Smoke and Mirrors. Hopes and Fears. Black and White. Good and Evil.

All woven in a tapestry in threads, spools of woven silver to interweave with the beckon of jet. So long ago the skein and the story were left behind and all that remained was the woman. Ever.

Even now she seemed more like a ghost then a presence. A phantasmagorical entity of light and darkness perfectly enraptured and ensnared in the makings of life and death. London’s pale fog presence of a woman ever refined in cream pure flesh and haven dark eyes would regard the pretty Poppet even now from her distance.

Looking on from the maze of frost, the white smoke of her hair was playing tricks with her eyes. Even still Ever would see Poppet. Pet. Prymm. Whichever name she went by. Still Ever knew and realized that sometimes there were those born to survive and those meant for a sacrifice. Was it not the blood red banner of Prymm’s hair that proved that she was meant for the latter then the former?

“Enticing isn’t she?”

For so long Ever had grown accustomed to the stone and steel murmur of the man that haunted her. No longer was Ever in denial of what and who she was to him, who he was to her. Captive. Prisoner. Slave. Property. She was bound under all the terms and there was no escaping the phantom of a man.

His name, his true name that was, would never be spoken on her lips but after so many centuries of watching another die for her mere existence and survival in eternity she knew well who he was.

“She should not be ours.”

“But she will be.”

“I think not.”

For the first time in what seemed ages the eternal exile, ethereal creation that she was would smile.

“Oh?”

“It is not written in the stars or printed upon the cards.”

“I see. So now you are one to read the great divine?”

“Come now. I believe we both know I am neither of these.”

“But still you once possessed the story within.”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

“Many lifetimes ago.”

“I was young then…”

“… and yet… not."

“Mm…”

“Maiden. Mother. Crone. They still seek you.”

“And they still shy from you, even while some accept you.”

“So they do. So they do.”

The coldness prickling upon her flesh and gnawing away at the warmth let her know he left her at this moment to her own reflections. A spirit so often when in visitation was thought to bring a change in temperature and atmosphere to something far cooler but with the presence of this particular dark passenger Ever always felt as if she was burning alive.

But this was hardly Hell… and it was certainly not the afterlife.

That realization hit Ever to the very fabric and core of her being as she watched Prymm tie the blood red ribbon on the wishing tree. Ever at that moment could not help but silently pray that Prymm perhaps had wished for her own survival in the times of Darkness and Light.