Vaeltia Glimpses

[Vae]

Vaeltia sat up straight in bed, cold sweat sticking her cami and shorts to her skin, and bringing the chill of the night terror. A nightmare of her past had returned to haunt her yet again. With the bright red numbers of her bedside clock glowing in the darkness of her bedroom she swung out of the bed and stumbled into a small bathroom. She quickly splashed water on her face, it’s icy touch completing the process to wake herself up. She blinked up at the mirror in the bright light and through the water, her double stared back at her, with a hollow and haunted look of fear.

“What?” She asked the mirror and herself, as she tried her best to get the memory of the dream from her mind. Her voice came out more like a croak, and the word hung in the air as she strained to hear a response, any response.

You know why. A voice somewhere in her head responded.

“I never wanted to relive that.” She whispered, keeping her voice low in the extreme early morning calm. She shivered before turning the water of the shower on; the sudden and desperate need to be clean took over her mind. Consumed by the desire to completely wash away the horrible dream and the way her skin still felt because of it.

[Vae]

Vaeltia was in her studio apartment, in the aside area she had made into her sanctum because of the pulse running through it. The room had been scarecely decorated; mostly rugs, pillows, and other comfortable places to sprawl or exercise on and an altar against one wall. She was draped over a pillow a few books spread across the floor along with her sketch pad and two notebooks.

She shifted the pencil she was using across pages of books and into the notebooks, dragging along words of importance: small explanations and other words that might help her in the future. The P.O.S.T. entrance exam was scheduled soon, and she wanted to be ready but with finals week upon her, she had been shifting the memorization of subjects around.

Occasionally she would glance up at the altar, the large candle set there, and the flame that was six inches high. As she glanced at the flame she breathed out, a low breath almost of one in a trance as she returned to her work. She worked for an hour in the same pattern before releasing a longer, heavier sigh and sitting up; the studying trance broken for the time. She then picked up the empty notebook and began to write furiously. And a poem of passion, of thought wrote itself on the lined pages.

This world is more than what you see,
More than what you hear,
Or touch.
It is what you breathe in,
What you think and do.
Every motion,
Every thought of a motion,
Causes ripples of movement
Throughout this world.
That connectivity,
That joining of souls,
Of molecules,
Of wish and desire --
That is what this worlds is,
This world is here,
This world is there,
But it is more than our simple senses,
More than our extra and extended senses,
More than our awakened eyes and thoughts can know.
This world,
This fallen world
Is more than all the sums
Of sense and mind--
It is part of us,
And what we are is reflected in it.
The darkness in the world
Started once in the minds and hearts of the inhabitants.
Sleeping or Awake,
All affect this world
With every thought,
With every motion,
With every breath.

[Vae]

Casting rolls

  

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2011-12-25 20:27:49		Vaeltia rolls 3 to to cast Tune in (10 Again)		9, 3, 2		1 success

  

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2011-12-25 20:30:53		Vaeltia rolls 3 to cast Influence Heat (gnosis+Forces) (10 Again)		6, 5, 7		failure

Emily glanced down at her phone, the text from her father still glowing on it’s display. The last time she had seen him was well before her Awakening, before the fire and before she had taken the shadow name of Vaeltia. She was sitting in the sectioned off room, against one of the walls and surrounded in pillows. A small box in her hand was already wrapped and she leaned back and sighed.

It was probably a good idea to go home to see her father, maybe even stop by her mother’s convent as well. She would leave in a moment, but first a little breather. Vaeltia drew in another breath, letting an imago drift across her mind. Through the imago she tugged at the strings of connection she had to the Aether and pulled it tight across her ears in a web of sound as she reached out to the broadcast of the weather on the radio.

A few minutes later she stretched out of the reclining position and walked towards her door, quickly picking up the keys on her way. With a thought she began to work another imago to draw the warmth of her home around her as she traveled. As she tried to pull the strands into place they snapped and broke away from her control. “Crap.” She said as she lost the spell. Instead of trying fate again she lifted a leather coat off the hook. She slipped out of the apartment and swung a leg over her motorcycle; with a flick she started up the bike and rolled off.

On her way to her father’s house in the suburbs she pulled up on the outside of her mother’s convent. The motor idled as she halted and stared up at the enormous brick building. She stayed there motionless for a moment before kicking the bike back down the road.

Emily rode slow, letting the wind get under her coat as she traveled. She finally pulled into the driveway of the suburban duplex she had grown up in. She parked her Harley and walked up to the house. “Happy Christmas.” She said with a hug as the door opened on her balding father.

She looked up at her old man, Officer Andrew Gideon, “How are you doing, Dad.”

Her father smiled at her, ghosts of tears in his eyes.”I’m just glad you came home. It’s been too long since I saw you last, and you don’t call that often.”

She looked back at him guiltily, “Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and...um..” she paused, not really knowing how to break it to her father. “I’m planning on taking the POST soon, I just don’t know it I’m ready.”

Andrew’s eyes widened at his daughter’s words. “Are you sure you really want to be an officer?”

“Oh, Daddy, it probably runs in the family or something.”

