Post by Aelan nó Gentian (D) on Mar 5, 2007 18:45:26 GMT -5
I had heard the stories. All of my life I had heard the stories of my father’s homeland, but I had not once set foot in Terre d’Ange. My grandparents died when I was an infant, and my father spoke little to his sister; therefore, our family had no reason to leave our small farming village. It is not that my father felt ill will toward his homeland. It was just that he seemed comfortable in Eire. I use to dream of growing up in the Night Court. I often begged my father to send me there; however, he was unwilling to part with his only child.
I remember my childhood as being very tense and lonely. Don’t get me wrong, I had wonderful parents, but it seemed a dark storm cloud would follow me wherever I went. I was constantly breaking toys, tearing clothing, and injuring myself. Even when I tried so hard not to get in trouble, trouble would find its way to me.
One time I remember, when I was six, my mother gave me a chick to hold while she repaired the hole in the bottom of the nest. I was so scared I would drop the little chick. I sat perfectly still with the chick tucked in the folds of my skirt on my lap. I was afraid to even touch it. When my mother went to return the chick to the nest, she found it dead upon my lap. She asked me what I did to the poor bird. I told her nothing, but she did not believe me. I was sent to bed without supper that night.
After my tenth birthday, things took a turn for the worse. I began to be less of a klutz and more of a sleepwalker. I would have the most bazaar dreams which would have an eerie way of becoming reality. At times I would go to bed and dream of rearranging my bedroom. Upon waking the following morning before opening my eyes, I would fell exhausted. Usually when this happened I would open my eyes to find my room arranged in the same manner as my dream. If this was the worst of my dreams, I would have been lucky. However, my dreams often boarded on walking nightmares. I would dream of a small child being ripped to shreds. Upon the morning we would hear the news of a child murdered by wolves. I would dream of a young lover loosing her love. The following evening my father would bring home news of a drowned fisherman.
I wanted it to stop. I wanted to be normal. I wanted my parents not to worry. I wanted this all so badly I lied to my parents and told them the visions had stopped. I kept my mouth shut and told no one of the horrors I witnessed in my dreams. My parents believed me, and they had a few years of peace. Then our barn burned down. The night of the fire my dreams were all red. Flames ripped through my mind’s eye, but I could not see what was burning. I turned around to see my riding saddle engulfed in flames. There was no time to warn my parents. By the time I was able to wake myself there was nothing left.
My father said only three words to me. “Did you know?” What could I say? Lie as always and say no? “Yes I knew. I tried to wake myself, but could not somehow.”
Rage filled my father’s face. Not directed toward me but directed outward. Toward the universe. His livelihood was gone in less than twenty minutes. “What is the purpose, oh wise Elua, in having a gifted child if she cannot use her gift?” my father screamed at nothing and everything at once.
“Remember the letter my dear,” my father’s best servant whispered, “It is no fault of Elua’s, only our own selfishness.”
“What letter?” My mother and I asked at the same time.
My father shook with rage then an expression of defeat crossed his face. “Before you were born I received a letter from you aunt. She strongly advised that you be fostered in House Gentian in Terre d’Ange. She said you would be something very special. I did not want to part with you, and I did not want to worry Morgana. So I told no one except my trusted servant who brought me the letter.”
I stood, shocked beyond comprehension. Neither parent would meet my gaze. My mother blushed and looked away. The ways of the Night Court always made her blush. My father just stared at the smoldering ashes. I had had an opportunity to join the Night Court, and my father had denied me that invitation. I felt more hurt than anger.
“Is it too late to go?” I directed the question to my father, but it fell on deaf ears. He seemed no longer part of our world. When he turned his full attention toward me I saw a frightening image. I could not bear what I beheld. The pail lit morning sky wavered. Shadows overcame their masters and all went dark.
When I awakened, my father had already composed and sent a letter to his sister. She was no longer an Adept of House Gentian. A riding accident had rendered her lower body motionless. She had chosen to retire. I know now how much it pained her to do so. My aunt never married, so when she received news that I was seeking permission to come to live with her, she was overjoyed at the opportunity to have new company.
