estdeus_innobis | (no subject)

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Time has little meaning here, though your body back home may disagree.

Dream.

A forest.

A forest of the oldest sort, thick with brambles, trees snarled with centuries of life. It stretches for miles, many of them very dark, because the trees grow so close that it is hard to see. From a high vantage point, on one of the hills of the forest, one may glimpse a tower at the heart of the forest, a great graceful column of grey stone. Here and there there are clearings, bright with sunlight, and streams running with clear water. But mostly there is dark.

In the distance, the howl of a wolf.

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It seems only a moment from when I laid down the tea to when more - yet more! - people arrive. A dark-haired man, crowned and noble, a great wolf, a woman with the eyes of a crow, and a winged girl. The last I know...she lives in the woods, and sometimes she visits sometimes, and sits with me as I embroider, and we talk. She is a dear creature, kind of heart and innocent of mind. I am wondering if I have enough teacups for so many guests when Westin stumbles, his hand plunging into the mud of my golden fish's pond. There is a flash of shining scales, a sound of breaking bones, and Westin howls, his hand falling away in pieces like dead and flaking skin. The winged girl calls out, Edmund lunges for something that falls from Westin's shattered hand, and suddenly the new man, the princely man, has a blade at Westin's throat. "What are you? And answer true, for been lost too long in these woods for lies."

"Sir!" I cry, startled and shocked. All of this is so new and unexpected, my head is in a whirl. But the comfort of my guests is paramount. "Please! There is no need for violence. Put your sword away; there are no lies here, and I will not see blood shed."

"No lies," I say in agreement, baring my teeth in a polite grimace, and the voices are crying out, higher and louder. No lies no masks no skins, they sing as they are splitting along their seams, and something else I do not understand, something within us--

And it is the wrong hand that holds the scalpel, but I feel quite collected with it in hand, quite sane.

"I am the remaker, I am the thief of faces," and I am smiling and there is an ache in the bones of my teeth, phosphor-green and rotten. Oh, the witch did this, she cursed me, the fish the wolf the witch with her shades all around-- "I see hope and faith and make them mine. I will put you to far better use than you could ever hope for on your own; I will take your skins and hands, and the tower will be mine." The blade shines as I twist and lunge--not for him, no, but they have something precious and it cannot keep breathing, not as it is now.

It would be an abomination to let Hope stand alone.

The new man- a prince, I think- has his blade to Westin's throat, and I slip the key into my pocket as Lady Miao cries out against violence.

"I am the remaker, I am the thief of faces, I see hope and faith and make them mine. I will put you to far better use than you could ever hope for on your own; I will take your skins and hands, and the tower will be mine."

I do not think, I move, I have promised to protect her, I need to protect her. I'm in motion even before I see the glint of the blade, throwing myself at him. I am bigger, and I hit him with all of my weight, because I do not care about his blade, or his words, or his coat, or his rage. Only care about her and that is enough to shield me, I know

There's a quiet chittering coming from his jacket, I realise, so quiet I can barely hear it, but the more I strain the more I realise the chattering is something agonised, and I grit my teeth against it. And then he has a scalpel in his hand, and he is saying hideous things, and the outlaw is striking for him, the two of them rolling to the ground. Why did he lunge when I have a sword? But there's no time for questions, only for action. I strike out at the monster's hand, severing it at the wrist. The scalpel is still clutched in his fingers as blood spurts from it.

"You will take nothing of ours."

Flash of teeth and snarling lunging red red red meat-scent fight-scent hunger and circling, pack dashing in and tearing with bright teeth, but there is bad meet purple orange like pack who can't drink but just bite and so I hold back, circling, darting in to nip at hind-legs, spitting at the taste.

It's wrong wrong wrong just like the tower and everyone's shouting and fighting and cutting and the bad man's other hand is gone now and I wish the prince hadn't hurt anyone! I can feel the iron everywhere and it hurts. And they shouldn't be doing this at Miao's house!

"This is wrong!" I shout. "Stop it! You stop right now!" I point at the bad man, and I make him stop

Well, hell, hand cracked like a shell, and look what comes down with the pieces. Hostess calls for lack of bloodshed, and guest or not he breaks hard with that, thin sharp knife and princes and wolf taking after him as he's after the fair woman. Three sharp edges and a pair of teeth, that's not aught I'm throwing myself into--

"This is wrong! Stop it!" and glance up to see the faerie. "You stop right now!" and the words shiver in the air and he does. Catches him up on one elbow trying to pull himself up and away from the tangle when she speaks. One of them's catching at him, and his coat's falling apart along its stitching, and he's frozen in the grass by the pool, staying still as stone.

Call that the matter of why I'm cautious 'round faeries.

Stand up as the pieces of his coat gust away (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/405311.html?thread=10309951#t10315327), and look 'round. No-one's seeming particular after taking anyone else. "He tear into any of you?" This I can help if so, and if not we've a key now, taken from cracked stone.

Edited 2011-03-21 01:43 (UTC)

The fairy turns him to stone.

"Well," I say after a moment. "I suppose that solves one problem." I look at the fae child cautiously, then offer the outlaw my hand so he can get up. The blonde girl rushes to his side and asks him if he's alright, and Glas is asking if we're hurt.

"Not me," I say. "If we're all well," I say, "I suggest we continue our quest (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/405996.html). I'm sorry for interrupting you like this, madam," I say, bowing to the woman who lives by the pond.

"I am the remaker, I am the thief of faces," Westin says, and his teeth are bared, glowing the sick green of dying flesh, and he lunges, lunges like a wild thing for Hope, the kind and beautiful Hope -

It is her husband who protects her, as he should, but it is the princely man who severs his hand, and the wolf who lunges to bite, and it is the winged child who rises up and screams, "This is wrong! Stop it! You stop right now!" and Westin....stops. The green becomes grey, there is the crackling sound of marble, and there he stands at the edge of my golden fish's pond, frozen forever.

"He tear into any of you?" Glas asks. And the princely man shrugs, helping Hope's husband to rise.

"Not me. If we're all well. I suggest we continue our quest. I'm sorry for interrupting you like this, madam." He is bowing to me, but I hardly notice. The green moss is scuffed where the fight happened, Westin's hand is twitching on the grass, and there is blood in my fish's pond. There is blood staining his clear water ruby, and the swirls in agitation at its center. And my legs are shaking, and I fall to my knees, and I begin to weep.

This was all 'orrible an' I wish I could wake up. Try pinchin' myself an' it don't work, an' then I rush over to Edmund's side. Seems 'e's ok. Is this my - what'd the doc call it, my subconscious? - way o'my brain sayin' I pick Edmund over Westin? Cos I knew that already, didn't need to turn the poor bloke to stone. An' then Miao's cryin', an' I go over an' put my arm around 'er.

"Oh Miao," I say, "this is all so 'orrid. Don't cry. It'll be alright."

She is unhappy; well she might be, I suppose. But there's precious little in the way of growth or discovery that comes without breaking or blood, and a tower to get to.

"You ought come," I say, since the pool is filling so with blood. Consider her friend thoughtful, and the prince with her, and then continue on (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/405996.html?#t10312428). Trust they can carry her, if she chooses.

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