Elwen

Wow...and this /could/ be considered a story/vignette of sorts. I /like/ darker POV stories...*smiles happily* And this is a good one.

The piteous whimpering was what first caught Elwen’s attention. Being a kitsune , and the greatest thief the demon and material worlds had ever known, her already naturally unhealthy curiosity-even more so then typical for that extremely curious breed- increased exponentially in less then a minute. On silent, graceful feet, she moved towards the source of the whimpering…somewhere nearby in a thick, dense clump of healthy, bright green shrubbery. The leaves rustled as she got nearer to whatever was making the racket, and she bent down as a sparkle of silver caught her practiced thief’s eye. The leaves parted for her, as she bent her will and hummed. The magic she wielded was mainly in her voice, and it was potent indeed. To her surprise, it was an abandoned kit, barely three years old or so it seemed, curled in a miserable ball in the thicket, right where her mother had dumped her. Even more surprising to her was the sudden rush of maternal-maternal!- instinct that flooded over the slender, silver-haired kitsune thief at the sight of the little lost child. I am Elwen, greatest thief of the spirit world. The silver kitsune told herself sternly. Not a mother, not a caregiver. I do not need a child. I do not need anyone! But she wavered, staring at the kitsune kit, that tiny whimpering bundle of silver fur, a little girl-kit so alone in this world, father long since gone, mother gone as well, no one to take care of her. A silver kitsune, like herself: the rarest and most beautiful of all the breeds of the fox-folk. As the saying among demons and others went, silver kitsune were “a sliver of the moon Herself”, a sliver of moonlight come to earth, favored children of Inari , the fox goddess. Kitsune were rarely seen: known to be a fickle and finicky lot, the mischievous tricksters tended to stay out of sight, appearing-and disappearing-as if by magic. However, silver kitsune were the rarest of all, and that was because their ethereal beauty was such as to not meant to be seen by any eyes. They, whether male or female, were coveted by many. And they, if captured, were often caged in an attempt to keep the beautiful fox spirit with their captor “forever.” Unfortunately, the free spirit of a kitsune could not long bear to be imprisoned, trapped against their will: a caged kitsune would die unless freed. I am Elwen-demon, thief, killer, sorceress. Elwen reminded herself, trying her best to harden her normally frosty, empty heart against the tears and distress of this deeply unhappy kitsune kit. Bane of many a demon’s existence and last vision of even more…she could feel her heart constrict, as if a giant hand had wrapped itself around the organ and was squeezing. She could feel all her fear and apprehension wrap itself around her heart and squeeze her dry. I am afraid. Why am I afraid? Elwen reached a pale, slender hand out to touch the kit’s face, gently wiping away the tears, the residual trails that the moisture had left behind . Because her tears have somehow undone me. It is strange…I was never affected by all this, any of this, before. The little demon girl stirred and opened great golden eyes to regard Elwen. Those eyes, so much like her own, rocked the older kitsune: this little girl who looked so much like her, enough to be her daughter. Or a younger version of herself, as she had been those years ago. An image of Elwen herself as she had been at the age of three. The memories of her own lonely childhood flooded through the young kitsune maiden- A silver kitsune woman carelessly dropping a little kit about three onto the hard, unforgiving stone, green robes swirling as she deliberately turned her back on her own child and walked away, as the little girl wailed, her heart breaking. “Mama! Mama! Please don’t leave me! Mama!” There was no reply. There would never be a reply. Mama would never return. Another memory, of that same child, now five or six, running swiftly through the dark night, easily eluding the many and considerably older/more experienced demonic pursuers at her heels, finely worked, expensive golden necklace clutched in her tiny fists, already a skilled thief at that young age. Names echoed in her mind, of people she had once known. Names that echoed in her head, and faces that went with them. Of the few she could call friends: Yatsuo, the gruff, young wolf-human shapeshifter with a drinking problem. Ki, the human-fox ‘shifter, a child her age, who loved cookies. Cyndy, the talking kitten who wished to learn to shapeshift. What had happened to them, the first and only true friends she had ever had? The shadow that she knew well had fallen upon them, had swallowed them up. All three of them had been killed, by powerful demon lords angry at this little impertinent fox-child who dared challenge them. Killed because she cared for them: and after their deaths, Elwen had never cared for anyone again. Years and years went by, as she grew from that frail little child into the hard cold maiden she was today, whose name was whispered