Before we even heard back from my aunt I knew. I knew she would want me to travel immediately. I began packing the evening following the fire. By the time we received my aunt’s acceptance letter, I was all ready to get on the road. I never told my father the real reason I collapsed the night of the fire. I told him I was overcome from the loss of my favorite horse. Her death did way heavily on my mind, but it was the least of the horrors I faced. That evening, when my father gave me his full attention, I envisioned how he would die. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. I also felt a sense of responsibility. Somehow I knew I could change his fate. I became increasingly anxious to meet with my aunt. I knew as soon as I could be taken under her wing I would learn what I needed to free my father.
All of these worries I carried as I traveled to Terre d’Ange. I did not even take in the countryside as we traveled. The mountains, forests, and plains simply formed a green blur as we passed. My aunt appointed her most talented attendants to escort me. Despite their charm and D’Angline blood, I could not enjoy myself. I could not sleep for worry.
It was in this condition I arrived at aunt’s home. Since I had never met my aunt I did not know hardly what to expect. Given her condition, I did not expect her to greet me in the courtyard, as was custom. However, as with all other assumptions I made about my aunt, I could not have been more wrong. My aunt was in the courtyard with arms wide open, ready to receive me as if I was her long lost child. Some of her more loyal patrons had paid for the construction of a series of ramps for my aunt to use along with a cart like chair. She may no longer have the use of her lower body, but her lips work just fine.
She must have been a goddess when she was in her prime. Judging by her position in her chair I guessed she was at least my height if not taller. She had my father’s gray green eyes and dark complexion. She had soft skin and a thin oval face. She held her head high as if she was attempting to keep it out of an invisible body of water. Her hair was a rich brown, which was bound in a thick braid down her back. I lost myself in her gaze. I felt at piece for the first time in years.
“Welcome my child. This is your new home. My house servant has prepared a spare room for you. Dinner shall be at seven. I will leave you to get settled until then. At dinner we will discuss your appointment with the Dowayne of Gentian House. We are going to look into getting you some special training. That is all for now my dear. I know you must be exhausted.”
With that I was dismissed from my aunt’s presence. I was escorted to my new room to begin unpacking my belongings and prepare for my new life in the City of Elua.
I remember my childhood as being very tense and lonely. Don’t get me wrong, I had wonderful parents, but it seemed a dark storm cloud would follow me wherever I went. I was constantly breaking toys, tearing clothing, and injuring myself. Even when I tried so hard not to get in trouble, trouble would find its way to me.
One time I remember, when I was six, my mother gave me a chick to hold while she repaired the hole in the bottom of the nest. I was so scared I would drop the little chick. I sat perfectly still with the chick tucked in the folds of my skirt on my lap. I was afraid to even touch it. When my mother went to return the chick to the nest, she found it dead upon my lap. She asked me what I did to the poor bird. I told her nothing, but she did not believe me. I was sent to bed without supper that night.
After my tenth birthday, things took a turn for the worse. I began to be less of a klutz and more of a sleepwalker. I would have the most bazaar dreams which would have an eerie way of becoming reality. At times I would go to bed and dream of rearranging my bedroom. Upon waking the following morning before opening my eyes, I would fell exhausted. Usually when this happened I would open my eyes to find my room arranged in the same manner as my dream. If this was the worst of my dreams, I would have been lucky. However, my dreams often boarded on walking nightmares. I would dream of a small child being ripped to shreds. Upon the morning we would hear the news of a child murdered by wolves. I would dream of a young lover loosing her love. The following evening my father would bring home news of a drowned fisherman.
I wanted it to stop. I wanted to be normal. I wanted my parents not to worry. I wanted this all so badly I lied to my parents and told them the visions had stopped. I kept my mouth shut and told no one of the horrors I witnessed in my dreams. My parents believed me, and they had a few years of peace. Then our barn burned down. The night of the fire my dreams were all red. Flames ripped through my mind’s eye, but I could not see what was burning. I turned around to see my riding saddle engulfed in flames. There was no time to warn my parents. By the time I was able to wake myself there was nothing left.
