
Inside the Library, Joah falls to the floor with a thud, blood leaking between her legs, pooling on the floor.
Lorne, leaning over the balcony railing, armored and wings spread, full of cold and silence as He watched Joah floating above the mantelpiece, her fingertips dripping maggots to the floor. The rushing sound of Sariel’s Sword unsheathed, stained with War, Lorne’s voice demanding for the Thing to leave, to return home. The Thing felt Joah’s body, her spirit tug as It watched Him reaching down through her and laughed.
“It shall already have been,” He spoke. The Thing grinned in reply and fed upon the imprint of the Void within Joah. It taunted Him, shifting shape to His firstborn, Lilith, reminding him of his failures before, of what he had lost.
Lorne watched wordlessly, and then raised His hand, palm up, and lifting the Sword: a squeal of metal cutting through metal. It sheared through His gauntlet palm, flashing red, exuding pure self-destruction into the throne room the Thing had made in Joah’s psyche.
Rhaven stood quietly, gathering her energies, preparing for anything.
“Joah needs fixed,” Brianna said in a hushed tone.
Grrbrool sang and raved and quivered, but was of no use.
The stench of rotting garbage began to fill the Library. The Thing fought against itself, touched by War and without the strength from its lost Sister-Brothers. It too, reached along the cord between Lorne and Joah. It, too, knew His weaknesses. The Thing's face began to shift; it’s eyes opening wider as the smell of rotting flesh assaulted the room. Long red hair streamed from Its head, creamy skin upon a beautiful face, wide eyes approximating innocence. “You’d do this to me?” It lisped.
"Joah isn't Joah. She's Pestilence and had me infested with Death," Blue hissed.
Denenthorn growled, “I want that sorry excuse of a Horseman gone and I want Grr and Joah back, Lorne. BREAK HIS SPIRIT LIKE HE AND THE OTHER THREE BROKE GRRBROOL'S."
Severus watched in silence, absently picking at the fresh and still dripping scourge marks left by Lucifer, pale eyes staring blankly.
Lorne sheathed his Sword and moved closer. Not Brit, not Eve he thought looking at the face before him. A set of scales dropped from his torn, empty hand, a haze of black drifting after the red along the link way, "You are called too early, tool. That you are here before the intended hour means you are called not by the One you serve, but the Adversary."
A cruel smile formed upon the lovely mask as the Thing changed its appearance back again to Sariel’s firstborn. “You are the Adversary, Old One,” it hissed, grabbing its belly in pain as it felt the gnawing of Famine’s black mist. The roar of birds’ wings arose from the hearth, screams and caws and claws scratching. “The stars are right. My time is now.”
“Your time is up,” Denenthorn snarled.
Suyuan stepped up behind Rhaven, her small warm hand coming to rest upon Rhaven’s shoulder, exuding energy, as Rhaven extended her wards, drawing Zoe and those about her into a protective cocoon.
“Turmoil,” Brit murmured, peering inside and coughing at the stench even outside the Library’s door.
Lorne lowers His hand, the scales sinking back into His palm, stepping down the stairs closer to the Thing. As he nears, He raises both arms high to the side. From each palm there grows crawling tendrils of wood, cricking, and snapping until they form a handled staff. With a sound of metal on metal, the blade of Death’s scythe extends, and He swings it, sending it through the body inhabited by Pestilence, passing it through without any visible mark left behind.
The Thing jerks violently, shrieks from the walls as a flock of ravens bursts from the hearth and pelts to the floor, beginning to decay instantly. The visage of Lilith drops from the Thing’s face and her eyes blaze white. "You think this will stop me? How many vessels do you think you can protect at once? I'll just take another...and another...choose Old One...which of these should I take?"
“But she should be dead,” Brianna blinked, “not...not go into another...it worked with the rest...."
Denenthorn growled, “I hate something that doesn't know when to quit..."
“Just give Joah back,” Blue hissed at the Thing.
Lorne drops the scythe, which disintegrates before it hits the ground. He then reaches up, wrapping His fingers around Joah's ankle, pulling her bit by bit closer, while rearing His injured hand back. The Thing looks at the Old One and grins as she is pulled down. "I believe I'll grant Blue and Denenthorn’s wish," she laughs, looking at Brit. Joah's body slumps and a rush of locusts flies from her mouth toward Brit, shattering the Library windows. The stench of rotting ravens permeates everything as the locusts fly.
