Post by FewRevelations on Feb 28, 2008 23:13:14 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]Death's Eternal Gaze[/glow]
Inescapable smoke hung heavy in the air, the deadly smog blackening the lungs of all who had to breath it in. And worse yet, glaring, yellow-orange flames licked at every flammable object in the room, melting that which wouldn’t burn. A young fairy girl of about fourteen stood in the middle of the room, too terrified to move. She was quite beautiful for her age, even for a fairy. Being a noble, her skin was smooth and creamy white. Her long coal-black hair shimmered in the light of the fire, and her emerald eyes sparkled despite the smoke and the fear that filled them. Her pure white wings with the black edging and patterning quivered in fear, and the edges of her elaborate lavender silk gown was singed, though before it had had many folds of cloth with slashes of cream in the skirts and billowy sleeves, and much embroidery on the body-hugging bodice.
A few female attendants cowered in one corner, attempting to hide from the flames, hacking from too much smoke inhalation. A snowy white barn owl with black tipped feathers flapped her wings overhead and let out an ear-shattering cry of terror. {AVEN!} the bird screeched into the girl’s mind. {WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW!}
Aven looked up at her familiar, her eyes still full of terror as she watched the bird fly about. {I’m working on it, Omen,} she told the owl, trying to at least sound calm. She was toying around with magic, trying to figure out a spell she could use to get out of her fiery prison in her room.
She had always told her parents they should live in a house made of stone. And she was to move into the palace that day, too. Her parents as well. She was to be crowned queen of her land, Myrari, in only one hour! This was the reason for her rather gaudy clothing and overly-regal air.
She attempted again to douse the flames with water that she threw at them with magic, but the orange dancers only seemed to waltz back in where she had drenched them. Exasperated, she gave up on that attempt. She was beginning to feel dizzy. Perhaps she should sit down… No. She needed to appear strong so those in the room besides her knew there was still hope.
A small black mouse, an earth brown sparrow, and an orange tabby cat bounded over to their bonded, the maids in the corner, just as terrified as everyone else in the Opaby manor. Aven’s eyes began to burn and water from all the smoke. She started hacking, the smog tickling at her lungs in a most unpleasant fashion. The room swam before her eyes and she felt herself beginning to fall, the ground rising up to meet her. Everything seemed to be going quiet.
She thought of one spell she was sure she had seen performed when she was very small, straining to remember how it was done. Blackness was creeping in about her vision… She had only moments before it all ended. She couldn’t see anything clearly, her thoughts scattered. What was she trying to do again? With one final surge of effort, she focused on what she was trying to do. Vague memories flooded into her, and she used the spell. The air around her was instantly cleared of smoke, and a bubble of water appeared around her.
Aven slowly pushed herself onto hands and knees, coughing and hacking horribly. Vision slowly returned, smoke battering at her bubble of safety to get in and choke her. Aven stood slowly and waited for the room to stop spinning. Omen burst through the bubble and landed on her shoulder, but the bubble didn’t pop. Aven walked over to the maids and their familiars.
Only one moved, and just barely.
Aven grabbed the woman’s hand and heaved her up into the bubble, grabbing the tabby cat too. Another spell supported the woman and the tabby so Aven could move unhindered. She rushed from the Manor and dropped the near-dead woman upon the ground gently. Many people who had been watching the fire, horrified, had begun to rush over to help Aven, but she had dashed back into the wall of flames before any could reach her.
She searched in vain for her parents in every room she came across. She ran up to the third and top floor after several minutes of searching, with no results. She suddenly had a lurching feeling in her stomach and felt magnetically pulled to the last door at the end of the corridor she had entered. She raced to it and threw it open.
Laying upon the bed, frozen in their last embrace, were Aven’s parents.
Her mother, a beautiful fairy, with long, raven tresses just like her daughter. Her eyes were a blue as deep and dark as the sea, seeming to pull you into them and suck you down to a place from which you never returned. The singed wings on her back were crystal blue and whitish-tan, a beautiful combination that stunned everyone. Her father, with his honey-gold hair cropped short and face cleanly shaven. His black and grey wings lay motionless on his back. His emerald eyes like his daughter’s, like new leaves on an evergreen mingling with the old, sparkled with a new light. Death.
