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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2014 17:51:09 GMT -5
"Me? Powerful? No way," came Rinoa's reply. Her voice, light and vibrant, was strangled by fear. Perhaps it wasn't something your everyday passer-by might pick up on, but to Elsa, who knew that fear so intimately herself, it was as easy to hear as the rumbling of the storm outside.
Rinoa had gotten up again, turned away from her on her heel. Elsa didn't chase her. She stayed where she was, her legs tucked under her on the floor, arms now hanging at her side as they had fallen away from her friend's rising body. She knew better than to up herself, try and comfort the girl when she was clearly distressed, clearly still reeling from her own thoughts and fears. Elsa knew what that was like. Panic was like a virus. It started small, a pinprick of a worry, before escalating, spreading, multiplying, corrupting, commanding, controlling, conquering, until it inhabited every inch of space in the mind and body and laid waste to what had once been... and gave birth to chaos, to fear, to a complete lack of control. Provoke it, or try and stop its destructive course in the wrong way, and all control was forfeit -- it would be a total invasion with little that could stop it.
But Elsa knew now that there was a way to combat panic. Not all was lost when the mind spiralled into chaos. Her friends had shown her that. With time. With patience. With undying support and kindness and forgiveness she could never repay. But what they had done for her -- and in turn, what they had done for everyone she would ever meet from that point onward, including Rinoa, now -- was something she had wished someone, anyone could have done for her when she was a little girl, growing up with her icy powers in a kingdom that might have treated her and her abilities much like the guards in this world had treated Rinoa's. It was almost too little, too late, for Elsa -- the damage had been done before the right people had gotten to her. But she was changing that now. At least, that's what she hoped. Changing that and trying to repent for her mistakes, her crimes, her accidents and her intentions. She still begged to know why she had been gifted -- cursed -- with her powers, but at least, finally, she had come to some sort of terms with them.
She was a new woman. And she had control. The control she'd been desperate for ever since she'd been that scared little girl, locking herself away in her room. And that control, she knew, could be transferred to Rinoa. Elsa saw so much of her in the girl. So much of her at a younger stage in her life, that same little girl who tried so hard to conceal, not to feel, who kept everything hidden inside. She could almost see it in the way Rinoa folded into herself, the way her fingers latched around her arms much in the same way Elsa had done as a child whenever she touched her windowsill and watched frost jump from her fingertips, turning it into an icy ledge before her eyes.
How Elsa knew this girl. Knew her more than she could ever know, or ever explain. And she intended to stay with her. The others no longer worried like they used to. No longer restricted her to timed excursions in new worlds, no longer sent one of their own with her whenever she wanted to go off by herself. That alone was a sign of her progress. They wouldn't mind, now, when she didn't return to the campfire that evening, knowing that she wasn't endangering herself or others anymore, wasn't freezing every little thing she touched at the lightest brush.
No, she would stay with this girl. This girl who she could actually help. This girl she understood.
"Hey," Rinoa said.
Elsa looked up to see Rinoa looking at her over her shoulder. Raven bangs hung over the girl's sad eyes. She brushed them back over her ear and Elsa watched her, shifting slightly in the silence that had fallen between them. Elsa smiled softly in response. She didn't want to pressure the girl to speak, but at the same time, she wanted to let her know somehow that it was okay for her to, if she wanted. There had been something else after the greeting, something else that had meant to pour out and stopped itself behind Rinoa's teeth as she turned away from the Snow Queen, her gaze lost in the decrepit foundations of the building, which indeed appeared to be in a despairing state. Much of the rest of the building seemed as though it was about to collapse in on its own weight, particularly the mess someone had made of the main hallway and the staircase that led to the second floor.
The thought did little to ease Elsa's own concerns, but calming Rinoa, assuring her that, powers or not, everything was going to be fine, was her priority. If they had to leave, Elsa could create a home for them with her magic if they were desperate. She wasn't worried.
Angelo, tail wagging, dragged her blanket across the rotting wooden floor to nuzzle her mistress's leg. Elsa watched as Rinoa sunk down and patted the little animal.
"Elsa?" the girl continued, clasping her hands together and resting them against her chest. "What about you...? What are you doing in such a place? The way you seem so confident, you must be strong."
Elsa only smiled, her painted lips parting as she breathed, absorbing the question.
"I'm traveling," she said calmly, hoping the tone of her voice would aid Rinoa in calming herself down. "With a group of people I met a long time ago. We had all been torn away from our home worlds and were looking for a way back to where we'd all come from. Some of us have found home now, but there are still some of us who haven't, so we're continuing our journey until everyone has made it back safely. We wound up on this world by accident, actually…"
She tried to force her head to stay up, her eyes to stay glued to her new friend's, but even Elsa had not the strength for that when Rinoa's final question slipped into the open. Her head hung slightly. Her eyes drifted down to her lap, where her hand sat, curled up into a ball, while the other worked to keep her sitting upright. The rain pounded the roof, pounded the walls, pounded the earth outside. Whatever was left of their silence had been filled with the deafening sound of the rain. It had gotten even worse, it seemed, in the little time they'd spent conversing, enough that Elsa actively noticed it now, whereas before she'd been able to tune it out. It was savage, the way the water assaulted the dirt, the mud, the already waterlogged fields and crops that stretched on for miles. They were lucky they'd found this place at all, else it was likely Rinoa would have had a much worse night. Elsa could deal with the frigid cold rain could bring -- cold temperatures never seemed to affect her like they did other people, and she was comfortable even in subzero weather without any fuss -- but even if Elsa had conjured a structure for them to rest in during the night, walls made of thick ice were hardly the best insulation against the cold.
Her mind had wandered. She could almost feel Rinoa's eyes pressing into hers. She shook her head.
"I'm not strong," she continued. "Not in the sense I think you mean. But I have control. And yes, that does give me confidence… I can use my powers to help people, like you, instead of letting them control me, or make me scared. I'm not afraid to use them anymore, but once upon a time, I did… absolutely everything in my power to hold them in. To keep them a secret. But I couldn't do it -- everything I touched turned to ice. I was miserable… for a very long time. Until one day, I ran away from home and let myself go… it was the best I'd ever felt. The world came crashing back down to reality after that, and I got myself into a lot of trouble… but soon after that, I started on my journey and that's what's made me stronger. That's what's given me control. So I know, even if it's hard to keep your magic in sometimes… it's possible. You can do it. It just takes time, and patience, and someone who can help you through it."
Elsa listened as Rinoa went on about some sort of machines from her world, cupping her hands together as she spoke, until a roar ripped through the bare halls of the house. The walls shook as thunder boomed overhead. Rinoa collapsed into a ball once again and now Elsa was on her feet, moving across the short distance to where her friend crouched, her eyes screwed shut, trying to escape the sounds outside. Elsa placed a hesitant hand on the girl's back, rubbing it gently, hoping it would help soothe her as the storm's worst seemed to be passing above the house. Rain fell in heavier and heavier sheets, to the point now where it was almost impossible to see beyond a few inches of the short wooden patio leading up to the front door. The world had become a fog of grey mixed with the occasional dash of rain caught in some sourceless light.
Elsa saw it at the last second.
A hand. A hand reaching out for Rinoa.
But there was no one else here. They'd checked.
Ice shot out from Elsa's feet in a violent outburst of fear, a small ring of frost dusted with a thin layer of snow hugging her heels.
So much for control.
Elsa crouched instinctively over Rinoa, arms leaning against the hunched girl's shoulders, her hands out, at the ready. Whatever it was, it disappeared with the flash of lightning that had summoned it. Elsa frowned. Had she really just been seeing things? Perhaps she was more unnerved by their situation than she cared to admit, even to herself. She glanced warily at the snowy ring she'd left on the floor, pursing her lips at the striking remains of her moment of weakness. Just after she'd tried to explain how she'd learned to control herself to Rinoa, too. She began convincing herself to let the issue pass when Rinoa sneezed.
And Elsa watched as fire shot out from the girl's nose. It lasted only a second -- only as long as her sneeze -- but like Elsa's ice, it had managed to spread. The blanket long ago abandoned by Angelo caught fire, baby flames ebbing away at the fabric as Rinoa, hands flailing, dropped down to put it out.
"Not again!" the girl despaired. Thunder rattled above and did little to help the situation.
Rinoa managed to pat out the little fire she'd made right as Elsa was reaching out a hand, icy magic swirling at the base of her palms, ready to lend a hand. It was only as Rinoa looked up, towards the landing on the second floor across the hallway, that Elsa noticed that something more than fire was going wrong.