Brit screams as she is surrounded, turning one way and then another, seeming confused at the mass of insects that surround her. Lorne turns, opening His mouth in a deafening howl, trying to pull them into His mouth with gale force winds, as Blue sends streak after streak of fire after them. Denenthorn clutches Blue’s arm, transferring strength to her ‘til he understands the attack is aimed at Brit, and then rushes out the door.
“Fuck!” Grr howls.
“Oh, fuck no!” Denenthorn cries in alarm, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter.
“Go, if you need to Denny,” Rhaven yells urgently through the swarm, “I’ll try to heal Joah…”
The whirlwind continues around the floating Thing, Its hair flying wildly, wind swirling through the broken glass, pummeling Brit, lifting and tossing her through the air to the outside wall of the Library. The glass grazes her skin in prickles and points, sticking like tailor’s pins as she attempts to stand, coughing and pulling locusts from her hair.
“Not my daughter, bitch!” Denenthorn snarls.
Suyuan gasps, covering her mouth as she recoils, gripping Rhaven as a cool breeze surrounds them both, and Meng Po materializes to gaze down at her.
Lorne rushes to Brit, his throat tight, fearing her dead, hands reaching for her shoulders, air still dragging harshly into His mouth. A red glow begins to emanate from him, and the Thing’s body contorts, Its eyes and ears leaking blood, though It continues to pound Brit, tumbling and turning her, glass flying in shards, as she covers her ears trying to block It from reaching into her mind. It roars back in anger, blocked by the thing about Brit’s neck, as it slams her into the wall once again and drops her to the concrete, bouncing once like a sack of flour. Severus whirls around, striding out of the Library, uttering in Enochian as he gestures towards Brit and draws a glowing Theban symbol with one clawed hand, expelling all of his stolen soul essence into her in the form of a protective healing ward. The cuts in Brit’s skin begin to visibly heal.
Denenthorn begins to glow with power as he feels Brit's every hurt and pain, the Library begins to sing in the minds of all as a shield of healing and comfort enters those that mean no harm.
Lorne closes His eyes, sighing, and reaching back along the link way within Joah, looking about for any trace of the Horseman left to grab onto. “Joah?” He says into her mind, “Joah? I need your help.”
“Come on Joah...Sister by fate,” Blue urges.
Joah’s mouth opens slowly, blood spilling from her lips as her body shakes. The Thing feels her resistance, feels Joah grabbing, grasping the link between her and Lorne. "Lorne...." she half stammers, half whispers in her own voice.
Kneeling in front of Brit, Lorne raises His hands, palms open, and speaks into Joah's mind, "Joah? Where is the sigil?" The wind whirls in a deafening roar as Joah pushes against the Thing, calling on Creation’s power, Legion’s words echoing in her mind. She lifts up her shaking hand as the thighbone of a rat appears upon it.
Lorne reaches forward to Brit, trying to hug her close. He holds His injured hand out, willing the thighbone to it as Brit uses his cape like a rope to get to her feet. She coughs again and stares wide-eyed at the thighbone as it melts into the bit of black shown through the gash in Lorne’s gauntlet. He holds her tighter as the gauntlet itself melts away in a wave leaving His original flesh and clothing behind, spreading until even His wings are gone.
Inside the Library, Joah falls to the floor with a thud, blood leaking between her legs, pooling on the floor.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Lord of Fevers and Plagues
It slipped into her almost unnoticed with a breath of frozen air, the skittering of mice on a stone floor, and the cries of those dying with bitten and yellowed skin. It slipped in because the door had been opened before—perhaps not fully, but all It needed was a crack, a thin sliver. It slid in where the pale girl’s spirit was slightly ajar. Nareth, Labyrinth, the dreams, and her very nature had made it so. Now the Thing waited, tamping down the fire within the girl, choking off her speech, bored with her existence but compelled to wait within for the Others.
