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Ianna Umbridge Vice Captain
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 Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:10 pm
 This is a Private Journal. You will need permission from Sarielle before you are able to post here. We ask you not to beg Sarielle to allow you to purchase, take, or trade their child. They are NOT for sale in the least bit. If you want one, you will have to visit The Ghosts of the Past shop located in Breedable/Changing pets. Concept © Kyrianna
Art © Kyrianna, Cerena, Sayuri_NittaAbout RaidneAwakened: 04-21-06 Gender: Female Guardian: Sarielle Species: Siren
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Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:38 pm
The sun is bright overhead, and the water is that brilliant, crystalline teal that only water in the Caribbean can be. Welcome to Riptide, the chronicles of Raidne. Enjoy your stay, but Cal Morgan keeps a trim ship; so please, follow his regulations.
May I also suggest you stay out of the water? The currents here can be dangerous...
[..] Don't steal the banners. Baniru worked hard on the art for me. <3 <3
[..] Don't steal the concept. Sarielle worked hard on it.
[..] Any GotP owner may post here. Posts should be IC.
[..] Please ONLY post here if dropping off a gift. Either Cal or Raidne should have already met you. Meaning a previous RP with you is needed.
[..] Other RPs should take place in a separate thread. I will transcribe RPs here.
[..] Raidne's temper is mercurial. Please, take nothing personally.
[.` R i p t i d e `.]
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Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:39 pm
Name: Raidne Morgan (Raidne means "siren" which in turn means "to bind"; Morgan means "of the sea.")
Race: Siren
Awakened: 4.21.o6
Physical Description: Her hair is the colour of white sand, fading to a deep teal at the tips. Her eyes are usually a deep-ocean blue with a light-on-water effect, but change according to mood. Unhappy? They're a stormy grey. Angry? They're almost black. Her skin is driftwood, with a few light freckles across her nose.
She also has the rune for "sea" as a tattoo.
Likes: the ocean, her guardian, singing (and later surfing)
Dislikes: women, silence, small spaces
Abilities: As a wisp, Raidne's only "ability" is that she holds is a strong "pull" for Cal Morgan. As most of the wands seem able to do this to their guardians as well - at least to some extent - it's not really newsworthy. She can, however, sing to him a little, albeit faintly.
Current Personality: As a wand, she was rather inanimate.
As a wisp, she displays a sort of stubbornness in the face of her nemesis (a strong wind). She also still holds a strange fascination for her sea-going guardian.
As a baby ghost, she's rarely silent unless "sleeping," making musical noises and even trilling like a bird.
History: Raidne was daughter of the river diety Achelous and Melphomene (known for her joyous singing, but actually the Muse of Tragedy). Blessed with a voice no sailor could resist, she sang from the rocks with her sisters and led those men to their doom. What was she to do, grow silent because a few silly mortals heeded her call, even unto death?
A few, like Odysseus and Orpheus, used guile to escape; but unlike popular lore, neither Raidne nor her sisters cast themselves into the sea in vexation at being thwarted....no.
No, Raidne met her end at the hands of a woman - an ordinary, rough-handed, coarse-voiced woman - who lost her husband to this siren's call. Bent on revenge, this fisherman's wife (who'd learned to handle a boat at his side) sailed alone at night to where Raidne slept, moon glimmering on her lovely form. Weighting a net with many heavy stones, the woman cast it over the siren, and rolling the stones into the water, drowned her.
For great swimmers and daughter of the river god though she be, the siren could not hold her breath forever...and neither could she call for help.
She died, gasping for air, below the rocks that had claimed many a luckless sailor. At last, the haunting voice was silenced.
But something so ageless and so beautiful was not meant to die...
Fan Art: 
[.` S i r e n ' s . S o n g `.]
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Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:44 pm
Name: Cal Morgan (posts in blue)
Age: 41
Physical Description: Cal is as fit and trim as the ship he keeps. His hair is whiteblond, bleached by the sun; his skin is deeply tanned, thanks to the same culprit. His extremely light blue eyes burn like a beacon; they're so unusually bright, one might suspect contacts though anyone who knew Cal would also know that was preposterous. Even the crowsfeet, gained from long hours squinting into sun on water, do nothing to dim them. Overall, his appearance is that of a man much younger than his actual age.
Likes: boats, physical activity, neatness, cigarettes
Dislikes: disorder, being cooped up inside, large social gatherings
Personality: Cal is a meticulous individual, as can be seen by his house, his ship, and his own appearance. He naturally assumes command in most situations, but quietly so. He asks nothing of others he does not also ask of himself; and he is certainly not without kindness, nor without a sense of adventure.
History: Cal is retired Navy. An early retiree thanks to a small inheritance, he has enough to keep his modest house and his sailboat in good condition, but he does not live in extravagence. A divorcee, he and his wife had no children.
Hobbies: He amuses himself by rescuing tourists who get themselves in over their heads while sailing, and by racing his sailboat.