"Rinoa?" she asked, frowning. Unease crept beneath her skin. "What is it? What's wrong?"
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2014 1:08:45 GMT -5
| ❤ I don't want the future. I want the present to stand still. I just want to stay here with you ❤ |
The storm outside continued to rage, the torrential downfall creating a barrier of water and wind that betrayed their pursuers at every step. In light of the dangers of the storm, many men had pulled from the search party. The floodgates had burst and there was nothing standing between them and the raising water levels. Homes, Gypsy camps and grain stores were searched with great prejudice, and pointy spears. As each search ended in failure, men began to wonder if the guards had truly seen what they did, or if they were just tales to turn a blind eye to their failure in capturing these women. The storm saturated the ground and made every step unsteady. One could not truly trust the word of a wanderer, the woman they had questioned. With the guards having returned soaked, one even missing his horse, it put into question their motives. Was it for revenge or had they truly seen witches? Claiming such things without proof was often easily accepted, but with the guard were proud and humiliation for them often ended up with anyone around in chains.
It was not long before they arrived a great distance from an old, abandoned farm. The guards insisted they search the place.
“Are you mad, sirs?” One volunteer bade as his horse backed up of its own accord. “Do you not know the tales of this place?” He would question as the other men seemed very much aware of the deeds of this part of the countryside.
Another man nodded. “They call it the Haunted Mill. Terrible wrongs have been done there.”
The leading guard scoffed at their foolishness. “Than what better place to hide a pair of witches?” He assured.
Inside the old farm house the witches seemed to suffer from their own problems. Rinoa had set ablaze the blanket Angelo had retrieved for her, and it left her utterly dejected. So long and she had not gotten anything under control. Her nightmares only seemed to get worse, or perhaps they simply grew more vivid as her time with them passed? Regardless of the situations she faced in her time of slumber, it was her waking hours where she was haunted with the indescribable feeling of self-loathing. As a progeny of Hyne’s great powers, with it came the irrefutable proof of man’s selfishness. Sorceress came in a great many shapes, sizes and personalities. There were those that chose to hide their powers than there were others that used their powers to subjugate man. Though legends of how powerful a sorceress could be remained just that, Rinoa and her friends had seen first hand just how powerful they were.
Though she had quickly learned to use Para-Magic machines and manipulate the existing energies in the world to boost herself in strength thanks to her Guardian, nothing could prepare her for the awakening for her own powers. They say that only those with the ability to embody the power of Hyne were given his gift, and if they strayed from the righteous path of humanity they would become cursed with visible scars, telling all the kind of creature they really were. What frightened Rinoa most was becoming a creature like this: tainted not only in mind, but body. Elsa suddenly questioned her, but the sound of Angelo’s barks were rather distracting. What had her upset? Rinoa pulled the burnt blanket to her chest and laughed nervously as she pushed to her feet. Elsa’s touch was not ignored, but the young sorceress had to bite back the incessant need to cling back. It had always been that way…
Whenever she was scared or worried she was the type of person to just hold onto another. She was not given to the yeilds of personal space, nor was she stingy when it came to providing warranted affection to others, but not many appreciated this clinginess. It was simply the encouraging response from years of solitude in such a large home… After her mother died she had often found herself running to her father during terrible storms, clinging to his leg. It was not something he ever discouraged. He would pat her head and just let her have her way until she felt brave enough to return to her room. The halls were nearly always empty. A few maids that kept the manor in shape came here and there, but few ever stayed due to the princess’ rambunctious behavior, or those being fired for stealing from the manor. Most of her time was spent watching the world pass by from her window. Newspapers that came to the house always brought bad news.
She questioned it, all of it.
How fair was it for others to suffer when she had all this food, all these clothes and such a large house when only two people lived in it… It was unfair and did not settle well in her stomach. The older she grew the more she understood and the grayer the world became. Her beautiful vision of a bright, humming city that was free was nothing but an allusion of peace concocted by the Galbadian Government. It was like being locked up in your own home… day in, and day out. Rinoa looked to Elsa and smiled bright. She tried not to let her flutered feelings get the better of her. She tried to backtrack mentally and shook her head, parting her plump lips. All the while Angelo curiously headed into the dark, and now icy hall. The mutt was undeterred by the icy walk as she shuffled and slipped. Her goal was to find a way to the second floor. Something had piqued the canine’s interest.
“You are strong, even if you can’t see it.” Rinoa’s words were solemn, but warm. “Because here you are, not a single blemish on your skin and yet you can use your magic with such ease. You at least had the courage to -- run away from your powers.” She looked down to her boots and wiggled them a bit. “Many say that running away is a sign of cowardice,” She winced when the thunder shook the crumbling home once again. “But I think sometimes it takes a lot of strength to run away from the comforts you have come to know, because you can see the truth of the world more clearly.”
She had run away from home to spite her father. Regardless of the injustices that were clearly going on in the Government he had held his position and continued to stubbornly rule as he saw fit. He was a soldier first and a father second, she felt. After her mother died … she now realizes -- he lost a piece of himself with her. Work was all he had. Perhaps he had been afraid of losing her as well? But it seemed he always watched her, even if she was thousands of miles from home. He did everything to shelter her from the harshness of the real world. But she could not remain his child forever, nor could she stand ignorant to the sufferings that constantly befell the mortal world. Tears burned the edges of her eyes as her Guardian whispered the memories into her ear.
“But you cannot forget child, the truth.” Diabolos chided. “The truth of that vast emptiness. If you forget your weakness, you too become weak.”
She nodded to the voice murmuring in her ear. “I was weak. I gave in and let them lock me up. I gave up on my friends who wanted to help me. Even now I’m so afraid that if I allow these powers out, I’ll become corrupt and lose my wings…” Her words became a soft whisper as the back of her hand came up to rub at her watering eyes. “I’ve tried to learn more about my magic, but I can’t seem to get over…”
“One cannot hide from a Nightmare, so long as I am the Master of Dreams the truth will remain mistress. You cannot look away, for if you do…” Diabolos’ urging was clear.
She just wanted to forget that Nightmare, the emptiness of space, but her memories are what fed Diabolos and what lent him power to protect her. She shivered, but not from the cold, though it may have appeared to be so. She looked up to Elsa and shrugged.
“I miss my Knight.” She was gone from his side. The longer she was separated the harder it was to keep her spirits up, the power held by Hyne a tool easily corrupt by the weak spirit of a human. “You know?” For a sorceress without a Knight was doomed to repeat the cycles of so many corrupt by their own flesh.
Upstairs Angelo followed her nose, her barking since ceased into amiable silence. The pup had found a way to the second floor, as the steps inside of the farmhouse, at the foyer, were in ruin. The dog’s stubby tail wagged as her floppy ears perked, head canting to the side. A figure appeared to be in the furthest most room at the end of the dark hall. Its hand beckoned the canine. Rinoa smirked at Elsa before peering over her shoulder at the bit of icy mess she made.
“It looks like I’m not the only one easily spooked…” She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually such a mess but I felt super bad about scaring that lady, and totes was not ready to really deal with this kind of weather. I was hoping to find something here, but it was just another dead end! Go figure.” Rinoa shrugged, trying to dispel the earlier tension mounted by her own insecurities about her still growing magical powers.
Outside the farm’s property the soldiers and volunteers marched on.
“This is not a good idea.” One man warned.
“He’s right,” Another chimed in. “They have seen the old woman still roaming her land, especially on nights like today.”
“Yes!” The men did not agree with going in.
“Fine!” The guard bellowed. “You cowards stay here!” But even his own two men seemed taken back by the superstitions. “These grounds are not haunted, you are but fools that believe in the tales of these farmers far too much!”