in fear, as powerful demons quaked at the very mention of her name. Elwen, who would slip by night into the most guarded vault imaginable, steal the most precious treasure within, and just as readily would throw said treasure away out of boredom. Elwen, the maiden of the stars, whose great beauty was spoken of as much as her skills of thievery, her extreme magical abilities, and her ruthlessness. Elwen, the free spirit, who no one could ever tame, no one could ever catch. Elwen, who would kill without a second thought or glance if it suited her whims or purposes. Elwen the merciless, the heartless, the cruel, the cold-blooded killer, the manipulative. Her own life had made her thus, those hard years of trying to survive the harsh spirit world on her own, with no one to teach her but what she could learn on her own. If she had not been strong, she would not have survived. “That was my life.” Elwen said, as much to the kit as to herself, finally making a decision that surprised even herself. “But it will not be yours. Not as long as I am with you.” She is what I was…Elwen thought. And I will not let her live the kind of life that I did. I will not let her grow up to be me! I will be a better mother then my mother ever was. You are mine now, child, you are my daughter…not the daughter of that bitch who threw you into these bushes to die. You are not hers, you are mine! She knelt down next to the kit, who blinked her golden eyes at her. “Mama?” she asked in a soft, innocent little voice that tore at Elwen’s heart. “I am here.” Elwen said, gathering the tiny ball of silver fur up into her arms. “I am your mother now.” “Mama…” the kit sighed sleepily, content that it was not alone; she seemed to not to realize this was not her birth mother. “You are Miriya.” Elwen told her new adopted daughter, needing something, a name, to call her besides “you” and “kit”, and she didn’t want any trace of the child’s earlier life to remain. It was over; the past was over and done with, and should remain in the past, where it belonged. Leave it and let it lie…do not stir up the wounds of the past, let them heal and let her begin a new life. She was the child’s mother now, and could name her whatever she wished. Why saddle her with a name her mother had picked, when the damn bitch hadn’t even wanted the child anyway, had just left her to die? Miriya…that is a pretty name, for a pretty child. Miriya it is, then. The thief sighed, fully realizing the enormity of the task she had gotten herself into. Despite all her skill, all her potential, all her raw power, she was still only a very young woman herself, young by the standards of the immortal demons. Now she was trying to raise a child by herself. “Miriya. That is your name.” Miriya hummed softly in content affirmation, seeming to understand: Elwen thought privately that she could have told the kit that her new name was “Moron” and she wouldn’t have cared. What have I gotten myself into now? Elwen thought distractedly, almost regretting her choice for a second- But one look into Miriya’s golden eyes reaffirmed for the young fox spirit that her choice had been, after all, correct. *** The next years passed very quickly, tumbling past in a blur. Elwen had to scale down her thieving and adjust for the fact she had a young child with her, to take care of: if she had had a mate, then that problem would have been solved easily. But kitsune mated for life, and not only had Elwen not seen anyone she would even consider as a lifelong mate-or even liked as a friend-she was far too independent to even consider the idea of finding a mate just to help her care for her daughter. No, thank you. If-and that is a very big if-I ever decide to take a mate, I want one I care for. Not just one that can help me care for Miriya. “Ow!” Miriya whined. “That hurt, Mama!” “If you would hold still, then it would not hurt.” Elwen said rationally as she brushed-or at least attempted to-the wiggling kit’s hair. “Hold still!” “Stop pulling my hair, Mama!” Miriya wailed. “Hold still and I won’t pull it!” Elwen jerked the brush through the writhing kit’s long silver hair, trying to be gentle, but her patience was starting to run out. “Ow!” “Hold still!” Elwen managed to undo those snarls, and finished brushing out the silver strands, long, slender fingers nimbly plaiting the child’s hair into a neat braid that hung down her back. “There, now you can wiggle.” “That hurt, Mama!” Miriya complained yet again. “Why do you have to pull it so hard?” “I told you that if you wouldn’t wiggle when I was brushing your hair, then it wouldn’t hurt. And the only reason I pulled was because you were moving around and were pulling your head around.” Elwen pointed out, putting away the brush, which was ivory-handled gold, “liberated” from a rich demon lady. Her own waist-length hair was neatly combed already, and all that remained was to braid Miriya’s hair. “Why do you have to braid my hair?” Miriya asked. “Can’t you leave it loose like yours, Mama?” “When you don’t tangle your hair, yes.” Elwen said. “But as of now, no.” Miriya pouted cutely. “Mama, don’t be mean!” “I’m not being mean.” Elwen said