“I just don’t you to get hurt, Emily.” He said the slight frustration in his voice a response to her child-like words. At the mention of her name she stiffened the immediate reaction to flinch at the use of her name. Her blue eyes grew icy and she narrowed them for only a moment before letting a heavy breath out.

“Yes, I know, dad. It won’t stop me though,” She stood up and shot a glare at her father forcing him to sit back down. “You know what, I’ll call out for Chinese, anything particular you want?”

To Be Continued

[Vae]

Emily dropped to the floor, falling in a lump as memories she had pushed away began once again to attack her. That which was usually a motivator now only berated her with perfect recall of her past and she began to shake with the unearthed emotions. Now, the therapy session she had requested only brought back the memory stronger, not making them go away. The nightmares would continue to bother her.

She choked back a sob as more than just the memory emerged; there also came doubts.

Hadn’t I been called as one of the Mighty? A light-bringer? One of Power? Aren’t I an Arrow? A warrior? A talon of the Ungala Draconis? If then can I go to them, If I am surrounded in darkness, how can I bring Light? I can’t even protect myself, how can I protect them?

In that thought she felt bits of her own resolve being chipped away and the tears began. It always started that way, and she had no defense against her own mind.

The ordeal began again, bringing with it the emotions of that night along with every single sense. The taste of the dirt, the half seen visual of figures as she was held down, the scent of her own blood as it trickled from her nose, and the sound of their voices resonating as she, a young girl of sixteen was trapped.

Fear shot through her along with the disgust and hate. She waited, she waited for the pain; they gave her pain nothing short and sweet only the long tearing, almost like her soul was being removed. And as she threatened to grow numb to the pain something else was introduced.

She felt the cold touch of steel, it’s point digging into her flesh directly to the side of her right breast. The pain was there, and she fought, before the voices made her be still. Then the blade moved across her. Slicing cleanly her skin. Traveling first in a slight line from under her arm before arching up and across the expanse of her back, curving down and crossing it again falling in an S drawing it just above her ass and ending just below her hip on the other side.

She screamed

The pain burned and froze at the same time and she arched in pain as the memory ceased, leaving her curled into a fetal position in darkness.

She was shaking, blinded by the tears and the pain once again. Then the whole world seemed to grey as a lightening entered into her vision. She blinked, and looked up. There kneeling over her was a woman, she was dressed in armor. Chipped, weather beaten armor and she seemed to be bleeding, the crimson of her blood staining the color of the white cloth she wore beneath the armor, in her hands she held a sword shining with dark blood and she glowed.

The air around the woman seemed to crackle with power, she stood resolute a protector above her.

“Who?” Emily asked.

“I am You.” the woman said, “I am what you are and what you will become, hold true.”

With those words, her vision dimmed again, the phantom pain she felt fading away.

[Vae]

The range was more than practice, it was a form of relaxation: just her, the rowan recurve and target. It used to take some time to separate herself from the others shooting at the archery side, or even those at the firearms range; but now she could block out the sound and concentrate so much deeper in her stance.

She stood straddling the line, her arrows happily in their quiver on her thigh. She held the smooth wood in her left hand; the firm, suppleness of the bow and the single arrow along it’s shaft against the upper limb and grip. Her right hand was loosely holding the notch and the string, keeping the bow unbent and the arrow un-nocked.

She stood, letting her breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, relaxing her body and mind for the shooting. At once she drew in a breath and nocked the arrow and pulling it to her ear. She looked down the arrow, towards the targets.

She waited again, letting her breathing renewing it’s slow pace, before letting the string go, releasing the arrow towards the second target. the arrow hit the outer most band, no points, not deadly. She pulled a second arrow and began again.

First the slow breathing, then the draw, another wait and then release.

Closer to the center this time, but still not close enough.

Four times she repeated this on the second target. Then she moved to the closer, making her shots quicker. The shots were clustering, at least that was a good sign. Off days suck.

[Vae]

“I brought you something.” Said the voice, the slow waves of sound caressed her skin like sandpaper. If she hadn’t known that the picturesque setting of her mind was about to become a nightmare, she did now.

She looked away from the figure approaching on her left. That figure was entirely too masculine, and nothing like she remembered. That strange and desperate feeling to run settled into her, but she couldn’t move. Instead she turned to the mirror it had pulled out of the air. She saw her face, and the haunted look; beyond her she saw him. He held out a rope to her: a yellow coil of hair -- her hair. She turned then to him, anger dancing in her eyes as she snatched the hair from his outstretched hand.

“This is not yours, nor will it ever be.” Spite welled in her voice as she spat at him.

He only returned with a snicker. That small half-laugh hit her like a right hook, knocking her a few steps to the left. The first blow it was always a right hook, always. She gritted her teeth and stood again; she had to. Even if she knew what was coming next.

That was when the laughter circled around her again, not his this time. No, a laugh much higher pitched. One that sounded like her own.

She fell back a step, switching to a more defensive stance, her arms raised away from her body; I will not be treated like this in my own mind.