❤ tags: Elsa~! ❤ powers used: n/a ❤ notes: Justifiable escapes and haunting moments of Fate. ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2014 20:57:51 GMT -5
It was lucky for the men standing outside that Elsa remained unaware of their scheming, regardless of their fear. Another thing that accompanied her newfound control over her powers was that unyielding confidence in her ability to wield them -- not only in her own defence (for she mattered so little in the big scheme of things, she thought), but in the defence of others, such as Rinoa, as some of the guards that sat, bartering for the courage of their volunteer hunters, knew only too well after their initial encounter with her outside the town gates. And if they thought she was a witch after seeing such a restrained display of her abilities, they had no idea what kind of storm -- literally -- they were walking into if they managed to scrape together enough men and courage to enter the house in search of them. She wouldn't harm them, of course. Not intentionally, anyway. Stop them, freeze them in their tracks, block them from reaching either Rinoa or herself, sure, but never harm, unless it was absolutely necessary. A promise she'd made to herself long ago, when she'd finally agreed to let her friends try and train her in safely using her powers. It wasn't foolproof -- she still made mistakes, still suffered from random bursts of emotion, like the ring of snow she'd left on the floor of the decrepit living room, and, in the worst of times, still hurt those she'd sworn to protect, still reeled when ice froze solid the objects she touched, the skin of those that got too close to her -- but it was enough to keep her from doing any major damage to anything, or anyone, she didn't intend to hit.
As Rinoa succeeded in putting an end to the fire and pulled the burnt blanket to her chest, standing, Elsa had noticed the girl flinch away from her touch. The Snow Queen's hands retreated, coming back to rest against her own chest, as she stared up at Rinoa, who looked no less distressed than she'd been when Elsa first met her. She couldn't help but feel guilty at the failure of her efforts to help calm the girl down, to try and keep her from the thoughts she knew from her own experience would only make the fear worse, encourage her to keep her powers locked away inside her, where they would only fester and grow in strength and slowly begin to tear down the barriers she'd put up in her own defence from them. It was inevitable. Elsa knew that firsthand. Once the process started, it never stopped. And the Snow Queen was the textbook example of what happened to people with magic who tried to suppress it for too long.
She knew exactly what it was like to live with the self-loathing Rinoa felt, the sheer lack of confidence in her own ability to safely use her magic and even more so to keep them safely concealed. She'd tortured herself -- no, there was no other word for it -- for thirteen long years, and more. But it seemed like Rinoa, at least, had had some help as a child, unlike her. She had spoken of those strange machines and something called a Guardian. She'd studied magic. None of which existed in Arendelle. None of which had been accessible to Elsa, whose parents had decided for her that the only way to deal with her abilities was to lock her up, keep her away from other people, from her sister. Her father had tried, perhaps cleverly, to trick her into thinking that a pair of aquamarine gloves would help conceal her powers. How naive she'd been, at the time, to believe that, when ice slipped through the fabric just as easily as it had through her fingertips. It had been a last-ditch effort to put an end to a problem to which he had no real solution, she'd concluded eventually. Her. She had been the problem. And when she'd realized it, that was when the fear dug its deepest trenches. That was when she began to truly fear herself, hate herself, hate her magic. She was this strange, different thing that had no place in the world, or so her father made it seem. A thing that people would never except as their future Queen with powers like hers. Her father had been wrong, it turned out, to Elsa's great, private relief. But it hadn't stopped her from hating herself for another reason. For what she did to Anna. Twice. For what she continued to do to every single person that got too close to her.
She looked up as Rinoa spoke again and smiled at the girl's warm, if not grim, words. Some of what was said, however, made Elsa's brow furrow. She appreciated Rinoa's view that what Elsa passed off as sheer confidence wrought by the gaining of control over her abilities was strength, but what she said afterwards made Elsa's mind reel. What, for example, did magic have to do with blemishes or ailments of the skin? Elsa glanced down at her hands. Her pale skin shone despite the darkening world that surrounded them, glowed at every flash of lightning that chased thunder through the sky. Her hands were almost as white as her snow. But she wasn't without her imperfections, without blemishes: freckles, a thin row of them, adorned her face, though most people never even noticed them. And beneath her dress, hidden by her sleeves and crystalline corset, were scars of all shapes and sizes, remnants of some of the more painful adventures she'd had over the years. Some she could barely even bring herself to remember the sources of, and only pried her mind away when memories, too vivid for her liking, tried to flood her mind.
Rinoa continued. She praised Elsa for her strength at running away from her powers, running away from home to protect herself and others. But had it been strength? Not really. She'd been afraid, of course. Afraid of what they'd think of her. Afraid of what she might do if she stayed. Afraid of hurting Anna. Always, always afraid of hurting Anna. She had never wanted to leave. If she didn't have her damn powers, she never would have had to. She didn't like the isolation she forced on herself, didn't like keeping herself away from other people. She liked people. She liked being around them, talking to them. She liked holding and shaking hands, flashy ballroom dances, mingling and mixing like her tutors had taught her to do. But she knew that if she didn't, everything she ever feared would come to fruition. So she chose to run away. Because that was the only way they'd ever be safe from her, she thought. And hadn't she seen more clearly, up on that mountain? What was it she had sung, the beautiful curling tendrils of snow and ice embracing the sky for the first time?
It's funny how some distance Makes everything so small The fears that once controlled me Can't get to me at all
Rinoa had retreated back into her thoughts again, and Angelo had disappeared. Elsa watched silently as tears formed in the corners of Rinoa's eyes. She longed to stand and wipe them away for her, to be the mother her mother had never been. Little did she know how Rinoa's childhood reflected hers, full of long, empty halls, rooms suffocating in grey gloom and misery, the legs of parents there to be held -- or in Elsa's case, not -- when needed fleetingly and then gone again, leaving both girls to their despair.
"I was weak. I gave in and let them lock me up. I gave up on my friends who wanted to help me. Even now I’m so afraid that if I allow these powers out, I’ll become corrupt and lose my wings…" Rinoa said, beginning to wipe away her tears. "I’ve tried to learn more about my magic, but I can’t seem to get over…"
Elsa finally stood again, going over to the girl's side and placing her hands gently on her arms. She shook her head with a smile.
"Oh, Rinoa," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "... It's okay to be weak. It's okay to be scared. People in my world locked me up too. And I'd given up on my friends long before I thought they'd ever be able to help me control my powers. You're lucky, Rinoa. You've had the chance to study magic, to understand it better than I ever could have... there are ways you can let your powers out, without hurting anyone, without ... without corrupting yourself. Holding them in does far more damage than letting them go... trust me, I've been through this."
She frowned.
"And what wings?"
The girl shivered. Elsa felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps she'd gone a little overboard with the ice. It still clung to the walls of the living room, the plummeting temperature outside keeping it frozen in place. Meanwhile, Angelo's barks, which had been incessant at first and had slowly faded as the dog went off on her own into the hallway, up the stairs and into the room, lured by a figure neither of the witches knew was there. Elsa had only now caught on to the fact that the dog had left them entirely -- she'd stopped paying attention to her when she was sure the fire caused by Rinoa's sneeze hadn't hurt her -- and she cast a glance around the room.
"Where's Angelo?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl.
Rinoa didn't answer her. Instead, she spoke again.
"I miss my Knight. You know?"
Elsa shook her head sadly.
"I'm afraid I don't," she said. She couldn't be sure, but she had a strong suspicion that Rinoa was talking about a lover. Even Elsa had knights in her kingdom, personal and highly trained guards and warriors who were sworn to protect her and her family, but she would never have addressed them, never spoken about them in such a way as Rinoa did of this particular Knight. And it wasn't as thought Elsa had really ever known love. She had her sister, and for that she was grateful. But if fear lingered in her heart still, even after so many years, love -- the act of loving another and being loved in return -- was the one thing her fear kept from her.
Rinoa smirked, before her eyes crept over Elsa's shoulder and she commented on the ring of ice Elsa had left in her wake. Years ago, such a comment might have sent her even further into madness. Nowadays, she was finally at the point where she could smile about it, nodding her head in acceptance of her little mistake, her little outburst.
"Mhmm," said Elsa. "But like I said... it's okay to be scared. It's natural. Even I have my accidents. But accidents are okay, too. You'll see."
She shook her head as Rinoa began to apologize.
"Don't... it's fine. We're safe here for now and that's what matters. When the storm clears out, we can find a place nearby and I can teach you a few tricks to help you control your magic. Does that sound good?"
Little did Elsa know that she would never have the chance. That danger was approaching from both inside and outside the house, and that if neither of them acted very quickly, they were going to be captured, killed... or worse.
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 6, 2014 13:49:14 GMT -5
| ❤ I don't want the future. I want the present to stand still. I just want to stay here with you ❤ |
Rinoa was many things, but what she was not was afraid. The witch had long given up on that sort of fear. She was not afraid of being alone or being left behind. She knew where she belonged and had accepted the world she lived in for what it was. Her powers were given to her by Edea, her beloved Knight's matron. She could not allow them the be taken again.