My father said only three words to me. “Did you know?” What could I say? Lie as always and say no? “Yes I knew. I tried to wake myself, but could not somehow.”
Rage filled my father’s face. Not directed toward me but directed outward. Toward the universe. His livelihood was gone in less than twenty minutes. “What is the purpose, oh wise Elua, in having a gifted child if she cannot use her gift?” my father screamed at nothing and everything at once.
“Remember the letter my dear,” my father’s best servant whispered, “It is no fault of Elua’s, only our own selfishness.”
“What letter?” My mother and I asked at the same time.
My father shook with rage then an expression of defeat crossed his face. “Before you were born I received a letter from you aunt. She strongly advised that you be fostered in House Gentian in Terre d’Ange. She said you would be something very special. I did not want to part with you, and I did not want to worry Morgana. So I told no one except my trusted servant who brought me the letter.”
I stood, shocked beyond comprehension. Neither parent would meet my gaze. My mother blushed and looked away. The ways of the Night Court always made her blush. My father just stared at the smoldering ashes. I had had an opportunity to join the Night Court, and my father had denied me that invitation. I felt more hurt than anger.
“Is it too late to go?” I directed the question to my father, but it fell on deaf ears. He seemed no longer part of our world. When he turned his full attention toward me I saw a frightening image. I could not bear what I beheld. The pail lit morning sky wavered. Shadows overcame their masters and all went dark.
When I awakened, my father had already composed and sent a letter to his sister. She was no longer an Adept of House Gentian. A riding accident had rendered her lower body motionless. She had chosen to retire. I know now how much it pained her to do so. My aunt never married, so when she received news that I was seeking permission to come to live with her, she was overjoyed at the opportunity to have new company.
Before we even heard back from my aunt I knew. I knew she would want me to travel immediately. I began packing the evening following the fire. By the time we received my aunt’s acceptance letter, I was all ready to get on the road. I never told my father the real reason I collapsed the night of the fire. I told him I was overcome from the loss of my favorite horse. Her death did way heavily on my mind, but it was the least of the horrors I faced. That evening, when my father gave me his full attention, I envisioned how he would die. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. I also felt a sense of responsibility. Somehow I knew I could change his fate. I became increasingly anxious to meet with my aunt. I knew as soon as I could be taken under her wing I would learn what I needed to free my father.
All of these worries I carried as I traveled to Terre d’Ange. I did not even take in the countryside as we traveled. The mountains, forests, and plains simply formed a green blur as we passed. My aunt appointed her most talented attendants to escort me. Despite their charm and D’Angline blood, I could not enjoy myself. I could not sleep for worry.
It was in this condition I arrived at aunt’s home. Since I had never met my aunt I did not know hardly what to expect. Given her condition, I did not expect her to greet me in the courtyard, as was custom. However, as with all other assumptions I made about my aunt, I could not have been more wrong. My aunt was in the courtyard with arms wide open, ready to receive me as if I was her long lost child. Some of her more loyal patrons had paid for the construction of a series of ramps for my aunt to use along with a cart like chair. She may no longer have the use of her lower body, but her lips work just fine.
She must have been a goddess when she was in her prime. Judging by her position in her chair I guessed she was at least my height if not taller. She had my father’s gray green eyes and dark complexion. She had soft skin and a thin oval face. She held her head high as if she was attempting to keep it out of an invisible body of water. Her hair was a rich brown, which was bound in a thick braid down her back. I lost myself in her gaze. I felt at piece for the first time in years.
“Welcome my child. This is your new home. My house servant has prepared a spare room for you. Dinner shall be at seven. I will leave you to get settled until then. At dinner we will discuss your appointment with the Dowayne of Gentian House. We are going to look into getting you some special training. That is all for now my dear. I know you must be exhausted.”
With that I was dismissed from my aunt’s presence. I was escorted to my new room to begin unpacking my belongings and prepare for my new life in the City of Elua.