Two pairs of sightless eyes stared at Aven with death’s eternal gaze.
The world seemed to silence, time seeming to freeze. All that existed was Aven and the bodies of her parents. She began to rush forward toward her parents, crying out silently, and not seeing a torrent of flames reaching for their bodies. Aven was stopped by a pair of strong hands, attached to muscular arms, catching at her waist and pulling her backwards. The water-mages had finally arrived, but it was too late for Aven to care. Tears streamed down her face, and she lost her concentration on magic. The bubble disappeared, and she was sucked into a bubble created by the water-mage. Aven continued to cry out and scream her parents’ names, but it was for naught. The evil flames that had caused so much pain already that day began to devour the bodies of Mother and Father Opaby.
Aven watched as the door to the room slowly closed and she was tugged back out of the burning manor, her heart feeling like it had been ripped out and trampled upon by a tirade of stampeding horses.
~ ~ ~
Aven sat upon a large, gaudy chair; rosewood carved with many roses, gilded with far too much silver and inlaid with far too many moonstones and opals. The Rose Throne. A priest of Helilo in his pure white robes stood to her right, a priestess of Selindra in her navy blue skirts to her left. Aven held the Rose Scepter in her left hand, again rosewood carved with roses and gilded with silver, moonstones and opals inlaid over it incessantly. At the top was a large, blood red ruby carved in the shape of a rose in full bloom. In her right hand she held a ruby-red rose, the thorns carefully trimmed away so as not to prick her fingers.
She wore a billowy white dress, trailing two feet onto the floor in front of her. On a creamy white marble dais before her sat a crown of silver roses with a large ruby at the front, again carved to depict a rose in full bloom. It was called, predictably enough, the Rose Crown. Behind it stood Aven’s uncle, Diamante.
The priest and priestess spoke in unison. “Diamante Opaby, do you relinquish this girl, Avendoraldhera Opaby, your niece by blood relation, to be ruler of Myrari, severing all ties to her homeland so she may rule without fear of its destruction?”
Diamante spoke clearly immediately afterwards. “Yes.” He said simply.
The priest and priestess nodded and turned to Aven, again speaking in unison. “Do you, Avendoraldhera, accept responsibility as Queen?”
Aven took a breath to calm herself and spoke as rehearsed. “I, Avendoraldhera Opaby of House Opaby, relinquish myself to the rule of Helilo, the Lord of the Sun, blessed be his name, and Selindra, the Lady of the Moon, blessed be her name. I sever all ties with my homeland…” Tears streaked her face as she completed her required acceptance lines. Her parents had died only an hour before, yet she continued on with her crowning ceremony.
When she was done with her speech, the priest and priestess walked forward to the dais and picked up the Rose Crown together, handing it to Diamante with words of “By the powers invested in us by the Divine Beings who watch us, we pass the power to crown the next queen to thee.”
Diamante accepted the crown and walked toward Aven. As he placed the crown on Aven’s head, he said, “By the power invested in me by the Divine Beings who watch us, I pronounce you Avendoraldhera Opaby, Queen of Myrari.”
Normally all the nobles watching would smother any sounds afterwards with clapping and cheers, but only a few fuming nobles politely made smattering noises with their hands. They did not believe she actually was queen, as she had just been crowned by her uncle, not her father. Nobles were sticklers for tradition. It was a problem to be dealt with in the future.
How could she have let her parents die? Other than Omen, those two had been the only beings she had ever truly loved. How could she have let this happen? Burned into her mind was the image of her mother and father, clinging at each other in one final embrace as they rose to meet the kingdom of the Dark Lord, leaving behind the light of Helilo for eternity. Another tear fell onto Aven’s lap. The crown seemed to weigh even more than it truly did as it rested upon her brow.