What scared her was the corruption of her wings. They were the window to her future and a means to use her magic to its fullest. Through them channeled the very nature of her being, leaving her exposed, open. She remembered those cold, dark fingers wrapping around her soul. They crushed tightly around her and locked her into a screaming Nightmare. She could neither see nor hear. The last thing she had remembered was waking up alone, lost in the infinite darkness.
She cried.
For the first time in years she had cried for herself. Crying for others was easy. Understanding their suffering was the natural way of this world. What sort of person would she be if she could not recognize a person in pain? She had cries for Squall when the news of Seifer came because he could not. Though, at first, she had presumed he was incapable of feeling for his comrade, she soon came to understand there was more to him was able to see. He had been, to her: an unfeeling and uncaring monster, nothing like nice old Cid.
She had learned he was afraid too. Everyone was afraid for themselves, but Rinoa had never understood this emotion. She had never a reason to be afraid for herself, to cry for herself since her mother's death. It was only after she had become a tool for the wicked did she begin to crumble. Her heart was unsteady and began to question the walls she had constructed the first time she ran away from home. That grand structure had but a few, tiny holes poked into it and it was enough to cause it to collapse.
While the snow witch dotted over the young sorceress Angelo continued her search. The pooch did a forward march down the dark hall. Further she went hoping to discover what had drifted into the room. She Angelo found her way the dog had no light to assist her, but fear did not grip the proud partner. Her nose went to work, sniffing around. The room's windows were covered in thick, dark curtains that forced out all sources of light. Though with night fast approaching it mattered not. That soft muzzle finally bumped into something. Feeling it was her prize, by its smell: the mutt picked up the book and padded back out the room.
Elsa did not appear to agree to her proposal on holding a knight close. Rinoa shook her head. "B-but how are you still in control of your powers without a Knight?" How different was magic on other worlds?
Was their fear stepped in something that was closer compared to superstition than the actual turmoils of war? She had felt this was the case but would not believe people to be so ... narrow minded when it came to accepting your fellow man. Perhaps these were the feelings of a child who grew up knowing war and how people fought over the power of the sorceress. It was confusing, strange. Above all it begged the question: did Elsa have wings? By her earlier question Rinoa thought that maybe hers had yet to manifest, but now....
"Wow, Elsa. We need to totally sit down..." Rinoa was floored by this knowledge.
The young witch looked to the ruined blanket and sighed. She turned to the hall where Angelo had fetched the clean linens and searched for new ones. They really were not going anywhere tonight. As she collected the blankets she sighed.
"I'm okay, it's just frustrating without my knight." She admitted. "I'm not scared of accidents Elsa. If I had accidents I would be so happy. You can correct accidents." Hyne forbid that because she would milk her Knight's attention night and day with such an excuse!
The witch pondered. How best to explain to Elsa. "I'm starting to understand the worlds are not skips in time or parallel universes." After dealing with a Time Witch who wouldn't assume that?!
Rinoa went on to explain that her problem with misfiring her magic stemmed from her not using it. It overflowed and came out in awkward manners. She continued to tell Elsa how, on her world, sorceresses were revered as children of Hyne, their creator. Aspects of his power given to man out of spite. His power was often too much for humans to use. The Knights are what kept them from going mad from loneliness. They were the only ones that could bind their power so.
She turned to face Elsa. "How do you use your magic and not be afraid someone will corrupt you and force you to hurt your friends?" The question seemed to have more meaning behind it than what was palpable.
Magic seemed different from world to world, but in the end it was still the same. It was a constant battle of good and evil. Whichever side won got phenomenal cosmic powers and none of the repercussions that came with it. Little else did an all powerful sorceress face in terms of opposition. At least in most cases... In her world they specialized in eradicating her kind.
Rinoa had come to notice herself that Angelo was absent. Likely exploring the new environment. "Angelo." She pulled her fingers to her lips and gave a whistle. She looked the Elsa and smiles. "That would be nice to have someone to help that can use magic naturally."
The witch smiled and motioned to the ice queen, motioning the blankets to her. Rinoa pinched her soft eyes up into a smile. Her face was a bit shy. She wanted to ask, but not seem clingy. She could not help the absolute truth of her nature. She was someone that always wanted to be close to others, even if they hardly spoke. She felt Elsa someone who had a gentle way. The things that she spoke of, it was someone with an experience vastly different from her own, in another time and place where things turned out just somewhat differently.
“Can we… sit together?” She asked.
Angelo padded up, her prize locked in her muzzle. Rinoa looked over and laughed, the dog wagging her tail at the attention offered.
“Oh did you bring a storybook for bedtime sweetie? Good girl!” Rinoa was always fond of books, sinking away into those other, far less miserable worlds. “Come on, for a little while…” Rinoa just wanted to hold someone. “Tell me about your magic… what - what lets you do it so easily?” Way easier than her anyway.
Once Elsa wanted Rinoa would promptly sit with her, the bouncy witch certain up and at em~!
❤ tags: Elsa~! ❤ powers used: n/a ❤ notes: That's not a storybook, it looks like someone's dairy. Angelo..? ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2014 11:03:07 GMT -5
Elsa had no way of knowing that her assumptions of Rinoa's fear were incorrect. Judging by the girl's words and the way she was acting, the Snow Queen couldn't help but draw upon the similarities that seemed to link their experiences, trying to make connections between the things she didn't understand of Rinoa's world with things she could relate to in hers. It was a confusing, jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions and memories, but as Rinoa kept talking and Elsa forced herself to listen, trying to get some sort of hold over what Rinoa was telling her. She'd seen a lot in her travels throughout the worlds, but never had she heard of these Knights, these Guardians, these Para-Machines. She was at a loss for how to help, and it only made her feel guilty.
Rinoa suddenly shook her head, asking her how she could control her powers without a Knight. Elsa made sure to keep smiling as a small sigh escaped her lips. She couldn't hide it any longer. She'd have to tell Rinoa that she didn't understand.
"I've never had a Knight," she said as softly as she could. "I've never had anyone but myself. People have tried to help me control my powers... my friends, my sister. But in the end, the only one who could actually do anything to help me was myself, with their encouragement. I had to face my fears and confront what had kept me from control for so long. It was hard, but... I succeeded, after a while."
All of a sudden, Rinoa seemed as though her world was spinning. Elsa was quick to grab hold of the girl's arm, help her down to the floor where she'd been sitting only moments ago. Steeled again, Rinoa collected the blankets Angelo had fetched for them earlier and told her that she wasn't scared, only frustrated without this Knight of hers, commented on how she would be happy if she could only have accidents, a concept Elsa couldn't quite make herself understand. Elsa had been terrified of mistakes, of accidents, for so long that the mere mention of them still made a pit in her stomach, arresting her for a few seconds before she reminded herself where she was and who she was with.
Her fellow witch continued to talk, this time going on about how the different worlds were not jumps in time or alternate universes. Elsa could only blink at the statement. Were such things even possible? And why -- more like how -- had that been Rinoa's first idea as to the nature of the worlds? Elsa could barely fathom what life was like on Rinoa's homeworld. Then, almost on cue, Rinoa told her. Elsa listened as she explained the philosophy of her people, the nature of her magic and its intentional suppression, as well as the story of the sorceresses of Hyne. The Snow Queen forced herself to keep from frowning at it all. She understood Rinoa's fear a little better: how she was afraid of using her powers because she couldn't control them -- still very much like Elsa -- and that suppressing them only led to build-ups that made accidental releases rather hazardous, as Elsa had seen with the sneezing and the fire-blowing that had accompanied it. The rest of it, though... the sorceresses of Hyne, the philosophy that existed on her world, that magic came from a divine being who gave half of his body and powers to humans, in the form of young women, only to have wars break out over the use of that power... it was almost too much for Elsa to believe. On her world, in Arendelle, such things would have been laughed at. But then again, in Arendelle, no one had believed in magic either, at least until Elsa was born.
Elsa only nodded at Rinoa's words.
Rinoa turned to her. She asked how she could use her magic and not be afraid that someone might corrupt her or manipulate her, force her to use it for their advantage instead of hers. The irony of the question made Elsa laugh hollowly.
"Many tried. Some succeeded," she admitted, not without a hint of shame in her voice.