It hadn’t particularly tried to hide what It had done, though at first, only the Watcher had noticed. The Coyote had looked within the girl. He couldn’t see what the Thing was, but he knew It was there. As the Thing toyed with the girl’s body and her innate abilities so underused, the Coyote threatened. It’s response was to feed, kissing the Grrbrool with a seed of Ebola, smiling Its death grin as the Coyote stumbled into the wall of the hidden Library laboratory, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. It was a pity that Lycans healed so quickly.
When It used the girl to ravish Rhaven’s mind, the Coyote had called on his earthbound gods. “If you hurt my Family, I’ll stop you,” he snarled. He called on the Spirit in the Walls, slamming the girl’s body to the ceiling of the Library. The girl’s shoulder had been dislocated. The Thing had been amused. While It took no pleasure in the earthly sense from Its torments, It did relish the results.
The Coyote warned the Thing that he would break It’s shell if It didn’t stop. “Break it too badly and she will never come back to you," the Thing answered in rush of whispers.
“I’ll kill her ta free her from you, if I have to,” the Coyote said. In reply, the Thing extended one of the girl’s hands to the rusted, iron railing on the scaffolding where the girl’s body sat. At Its touch, a flood of ice...then a snap. It lifted the broken bar and plunged it into the girl’s chest. But the Coyote and the angel, Darkstorm, had intervened. They took the girl to the Wide River while her body yet lived, a place they believed could bind what cannot be bound. “I have dwelt ever in realms apart from the visible world," the Thing’s voices mocked as it hovered above the body.
The Coyote handed the girl to Darkstorm, and then pulled two gold coins from his pocket. The Thing watched. “Life is a hideous thing," It’s voices laughed. "You didn't want the body. I will take it." The Coyote and the Angel disagreed, working in tandem, the Angel pouring energy into the beast and the beast standing in Death’s river, the fire of the sun in his mouth and hands, the gold searing his flesh. He breathed life back into the girl’s body. And the Thing let her see the two, but only for a moment…then on a dry wind of plague It slipped back in.
It waited. Waited for the other Vessels…until the Death-Dreamer was ready. With a flood of vermin spilling from Its mouth, the pale girl's body found Her and kissed Her. As Death rushed into it's Vessel, the girl's body felt Her icy touch at the small of her back, tasted the charnel house on her lips. The Death-Dreamer had been called Blue. Together, They extinguished the fire of the Spirit in the Walls, the feeble Library Spirit. Together, They sought out the other Vessels, leaving in Their wake a red-haired girl with a touch of dengue fever and a Shelter full of dying rats, gifted with Black Death. They were unstoppable.
Except…
There was the problem of Sariel.
(quotes from HP Lovecraft)
Tohu va Bohu Series
Grr's Perspective
It hadn’t particularly tried to hide what It had done, though at first, only the Watcher had noticed. The Coyote had looked within the girl. He couldn’t see what the Thing was, but he knew It was there. As the Thing toyed with the girl’s body and her innate abilities so underused, the Coyote threatened. It’s response was to feed, kissing the Grrbrool with a seed of Ebola, smiling Its death grin as the Coyote stumbled into the wall of the hidden Library laboratory, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. It was a pity that Lycans healed so quickly.
When It used the girl to ravish Rhaven’s mind, the Coyote had called on his earthbound gods. “If you hurt my Family, I’ll stop you,” he snarled. He called on the Spirit in the Walls, slamming the girl’s body to the ceiling of the Library. The girl’s shoulder had been dislocated. The Thing had been amused. While It took no pleasure in the earthly sense from Its torments, It did relish the results.
The Coyote warned the Thing that he would break It’s shell if It didn’t stop. “Break it too badly and she will never come back to you," the Thing answered in rush of whispers.
“I’ll kill her ta free her from you, if I have to,” the Coyote said. In reply, the Thing extended one of the girl’s hands to the rusted, iron railing on the scaffolding where the girl’s body sat. At Its touch, a flood of ice...then a snap. It lifted the broken bar and plunged it into the girl’s chest. But the Coyote and the angel, Darkstorm, had intervened. They took the girl to the Wide River while her body yet lived, a place they believed could bind what cannot be bound. “I have dwelt ever in realms apart from the visible world," the Thing’s voices mocked as it hovered above the body.