practically, and laughed as Miriya pounced, letting her daughter knock her to the ground and tickle the greatest thief in the spirit world senseless, both laughing merrily. Kitsune loved games and merriment, as much as they loved stealing and trickery. True to her promise, Elwen was raising her daughter well, showering all the love and affection she was capable of on Miriya-which was significant. Elwen’s own mother had never shown her even an infinitesimal amount of the love that she now lavished on Miriya, and the thief was determined to be the mother that her own mother never had been. The only thing that could melt that icy heart of hers was her daughter’s sunny smile: Elwen could deny Miriya nothing when the girl turned that smile on her. She was truly a loving, wonderful mother: hardly the image that one expected of the tall, proud kitsune thief. “Maternal” was not a quality the average demon or person associated with the kitsune Elwen. Cruel, yes: proud, heartless, capricious, all yes. But certainly not the loving mother she was. We’re running out of money. Elwen mentally counted up all they had left. It wasn’t much. I have to go raiding tonight. But what about Miriya? “Miriya-“ Elwen held up a hand, stopping the game dead. “I have to go out tonight.” The kitsune indicated the cave with a wave of that same slender appendage. “Hide in here…don’t come out until I come back. Do you understand me?” Miriya nodded: this was routine by now, and Elwen had developed this routine when the kit had first been old enough to be left alone for a few hours. She would hide Miriya and go thieving, then return for her child and get away quickly. “Remember. Don’t come out until I return. If anyone comes in here and it isn’t me, don’t come out.” Elwen knew she had powerful enemies, and they would destroy anyone she loved. A nod. “I understand, Mama.” Miriya said, turning that smile on her that Elwen so loved. Elwen gathered her daughter close and embraced her tightly. “I love you, Mama.” Miriya whispered. Elwen rocked her child back and forth lovingly, holding her close, feeling a shadow creeping ever closer, the shadow she would give her life to protect her daughter from, the same shadow that had taken her friends from her so long ago. “I love you too, Miriya.” *** It was dawn when Elwen returned to the cave, golden eyes searching the darkness for a glint of silver. The job had been almost ridiculously easy, she was much too smart for those idiot youkai . When would she be challenged? Hell, they hadn’t been a challenge when she was five. “Miriya?” she called. No reply. “Miriya?” No reply. Elwen reached out with her senses and found no trace of her daughter’s youki. She must not have listened to me and wandered off…Elwen refused to let herself believe in the last possibility. No… “Mama?” the ghostly voice of her daughter said. Elwen turned, opening up with her extremely powerful abilities of empathy and telepathy. She had once been assessed as having abilities similar to that of a Spirit-Necromancer , because of the strength of these tandem abilities. “Mama?” Elwen felt her heart break. “No…” she whispered. The ghostly figure of Miriya stood in front of her, illuminated by her Sight, and it meant only one thing. Miriya was dead. I only left her alone for a few hours! Elwen mentally blamed herself, mentally damned herself, mentally screamed. It is my fault…I should never have left her alone… “I’m scared, Mama.” Miriya’s voice echoed. “Where are you?” “I’m right here. What happened?” Elwen said, trying to hold back her grief and anger. The kit’s lower lip trembled. “Some bad men came when you were gone and found me, though I was hiding like you said…and I don’t know what they did, but it hurt…” They tortured her with their power before they killed her. Elwen thought. They were sent by those great lords who hate me…oh Inari-sama , why her and not me? Cowards! Damn them to whatever hells there are! “Mama?” Miriya whispered. “I’m scared.” “It’s alright.” Elwen said, though she knew it would never be alright again. Echoes pounded in her ears, the echoes of angels who would never return. “Goodbye, Miriya…and rest well. I love you…” She took her daughter’s tiny hands, as silver tears ran down her cheeks, and coalesced into gems before they hit the ground. “I promise you. From now on, I will never cry again.” Miriya nodded once, showing she had received her mother’s vow, before fading away. Fire flickered in the cave, and Elwen’s slender outline was painted into the flimsy gossamer robes she wore by the dancing firelight. A mad light shone in her golden eyes, as her long silver hair blew in the wind. The most beautiful woman in all the worlds stirred to anger was nothing less then magnificent, though risking the anger of Elwen was a grave thing. The kitsune howled a single word to her goddess above: vengeance. She would have the heads of those who did this deed. Her daughter would be avenged. And from that day forth, her heart was frozen. Elwen never let herself love or care for anyone again. Until… ~Owari~ There IS a poem that goes with this story, called "Echoes of Angels" as well, already up...