[b][color=#5579ad][size=11]CAL'S FONT[/color][/size][/b] [.` T h e . C a p t a i n `.]
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Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:46 pm
Raidne's room. It is filled with colour and with reminders of the sea - as though the view from her balcony is not enough. Her bed faces this gorgeous view.
Some things, like the surfboard in the corner, will only be added as she gets older.
 [.` W e l c o m e . A b o a r d `.]
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2006 12:02 am
Papa gave me this! It's made out of silver and bits of sea glass. It's too nice to wear every day, though, and I won't get it till I'm older...
Okay, so this isn't really mine...it was already at Papa's house. But he moved it to the balcony outside my room, because it reminds him of the ocean and he thought I might like it, too.
 A mechanical crab. It's all clanky and kind of scary. >.>;
[.` I n . t h e . H o l d `.]
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2006 12:03 am
The list of important dates and noteworthy events is kept in a firm, flowing hand. Most of the entries are quite terse and to the point, but a few display a startling poetic quality.
4.21.o6 - Raidne's wand awakened.
5.3.o6 - Ianna Umbridge gave Raidne's wand to me.
5.8.o6 - I first heard Raidne's song.
5.9.o6 - I first visited the Headquarters, and spoke to other guardians of Ghosts.
6.3.o6 - Raidne's wisp emerges after being placed in the waves.
1o.1.o6 - Raidne becomes a baby ghost after I bought her a pretty mechanical crab...that she's afraid of. -_-
[.` S h i p ' s . L o g `.]
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2006 12:11 am
Raidne's relationships, good and bad. Note: These are only those people who've made a lasting impression on her, not each character or Ghost she meets in passing.
Cal Morgan: My Papa! What else is there to say? He's wonderful!
Aricia: She screams. Lots. And she almost blew me away as a wisp! D<
[.` C r e w `.]
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2006 12:14 am
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2006 12:16 am
The elf Eamane was the inspiration for this to-do list. It seemed like an orderly and efficient means to keep track of Raidne's needs.
Stage One: Wand
Your GOTP must be in wand form for at LEAST 2 weeks real life time.
- 1 Role Play with Ianna Umbridge transcribed into your journal about finding your wand
- 1 Journal entry explaining your feelings about being chosen for a wand
- 1 Open Session RP (In the GOTP thread) OR Closed Session RP
- 1 700 word minimum post in journal about your wand moving to the next stage
Stage Two: Wisp
Your GOTP must be a Wisp for at least 1 week real life time.
- 1 journal entry from you
- 1 Closed Session RP (Private) RP with another GOTP or GOTP owner
- 1 700 word minimum post in journal about your GOTP moving to the next stage
- Complete assignment given by Ianna Umbridge (Can be combined with growth)
Stage Three: Baby Ghost
Your GOTP must be a Baby Ghost for at least 2 weeks real life time.
- 1 journal entry (Dear Diary)
- 1 Open Or closed Session RP
- Create a room or space specifically preparing for the child's arrival. This can be combined with your 700 word growth post.
- 1 700 word minimum post in journal about your baby ghost moving to the next stage
Stage Four: Baby
Your GOTP must stay a baby for at least 2 months in real life time.
- Journal entry 1
- Journal entry 2
- Journal entry 3
- Journal entry 4
- Journal entry 5
- Open OR Closed RP session 1 (At LEAST 1 should be Open)
- Open OR Closed RP session 2 (At LEAST 1 should be Open)
- Open OR Closed RP session 3 (At LEAST 1 should be Open)
- Open OR Closed RP session 4 (At LEAST 1 should be Open)
- Open OR Closed RP session 5 (At LEAST 1 should be Open)
- Open OR Closed RP session 6 (At LEAST 1 should be Open)
- 1 700 word minimum post in journal about your baby moving to next stage
[.` A y e, C a p t a i n `.]
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Posted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 5:42 pm
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Posted: Mon May 08, 2006 7:38 pm
E n s n a r e d
______________ ____ _ _
Ianna Umbridge and Cal Morgan>
It...Had been quite a month. Most of the wands had found homes and Ianna was happy for this. The little siren, however, along with the water elf and wendigo, had yet to find homes. It was like a game show!
Which of you will find a home today! We'll find out after these messages!
Ianna rolled her eyes at her own wit - if it could be called that. Sighing, she leaned against the desk and looked at Coailiann who was sitting on the desk beside her.
"Mommy tired?"
Ianna smiled slightly and nodded, "Yes, love, Mommy's tired."
The man entered to the soft jingle of a bell over the door and to a sort of hushed dimness, quite a contrast to the blazing sun and the hustle and bustle outside. Somewhere, a fan hummed a monotonous tune.
Cal Morgan, in his faded jeans and his white workshirt, had not intended to come here. No, he had ventured in town to purchase for paint for his sailboat, the Lovely Lady. He wasn't sure what about this place had lured him there; the rows of slightly dusty books along the outside walls were mildly intruiging, as were shelves labeled as holding various "wands."