The Coyote handed the girl to Darkstorm, and then pulled two gold coins from his pocket. The Thing watched. “Life is a hideous thing," It’s voices laughed. "You didn't want the body. I will take it." The Coyote and the Angel disagreed, working in tandem, the Angel pouring energy into the beast and the beast standing in Death’s river, the fire of the sun in his mouth and hands, the gold searing his flesh. He breathed life back into the girl’s body. And the Thing let her see the two, but only for a moment…then on a dry wind of plague It slipped back in.
It waited. Waited for the other Vessels…until the Death-Dreamer was ready. With a flood of vermin spilling from Its mouth, the pale girl's body found Her and kissed Her. As Death rushed into it's Vessel, the girl's body felt Her icy touch at the small of her back, tasted the charnel house on her lips. The Death-Dreamer had been called Blue. Together, They extinguished the fire of the Spirit in the Walls, the feeble Library Spirit. Together, They sought out the other Vessels, leaving in Their wake a red-haired girl with a touch of dengue fever and a Shelter full of dying rats, gifted with Black Death. They were unstoppable.
Except…
There was the problem of Sariel.
(quotes from HP Lovecraft)
Tohu va Bohu Series
Grr's Perspective
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The Anger of the Lady
It was comfortable and warm in the sitting room for the Library. I leaned close to Grr, stroking the fur at the base of his tail. He had taken off his back to lean against me; his lycan warmth of the scent of his fur felt like home to me. Rhaven Twine, one of the newer Omegans had been talking with Starwalker, their conversation a gentle background mixed with the popping and hissing of the logs in the hearth. I felt a soothing murring from his chest as Grr pressed in close.
The easy conversation was interrupted with the sound of glass shattering in the street. Rhaven turned toward the window. “I wonder when I’ll get used to the not-silence of this place,” she sighed.
“If you get used to it and don’t react, good chance your dead,” Starwalker grinned.
GrrBrool nodded, “Err, well, we don’t got a lot of law here, one reason it was a good place ta run to fer a lot of us.”
“It’s the end of the road for many,” I agreed.
Rhaven offered a soft shrug, “It’s just a matter of getting used to it, I imagine.”
I began stroking Grr’s back, my fingers lingering in the fur at his neck. “I’m worried about Brit. Has anyone seen her?”
Grr shook his head. “Hmm, no, truth be told, I ain’t seen Strong Gal save when Snappypants is with her.”
Starwalker frowned, hearing about Brit’s absence. “She wasn’t around to see how things went with the training sessions at the beach yesterday?”
“Not during the day…no,” I sighed. “Never during the day.”
Grr suddenly stood and bowed. I looked up to see the Lady Omega. She looked around, smiling a greeting to everyone. “How do we find ourselves this evening?” she asked.
“Yer Ladyship,” Grr began, “We were just wonderin, no one’s seen Strong Gal recently…last few days….”
Omega frowned. “No, she has not been seen.”
I turned to Omega. “Lady, I’m…worried.”
“I believe Ethan may be restricting her movements.” Omega settled in her customary chair by the fireplace. “I will be…investigating the matter.”
“Lady, I tried to speak with Ethan about…locking her in during the day.” I said this with not a little worry, for Omega had forbidden me to speak of the matter to Ethan. But when he had been in the Library, and Brit had been there, I had hoped that by drawing out I story I could help him see. “He was not…receptive, Omega.” I sighed. “I’ve told her Father. He is…most displeased.”
Grr nodded his head listening. “Err, yer Ladyship, I was wonderin if maybe I could give her some instructin.” Grr had been researching historical fighting techniques used by women, rapier and escrima…when women wearing bustles and hoop skirts had been trained to defend themselves. Grr thought that a “ladylike” method of self-defense might appeal to Ethan.
Omega barely moved her head, yet her eyes bored into mine. “I asked you to leave this to me, Joah, did I not? Yet you saw fit to question him on the matter. Now we see the results.”
I felt Grr’s back stiffen beside me. I lowered my head. “I’m sorry, Lady…but . . . he was here with her, and ….”