She looked down at her hands. She hated herself for showing weakness -- after so long -- but even she couldn't hold back as horrible images came flooding back into her mind, of long nights spent chained up in the darkness, unable to sleep, holed up in a corner, waiting for the morning to come, when someone -- be it Xehanort, Kefka, or anyone else -- would come collect her, berate her and force her to freeze something or another: an adversary, an important defence mechanism that would then jam and break, another prisoner. Sometimes one of her friends. Elsa wasn't a stranger to the horrors of being corrupted, of being manipulated and tortured and forced to do things against her will. In fact, for a short period in her life, it seemed as though the whole world had it out for her, wanted nothing more than to see her be used like some tool, only to be thrown away afterwards into a maddening spiral of despair, self-hatred and disgust. It'd been a horrible life, for a while. She was thankful it was over. Thankful she was stronger, finally. But she bore the scars of those days -- both on her body, hidden behind the beautiful blue of her dress, and in her mind.
"I've come to terms with the fact that it's one part of having powers I'll never be safe from. People like us, people with powers so great that they can't be missed, can't be hidden once released, we become beacons for those who would do us wrong by our own abilities. They won't be able to resist using that power for their own ends and they will try their best to corrupt you, and manipulate you, and make you do what they want you to do. And it's hard, sometimes, to fight them off. But if you have friends who love you and care for you, as it sounds like you do... they'll help keep you safe. And if they can't, if they're good friends... they'll understand if you have to hurt them. They'll forgive you."
She rubbed Rinoa's arm tenderly. She swallowed, fighting back against a rising instability that suddenly burst from her core, threatening to rattle her nerves at the thoughts still coursing through her mind.
"Mine forgave me," she said.
Rinoa slipped a pair of fingers past her lips and blew, a loud whistle piercing the house, the open windows, the world outside. It would be low, perhaps they couldn't even hear it over the pound of the rain, but Rinoa's whistle had definitely escaped the house. She called for Angelo and then turned back to Elsa with a timid smile.
"Can we... sit together?" the witch asked, pulling blankets towards them. It seemed like she wanted something else, but was too afraid to ask.
Elsa knew that look, though. Without missing a beat, the Snow Queen took the blanket in her own hands and lifted it up to her shoulders, letting the thick quilt envelope her. She began to warm up immediately, and was shocked at how thick and heavy the blanket was. Despite that, though, she looked to Rinoa and smiled. Without hesitating, she slid herself forward so that they were sitting next to each other and then wrapped her arms sidelong around the other girl.
"Of course," she said.
She looked up as Angelo came bounding back, a book clenched between her jaws. Rinoa patted her and took the thing from her teeth, praising her companion with words and love. She then turned back to Elsa, asking her how she could do magic so easily.
Elsa laughed.
"I don't know," she said. "Honestly. I've just... always been able to do it. I was born with it. The problem was never how to use it, it was how not to use it, in my case. Like I said, growing up, almost everything I touched turned to ice, whether I wanted it to or not. But nowadays... well, I call it 'my storm.' It's this... storm in my chest. In my heart. I've always felt it, ever since I was a little girl... and it seems to be the source of my magic. Whenever I'm really happy or want to protect someone, it gives me strength, and allows me to make beautiful things out of snow and ice. Things like sculptures and fresh layers of snow, that make people smile."
Her smile thinned slightly.
"And when I'm afraid, or angry, or stressed... well, it gives me strength then, too. Strength to bury entire countries under snow and ice for eternity. Strength to make monsters come to life and protect me, or hurt the people who are after me or my friends. Strength I've always known I've needed to be careful with."
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jun 21, 2014 14:19:40 GMT -5
| ❤ I don't want the future. I want the present to stand still. I just want to stay here with you ❤ |
Rinoa allowed herself to fully lean against Elsa’s cooler form. The cold did not bother her as much thanks to the warmth of the blanket, but occasional shiver still embraced her thin form. Being so close it was now possible to notice things about the young witch that were not quite noticeable from a greater distance. Her pale skin, though incomparable to Elsa’s snow white skin, was pale enough to see the blemish free features, but the darker bags under her eye from nights of sleeplessness were clear. Nightmares consumed her, guilt was her company. She would often find herself waking in the lap of her Guardian, her dreams fuel for his power. The witch let out a deep sigh, her body finally relaxing against the ice witch. Rinoa was always very talkative, but never about her magic. This was perhaps the first time she has been able to express her feelings about her magic.
Rinoa opened to book. Angelo took it as a cue for bed time and circled a few times before she flopped down at Rinoa’s feet, body partially laid over the edges of the blankets that were spread out. The witch blinked her dark eyes and closed the book a moment to look at the title. It did not appear to be a normal book. Though it seemed to have a proper title, it was a false cover. Inside it hid someone’s diary. The young sorceress fingered through the pages, curiosity filling her thoughts as she read aloud the passages…
~It was finally the end of the week. The crops were planted. I feel as if I am not alone on the farm. I had finally escaped the curious eyes of the Church. I can never let anyone else close to me after what happened. My spell was only meant to get him to notice me, not have him fall in love with me in such a way. These spells were dangerous and it is better not to practice the many longer.
~It was a lonely night. I don’t know why I even have furniture for guests. I will have none. It was just me and the strange little gargoyle that lives in the garden.
~I finally saw the little gargoyle up close. Maybe this is a good sign? Gargoyles protected the church from devils, maybe he would help me with my internal struggles.
~To think they found me, but he did not have to go so far! Every one of them are …. I cannot even write it.
~I have buried what remained of them in the garden. It was the least I could do. Whatever they wished to do to me, they did not deserve this. The gargoyle went too far. Why was it that he only comes out at night? I want to see his face clearly.
~The gargoyle started banging on the door suddenly. The heavy storm kept me from going out to the doctor to get my medicine. The pains are getting worse. It sounds as if the door would splinter…
A sudden clash of lightning and clap of thunder caused the young witch to scream, the book tousled up in her hands before it clattered to her floor. Her verbal narration had done well to scare her when another storm drew closer, now overhead when the other was finally on its way. The dairy hit the ground and Rinoa’s arms would find their way around Elsa’s torso. The shivering form of the witch cascaded into the darkness as the night swallowed the tiny cabin….
“M-maybe it’s time to sleep…” Rinoa felt a comforting warmth from the pale snow queen. Angelo was already sound asleep, which brought her mistress some comfort. “In the morning...sho..show me. How.” Her request became but a sleepy murmur on her lips as she faded away, the fear gripping her lulling her into a fast asleep.
Outside cracks of lightning would reveal the silhouettes of the knights and volunteers who roamed the drowning, untended fields. As they searched, torches in the air, they found themselves knee deep in water, the horses struggling to keep footing on even the most stony platforms. Men searched every nook and cranny: under wheelbarrows, inside the Granaries, but nothing. One of the men turned a corner, nearing the closest edge of the farmhouse. It looked like someone was inside, but suddenly, he screamed, the cries shielded by the violent storm.
“It’s got my leg!” The screams barely audible between the roaring winds.
And like that the man was gone without a trace: only his torch remained.
The horses reared and whinnied with terrible urgency. “What is going on?” The Captain demanded.
Something lunged at his horse, sending it into a panic. It finally reared itself onto its own back, the other men’s horses flying into a fury.
“It’s her ghost!” Another volunteer shouted. “She wants us off her land!!” Shouting the men retreated.
The Captain glared at the farmhouse as it appeared under the glow of the lightning. He would get his prey…. But in this storm, it would do them no good, but he had his target. With little choice the captain pushed to his feet and retreated with the men. While this all went on outside, inside the wind danced through the halls, sounding like a faint, gasping whisper.
‘Don’t go outside at night…’
It was too faint to truly hear, or truly take as something the mind was not playing at. Were these tricks of the wind, or a whisper of the past?
❤ tags: Elsa~! ❤ powers used: n/a ❤ notes: waah! kowai! ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2014 13:35:59 GMT -5
Elsa smiled to herself as Rinoa leaned into her, finally relinquishing all the energy, fear and excitement she'd been harbouring and allowing herself to relax. The younger witch sighed deeply, exhaling visibly into the frigid air as her breath turned into a thick grey cloud before them. Elsa's arms, which were already wrapped around Rinoa's torso, moved so that one hand rested on the other girl's arm, rubbing gently against her skin in an attempt to calm her down further. The poor girl had had quite a day, after all. Confronted by soldiers, berated and condemned, only to be saved and whisked away by a woman she barely knew to a house in which, upon learning of the magic that bound them, practically retold her entire life's story to someone she'd only just met. At least, the life story of her magic. Elsa felt Rinoa's slight shudders, felt the skin that touched her bare shoulders rise into gooseflesh, and knew that despite the blankets and their proximity, the cold that gripped the house was wrapping its frosty embrace around Rinoa too. Elsa held her a little closer, rubbed her arm a little quicker and leaned her own face in against Rinoa's until their cheeks brushed against each other's. She hoped that her own body heat, despite being noticeably weaker than most humans due to her natural affinity for the cold, would be enough to keep the other girl warm.
