Elwen

five things have no beginning the darkness that is cast from light the blind leading the blind the memory that has no memory the words that say everything and nothing the knowledge of how to destroy four things have no middle the dream that has been denied the moment when everything ends the hope that has turned to shatterglass the broken mirror of a shattered mind three things have no end the silence of a voice that has forgotten how to speak the darkness that lies so deep inside a man's heart the memory that will not let go

((Gah. Well, back at school now, yay for regular Internet now.)) Stefan stared with shock at the sight in front of him, as he stepped into Tina's room. Silently, he dropped to one knee for a moment, his head bowed and eyes closed, offering respect to the dead, before standing and backing out, trying to stop his hands from shaking. Later on, he walked by Brad, when he was speaking with some of the other instructors. "You'd have to be heartless to do that to someone... before when all this started Vinka thought it might be Charles, I've seen nothing to make me disagree with her." Stefan stopped on the fringes of the group for a moment, before walking on. I should not make accusations based on blind thought, without logic...but... irritably, Stefan pulled at a lock of blue hair. But is that the best we can do for now? ((OOC: accusing Charles Montagne-Lord Panther.))

Stefan frowned, biting his lower lip tightly, and began pacing back and forth nervously, his delicate features showing that he was not only worried, but deep in thought. Who could have done this... His eyes swept across the room, resting on each person in the room, on the other instructors, quietly thinking, evaluating. Who could possibly be capable of such a thing? Logic, for now. Shock could set in later. ((No vote yet.))

((ack! Sorry about that...wasn't able to get on until today.)) Stefan read the note silently, lips moving to echo the words, and green eyes widened in shock. Who...who in the Goddess's name... A second later, as the full implications hit him, damn it. He tugged nervously at a lock of his blue hair, and looked at Dana: he knew perfectly well that he was terrible at the sympathetic words thing (not that she'd likely accept them from anyone), before looking back at the note. ...this morning, I was worried about somehow surviving this winter and not freezing to death. Now...

Stefan hated this time of year: he as a general rule despised the cold climate, but he especially hated winter. His boots crunched across the snow, as he walked towards the lodge, carrying what he had brought with him, and trying to ignore the cold that seeped in, despite being bundled up. One more season. he remnded himself, as he put his hand on the door, and resisted the urge to tug on his longish dyed blue hair irritably. One more season, and you'll have the money to get out of here. Get out of this country. Just one more season. You can get through this, Stefan. He opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind him.

Sorry for being late on the uptake, but I just got back to where I have Internet access. *scurries to post*

*waves* Hi, I know it's been a while. *hides* Anyway, I have a character. ((SOMEONE's character has to hate their job. *laughs*)) Stefan Fiori. Of Italian heritage (father's side of the family), but born and raised in the area. Very good skier, athletic and graceful, but doesn't enjoy it much: he is easily cold, and dislikes snow (he is quite aware how little sense that makes). But it's a job, and money is money (and money means he can get out of here!), so he takes what he can get, and if it means that he has to spend his winter instructing people how to ski, then so be it. He does what he has to, though can't be considered enthusiastic, by any stretch of the imagination. Personal Stats: Age: 23 Looks: Stefan is about 5'11" and slender, with longish pale blond hair that, for whatever reason, he dyes a light blue: rather good-looking, with delicate features. ((looks inspired by: picture)). Carries himself with grace. Personality: On the quiet side: he tends to be a loner, which suits him just fine. While he is gentle most of the time, he can be as hard and cold as steel: that other side is just easily forgotten about by most people, since he displays it so seldom. Has a particular distaste for arrogance. Status: Single. He's gay: very quiet about it, certaintly doesn't flaunt it. Most people don't even know. ((if needed, I can take this entire part out: in that case, he's just single.))

...Emo kid.