Elwen is about to reply to Tamaranis, but suddenly, a searing burst of agony claws through her head. The slender Elven woman doubles over in pain, dropping her harp, which falls to the floor in a jumble of discordant strings. Aural! this had something to do with her brother. Where was he? She reached out with all the telepathy at her command, the full force of their twin-link. Nothing. He was there...but she couldn't reach him. AURAL! At last managing to shove the pain away, she straightens, once-gray eyes blazing amber. In an instant, her form blurs, shifting from the tall, black-haired Elven woman to the silver kitsune, who stands about seven feet tall, a good foot taller than Lirya Moonflower's elven body. Elwen's long, silver hair blows about her body as if tossed by an invisible wind, as do her loose gossamer robes. The sight of the kitsune said to be the most beautiful woman of her kind stirred to anger is nothing less than magnificent, but at the same time, strangely unnerving.

*smiles* I'm speechless, ashke. This is a wonderful poem...you are a born lyricist. *runs off to read her beloved's other work*

Calonderiel watches Gabriel go, violet eyes closing. "If only you knew..." the words are a soft whisper that only hints at the tortured soul within. "If only you knew."

A faint pink tinge spreads across the sorcerer's pale skin. "I will not fall over dead." he says shortly in an attempt to bring Gabriel's attention off that little reaction to his suggestion. "I have had worse wounds and have been almost fatally drugged with mornloth. This is nothing." {{OOC: mornloth is one of the few sporifics that work on an Elf, but it is very devastating.}} Why does he remind me so much of Devaberiel?