She watched as the other witch picked up the book Angelo had fetched for them. Rinoa opened it and thumbed through it lazily while Elsa's eyes scanned the scribbled words from over her shoulder. She, too, noticed the odd contents of the book. It was clearly not a published work, what with all the handwritten scribblings and smears of various colours and thicknesses across the pages, including a few that were almost entirely caked in a thick, crusted red which alarmed Elsa, even if she didn't let it show. Rinoa shut the book, checking its cover: a young girl, a ballerina, struck a pose in the midst of a gigantic, empty ballroom beneath a title that had long faded out. When she reopened it, it was clear that the pages did not even fit the size of the faux cover.
Rinoa began to read passages of note aloud, pausing between each of them to flip through the book, both of their eyes scanning the contents as they went along, absorbed in the writing of what appeared to be a woman -- the script was too curly and neat to be a man's -- that retold the daily sufferings of what seemed to be a poor, sickly old... something. The woman never seemed to describe what it was she did (besides her work on the farm -- perhaps that was all, Elsa wondered), though as Rinoa continued to read, it became clear that the people who lived in this area had caused her grief for a long time. Most likely because of her magic. It was obvious, from some of her earliest writing, that the woman was a witch. She talked of spells and incantations that she was trying, to various degrees of effectiveness on a varying range of targets, most being small, domesticated animals and, when she wanted a more thorough test, some of the larger livestock on the farm. Never anything dangerous, just pure, harmless experimentation. That was, of course, until the bits Rinoa had found, in which her neighbours had begun to grow suspicious and her love spell had worked a little too well on some man she fancied. And then things progressively got worse. Her solitude, her relief and suspicions about the gargoyle in her garden, followed by some horrible event she had decided not to put into words. And then she must have buried them somewhere outside, as she'd written, and contemplated what had happened, only to leave a few brief notes in her journal. The last few notes, about the gargoyle banging at the door, came a few pages before those painted red.
The words repeated themselves in Elsa's head.
Whatever they wished to do to me, they did not deserve this. The gargoyle went too far.
Just then, a mighty thunderclap tore across the heavens and shook the ground before Elsa could linger too long on the diary's dark musings. A flash of lightning flared through the nonexistent windows and blinded them. Elsa slammed her eyes shut, unafraid but surprised at the sudden intensity of the second storm, having not noticed it at all before it arrived, seemingly, right on top of them. Rinoa, however, jumped and screamed at her side. Elsa was quick to turn towards her, pulling the other witch close in a tight hug, running her hands across her back in long, slow, comforting patterns before resting her chin in the crook of Rinoa's neck, trying to calm her.
"It's okay," she said. "It's alright... I'm right here."
As soon as it had come, the lightning faded and Elsa opened her eyes to find the house plunged into an unnatural darkness. Even Elsa shivered a little at the change, but not as nearly as much as Rinoa, who had dropped the diary in her panic and was now pressed against Elsa, her whole body shaking as her arms wrapped around the Snow Queen's, pulling their chests together.
Rinoa asked if they should sleep, and to show her how to control her magic in the morning. It wasn't much of a question, Elsa realized with a small smile, as the young witch sunk into her, her forehead resting against the side of Elsa's neck as her face turned in to lay against her exposed collarbone. The Snow Queen merely raised a hand out of her embrace to gently run her fingers through the girl's hair, though it wasn't long at all before Rinoa's breathing evened out and Elsa knew she was fast asleep.
Over the roar of the wind and the pounding of the rain, Elsa couldn't hear the desperate screams of the men outside, nor the order to retreat from their captain. As she looked away from Rinoa and out at the endless fields she could see through the bareness of the opposing wall, she noticed, between flashes of lightning, the outlines of dark bodies fleeing into the night, their arms tucked tightly at their sides as they ran all out away from the little house in which the girls were hiding. She knew not of the gargoyle -- the monster from the woman's diary -- that may be lurking about, hidden in waist-deep waters, claiming the lives of those from the city that had ventured too close.
What she did know, however, was that as her own head tilted back, leaning against the decaying wall behind her, her eyelids heavy and closing, she heard a voice. A voice which whispered a warning to her fading consciousness.
A voice she'd never know to heed as sleep claimed her.
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2014 23:06:37 GMT -5
| ❤ I don't want the future. I want the present to stand still. I just want to stay here with you ❤ |
Wrapped around in a blanket of warm the young sorceress settled down to rest. All around the noise of today filtered into the memories of tomorrow. Her mind became clear of the worries, troubles and insecurities that often plagued her in her waking hours. Angelo had rest her head upon Rinoa’s lap, the mutt splayed out over sheets and cold floor, but the fuzzy mutt did not much mind so long as she could keep the warming company of her Mistress and friend. Whoever this woman was did not matter to Angelo because she brought her Mistress a comfort that allowed her to sleep soundly for the night. As the rains spilled overhead floppy ears pricked and swiveled toward what could only be the rattles of armor and disgruntled neighing of horses. The sounds, to the dog, were foreign, but the feeling of aggression was not. Angelo did not wish to leave her side, but the mutt stood and padded toward the howling winds which disguised the truths of what Rinoa may one day be forced to face alone. With the woman by Rinoa’s side Angelo felt it was alright to leave her Mistress’ side. It was rare that Angelo ever left Rinoa’s side, but the dog was very intelligent and was driven to protect the one person by her side. It was an undying loyalty born from Rinoa’s caring nature and lonely heart. Angelo padded toward the door, but it was closed. Naturally the canine did not cross the barrier placed before it, so she sought to find a way around it.
The dog made her way from the foyer into the ruined remains of the dining room. Lowering her head and sniffing around the dog looked for something, even though she was not very sure as to what it was. There were no open windows, but the ones here, in this room, were definitely cracked and the wind would whistle with an odd sharpness that called the dog’s attention momentarily. After being assured it was not dangerous, Angelo padded onward. Something called to the dog’s attention. Raising her head and looking around at anything at her eye level, the only things that would really stand out were the woodstove, as in their home world electric stoves were more common than even gas stoves. The door to the stove was slightly ajar, the cupboard doors barely hanging on their hinges. Angelo sniffed around the lower cupboards, but there was nothing inside but a few crumbs of stale bread, at least one would hope it was bread… But there was nothing of interest. After searching the cupboards Angelo would try the stove. Nothing there either, naught but ash and a half-burned log. Angelo tilted her head and raised her paw, pushing into the discarded soot. A small plume of dust rose into the air and right into the mutt’s nostrils, causing her to sneeze!
All the while the sorceress slept. The horrors that befell the soldiers and volunteers was but a whisper in her dreams. The darkness that surrounded her as she wobbled about, uneasy on her legs, was a natural comfort. She tried to escape the blinding light of her nightmares, reaching and groping about the. Her trust for the light had all but vanished into the shadows. She was forsaken by the Light. Though her wings were still pure, she felt it was a trap ready to snap upon her and take from her the sign of her good nature. The curse of the black wings came from those who failed to embrace both aspects of humanity’s capability to do evil. They believed themselves so infallible that they were greater than Hyne himself, from whom this magic derived from. You could not become god as a human, because you were imperfect. She knew she was weak and that she needed help. Reaching out her hand it finally met her own. The warm, rough flesh finding her softer hand.
Demonic claws wrapped around her smaller hand, gripping her palm securely. “Child, you come to him again this night. So soon…” The dark voice chuckled before it fully pulled her into his Realm.
The entire room was dark, the shifting dimension filled with floating orbs, spherical bubbles that reflected the memories belonging to the witch that the Guardian had taken into his possession. The Lord of Dreams loved sifting through her memories, the past that made his Mistress who she was today. He gave her all of his power and than some, but in return he would keep these memories for himself and covet them. He would feed from the strongest part of her heart. The dark Guardian of dream would pull his Mistress onto his lap, her form so tiny when compared to his own. The sorceress was emotionally and mentally exhausted from it all. She felt like she was being handled like a doll as she was cradled in his grip, but he was always unexpectedly gentle with her.