She cut me off. “Yes. Tempting. I know.” Rhaven lowered her gaze at the turn of the conversation, pretending to study a snag in her tights. Omega continued, “I am not accustomed to being disobeyed.” I rose from my seat, went before the Lady and knelt at her feet, my head low.
Grr cleared his throat. “Err, is she in any danger, ya think?”
“She is as safe as she may be, I suspect,” Omega replied to Grr. She then leaned over, whispering to me. “Joah…do you remember, what I did to my lamb, my Nareth, when she lied to me?” A shiver of dread shot through me. “She bore the scars of it for the rest of her existence….” Omega reached out, stroking my face with tenderness. Grr’s ears flattened.
I replied quietly. “Yes, Lady…I do.” I glanced over at the fire, remembering how Omega had plunged Nareth’s hand into the flames. “Please forgive me, Lady….”
Omega ran her finger along my jaw line, lifting my chin. She whispered, “And what must I do to you, to make you obey? Brit is paying the price for your disobedience now.” Though her tone was gentle, the threat behind her words was clear. My heart pounded in my chest, involuntarily causing the flames in the hearth hiss and spark. Rhaven and Starwalker said not a word.
I tried again. “But Lady, it wasn’t me…Ethan…he’s…there’s something wrong with him.” I stammered at a loss for words.
“His actions would not have garnered comment a few short years ago,” Omega said dismissively. I was reminded once again that she is not as I am. She is an ancient predator with a long and bloody history.
Grr shook his head with slight disagreement, his fur ruffling. “Protective of his mate, even past reason….”
“Past reason,” I agreed. I heard Rago come into the Library and attempt a greeting, but I didn’t turn away from Omega.
“Joah, he is unaccustomed to being questioned…especially in a matter he feels he has absolute dominion. It required a gentle touch, from one he considers an equal.” Omega had begun to speak very softly; now even her tone was not gentle.
“But…it’s wrong, Omega,” I pleaded. “Even if it’s done for love’s sake . . . it’s wrong,” I whispered. “And Brit is my friend….”
Grr looked over Rago. “Err…long time….we’re just…err, have a seat, mate,” he finally said, gesturing Rago to the sitting area.
Omega didn’t look around at Rago. She remained focused on me. “Which is why, Joah, I asked you quite directly to leave it to me.” Anger flashed across her face. “Well, you now have ample time to contemplate the fruits of your labor. Think on Brit, and her present state, next time you feel it’s wise to disobey me.”
I tried to turn away from her, but couldn’t. She had locked me in her gaze. “I had thought to go to their rooms, Omega.” I spoke barely above a whisper, but my own anger was rising, my words defiant.
“Yes, Joah,” Omega said with a voice full of derision. “Encourage Ethan to take her further away, beyond our reach, to where we know not. Excellent idea. Go bang on the door and harangue Ethan some more while you’re there…”
My eyes grew dark. “He’s making her thinking that he is the world, Omega. And he’s not.” A log fell from the fireplace with a loud pop and a shower of sparks.
Omega gave me a long look. “Well, I could appeal to your sense of reason…I could ask you simply to obey me. It seems you are interested in neither.” She stood abruptly, walking past me up the stairs toward Rago, greeting him as if nothing had happened. I continued kneeling in front of Omega’s chair, my head lowered, studying the carpet and saying nothing.
I felt Grr reach out to me, grabbing the shoulder of my jacket, hooking fingers and thumb through the seam, and pulling me slowly, but surely close. I darted a quick look at him, overwhelmed with confusion and dread at having displeased the Lady. Omega walked back toward us and stood over us, looking down at us.
“Joah, do you know what the road to hell is paved with?”
I nodded. “I’ve heard it said.”
Omega studied me in silence for a moment. “I do not doubt your motives, but I do not give instructions simply because I like the sound of my own voice.” The flame in the hearth began to lick up uncontrollably, spilling out over the hearth. I stiffened and sat quite still, nodding at the Lady’s words, though ever fiber of my being was alert.
“Operational protocols,” Grr murmured. “Understandin ain’t always required, in order ta act, when ya can’t see tha whole battleground….”
Omega continued. “Had I the opportunity to speak to Ethan, unimpeded...Brit might even now be enjoying the warmth of the fire with us. This matter will be concluded when Brit is returned to us, Joah. When we see what she has endured, then we will think upon a suitable punishment for you.”