OOC: Elwen’s long musing about the “stories” is meant to give some insight to her past and what kind of a person she is now…sorry for the boringness of it. And the ballad Elwen plays (and thinks the ending verse to) has character plot/symbolic meaning… Elwen meets Tamaranis’s gaze. “I am Elwen.” The elf introduces herself. “In this lifetime and in this elven body I am named Lirya Moonflower, but I call myself by my true name.” Elwen knows very well the tales about her, a lot of which are probably in the Pen’s library, and tales this man probably has heard, of the once heartless kitsune, greatest thief of the demon world, as beautiful as she was deadly. At the mere mention of her name, once people quaked in fear and looked to their treasures to be sure that she had not taken them and slipped away like a shadow in the night. Merciless thief, heartless killer, dark sorceress: than she was fatally wounded by the wizard who made it his life’s calling to hunt down out-of-line demons like herself, and to save herself fled to the material plane, where her soul fused with that of the unborn Lirya Moonflower. In this second life she learned compassion and rediscovered what it meant to love, and now was a harper who lived each day to atone for the wrongs she had committed in her past life. Of her theft of the Mirror of Darkness five years ago from the sacred temple: that cursed artifact that granted whoever looked within it and activated its powers at the dark of the moon a wish, at the price of their life-or both their lives, in her case. Finally activating the Mirror to save her dying elven mother’s life, it was only through the intervention of the half-demon Damon Inferel who offered half his life to the Mirror as well…it couldn’t decide which of them to kill and spared both of them, granting her wish. Elwen forcibly rips her thoughts away from her best friend, before her heart broke any more. Do not think of him. she reminds herself. Do not! More stories, of a woman who had ruined so many evil schemes of so many powerful nobles, under so many aliases, that she had multiple prices on her head. Her sad eyes regard the vampire evenly: he can sense her life-force flickering, guttering like a weak candle flame in the cold arctic wind of the Heart of Winter. “I came not to cause trouble. If there is anything amiss-as there must be, for I may not know the lady well, but from reputation, I can say that Lady Salinye would not leave her demesne without warning or giving some explanation. But I am not the cause of it-I may be a kitsune, but I am also an elf, and I have changed from who I was in my last lifetime.” The beautiful elf turns her face away from him for a long moment, long raven hair falling forward to curtain her face. Slender, practiced fingers stroke lovingly across the strings of the small harp cradled protectively in the curve of her arm, a delicate melody rippling from beneath her hands, the notes forming themselves into the melancholy ballad called Silent and Still, of the heartbroken maiden who finally drowned herself to end it all, after her heart died over and over again. “And soon, nothing will matter for me anymore. But I will help you. Perhaps it will help me atone…before it all ends.” Water, water, cold and deep Hold me fast so I may sleep Death with you is hardly more Than all the deaths that came before *** Damon was dreaming. He didn’t dream often, being half a demon, but when he did, they were always powerful and vivid…and very telling. But even in his sleep, the ghostly echo of Elwen’s sad, haunting voice twined through his mind. Aishiteru, Damon Inferel. I love you, Damon Inferel. And his dream took him then… Destroy it, Damon. Elwen’s sad, lilting voice reached his ears. “This is not how it was meant to be. It was twisted by the magic of the Morninglark bent to evil ends. Destroy it.” With one swipe of his blade, the mage construct died- But it was no longer the mage construct born of an evil will using the power of the Morninglark harp. Instead, his katana sliced through smooth, beautiful flesh, and to his horror, Damon was now looking down at Elwen who clutched a wound on her stomach, her life’s blood staining the once-pure white silk of her dress a sickening crimson, as her life drained away. What had he done? He would never want Elwen to feel pain- And she smiled as she died.

Very nice poem, Merry. And Pip, he's from Mount Vernon. You might have seen me, squashai-I hang around with those two or a tall boy and a long-haired bishounen in a trenchcoat. *smiles evilly because she has just ruined the joke*

"Confectioner." Elwen corrects automatically. "No, everyone leaves in the end...in the end, you are always alone."

Calonderiel manages to push himself up. "Nothing time will not fix." he says, alto voice even more whispery than usual (!). With a gentle hand he reaches out and touches Gabriel's throat, bending all his magic to heal the bard, ignoring his raw channels. "You took these wounds for me, though you did not have to. This is the least I can do."

A slender figure leapt in a flickering instant from the roof of a nearby building to balance perfectly on the edge of a tree branch. He had just seen what had occurred below him... Valyn had to be careful. If the Katari found him...he didn't know what they would do to a powerful psychic, but it was probably either death or enslavement. A long black cloak billowed about his petite frame, as he leapt from that tree branch he stood on to another. Perhaps there would be a chance...but now was the time to flee.

Every religion has its dark points-and this captures the spirit of Christianity's perfectly. Granted, I'm not saying my own is all perfect and balanced just because nature is revered, but sometimes certain slants get ignored. But a warning would be nice...

"Hn." Elwen puts in. "Being attached to anyone will only make you weak. They will just leave you in the end."