“Tell me, what is it that you see?” The Dark Guardian reached out his hand, those long digits looking quite capable of skewering a man.
Before Diabolos sat a dark pool filled with shadows, the pure, liquid existence of Dreams. Dipping his long digit inside of the strange liquid he would stir it clockwise. After a moment or two images would bubble up from the fluid. His legs were laxily crossed, arm holding his ward perched on his arm like a porcelain doll. Rinoa raised her hand and placed it on his black chest, her eyes turning down to his pathway into Dreams. The Guardian parted his mouth, his voice rumbling from his chest and through the Realm he held dominion over. Rinoa was often placed into the pool and sent into the next world that held dreams close to the ones she had day by day, but this was different. She looked to him in question.
“Are these…?” Her words were drawn out with disbelief.
Diabolos chuckled. “Yes… it is their dreams.” Tapping the surface a woman’s dreams would be touched. “This is the one with you…”
Rinoa tilted her head and reached out to the pool, holding her hand over his own. What was this? These were neither her dreams, nor did they appear to be the dreams of the woman she was with. By her magic she could only assume that the field of snow was hers, but what was that. Diabolos dipped his thumb into the pool and a monstrous face lunged at Rinoa, causing her to scream. Rinoa sat up, screaming at the top of her lungs, the fog of her sleep cast away by the sudden attack. Her hand came over her face. She had felt its hot breath on her face, those sharp fangs nearly getting her-- She was panting, her body shaking, but not from the cold. Angelo had heard her Mistress’ cries and came running, the four footed companion rushing into the blue witch’s open arms. Rinoa pulled Angelo into her body and buried her face into Angelo’s warm fur. Angelo wagged her tail, comforting her owner, but there was something in the dog’s mouth. It appeared to be some sort of old key. It was covered in soot, as was Angelo’s muzzle, but the key itself was a beautiful brass instrument with intricate carvings on it. To one who studied magic they would appear to be runes of some sort. Standing above the trio, on the balcony, was a shadow, which turned and walked into one of the rooms. The opening door squeaked, which rumbled through the hall down to where the two women lay. Rinoa looked up, trembling.
“Elsa, I think someone is inside!” Of course it was the sleepy fear of a person shaken from a nightmare, but her racing heart and swimming mind had yet to leave Diabolos’ embrace.
Upstairs, in the room where Angelo found the book, was a vault of some sort, hidden inside of the wardrobe. Many of the clothing, which all looked feminine, were toppled over the cast iron box. A carving in the box would read “Water of Life” in French. ❤ tags: Elsa~! ❤ powers used: n/a ❤ notes: I dreamt of a beast, the likes of which I have never seen. ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jul 4, 2014 10:08:32 GMT -5
Elsa slept soundly through the night. Or at least, it appeared to be soundly. In reality, the Snow Queen was plagued by her own horrors, her own nightmarish images of past adventures, time spent with her sister and even memories of those darker times in her life, all twisted and contorted by fear and some lingering darkness in her heart that yearned, night after night, to torture her. It had been years since Elsa's incarceration in her bedroom as a young child, locked away by her parents at first and then by herself out of fear of her powers and herself, and yet still to this day she returned to those long, dreary days in her dreams, trapped, imprisoned, alone. Yearning for the company of her sister, of anyone, despite the fear and panic that tried to overcome her in her sleep, as if she really was that eight year old girl with no control over her powers or her emotions, a walking danger to everyone else again. It was always the same dream, though occasionally elements from her waking life would sneak in just to torment her further, usually some dark incarnation of worries festering at the back of her mind: sometimes it was Kefka, knocking and laughing manically on the other side of the door, his clownish voice teasing and haunting her, forcing her to remember all the horrible things he'd done to her; sometimes it was Anna, sweet little Anna, asking her if she wanted to build another snowman, but of course she couldn't, too afraid of her own abilities and of hurting her sister to be able to get up and open the door, if there was a door at all -- sometimes only four impenetrable walls coated in beautiful purple and white designs made up the walls of her cell; and other times, it was her friends, trying to lure her out, coaxing her with inviting words and calm, gentle voices... and those were perhaps the worst, those in which she so desperately wanted out, wanted to be with them, only to find the door locked or without a handle or sometimes made of glass, so they could see her and she could see them but neither side could reach each other. She couldn't touch them, and they couldn't touch her.
She was lucky that she'd stopped dreaming of ice years ago. Otherwise it might have driven her mad.
Even with these haunting images in her head, Elsa remained motionless in her sleep. Her chest rose and fell at a slow, even pace against Rinoa's back, her own pressed against the rotting wood of the wall. The only change was that her head had fallen forward in her sleep, and her forehead now rested against Rinoa's shoulder, her long platinum blonde hair dangling in its braid in the space between them. Her glitter cape lay sprawled across the floor, arching beautifully up to her sides where it hung, attached to the fabric of her dress, leaving a long trail of glistening snowflakes across the hardwood. Her arms remained wrapped around the other witch as she slept, her grip a little looser but not enough to allow the girl to slip from her grasp, ensuring that both of them were comfortably warm throughout the night, their bodies nestled together under the blanket. They stayed like that all night, even as Rinoa twitched and spun in her sleep, Elsa's arms curled around her protectively.
The sun rose over the horizon, blasting bright beams of warm light over the canopy of the surrounding woods and into the little house through the missing and partially missing windows. Fractured glass magnified the golden radiance, bathing the run-down living room in its warmth. It was around this time that Angelo awoke, hearing the sounds of man and animal beyond their door and began traipsing around the house in search of something that might aid the two women resting against the wall. Trapped in her silent torment, Elsa didn't notice any of this. She was back in her bedroom, curled up against the wall farthest from the knob-less door as knocks reverberated against the walls.
"Elsa?" asked a tiny voice. "Do you want to build a snowman?"
"No, Anna, I can't," she said, trying to hide the despair in her voice. "You know I can't..."
Her sister's knocking stopped. There was a long pause before she spoke again, her voice seething with young, malevolent anger.
"Why don't you ever play with me anymore, Elsa? I thought we were BE--"
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Elsa shook out of her sleep, her heart pounding. Someone had screamed. Someone was screaming, at the top of their lungs, in fear. A little panicked, the Snow Queen, dazed, confused and alarmed, tried to blink away the sleep and clouded vision that obstructed her view. She managed to force her eyes to see clearly again, all the while fighting her raging heartbeat, which had been kicked into its feverish tempo by the scream that had jolted her out of her sleep, out of her own nightmare.
It was Rinoa. Rinoa was screaming. The young witch was bent over in front of Elsa, panting and shaking, reaching down to pick up Angelo, who seemed to have just returned from somewhere, a rusted old key in her maw. Elsa watched groggily as the younger girl scooped up her canine companion into her arms and cuddling her against her chest, patting her head occasionally, trying to calm herself down. A smile crossed Elsa's lips. It didn't look as if anything was the matter. She'd probably just had a bad dream or something, and Elsa could appreciate that. How many times had she woken her troupe of friends herself in the night, screaming from some unseen horror, only to have someone jerk her back into the waking world, where she'd realized it had only been a dream.
She shook her head, nearly laughing. She was glad she wasn't that woman anymore.
She leaned forward and off the wall with a short grunt, her arms raising into the air until she folded one back against her head to stretch the other before switching. When she was well stretched, she leaned forward, reaching her arms out to wrap around Rinoa once again, hoping to help Angelo in her mission to comfort her mistress, when all of a sudden, Rinoa spoke.
"Elsa, I think someone is inside!" she said, her voice high and cracking, no doubt from the screaming.
Elsa blinked at Rinoa's words. The girl was still trembling, her eyes wide and gazing up at the second floor, where a door creaked open. The Snow Queen didn't think much of it. It was an old house made of old wood that had probably shifted in the night and sent the door on its wayward journey, a result of pure physics and nothing to worry about. Still, it had clearly rattled the younger girl and, maternal instincts kicking in, Elsa reached over and hugged Rinoa gently from behind, rubbing her hands along the girl's arms comfortingly.
"Don't worry," she said, smiling. "I think it's because the house got so cold last night. The wood must have condensed and pushed the door open, but I'll go have a look, just in case, okay?"
She grabbed the edge of the armchair of the disgusting, mothball-laden couch, pulling herself to her feet. She took a moment to stretch out the rest of her limbs, cocking her head to each side until the pressure in her neck from sleeping against the wall gently faded away, before walking a few steps to stand in front of Rinoa and Angelo. She bent down, patting Angelo's head and giving them both a smile.
