Tempest Turns

There were times and moments, evenings that she dreamed of the times before. The lives she had lived and the lifetimes she had shared with Finn. So many times she had been his lover, and in other lives she was wife but always they had been inseparable no matter what was thrown at them or the consequences of their love.

The dreams that plagued her that evening had her stirring restlessly against him as she drew in a soft breath and opened her eyes, shining emeralds staying on the resting form of her lover even as she knew he wasn?t sleeping. As if he was all the more increasingly aware of her awakening and her unsettled spirit he drew her closer into his embrace.

?Someone is here??

Her voice wouldn?t carry, not even above a whisper to breathe against the shell of his ear. The words left his body stiffening against her own as she could sense his acute awareness of their surroundings. Avy felt nothing more then wary but part of her could not shake the feeling that the presence was of one familiar. One she had thought she never would know again.

Avy?s emerald eyes lifted to reach and rest on the brilliant blue topaz of Finn?s own before she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly right before reluctantly withdrawing from their bed to pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She made a quick effort of crossing the theater towards the main entrance as a brow arched upon seeing the silent presence of Sky standing in the shadows. A brow arched in question but Sky just shrugged silently before replacing her headphones on her ears and stepping away to disappear back in her room. It was Sky?s silent answer that whoever was waiting outside was no one that would be speaking or adding another voice in the dark haired woman?s head.

Before she opened the door she felt more then saw Finn?s presence behind her as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her securely against his bare chest. The closeness of his body had her aware of the beat of his heart as much as the soothing heat exuding from his form. It was just the reassurance she needed even as the realization settled in that she was shaking.

Finally her composure was regained for her to open the door to reveal the presence of two harmless seeming women though Avy knew this was far from the case. One was a woman of shining blue lake eyes and gold curls that Avy knew instantly, the other was a stranger only known by name and legend? buckskin mane restrained in a solitaire serpentine braid and poison eyes that wore a smile of a prisoner that never would be restrained.

?Ye??


Avy?s breath hitched as she stepped back as if visibly struck even as Finn?s arms tightened around her. She didn?t know which to be more surprised by? the return of the Lady? or the presence of a trickster reborn.

She felt like the world had stopped, as if she had stopped breathing and everything had gone in stand still. It was only the possessive and protective embrace of Finn that left her reassured that this was not the end.



Avy rose a hand and rubbed at her eyes to avoid staring at the pair of women at their doorstep. The one she had thought carried poison eyes and that rumored buckskin hair now seemed desert kissed gold in that significant solitaire braid and her eyes nothing more then the strange dark of black suns.



The transformation was transfixing and her lips parted to even ask if it was truly the Trickster there before her yet her thoughts were interrupted by the Lady’s tranquil voice.



“She is not who you think, and it would be best not to mention such to her.”

“Tis nae like we’re naut familiar with dat sort of thing… sudden …forgetfulness and ye are dealin’ with tha daughter of tha’ bastard.”



The Lady was staring evenly at Avy as the Willow and the Lady stared at each other with a look of no love ever lost, Avy knew well enough why that would be as much as the Lady even if they were playing still at a game of unknowns. It seemed foolish for them to just open their shelter doors to a known killer and convict just because she seemed to have ‘forgotten’ who she was.



“They took her companion and there is a price on her head as well because they believe she is the one she is not… or at least the one she no longer is. Someone tampered with her just as they wished to do with you as I recall… as much as your friends. You know who I speak of.”



The words brought an arch of brow even as a look was shared with Finn as it was obvious who would be tampering with another goddess to make them … forget… and to make it worse alter them.



“Sae she is nae…Loki’s daughter?”

“Well genetically… yes… but the one known as his daughter… No. This is Tempest.”

“Tempest. Mm. Ah see… and ye would be?”



A pause as she waited even as the Lady smiled while the smile never reached her eyes as she stared upon the Willow.



“I am Penn. Penn Dragyn.”



The name was almost a mockery, and the blond woman seemed to know that well as her smile seemed a tad cooler as she gauged Avy’s reaction. Horrified at that choice of name Avy looked to Finn as those moments of memories of their lives as Guinevere and Lancelot flashed in her eyes as she paled, unwilling to look back towards the door and the Lady that stood their waiting at their doorstep with the once goddess.

She didn’t remember a thing save for Will. The past was a smoldering burning landscape of thoughts turned to ash when Tempest tried to recall what had led her here prior to Penn finding her.



It wasn’t so much that Penn had found her as more along the lines Penn had taken over guardianship of the woman. The silver rune marked handcuffs should have spoken volumes that Tempest was a captive, a prisoner rather then one to find asylum and sanctuary.



“Will…”



Her voice rasped out his name as the images flickered in her mind of the blood bath that had ensued prior to the Bounty Hunter being taken from her side.