I started to open my mouth to speak, then shut it realizing that there was nothing I could say.
“In the meantime,” Omega said, “We shall make her a care package…such as one might give to a prisoner. It will have some of her belongings. Things to eat. Letters from us. It must be given to Ethan.”
“May I take it to him, Lady?” I asked quietly.
Omega’s reply was cool. “I’m not sure you can be trusted with such an errand, Joah. Could you hand it over, graciously? Or must you continue to wield your barbed tongue, making the situation worse?”
I glanced over at Grr, hoping for reassurance, but there was a peculiar expression on his face. He had dug out his battered camo notebook and begun to draw.
“I promise, Lady, that I will say as little as possibly can be said.” I stood and walked to my room, looking for writing paper of my own.
Read Grr's perspective.
The easy conversation was interrupted with the sound of glass shattering in the street. Rhaven turned toward the window. “I wonder when I’ll get used to the not-silence of this place,” she sighed.
“If you get used to it and don’t react, good chance your dead,” Starwalker grinned.
GrrBrool nodded, “Err, well, we don’t got a lot of law here, one reason it was a good place ta run to fer a lot of us.”
“It’s the end of the road for many,” I agreed.
Rhaven offered a soft shrug, “It’s just a matter of getting used to it, I imagine.”
I began stroking Grr’s back, my fingers lingering in the fur at his neck. “I’m worried about Brit. Has anyone seen her?”
Grr shook his head. “Hmm, no, truth be told, I ain’t seen Strong Gal save when Snappypants is with her.”
Starwalker frowned, hearing about Brit’s absence. “She wasn’t around to see how things went with the training sessions at the beach yesterday?”
“Not during the day…no,” I sighed. “Never during the day.”
Grr suddenly stood and bowed. I looked up to see the Lady Omega. She looked around, smiling a greeting to everyone. “How do we find ourselves this evening?” she asked.
“Yer Ladyship,” Grr began, “We were just wonderin, no one’s seen Strong Gal recently…last few days….”
Omega frowned. “No, she has not been seen.”
I turned to Omega. “Lady, I’m…worried.”
“I believe Ethan may be restricting her movements.” Omega settled in her customary chair by the fireplace. “I will be…investigating the matter.”
“Lady, I tried to speak with Ethan about…locking her in during the day.” I said this with not a little worry, for Omega had forbidden me to speak of the matter to Ethan. But when he had been in the Library, and Brit had been there, I had hoped that by drawing out I story I could help him see. “He was not…receptive, Omega.” I sighed. “I’ve told her Father. He is…most displeased.”
Grr nodded his head listening. “Err, yer Ladyship, I was wonderin if maybe I could give her some instructin.” Grr had been researching historical fighting techniques used by women, rapier and escrima…when women wearing bustles and hoop skirts had been trained to defend themselves. Grr thought that a “ladylike” method of self-defense might appeal to Ethan.
Omega barely moved her head, yet her eyes bored into mine. “I asked you to leave this to me, Joah, did I not? Yet you saw fit to question him on the matter. Now we see the results.”
I felt Grr’s back stiffen beside me. I lowered my head. “I’m sorry, Lady…but . . . he was here with her, and ….”
She cut me off. “Yes. Tempting. I know.” Rhaven lowered her gaze at the turn of the conversation, pretending to study a snag in her tights. Omega continued, “I am not accustomed to being disobeyed.” I rose from my seat, went before the Lady and knelt at her feet, my head low.
Grr cleared his throat. “Err, is she in any danger, ya think?”
“She is as safe as she may be, I suspect,” Omega replied to Grr. She then leaned over, whispering to me. “Joah…do you remember, what I did to my lamb, my Nareth, when she lied to me?” A shiver of dread shot through me. “She bore the scars of it for the rest of her existence….” Omega reached out, stroking my face with tenderness. Grr’s ears flattened.
I replied quietly. “Yes, Lady…I do.” I glanced over at the fire, remembering how Omega had plunged Nareth’s hand into the flames. “Please forgive me, Lady….”