Notes: First thing posted in a long time. This is the prologue to my novel, "Breaking the Spiral", which will NOT be posted here (thematic reasons, not the least of which is a lot of swearing). He shivered quietly in the gray mist, trying to draw his jacket closer to him to provide some kind of extra warmth, but his hands were too stiff, the fingers too inflexible, to even bend enough to grasp the sturdy material. Inch by agonizing inch, numbness crawled up his body, from the very tips of his toes: the young man’s slender body was feeling, with every passing moment, more and more like lead, it was becoming harder and harder to move. He could barely breathe-hell, he wondered why it was even possible for him to still breathe-as the mist pressed down upon him, lay on him like ten thousand soaked quilts, blinding him, deafening him. He was helpless here, and he knew it, and he hated being helpless. The young man had seen, known, and considered many nightmares in his short life, but he was seriously starting to consider that this gray nothingness was the worst of them all. By now, the numbness was past his chest and almost to his shoulders, and the one time he managed to slap his hands together, in order to prove to himself that he could still feel something, that this void wasn’t all there was, he had barely felt it. However, the sensory numbness wasn’t the worst part of this whole ordeal, though he was half-tempted to describe it as such. Silently, the gray numbness flowed into his mind…slowly, inexorably, it seeped into his memories, leeching them out and washing them away, leaving nothing behind but the void. Sitting in the vast emptiness, his knees drawn up to his chin, Karin recited his memories, one after the other, one by one, desperately trying not to forget, but knowing all the while it was hopeless. Even though he was moving his lips, he wasn’t sure if he was making any noise at all-he couldn’t tell, not in this gray mist. Still, he didn’t care…his lips silently moving, Karin whispered his memories to the mist, everything, anything, everything, he couldn’t forget…everything, everything, he wanted to hold on to, for as long as he could…