Warning: there /is/ cussing in this. I know that some PG-13 movies have more cussing, but I might be pushing it in this story. Please, someone tell me if I am. Thanks. And the background is in the aftermath of a story I'm planning to write...anyway, Elwen is dead, having given her life to give some hope to the world (it's in the story as an explanation), and her brother Aural is venting. Enough background? Just One Question Do you know how much I hate you right now? Do you know how much I hate you for dying, sister? That’s right. I hate you for dying, and I hate myself for living. To be honest, Elwen, I never thought you were going to die. Elves are immortal, except for death in battle or by grief, and you’ve survived both when they should have killed you, and even if you had died as an Elf, you would have had your kitsune form to go back to. But you’re gone forever, both as Lirya and as Elwen. Damn you, sister! You should have known better. You should have known better, being as old as you were! How could someone as smart as you be so damn stupid?! Was it better for you this way, Elwen? Was it your intention to die all along? To “atone” for whatever sins you committed in your past by throwing both your lives away to turn the balance in favor of the Light? Dammit, were you so blind?! Whatever wrong you may have done was ten times atoned for long ago! You didn’t need to die in order to set your balance right! “We choose to die…because we have hope.” I can still hear your words, Elwen, burned into my mind. That is the most complete bullshit I have ever heard in all my life, and I have heard a lot! Not even I could come up with that, and I have come up with some total bullshit in my 120 years of life! Why would you die just because you have hope?! Shouldn’t you choose to live because you have hope, not choose to die?! “We choose to die …because we have hope.” I am a psychic, one of the most powerful this world has ever seen-shouldn’t I have been able to have saved my own sister? I dreamed your death, Elwen, and that hurts the most of all. I knew you were going to die, I knew you were going to die when the Fifth Circle closed, I knew you were going to throw your life away. I foresaw it. But I tried to avert it. I threw all my energy into trying to save your life, I gathered the guardians…but in the end, it all came to naught. Your destiny was preordained…and nothing could have saved you. I watched you face Damon, possessed by that spirit who wishes to destroy Divinity and bring the world spiraling downwards into eternal darkness, and I can still see you smile, still hear your voice, then that strange melody of soprano and alto, your twin souls joined. “Fate is an endless story that directs our lives. It cannot be changed no matter how much we strive. We will fulfill our destiny…and bring the Fifth Circle to the end that has been foreordained.” You smiled, and threw your arms out wide. “This is our story. It will go the way we want it to. Because…we choose to die. Because we have hope.” And that was the end. You threw your existences away, threw all your power into bringing about what you had always known what must be. You were Hope, the one who went alone where gods and angels feared to tread, the one who whispered defiance at the heart of the world. You gave the world something to believe in, with your death… But what about those who loved you? Damn you for leaving us, Elwen, we depended on you. Damn you! What the hell were you thinking? It’s alright to think of yourself once in a while. And even if you die with hope, death is still death. Death is still an end. You never learned it, in either of your lives! Death is still a damn end, Elwen! You had every right to live, as much as everyone else on this stupid planet! You had every right to live and be happy! But instead, you died. You died without a second thought and with no damn regrets! “I should be content…I have lived two lives. That should be enough for anyone.” But you still died young! A thousand, one hundred and twenty years, that is all you lived and all you will ever live. So young, for a kitsune, so young for an immortal Elf. You died in battle…I suppose that’s the way you would have wanted it. But it’s not right, dammit! Not right at all! You gave up your life for all of us, for every being on this godsforsaken planet, be it material plane, elemental plane, spirit world, whatever-that went above and beyond duty. You killed yourself for us. I should be thanking you. But I can’t thank you. I can’t stand to think about you, and you’re all I think about. You and how your eyes looked when the light faded from them, eyes without a vestige of life or starlight in them. You as your body slid somehow gracefully to the ground, your souls already gone. Your last bullshit words. I can’t stop thinking about you, sis. What the hell am I supposed to tell Mother? She still doesn’t know that you’re dead. You, her precious only daughter and oldest child. Heck, she didn’t even know that the soul of a kitsune lived within her Lirya. How am I going to explain this? I’m hurting; I was your twin after all. I always had you in my mind, as long as I could remember…and now there’s no one there. No one to tease, no one to laugh with…no one to cry with. It’s empty, you’re gone. And Damon…he’s without you now. Forever. You were bound in your love, in your lives, and now you’re gone. He loved you, dammit! I know you loved him enough to die for him…but did you love him enough to live for him? I have so many things I want to ask you, but will never have the chance to. What the hell was going through your mind, what the hell were you thinking when you knew you were going to die? What the hell were you thinking, period? I want to know, goddess dammit it all! And you went away without ever looking back. Shit, you’re gone now, forever. We may never have been equals, but we sure as hell were friends, siblings…and you died! Shit, you left us without a second thought. Screw you, sister. Screw you to the seven layers of the icy hells. You died on us, gone, and you won’t ever come back. And there’s just one question I have for you. Just one thing I want to know. I have to know, Elwen. Was it worth it?