There was a vague… well… strong recollection of blood on her hands and violence and death to her eager will and of moments of desert heat in the arms of the Bounty Hunter but the rest… the before and after were gone.



They had called her by a name that was not her own. They had named her and branded her as Trickster and Karma but she had never known these names and they were not who she was. One had once called her as mother to another but even this could not be true.



Tempest was younger then them and had never worn the flesh of the Coyote. She was the Prairie Wolf by name only in her hunting fashion, a burning solstice waiting to be watched for if one looked frequently upon her they would note the change, the subtle differences.



There was one thing she remembered save for Will. She remembered the lab, she remembered the tests, she recalled how when she was left to attack another how she absorbed all they were and became like them. They were a part of her as she was a part of them, but there was only one significant enough to matter for that imprint.



“Enough! We have to find him.”



Her voice was heat and dust, a mirage of fury breaking through the argument of the Willow and the Lady. Black sun eyes narrowed as her hands curled in frustration even as she struggled against the bonds once more.



A victim rather then a killer, a messenger rather then the executioner but in these moments did it matter? She knew she was paying for the sins of another but none of that could be changed.



Tempest was living up to her name as that fury heat roared beneath her flesh leaving those burning marks to awaken at her skin. They had taken him from her and regardless of the reason, she was bound to give them hell. She would destroy them all for the separation they had attempted to impose upon the pair.



They all could burn… all that mattered was the sworn vow to the death, the words spoken, and the honor of knowing another as mate.

He had known her. Not the face - the face has changed, but the essence as ever is in the eyes, and in there he sees her, the familiar coolness of lake depths.

Similar memories flash through his mind, knowledge that heretofore he had purposely denied himself in each iteration, wishing to experience lives as man did at least in some semblance, though in each he had been as ever the faithful guardian, endowed with power and the will to use it.

He sees mixed feelings in those eyes as they settle on him now, even as his arm tightens around his Willow - not protectively, but meant to comfort. That iteration had seen strange and difficult turns throughout, and he had played his part. Despite the ending of tragedy, he looks back on it with a certain fondness, and no regret.

It had been a good life.

Besides, he's never been one to live in those past times. His life is for the present, with an eye ever towards the future, where decisions are ever-changing and yet somehow predetermined.

Even so, there is a certain coolness in his own tone. He has no doubt the Lady had known who she would find here, and despite her politeness he can tell there's something of a grudge held there.

She'll nae ev'r qui'e fergive tha', will she?

But again, that's the past. Now his eyes turn towards the Tempest, the one they used to call the Trisckter, the Coyote, Karma incarnate. A host of names, for a woman that fit all, always the same and yet ever-changing, much like the desert she's claimed as home in any incarnation.

But in form only. The shell contains no substance of memory, no recollection of past lives. A tabula rasa upon which was written the pairing of a man who followed in the footsteps of legends himself, and yet somehow despite this curious blankness she seemed even more laid bare, stripped down to the bone, to the core of her existence, all rage and burning frustration.

The topaz brilliance of his gaze drops down to the strangely etched cuffs, and the same though moves through his mind much as it had his Willow.

A fellow refugee, or a prisoner?

The faintest echoes of heels against the ground, metronomic footfalls as patient as the Devil himself, seem to echo through his head as he contemplates that thought, and he smiles to himself.

There are forces in this world that no harm will come to, that even in the face of absolute destruction will somehow manage to remain untouched while all around them is torn to pieces by thunderous gunfire and catastrophic explosions. In his mind's eye he sees this tall figure, glaring light in dusty air silhouetting a shape right out of the Old West of American lore, from the hat on his head, down to the flaring shape of a long coat through which small rays of light can be seen through numerous holes, as though he were cloaked in the night sky itself.

Bulle' 'oles...so many...an' yet there's nae a scratch on 'im.

He knows it for a certainty, and as the vision passes, he refocuses himself to the pair, addressing the Tempest first.

"Ye dinnae need worry yerself 'bou' findin' 'im, lass. He'll be findin' ye. Jus' as 'e did b'fore."

The topaz gaze shifts to the Lady, who calls herself by the name of legend, taking for herself that which had been evermore lost to a tragic end, never to be held by men again, altered to suit the times. "Ye're welcome here, o'course...s'long as ye c'n keep yerselves contained."

A slight grin tugs at his lips as he locks gazes with the Lady. "An' if Ah were ye, Ah'd have th' cuffs off 'er when 'er beau arrives for 'er, or...well. I' will nae be pretty."

"Well...that decision will be made when it is certain that she is not a threat to herself or to others."

The blue lake eyes were a suitable match to the tranquil serenity and rippling coolness of Penn's voice as she looked away from Avy to turn her attention on to Finn. There was an everlasting eternity in those placid depths even as the recognition was bore there.