“Never again shall I love,” she whispered.
“Never again.”
Inescapable smoke hung heavy in the air, the deadly smog blackening the lungs of all who had to breath it in. And worse yet, glaring, yellow-orange flames licked at every flammable object in the room, melting that which wouldn’t burn. A young fairy girl of about fourteen stood in the middle of the room, too terrified to move. She was quite beautiful for her age, even for a fairy. Being a noble, her skin was smooth and creamy white. Her long coal-black hair shimmered in the light of the fire, and her emerald eyes sparkled despite the smoke and the fear that filled them. Her pure white wings with the black edging and patterning quivered in fear, and the edges of her elaborate lavender silk gown was singed, though before it had had many folds of cloth with slashes of cream in the skirts and billowy sleeves, and much embroidery on the body-hugging bodice.
A few female attendants cowered in one corner, attempting to hide from the flames, hacking from too much smoke inhalation. A snowy white barn owl with black tipped feathers flapped her wings overhead and let out an ear-shattering cry of terror. {AVEN!} the bird screeched into the girl’s mind. {WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW!}
Aven looked up at her familiar, her eyes still full of terror as she watched the bird fly about. {I’m working on it, Omen,} she told the owl, trying to at least sound calm. She was toying around with magic, trying to figure out a spell she could use to get out of her fiery prison in her room.
She had always told her parents they should live in a house made of stone. And she was to move into the palace that day, too. Her parents as well. She was to be crowned queen of her land, Myrari, in only one hour! This was the reason for her rather gaudy clothing and overly-regal air.
She attempted again to douse the flames with water that she threw at them with magic, but the orange dancers only seemed to waltz back in where she had drenched them. Exasperated, she gave up on that attempt. She was beginning to feel dizzy. Perhaps she should sit down… No. She needed to appear strong so those in the room besides her knew there was still hope.
A small black mouse, an earth brown sparrow, and an orange tabby cat bounded over to their bonded, the maids in the corner, just as terrified as everyone else in the Opaby manor. Aven’s eyes began to burn and water from all the smoke. She started hacking, the smog tickling at her lungs in a most unpleasant fashion. The room swam before her eyes and she felt herself beginning to fall, the ground rising up to meet her. Everything seemed to be going quiet.
She thought of one spell she was sure she had seen performed when she was very small, straining to remember how it was done. Blackness was creeping in about her vision… She had only moments before it all ended. She couldn’t see anything clearly, her thoughts scattered. What was she trying to do again? With one final surge of effort, she focused on what she was trying to do. Vague memories flooded into her, and she used the spell. The air around her was instantly cleared of smoke, and a bubble of water appeared around her.
Aven slowly pushed herself onto hands and knees, coughing and hacking horribly. Vision slowly returned, smoke battering at her bubble of safety to get in and choke her. Aven stood slowly and waited for the room to stop spinning. Omen burst through the bubble and landed on her shoulder, but the bubble didn’t pop. Aven walked over to the maids and their familiars.
Only one moved, and just barely.
Aven grabbed the woman’s hand and heaved her up into the bubble, grabbing the tabby cat too. Another spell supported the woman and the tabby so Aven could move unhindered. She rushed from the Manor and dropped the near-dead woman upon the ground gently. Many people who had been watching the fire, horrified, had begun to rush over to help Aven, but she had dashed back into the wall of flames before any could reach her.
She searched in vain for her parents in every room she came across. She ran up to the third and top floor after several minutes of searching, with no results. She suddenly had a lurching feeling in her stomach and felt magnetically pulled to the last door at the end of the corridor she had entered. She raced to it and threw it open.
Laying upon the bed, frozen in their last embrace, were Aven’s parents.
Her mother, a beautiful fairy, with long, raven tresses just like her daughter. Her eyes were a blue as deep and dark as the sea, seeming to pull you into them and suck you down to a place from which you never returned. The singed wings on her back were crystal blue and whitish-tan, a beautiful combination that stunned everyone. Her father, with his honey-gold hair cropped short and face cleanly shaven. His black and grey wings lay motionless on his back. His emerald eyes like his daughter’s, like new leaves on an evergreen mingling with the old, sparkled with a new light. Death.