My sucky, sucky posting is found: Here

...Right. I know this is on the edge of no return, and I'm very sorry. The format is really weird, and...I didn't really describe the date itself. More like major events in flashbacks and narration between, and stuff... To Alaeha: ...Uh...you get to be the (un)lucky subject of an Aural-vision? ((this is tied in the timeline I've had running for a while, I guess...)) *** ”…You must be kidding.” the normally articulate elven maiden managed to get out from between stunned lips after a few seconds. The blond-haired, petite cause for her discomfiture grinned impudently up at her. “Nope.” Aural chirped. “No disasters, ‘Neesan!” Elwen folded her arms over her chest. “Disaster follows you like the moon is bound to the pull of the earth. How did you escape it?” “…Luck?” Aural shrugged flippantly. “Lady Alaeha was really nice, too.” he grinned up at her, blue-green eyes sparkling brightly. “…” For once, Elwen was at a complete loss for words. Finally, she sighed. “Aural, I can’t believe that you managed to pull something off without a disaster.” her eyes dropped to the sheathed moonblade at his side, and Aural winced, knowing what was coming. “No homicidal mirror images?” she asked pointedly, reminding him of an incident that occurred years ago, but was only the start of Aural’s difficulties when it came to his love life (or life at all, if he had to be honest) . “That wasn’t my fault that time!” Aural protested. “And no, ‘neesan, there were no homicidal mirror images. Nothing homicidal at all. It was only once, can’t you get off my back about it?” “No.” Elwen smirked, delicate lips quirking upward into a slight smile. Aural glared: however, on his face, it was not very effective, especially not against his twin. “Just what happened, anyway?” Aural gave her a flat ‘oh my Goddess, you HAVE to be kidding me’ look. “’NEESAN!” he whined. “I don’t sit here and interrogate you on what you do with Damon when you’re out with him. And as for what happened…” his blue-green eyes were secretive. “I guess I’ll know…and you’ll have to figure out some way to find out, because I’m not telling you.” Elwen bowed slightly to him, a clear indication that he had won this round-a rare thing, that he got one-up on his older sister. Quietly, she turned and walked away, long white silk dress brushing the floor as she moved. The light glinted off the harp cradled in her left arm, and Aural sighed. Damn it. Why the hell had he put himself up for that auction anyway? He should have known his luck…while he had been correct in saying that there had been no big disasters…there was no shortage of little ones, either. Actually, correction: there had only been two remarkable, notable disasters, nothing like the episode with his mirror image that had tried to kill him and Roselyn. Hell, not even three bad things had happened, and bad things always happened in threes. But after this…he despaired of ever having a love life again. Why bother, if things were always, always going to happen? He had liked Lady Alaeha, too. Liked her a lot…but again, he knew what would happen the next time he saw her. “There’s another reason I didn’t want to tell you, ‘neesan…” he whispered. “There is no coincidence in this world…only the inevitable.” Aural sat down in the windowseat, and stared out the window, for a very long time. *** The date had certainly started less-then-ideally: Aural’s ill-timed clumsiness had struck again, at the worst possible moment. He had certainly gotten the short end of the stick compared to his sister: “Lirya Moonflower” had certainly gotten more then her fair share of height-she had certainly gotten his share as well as hers-and much more then her fair share of grace. He was fairly graceful most of the time, except on certain (ill-timed!) incidents: Aural suspected that his ForeSight ability was conspiring with his legs to trip him up, because he had met Roselyn in a similar fashion. ”Damn, damn, damn!” Aural swore under his breath, as the small Elf tried to keep his balance on the rock, swaying back and forth: he had come to his favorite place to sit and meditate on sunny days, in order to wait for Lady Alaeha: the added height given by the rock at least made it easier for him to stand and look around. Unfortunately, it had rained recently, and he hadn’t counted on the fact that the rock was slippery when wet (Aural knew perfectly well that he lacked common sense sometimes, and this proved it): his boots, which while comfortable, had worn soles, and they were having a hard time keeping him put. Finally, everything just gave way. “Ack!” Aural yelped as he slipped sideways, small hands flailing instinctively at empty air, hoping vainly to catch onto something. Vaguely-his attention absorbed by the fact that he was falling-he felt the brush of a musical presence at the edge of his senses, and at the edge of his vision, he saw a flash of blond hair and blue. The psychic fully expected to smack into the hard ground, and end up with a headache: instead, he smacked into soft, yielding flesh, knocking himself and the other person to the ground. Immediately, Aural scrambled up, blushing bright red and stammering apologies. “I’msosososorry-“ the words tumbled out in a rush, as the other person-a half-Elven lady with short-ish blond hair, dressed in blue, stood up. She was about three inches taller then him-which wasn’t a surprise, as it wasn’t hard for people to be taller then Aural. “That’s alright.” she said quietly, and he felt the rush of Power in her voice, so similar to his sister’s: spellsinger, then. “You didn’t mean it, and it was clearly an accident.” “Yes, but-“ Aural said in a small voice, feeling very much a child again, as she looked at him. “You’re Aural Moonflower, aren’t you?” she asked. “Huh?” was Aural’s intelligent rejoinder. “Uh…yeah, I’m Aural.” he said, and then did a surprised double-take. Oh, oh, oh no…”Uh…you’re Lady Alaeha, aren’t you?” The woman nodded, obviously amused. “Yes, I’m Alaeha.” Aural promptly wished for the earth to swallow him up. “I’m really, really, really sorry.” he stammered. “I know you are.” Alaeha said gently. “And it was an accident.” her lavender eyes sparkled at him mischievously. “But next time, remember that rocks are slippery when wet?” Aural wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and never come out. After that embarrassing incident, Aural had managed (barely!) to take Alaeha to the old bard’s college that was nearby, without even getting lost. That was something he was good at: like his sister, he was remarkably good with directions, and it had been Elwen who had suggested it, remarking that Alaeha was a bard, and would definitely find it interesting. In the course of their conversation, as the day went on, Aural had figured out that the half-Elf was kind, had a sense of humor (well, that was kind of obvious, from the gentle rock jab from before), and shared his love for poking (good-natured) fun at people: while he didn’t know too many of the people Alaeha