Certainly she knew well the lives forged of both the Willow and the Protector as well as she knew her own. A different fashioning of time and tale but the stories were as ancient wrought no matter who was telling them, or who they were about.

Even before Avalon was known the lake had existed and she had been its Lady.

"It still surprises me that you saved her from the fire."

Calm enough and thoughtful, the detached remark of the woman who ever seemed the embodiment of water.

"You called him brother. More then brother in arms and by carry of shield and he trusted you... and this... is how you honor him. To still return to her. I expected as much from her for she had no choice of heart and given... her upbringing, well much could not be expected. She is of the wilds. Always she has been."

It perhaps was her natural indifference that left Penn to not react when Avy nearly tore herself out of Finn's arms to lash out at the Lady but a whispered word and a closer claim of her in an embrace left the Willow calmed even as emerald green eyes flashed with a wild flare of anger towards the Lady.

Penn had quite a few words that she could have chose to use at that moment before she was interrupted by the shuffle of old metal as Tempest stepped forward, black sun eyes fixed intently upon Finn before looking back to the Lady. A bark of laughter as lips parted to speak but no words came forth as the desert born suddenly collapsed.

He felt that fire,wild and heartfelt, rise up in his Willow even before she's moving. Not that he blames her, not even the smallest amount, and were it a different time and place he might've let her go. Despite her power, her weapons and her experience, the Lady could not hope to match his Willow.

Not here, in their domain.

But even despite that he won't have it here. This is a place of rest, even for those like the Tempest. And so it is he murmurs to her soft as breath, a voice meant only for her. "Aye, m'Willow. Le' 'er go fer now." He has no doubt the pair will have their moment to hash it out.

The thought is just passing through his mind when the prisoner begins to fall faint.

Swift as lightning, as always he is there before the girl has time to do more than begin to slump, his arms wrapped around her to lower her, gently, to the floor. In his ears he hears those footfalls, rhythmic and patient and drawing closer, interlaced with gunfire and shouts of pain. Patient, dark eyes seem to stare a hole in time and space as they search for the woman he's tenderly laying to the floor.

Settling her comfortably on the tiles, he comes to his feet and looks to Avy, his voice soft but firm, brooking no argument. He can feel the tension, the simmering anger held in that lean, lovely shape, the flames burning slow and ready, waiting for the slightest breath of air to loose the inferno.

"Avy, m'love. Go an' get Dor tae help ye move 'er tae a room...whiche'er one has th' least 'mount of flammable m't'rial in i'."

Topaz jewels meet lake blue depths as he turns his attention back to the Lady. There is no warmth in his eyes. "Ah tol' ye tha' ye're welcome 'ere, m'Lady. Do nae mistake kindness fer complacency, lass. Tha' was 'nother lifetime, o'er an' long since done with, an' ye really need t'let i' go."

He sighs as he looks down at the still form on the tiles, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Ye know th' funny part there, a' th' end...'e knew, an' 'e un'erstood. An' 'e fergave."

Looking up to meet the Lady's gaze, he sighs again, no longer chuckling. "Jus' a flicker o' flame in a dark room, tae th' like of us, nae ev'n an eyeblink tae the rest o' the universe...but he understood, an' he fergave. Says a lo' t'me 'bout th' nobil'ty he al'ays possessed, an ye still do nae, ev'n if'n ye do have th' King's weapon."

"It is all that remains of him, the only thing that was rightfully his and that carries his memory still."

The words rippled from her lips, placid and calm as the lake blue eyes rested on Finn. She did not venture to spare a look towards the Willow or the Tempest. Time seemed to pause and move backward in the ebb and tide as she remembered the very past mentioned. How so many believed her adoration had rested always with the druid when it truth they ever had belonged to the King.

Perhaps it was jealousy that turned her heart from the Willow's bonded vows to the King and the fact that she chose not him but his right hand man to love and share a bed with. Perhaps it was envy for the opportunity to share a bed with the King when the Lady had never such a choice but still a desire.

"It is more then just forgiveness that remains within my spirit, I loved our King more then was permitted. Do you think then that I found it a burden that there were those permitted to love in secret when I was not allowed the same kindness?"

The blue of her eyes shifted, turned the tide in the wave of fury that was threatening to overflow before the Lady's composure was regained as she looked down upon the form of the Tempest.

Penn knelt down only at that moment as she withdrew the key from her coin purse and released the Tempest from her shackles.

"She is your responsibility now. I will hold no harm or ill will towards any of you. I have done as I intended."

Fingers moved against her knees to bring the dust from them as the indifferent gaze shone its presence upon Finn before the elegant bow of head as she watched the Willow retreat to fetch the one requested.

"I know of the rooms that you keep within the basement... I find it my preference and choice perhaps for it to remain best for me to take my quarters there. If it pleases you."

