And They All Fall

[ThriftshopAugur]

There was too much to think of, too much to ponder and dwell on since the arrival of Runa and the woman she called Belladonna. The statement from the Ghost left Schuyler with feeling far more exhausted and confused then she ever had before. If anything she wished for comfort and solace during those times when her mind was empty save for her own thoughts.



The silence was a blessing even as it seemed a curse. Schuyler had become so used to the voices in her head that to not hear them made her feel lonely. She had done this to herself after all by pushing everyone away and shutting them out as soon as the voices started. Even when Finn and Avy had taken her in and given her protection and a sound proof room Schuyler had kept them at a distance even now. No matter how big the crowd or how many others joined the shelter, Schuyler always felt alone and strange.



She didn?t realize how exhausted she was until she entered her own room and found the empty bed waiting for her. The quiet in her mind had her wishing for a peaceful night of deep sleep hopefully without the dreams that had disturbed her ever since the voices had started.



It was becoming now far more difficult to escape the dreams as much as it was impossible to escape the voices. Runa?s words of missing her wings wouldn?t leave her thoughts. To escape, to fly away, to disappear into the night seemed such a tempting thought but it wouldn?t stop the voices either.



Devils and Gods. Angels and Demons. All in us each and every day. These were the thoughts that would never leave her head. Schuyler rubbed at her eyes even though the tears long ago had run dry. There was nothing left but the hollow void filled with only the voices of those holy and those sometimes not.



The cool breeze of the night was left to prowl through her window as she left it open to help her ease her way into sleep if perchance to dream sweetly. Perhaps someone up there would grant her such serenity?

[PennDragyn]

There was no comfort of water to soothe the absent ache in her spirit, the void that seemed to be her heart anymore as she wandered the halls of the Shelter. The delivery of the Tempest had been something of a favor to those that once had trespassed through her homelands. A trespass that had brought forth the reality that each culture and land possessed their gods... their immortals.

It could be acknowledged that the Lady had lived a sheltered life, knowing nothing more then those that had existed upon the island. So impossible it seemed to carry affection for one she had spotted only once, and yet the vision had lasted so many lifetimes over of silent adoration. Penn's thoughts traveled back to that time that for so many would seem fathoms of eternity but for the Lady seemed nothing more then a drop of water, a tear in her hand.

She had loved the King as much as she adored Lancelot. It would never be the love she harbored for another in secret but the silent admiration for the King helped fill in a void of unspoken wishes and heart sworn devotion never once to be breathed out as a confession for the Guardian. How many lifetimes would span without change and still the Lady remained the same unlike the Knight and the Willow... she was a constant.

The desert born gods seemed to harbor a rare affection of the Tempest even if it was the Order that had attempted to alter her d.n.a. with the offspring of the ice born mischief gods, the favors had been made and handed down through time. The Lady still remembered the day the northern born had overtook her lands and claimed the isle. How many years had she been lost in the mist since that time?

It seemed hard to recollect but like she had wandered in the mists now would she do the same in the halls of the shelter. There was no comfort of soothing ripples of the lake to give her any ebb or tide of serenity. The choice was made to descend to darkness and the cool embrace of stone. Never was she meant to be contained within the shadows or within the claim of stone but the cool would call to her.

Penn had heard the basement possessed rooms as well and it seemed suitable that she would fall to its depths rather then give into the ascension of companionship. It was there in the shadows she opened the door to a new room and a new beginning, surrounded in darkness if not for the shine of gold tendrils painting her path and the glistening vibrant glow of lake blue eyes... nothing more then a mirror to seek the moon.... a light wavering in the darkness the Lady would be as she held ever long to the prayer that such a light in darkness never would be snuffed out but instead... cherished... as once it had been.

[Lupinius]

This battlefield has been seen before,imagined in the eyes of hundreds, perhaps thousands of minds great and small since the time of its happening.

The story has been told, again and again. But imaginings are no match for memory.

There are shadows here, a place of darkness. The earth was his womb in the beginning, and it's been in the earth, or else close to it in the wild, that he's always felt the most comfort.

Here, in his own darkness, for the first time in weeks of restless and aimless wandering, he rests.

Behind closed eyes the memories continue. It wasn't evening, or morning, but bright and high noon, the hottest part of a cold day. Swords had clashed, the Guardians acting their place as the last defenders.

By the time the lines had broken below them, the numbers of the enemy had diminished. Not enough to give them victory, not nearly. But there had been few enough to give the last remaining defenders a chance to delay, long enough to hear the news that the King himself would be with them soon, and with reinforcements from an unexpected friend.

Even so, as he and Jason, the holder of the First Amulet of the Guardians, look down upon the coming enemy, he hears his captain give a resigned sigh and speak almost as though to himself.

"We won't make it. Not all of us."

Sapphire eyes open onto darkness, complete but for the faint glimmer of light from the heart of the amulet at his own neck. The last, as far as he knows, to be held by any - his keepsake, his treasure, his ward. So long as he holds it, no others can be chosen, but by him.

The days have passed, long since gone, save perhaps in his memory and in other stories. He had been there, to see it all come crashing down. He'd walked the wreckage of a golden castle, had stood upon the shore and watched as the Isle faded from the realm of man. Had been there when the Sword had been cast back into the waters from whence it came.

Had seen the hand that had taken that fabled blade, one known to him, retreat into the depths.

It had been the last proof of the Holy Isle that had been his home for so long. With that retreating hand and the vanishing of the sword, there had been no more reason for him to stay.

It has been long indeed since those days, times of glory and joy, of peace and prosperity...and finally despair and tragedy, as all that was good and worth keeping in the world had been utterly torn asunder.

But the Guardian has never ceased, never wavered, never lost his edge.

He knows he is not alone in these depths, the womb of the shelter above.

But that presence, like a fish out of water, seems so familiar, and he feels the memories move in him again.

[PennDragyn]

A breath drawn in could create the shimmering sensation of serenity within her soul. The darkness and shadows she welcomed as she felt the cool damp air linger at her flesh and bring that soothing familiarity of the times of old. Her eyes easily would adjust to the ink black she welcomed as her hand rose before her. Even without the light she knew the pale presence of her skin, how moon soft it could be.

Penn had no inkling or desire to be near Finn or Avy at that point as she moved in the cool comfort of the basement as if it was a welcoming embrace for her own spirit. Almost, almost in that moment it felt like home. There was something about the basement that drew her, a feeling or an emotion of something so significant and serene. Everything that was so important and known.

Familiar.

Never alone now.

She realized it as she stood still and waiting. Paused tranquility as she would wait as always she would for the revelation to come and be known once more.

What was home if not this?