did, even though he “technically” resided at the Pen along with his sister now that he no longer lived at Roselyn’s temple, he did know a few. He also made a revelation that was disturbing to him, especially after his recent history with the ice maiden Roselyn, who he had loved and who had left him in the end: Aural found the half-Elven bard more then a little fascinating. He liked her. A lot. (And knew perfectly well that he hadn’t made the best impression, no matter what Lady Alaeha said: alright, so he could check using his talents, but that would be cheating. He knew what he was: a flighty, overly cheerful little psychic who in the end, wasn’t that interesting. After all, wouldn’t he have managed to hold onto Roselyn if there was something there worth her attention?) ”I feel like an idiot for not bringing you a flower or something.” Aural said. Alaeha quirked an eyebrow at him. “I doubt a flower would have survived the fall you took from the rock. It probably would have been crushed.” the bard pointed out, and Aural flushed again. “Well, if I had been thinking, I wouldn’t have fallen off the rock, now would I?” Aural remarked cheerfully. Absently, he dug into his pocket, and pulled out a blue crystal. “Now, what’s this doing in here?” he blinked at it. “Why is there a crystal in your pocket?” Alaeha asked curiously. “I use crystals occasionally to help me focus…each kind of crystal has its own resonation, and my powers react different to the resonations.” Aural explained, and flipped the crystal. “I guess I forgot about this one…I stopped using blue crystals a while back because they gave me a headache.” Because of Roselyn, the thought came to mind, and he swatted it down. “But I think I can make up the flower to you.” Aural opened his mind, and reached out to the crystal, telepathically asking it to ‘change’: unlike most mages, he couldn’t just force reality to his will: he had to ask it to change. The only time this was not the case was when he was dealing with mental energies and a mind, and he tried to never, ever force his will on another mind. After a great deal of effort, the crystal shimmered and slowly changed, blue crystal petals unfolding and the crystal shaping itself into a flower. Smiling brightly, he held the blue crystal moonflower (it was the first flower Aural could think of, honestly, and he felt really stupid now that he realized) out to Alaeha, who took it. “A flower for you, milady.” he said, and bowed. “Thank you.” she said, and touched the petals gently. Aural had never been inside a bardic college before, though Elwen had, being what she was (well, other then a thief), and he’d seen it through her eyes once. He knew that he would never be able to get into a bardic guild, because, well, he would never make a bard (he could sing, reasonably well, but other then that, he showed no inclination towards music), and you had to be a bard in order to be a member of the bardic guild: so a bardic college was the closest he could come. This one was one of the oldest, and Aural had been happy to see that Lady Alaeha was entranced, very interested. He silently thanked Elwen for her advice. Aural watched as the half-Elven bard looked through an old book of ballads: he had looked at a similar book just now, and while the stories in the words had called to him, he knew that he’d never be able to sing it. “…Music is a part of a bard’s soul, isn’t it?” Aural asked quietly, and Alaeha nodded. “…It is a part of us…we chose that path.” Alaeha responded. “…If I could never sing another note, or play an instrument again…I would feel that lack in me. So would every other bard, or so I imagine. I wouldn’t know: you’d have to ask them.” “Ah, but does the walker choose the path or does the path choose the walker?” Aural asked, feeling suddenly very heavy with the weight of fate. “I believe that I chose my path. Music called to me…and I chose to answer that call. I probably could have done something else, but I loved music too much.” Alaeha replied quietly. “My powers weren’t a danger to those around me…unlike yours. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with that for anything.” “No kidding.” Aural winced. “It seems to be a habit of mine…that my powers cause the most random and unexpected dangers and troubles that you can imagine.” Aural winced, remembering. It seemed like he had managed to jinx himself like that…because the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, having a vision. And a terrifying one, it had been. Like all the others recently…it was the same. Only different… He stood, with five other figures, cloaked in white, on a barren landscape. The music of a harp echoed, clear and true, above the shrieks of madness that was the Black Wind. Also cloaked in white, Elwen stood in front of them, facing the hooded figure in black that was their enemy, Morninglark harp cradled in the crook of her arm, as she swept her fingers lightly across the strings. Aural could feel his throat constrict, knowing what was going to happen. The slender figure beside Aural turned its head, wisps of blond hair escaping the hood. Aural swallowed, not wanting to look his fellow guardian, appointed by destiny to fail along with him, in the eye. Didn’t want to know who it was. With shock, he realized who it was: Lady Alaeha. That had been the last disaster. The terrifying vision that had plagued him for so long…had returned. At the wrong time. And now, he knew. Knew…and could not forget. Knew that the next time they would meet…would be when this would come to pass. She had been the first guardian he had seen the face of…before this vision, he could deny that it would be a reality. ”You were having a vision, weren’t you?” Alaeha asked softly. Aural nodded softly. “You look pale…I think you should go home and rest.” “No…no, I’ll be fine.” Aural said quickly. He wasn’t going to be fine. The date had ended badly. That vision had pretty much killed it…and Aural had ended up going home, after his aching head and blurry vision had caused him to walk into several walls and trip over things. There was no way he was going to be able to go anywhere else. He was sorry for having ruined the date, and for basically having made Alaeha waste her money. Wandering sounded like a very good idea. Wandering for a long, long time. *** Aural curled up in the windowseat, and wept for a long, long time.

Congratulations.

*finally comes traipsing back in...and promptly falls over* ACK!!!! I knew I was forgetting something!!! *starts bashing her head into a wall* ((Aural is my character...)) I'm very, very, very sorry, Alaeha... *grovels* Salinye, what is the absolute final deadline for this? (*kills her memory like a sieve AND impending finals*) I will get this done even if it kills me.

I'm sorry, but I have to bow out as well. College decided to drop tons of work on my head. Namely, my English class. *bows apologies and grovels to everyone*

Sorry about just disappearing like that, but college started killing me. *grovels in forgiveness*