A curt bow of head and Penn took her leave if only to find a reasonable place to claim as her own. Even come the comfort of darkness and shadows... those would be her home now.

The faint growl rumbled from her lips in trespass as she felt the shackles fall away. Fingers on her flesh that were not of his touch left her stirring from unconsciousness to settle the black sun depths upon the man above her.

A gloved hand reached, coiled at his wrist as the dark bright of her eyes, a sun eclipsed as a vibrant burning solstice lingered on the generous warm shine of topaz. For the briefest moment would she share the heat that existed within her to crawl along his flesh and paint him in the embracing warmth of her power.

"I know of you. You were the one that brought the Heat to the weak..."

The smile came to the lips of the desert born as she drew herself up to her elbows, the power of the flame burning within her very soul seemed awakened and ever wild as she rubbed lightly at her bruised wrists where the shackles had left their mark. Once so very long ago Tempest would have lived even more so to her name and seduce the Fire Bringer with her own passion, but those days of fire had long since kindled to be born to wildfire only for one.

A nimble, lithe twist of frame brought her to knees beside Finn before she rose slowly and took in her surroundings as she scented at the air with a faint narrow of eyes. She knew well the chosen path of the one claimed as his Willow and the other known as the Lady.

With a lift of brow and the faintest smile she turned to look back toward the man.

"The escort is unrequired. I will remain here by my own choosing if only for the sake of those that rely on my survival. I have a feeling though that my presence here will be helpful as your presence here with your mate is of use to me. All of her feelings... all of your sight. You know where he is... do you not?"

Her smile held the edge of sharp teeth, voice in ashen embers provoked to the promise of a growl. The look in her eyes of one that swore that ever would it be best to not play too roughly or rashly with fire.

There's something out there, beyond this blackness. He knows it.

He can feel it, the way a hunted predator knows it is being hunted. Through the blackness around him have come images, sensations, detached glances into the world beyond this blank prison.

Dark eyes filled with heat.

A breath against his lips, smelling of sweet desert sage, and flint, and iron.

The smell of gunpowder, sharp and acrid, mingling strangely with charred bones, burnt flesh.

Vultures.

A shake, an urgent voice.

(wake up, you need to)

He needs to do what? There was something, but he can't remember.

He can remember very little.

This blank prison rocking back and forth, a stinging sensation against what he thinks is his face.

More urgent words.

(dammit, wake up! there isn't)

"- much time. You need to wake up!"

He forces his eyes open, then closes them with a grimace and a groan. Too much light, glaring into his head like noonday rays through a tequila hangover and a magnifying glass.

He can feel his body, feel the weight of it like a wet bag of cement, heavy, unwilling to move. Moving his head gets a stab of silvery-bright pain like an icepick right between his eyebrows, and despite their weight he feels his arms move instinctively, trying to get his hands to his head to stop that godawful hurt.

The movement causes still more pain, and his arms drop back down to his sides on the bed beneath him as if the lines between them and his brain had been snipped like strings. More pain accompanies this, drawing a soft groan.

What seemed an eternity to his pain-wracked mind is probably in reality the space of a second, perhaps two. The husky female voice breaks its way into this agony-soaked reality like a knife through binding ropes, piercing the shroud. "That's it. You have to move. It's gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it'll pass."

He tries opening his eyes again, a single emotion - anger - knifing through his mind along with the pain. He was better off dead, if that's what had happened to him...but he doesn't think so. It hadn't felt like death, not what he would expect death to feel like.

Still, she clearly has something to do with him being awake. Here. Wherever this is.

Whoever he is.

The bolt of pain is less severe this time as he tries to lift his head to look at whoever it is talking to him. Glaring light gives way to softer tones, blurred features framed by dark hair.

Not gold underlaid by crimson, like sunsets and bonfires.

Footsteps and blurred tracks in the sand, so faint as to be unreadable, save for eyes accustomed to such things.

Crimson hair and frightened, dead eyes.

A raven, scolding and accusing him with its harsh voice and gold-rimmed eyes.

He manages to get his hand to his head this time as he sits up, groaning as the pain sets fire to every muscle and fills his bones with ground-up glass. As his gaze moves from the blurry figure he closes them tightly, trying to focus, then opens them again as he looks down. His vision swims a moment, then clears again. It takes him a moment to realize he's naked. Naked, wet and cold.

Hardly at my most impressive, he thinks to himself.

He can think of a hundred questions to ask, but only one that's pertinent to the moment as he looks down at himself. "Jus' what th' blue hell's goin' on here?"

That female voice comes across the silence, cool and amused, but with a certain desperation behind it. "It's a long story, and there isn't time to explain."

Something hits him - soft cloth, dry and fluffy. A towel. "Dry off. I need you."