The small kitsune kit sighs, long silver hair falling forward to cover her face. (Lady Inari-sama...what if those demon lords find me? They'll kill them...Yatsuo, Cyndy, Ki...just because I care about them.)

{{Ack! Well, guess what-Cate ISN'T eaten! He's a major part of the plot...poor Cal.}} [At the moment Cate disappears into the greenery, you sense dark power being used...as per a teleportation spell.] Calonderiel stirs slightly- [Once again, all those who /can/ sense his magic do so.] "Sleep now, Old One." a lilting child's soprano comes from the corner, a voice filled with Command. "Return to the slumber from whence you came." ((Sorry, Merry, but I'm trying to advance the plot...)) The plant slowly fades away-Melvin had trapped this earth spirit in the body of a plant, and whoever this was had released it. [All of you see a small girl with bright eyes and short auburn curls standing in the corner-and she wasn't there before!] Calonderiel's eyes open, and he rasps with sudden recognition- "Lenore." She giggles, and fades from view.

This goes along with my not-yet-posted story of the same title, an attempt to figure out why my character Elwen was so heartless as a kitsune. The memory of you is still with me It has been one hundred years, six months and three days Since you went away forever Little daughter, I remember you yet I loved you more then I ever loved before From the moment I saw you crying in the bushes I knew that I would raise you as my own You were mine, I gave you all I had But you're gone, and it echoes here in my mind Echoes of angels who will never return Dark nights, dark days But none so dark as the one when I was gone The night I was gone and you were killed I should have been there it should have been me they who killed you were my enemies, not yours Now there is no more reason left to love You were my treasure, my light Ripped from me into the dark Now there is no more reason left to love Vengeance I will have Vengeance will be mine the vengeance that I swore in revenge for your death And still I keep the promise I made to you- No more tears will I cry Nevermore will I weep And this promise I made to myself- Never will I love again Never will I care again I have frozen my heart in the coldest ice Never can I feel: it is for the best Fate is an endless story that directs our lives It cannot be changed no matter how hard we try I have frozen my heart, no more will I feel Rest well, Miriya: I will avenge your death No more will my heart be torn From this day I am reborn I will be what I am destined to be- merciless thief, heartless killer, dark sorceress No one deserves mercy: not even I None will I show, none will I give From this day I am reborn. And this is Elwen before her rebirth into Lirya Moonflower's body.

Elwen regarded Tamaranis. "Yes. What do you wish to know? I will not be of much help, I am afraid." The starlight in her gray eyes was strangely...quenched. Just by looking at her he can tell that this is an elf dying of grief.

"No. Nothing can bring back the dead." Elwen's voice is hollow. "And the only way for an unsent spirit to move on is for them to accept that they are dead...and let go." {{Elisa-most kitsune /are/ thieves. I think you meant to say that that they would be mad that someone was trying to be better then they were.}}

"At least you have someone who will watch your back." the small kitsune told Ki gravely. "The demon world is a harsh place to live in...especially if you are alone. No mother. No father. No one to teach you what you must know. Either you learn what you must on your own and live or you die."

Elwen walks among the crowd, after Merry has let her go, sincerely congratulationing those who got promoted. The normally reserved elf/kitsune maiden gives her /ashke/, Damon, a passionate hug. "Wonderful job, ashke." she says. "You deserved this." (And maybe it'll be my turn someday...)

Elwen slides her slender hand into her dress pocket and removes what is there. Opening her palm, it is revealed to be a tiny pixie. "Trying to steal lint?" she asks mock-sternly. "You can keep what you have...in fact, I'll /give/ you the rest. Just ask next time." ((Elisa, I REALLY don't think that silk makes lint. Elwen's wearing a silk dress...))

"Sorry." Elwen raised her hands in a rare gesture of sincere apology. "No, I don't want a cookie."

How much mythology do you read? This is a lovely work, and I wish I could write like this...*smiles at him and bows in reverence*

"You really should have been born a kitsune, Rune." Elwen says quietly. "With your sense of humor and practical jokes...you'd fit right in." The reborn kitsune/elf smiles down at the child.