"Keep Rinoa company while I'm gone, okay, sweetheart?" she asked in a soft voice. "I'll be back soon."
With that, Elsa straightened herself and made her way through the house, out of the living room and into the narrow hallway where the rickety staircase stood, leading up to the second floor. She gave the stairs a testing look before setting one foot down on the first step, pressing her weight into it and listening. The wood groaned lightly and sagged beneath her high heeled shoe, but it seemed as if it would hold her weight. She pulled herself onto the first step, then to the second, then to the third and finally ascended the rest of the way up, until she was standing at the end of the narrow balcony upon which Rinoa had seen the shadow.
There were three doors lining the balcony. The first two were closed shut, each one with a different lock that clearly required different keys. The third and final door stood ajar. She knew this was the one that had spooked Rinoa. She walked past the other two doors and paused at the entrance to the third. She peered in through the darkness, narrowing her eyes slightly, not convinced anything would be there but cautious, given the dark. She pressed a hand to the door and pushed it open a little more, hearing the wood creak again as light from the rising sun flooded in through the hallway and bottlenecked into the room. It was small and quaint, with a short bed on one end, a little writing desk set up beneath a window that was now boarded up and bore little else except for a wardrobe in the corner and a small dressing table next to it.
Finding nothing within to be dangerous or likely to jump out at her, Elsa cautiously entered the room, eyes still scanning for any hidden threats, so it seemed the only thing that had a chance of striking her at all was the beams hanging above her, supporting the half-collapsed and water-logged roof. Rain dribbled in through holes she couldn't see in the woof of the ceiling, occasionally splashing down onto her skin and causing her to shudder. She moved her way over to the bed, but other than the blankets being strewn across the ancient mattress, it didn't seem as though there was anything out of the ordinary about it. She continued on to the desk, which was bare except for a bottle of ink that had long ago gone dry and a quill held up in a little clay stand. A single drawer sat in the thick wooden underside of the desk. Elsa pulled it open, only to find it stuffed full with papers of all shapes, colours and sizes, most of which were blank, though some bore scribbled notes she couldn't decipher. She folded the notes with writing on them and stuffed them into the front of her dress as she crossed the room, passing the dressing table -- there was nothing there to examine, only a mirror which reflected her somewhat dishevelled appearance, a sight she was finally used to after spending so long on the road -- to approach the wardrobe.
She pulled it open without hesitation. Clothes, tons of them, spilled out onto the floor. Dresses, night gowns, simple frocks with flowing sleeves, blouses, long skirts, even a few pair of pants, all in earthy tones and made of simple fabrics. They'd made a long line on the floor as they'd tumbled out, almost smothering Elsa, who'd backed away to allow the mountain of clothes to crash down onto the floor and not onto her. It was then that she spotted the strange lump of clothes that hadn't quite fallen flat. Narrowing her eyes, Elsa stepped through the wave of material, her high heels clicking, even through the clothes, as she bent down next to the lump and pulled the remaining clothes off of it. A little chest stood there, made of iron of some sort and bearing an inscription she couldn't read. The chest was locked, but the keyhole looked familiar.
Of course. Angelo.
Elsa lifted the box up -- it wasn't heavy, surprisingly -- and dusted it off a little. The clothes, which reeked of age and mothballs, like the couch, had left a thick layer of light golden dust on the chest which clung to the fabric of her own dress as she wiped it away. She took note of this and grimaced slightly. She'd have to magic herself a new sleeve when she got back downstairs. Holding the chest by its handles, she returned downstairs and re-entered the living room, smiling.
"I found this upstairs," she said, putting down in front of Rinoa and Angelo. "I think the key Angelo found might fit it. We'll have to give it a tr--"
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Just then, three armoured fists came hammering down on the front door of the house.
"... We know you're in there," said the voice of the Captain. "Where else would a pair of hideous witches hide but the home of one of their own?"
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May 5, 2024 2:33:35 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jul 6, 2014 16:54:40 GMT -5
| ❤ I don't want the future. I want the present to stand still. I just want to stay here with you ❤ |
Rinoa had been having the nightmares for a long time now. Ever since she woke up from that time in darkness she could see the faces of those Adel had wronged to get her revenge. Rinoa has no memory of the things she did only that she woke up, alone, in space. The only thing she could feel beyond the loneliness and sense of dread that came with floating in such a far off, desolate place, was the undeniable guilt that wrung her heart. She had knew she had done something terrible. She was alone and found that the only way she could ever forgive herself was to float away and never be found. Who could find her, lost out there in space? She was okay dying, as long as the others were okay, but then she realized that if she did die, she would never be able to tell him… Seeing the rings floating up on her chain, the memories of her deceased mother on one and the still living Squall represented by the other. She was afraid. For the first time, in a long time, she found the will to cry for herself. She did not want to die alone like her mother did. She wanted to, at least, be able to say goodbye and hold his hand as she left this world. The display had told her she was going to die, whether she was found sooner or later. Her oxygen was almost gone, floating there and gasping out desperately for her breathe.
Those rings reflected to her the memories of a past she lost and a future she would never see.
She didn’t want to die, not here! Please Hyne!
. . .She had survived.
And her heart spoke to her and bade her to never give up. So she fought. Hyne answered her prayers, but now that she was alive, and traveling around these foreign worlds searching to meet with him again in that place they promised, what was expected of her? Did Hyne seek to use her? Were there other sorceresses out there waiting to control her? Her wings had yet to become tainted with the color of her darker kind, her face still unmarred by scars. She had come looking for Squall, but instead she had found others in need. There seemed to be many trials she had yet to overcome. She was still unused to people being afraid of her -- no, so terrified. That woman looked to her like she was Hyne himself. She was not there to smite anyone. She just wanted to help. Perhaps it was the bad weather, or her shaky arrival into the world, but for a while now she’s had this heavy weight on her shoulder. It was a bad feeling that she could not push away. It was the same feeling she had in the cemetery.
They stood there in the dead of night, the procession carrying the coffin into the grave. Everywhere it felt like there were eyes on the tombstones. She did not know why… she had been to the Tomb of the Unknown King without problem, but it had been there. It was as if someone was watching her. She was never bothered by little things like weather. After spending a night in Trabia you get used to it pretty fast. This was the kind of cold born from a feeling, a symptom of pure dread. It terrified her. Thunder suddenly clapped, causing the young witch to pull her hands to her head. The collapsing house shook. Rinoa slowly peered up, her bangs covering her dark eyes. A sudden flash of lightning lit up the outside, a strange shape sitting in the window. Some sort of cat. At first she had thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, until the darkness set back in and a pair of narrowed eyes stared back at her. Rinoa froze. Angelo stayed close to her, the canine parting her jaws to drop the key before letting out a bark to call to her Mistress.
Rinoa looked up in a panic, reaching out to put her hand on Angelo’s muzzle. “Shh…” Rinoa glanced up, over the dog’s head. Whatever was there was gone. Did it get spooked? Does this world have owls?
Rinoa pushed to stand, but her boot would slid against the key and knock it into a knot in the floor, down beneath them. Rinoa jumped, feeling the knock. Both Angelo and she looked down only to hear a soft clink as it hit what one could only assume to be the cellar floor. The water flowing into the fireplace had to be going somewhere. If not down, it would have flooded the home were there just earth beneath them. Rinoa heard Elsa call out. Looking up a bright smile filled the witch’s face, but a sudden banging there after only did well to restore the fear. Angelo growled and fluffed up, arching at the enemy behind the door. The canine calmed and looked up, down the hall, just across from where they slept. Across from the linen closet was the door to the cellar. The dog’s ears perked. Angelo circled a few times, the pounding on the front door intensifying as did the storm.
“W-what’s that?!” One of the men outside shouted.
“What in God’s name-- open the door!” one of the soldiers shouted to no one in particular.
The banging at the door intensified. One of the men screamed out, the others shouting as the man’s voice seemed to grow further and further as if he was being dragged away. The door was old, waterworn and covered in mold. The more the remaining men put their weight on it, the further it leaned in.
This way…
A gust of wind blew open the cellar door, the weight of the second floor above them starting to creek terrible. The wood began to splinter and as the Captain and, what remained of his volunteers, would finally breach the main entrance, the support beam above Elsa, Rinoa and Angelo gave way…
❤ tags: Elsa~! ❤ powers used: n/a ❤ notes: I am scared to die alone... ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN
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