Omega ran her finger along my jaw line, lifting my chin. She whispered, “And what must I do to you, to make you obey? Brit is paying the price for your disobedience now.” Though her tone was gentle, the threat behind her words was clear. My heart pounded in my chest, involuntarily causing the flames in the hearth hiss and spark. Rhaven and Starwalker said not a word.
I tried again. “But Lady, it wasn’t me…Ethan…he’s…there’s something wrong with him.” I stammered at a loss for words.
“His actions would not have garnered comment a few short years ago,” Omega said dismissively. I was reminded once again that she is not as I am. She is an ancient predator with a long and bloody history.
Grr shook his head with slight disagreement, his fur ruffling. “Protective of his mate, even past reason….”
“Past reason,” I agreed. I heard Rago come into the Library and attempt a greeting, but I didn’t turn away from Omega.
“Joah, he is unaccustomed to being questioned…especially in a matter he feels he has absolute dominion. It required a gentle touch, from one he considers an equal.” Omega had begun to speak very softly; now even her tone was not gentle.
“But…it’s wrong, Omega,” I pleaded. “Even if it’s done for love’s sake . . . it’s wrong,” I whispered. “And Brit is my friend….”
Grr looked over Rago. “Err…long time….we’re just…err, have a seat, mate,” he finally said, gesturing Rago to the sitting area.
Omega didn’t look around at Rago. She remained focused on me. “Which is why, Joah, I asked you quite directly to leave it to me.” Anger flashed across her face. “Well, you now have ample time to contemplate the fruits of your labor. Think on Brit, and her present state, next time you feel it’s wise to disobey me.”
I tried to turn away from her, but couldn’t. She had locked me in her gaze. “I had thought to go to their rooms, Omega.” I spoke barely above a whisper, but my own anger was rising, my words defiant.
“Yes, Joah,” Omega said with a voice full of derision. “Encourage Ethan to take her further away, beyond our reach, to where we know not. Excellent idea. Go bang on the door and harangue Ethan some more while you’re there…”
My eyes grew dark. “He’s making her thinking that he is the world, Omega. And he’s not.” A log fell from the fireplace with a loud pop and a shower of sparks.
Omega gave me a long look. “Well, I could appeal to your sense of reason…I could ask you simply to obey me. It seems you are interested in neither.” She stood abruptly, walking past me up the stairs toward Rago, greeting him as if nothing had happened. I continued kneeling in front of Omega’s chair, my head lowered, studying the carpet and saying nothing.
I felt Grr reach out to me, grabbing the shoulder of my jacket, hooking fingers and thumb through the seam, and pulling me slowly, but surely close. I darted a quick look at him, overwhelmed with confusion and dread at having displeased the Lady. Omega walked back toward us and stood over us, looking down at us.
“Joah, do you know what the road to hell is paved with?”
I nodded. “I’ve heard it said.”
Omega studied me in silence for a moment. “I do not doubt your motives, but I do not give instructions simply because I like the sound of my own voice.” The flame in the hearth began to lick up uncontrollably, spilling out over the hearth. I stiffened and sat quite still, nodding at the Lady’s words, though ever fiber of my being was alert.
“Operational protocols,” Grr murmured. “Understandin ain’t always required, in order ta act, when ya can’t see tha whole battleground….”
Omega continued. “Had I the opportunity to speak to Ethan, unimpeded...Brit might even now be enjoying the warmth of the fire with us. This matter will be concluded when Brit is returned to us, Joah. When we see what she has endured, then we will think upon a suitable punishment for you.”
I started to open my mouth to speak, then shut it realizing that there was nothing I could say.
“In the meantime,” Omega said, “We shall make her a care package…such as one might give to a prisoner. It will have some of her belongings. Things to eat. Letters from us. It must be given to Ethan.”
“May I take it to him, Lady?” I asked quietly.
Omega’s reply was cool. “I’m not sure you can be trusted with such an errand, Joah. Could you hand it over, graciously? Or must you continue to wield your barbed tongue, making the situation worse?”
I glanced over at Grr, hoping for reassurance, but there was a peculiar expression on his face. He had dug out his battered camo notebook and begun to draw.
“I promise, Lady, that I will say as little as possibly can be said.” I stood and walked to my room, looking for writing paper of my own.
Read Grr's perspective.
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