“But it’s not just your mind.” the higher voice said again as a woman with long blond hair walked into her peripheral vision. Vaeltia looked at the girl dumbfounded, who returned a smug look. “That’s right, she wont be able to help you now, flame-child.” The girl said. “Do you honestly think we would forget what you did that night?” The girl crossed to stand with him. “we don’t forget.”

Vaeltia could feel the cold sweat beginning to form, the field had gone, and in it’s place the concrete box of a cell was in it’s place. “This is where you belong.” the male’s voice said simply. “Because of what you did, to a man that only tried to help you.”

“Help me?!” The mage began, reaching for the dagger, the athame, she always had in these dreams. She drew it, the deep red of her blood still stained the blade; it had become part of the steel just like the bright red that began to accumulate as she pointed it again at the man.

“He did nothing of the sort. No person in their right mind would have helped like that” With every word her voice began to change, growing louder more aggressive. Power began to build behind her words as her conviction grew; she had done the right thing, so what if it had been illegal, it had saved plenty of women. The bastard had deserved it.

“What he did to me, For What he Did to ME. What he did to Countless Others, and For what He Could Have done to More. For THAT HE DESERVED EVERY FUCKING THING I DID TO HIM!”

[Vae]

Smooth hardwood. It always felt so cool beneath her knees.

She plunged her hand into the bucket of soapy water at her side and withdrew the floorbrush. The bristles scraped against the floor as she pushed the brush down. It was a cleaning at it’s most essential.

Scrape Scrape Scrape

As she worked on hands and knees, pushing the brush against the floor in the circle of wood she could reach. the steady movement of her right hand over the grain of the wood. She began to ground and center herself, letting the work soothing her thoughts into the correct mindset.

Scrape Scrape Scrape

Even when her voice dropped to nonverbal levels, her mouth continued to move. She began to pray the rosary that hung around her neck.

Push and pull.

Scrape

Prayer and work.

Scrape

Holy and secular. She was of the mighty, but even the mighty must be servants.

[Vae]

Thank the internet for it’s help to city kids.

Vaeltia flicked through the information she had pulled up on her phone as walked the two horses back to their stalls after the run she had let them have.

She walked over and picked up the grooming brushes, and stared at them. “Um...” She started to the horses, “We’re just not gonna tell him that I have no idea what I’m doing, okay.”

Both Souxsie and Robert shared a knowing glance.

“What? Do I look like I grew up on...on a...on anything like this?”

Robert snorted.

“Okay the internet says that this brush,” she said holding up a rubber oval shaped brush, “is the first one to use.”

Souxsie took a step back.

“Oh, come on, this is the first time I’ve done this.” She said as she approached the mare slowly.

One stall over the sound of Robert chuffing filled the stable.

Vaeltia felt her own shoulders dip slightly, the animal was laughing at her. It could only be worse if West himself just appeared behind her too.

[Vae]

A tall woman stood on a roof top, her dark hair fell in soft waves to her waist, concealing the small black tank top she wore. She stood confidently looking over the Chicago skyline her hands on her sarong-covered hips. She looked back only briefly at the pitite blond. “Come here, little wanderer, I will show you how to fly.”

Emily moved closer to the amazonian woman. “Fly? Song, you’re not going to push me off, are you?” She had come to trust the Thyrsus that stood before her, drinking in the morning sunlight.

“No, Vaeltia, in order for you to be a Sunhawk, fostered or otherwise.” she said as she ruffled the Blond’s hair, “You will have to fly like one. Now hold still, this won’t hurt a bit.” The dark skinned woman closed Vaeltia’s eyes and moved her into a position that she could work. “Don’t resist it, just keep breathing and you’ll be fine.”

A light sound filtered on the wind and Emily heard soft distant wind chimes, and knowledge found her. Beyond her closed eyes the Thyrsus was flicking her hands over the child, changing her form into something smaller and lighter.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now, and please try to be calm about it.” Song said, a slight metallic tone to her voice.

Vaeltia’s eyes opened...

To the sight of a slight sea of her own clothes and a hawk looking down on her, she took a half step back and then noticed her own wings.

“Song?” she asked drawing out the word in question.

“I told you, you’ll have to learn how to fly. This is how, now come on, you can do this.”

For the record, this is a glimpse of the past

[Vae]

Vaeltia was in the side room of her apartment. She felt safe in her sanctum in the corner where she kept her altar, where the natural mana sprung up and collected as tass in the white candles she had placed there. She knelt on one of the deep red pillows that adorned the room, her hands clasped near her chest and between her fingers the red crystal and gold rosary moved slowly as she prayed over the beads.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee;”

The words fell from her lips, seeming to form tangible letters in the air before being taken by the candle-flame that burned tall on the Altar.

“blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

She poured emotions into her words, letting them resound and spread out from her.

Even with her eyes closed and the sound of chimes echoing in her ears she could feel the vibrations of the words traveling around the room before being fed to the Hallow’s Flame.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

She pushed the bead through her fingers and began again with the next, her mind tightly focused on her words, emotions and purpose.

"Hail Mary, full of grace."