Two pairs of sightless eyes stared at Aven with death’s eternal gaze.
The world seemed to silence, time seeming to freeze. All that existed was Aven and the bodies of her parents. She began to rush forward toward her parents, crying out silently, and not seeing a torrent of flames reaching for their bodies. Aven was stopped by a pair of strong hands, attached to muscular arms, catching at her waist and pulling her backwards. The water-mages had finally arrived, but it was too late for Aven to care. Tears streamed down her face, and she lost her concentration on magic. The bubble disappeared, and she was sucked into a bubble created by the water-mage. Aven continued to cry out and scream her parents’ names, but it was for naught. The evil flames that had caused so much pain already that day began to devour the bodies of Mother and Father Opaby.
Aven watched as the door to the room slowly closed and she was tugged back out of the burning manor, her heart feeling like it had been ripped out and trampled upon by a tirade of stampeding horses.
~ ~ ~
Aven sat upon a large, gaudy chair; rosewood carved with many roses, gilded with far too much silver and inlaid with far too many moonstones and opals. The Rose Throne. A priest of Helilo in his pure white robes stood to her right, a priestess of Selindra in her navy blue skirts to her left. Aven held the Rose Scepter in her left hand, again rosewood carved with roses and gilded with silver, moonstones and opals inlaid over it incessantly. At the top was a large, blood red ruby carved in the shape of a rose in full bloom. In her right hand she held a ruby-red rose, the thorns carefully trimmed away so as not to prick her fingers.
She wore a billowy white dress, trailing two feet onto the floor in front of her. On a creamy white marble dais before her sat a crown of silver roses with a large ruby at the front, again carved to depict a rose in full bloom. It was called, predictably enough, the Rose Crown. Behind it stood Aven’s uncle, Diamante.
The priest and priestess spoke in unison. “Diamante Opaby, do you relinquish this girl, Avendoraldhera Opaby, your niece by blood relation, to be ruler of Myrari, severing all ties to her homeland so she may rule without fear of its destruction?”
Diamante spoke clearly immediately afterwards. “Yes.” He said simply.
The priest and priestess nodded and turned to Aven, again speaking in unison. “Do you, Avendoraldhera, accept responsibility as Queen?”
Aven took a breath to calm herself and spoke as rehearsed. “I, Avendoraldhera Opaby of House Opaby, relinquish myself to the rule of Helilo, the Lord of the Sun, blessed be his name, and Selindra, the Lady of the Moon, blessed be her name. I sever all ties with my homeland…” Tears streaked her face as she completed her required acceptance lines. Her parents had died only an hour before, yet she continued on with her crowning ceremony.
When she was done with her speech, the priest and priestess walked forward to the dais and picked up the Rose Crown together, handing it to Diamante with words of “By the powers invested in us by the Divine Beings who watch us, we pass the power to crown the next queen to thee.”
Diamante accepted the crown and walked toward Aven. As he placed the crown on Aven’s head, he said, “By the power invested in me by the Divine Beings who watch us, I pronounce you Avendoraldhera Opaby, Queen of Myrari.”
Normally all the nobles watching would smother any sounds afterwards with clapping and cheers, but only a few fuming nobles politely made smattering noises with their hands. They did not believe she actually was queen, as she had just been crowned by her uncle, not her father. Nobles were sticklers for tradition. It was a problem to be dealt with in the future.
How could she have let her parents die? Other than Omen, those two had been the only beings she had ever truly loved. How could she have let this happen? Burned into her mind was the image of her mother and father, clinging at each other in one final embrace as they rose to meet the kingdom of the Dark Lord, leaving behind the light of Helilo for eternity. Another tear fell onto Aven’s lap. The crown seemed to weigh even more than it truly did as it rested upon her brow.
“Never again shall I love,” she whispered.
“Never again.”