But it seemed as though he had inadvertantly stumbled upon some sort of Wiccan shop. At least he supposed. Assuming there was nothing for him there, that his instincts had led him astray, he placed strong fingers on the handle once more to leave.
"Hello," came a rather tired voice, the woman's head lifting from it's resting spot on the old, immaculate desk. It seemed to be the only thing in the shop not covered in dust, "Welcome to Ghosts of the Past."
"Hi!" Coailiann called out cutely, her green eyes slightly bright as she waved. She had started to feel that 'instinct' that her sister did. She knew he was a guardian, and by the way she had piped up, Ianna knew before she heard the ping from Matilda.
The only question was...Which wand would it be today?
"Erm...hello." Cal responded a bit awkwardly to the child, fingers slipping from the doorknob as he turned to peer at the desk against the far wall. "Ghosts of the Past?" He hadn't seen the sign. "I'm sorry, I think I'm in the wrong store. I'm looking for paint for my boat..."
His low smoker's voice, quiet though it was, still sounded crisp and precise in the drowsy atmosphere. His hair, bleached almost white by the sun, contrasted sharply with his deeply tanned skin and shockingly bright blue eyes.
He fixed the intense gaze on the woman behind the desk, and then on the strange, white-haired child who sat beside her. An odd pair indeed.
"It's down the street, but while you're here, could you take a look at something for me? I'd really appriciate it..." Her voice was soft as she reached for the leather bound and gold-edged book which she ended up pushing to the edge of the desk.
Coailiann held out her hands, "Up?" she asked innocently, white hair falling over her sweet little face. She liked to be picked up, be it by strangers or not. The attention was wonderful.
There was a slight pause before Cal answered. "Certainly."
Inwardly, he sighed. He didn't much feel like helping someone else out today; he longed to finish the repairs on his Lady before sundown, else then he'd have to wait another day. What was it, a stuck toilet, a cantankerous lock?
Cal did possess that sort of quiet confidence that led strangers, in turn, to look to him for aid. He appeared capable, no mistake there. That's why his eyebrows rose slightly when he saw it was a book this woman thrust towards him.
"Up?" the little girl asked him, her intention clear. Cal's eyes flew to the woman at the desk; no, she'd clearly heard the child as well. Rather than be rude, he took the little girl in his arms, though if he were honest, he rather disliked most children. Too many were so poorly behaved.
Nevertheless shifting the child to one hip, he reached one browned hand out, fingers brushing the leather as he prepared to ask a question.
The minute Cal touched the book, the cover would fly open, an invisible wind winding through the pages and blowing them rapidly open until it landed, quite suddenly, on a well-worn page. On the page was a very life-like sketch of one of the wands on her Desk. The blue one, with the spear head and the shells and pearls adorning it. Ah, it seemed that he would have the Siren! Lovely!
Under the picture read:
"Siren. Wand ID 00026. A Soul has been trapped within the confines of the wand. Congratulations, you have become the next guardian to take on the task of raising it from infancy to greatness. We, Ianna and I, have the upmost faith in you to complete your task dutifully. Best of luck,
Matilda."
Ianna smiled brightly as Coailiann quietly snuggled into the man, her thumb going to her mouth, "Congratulations, Cal, You're a father."
Coailiann simply giggled and nuzzled into the man, closing her eyes. She was well behaved!
The question stuck in his throat as the heavy cover flew open of its own accord, pages fluttering and flapping with that dry-leaf sound. Cal gritted his teeth against crying out and instinctively took a step backward, holding the toddler even further away in a protective gesture - though truth be told, for a moment he'd nearly dropped her in his surprise.
The pages came to rest of their own accord, displaying a picture in colour. The words beneath it were even stranger. "What the hell?" he murmured softly, approaching the desk again in spite of himself. His odd gaze flickered to the woman behind the desk for a moment, but he couldn't long tear his gaze from the book.
He'd already absently set the little girl back on the desk before it struck him.
He'd been had.
This was going to be one of those slight-of-hand shows where afterward they asked you for a "donation," when only a complete cheapskate wouldn't pay at least something after having seen the show.
When he met the woman's eyes this time, there was no more surprise in his face. His gaze was actually rather withdrawn. Cal hated feeling as though he'd been forced into something. Salesman comes on too strong? Cal walks away even if he'd already intended to buy it.
"That's an interesting...show. How did you do it?" He wasn't even going to deem the "father" comment worthy of a response. And if she was going to charge him, he was at least going to know how she did it.
Ianna raised a brow, "Show? The book's alive, Cal," she murmured, opening her arms as the toddler scooted herself back into them and nuzzled at her mother. She sensed the other's agitation.
"Shh, Kay, It's okay," she murmured, nuzzling lovingly into her, "The wand on my desk is yours," she indicated to the blue spear-like wand, "The spirit inside of it is your daughter. A Siren. She chose you. Why? I can't say."
Fitting that both a Siren AND A Succubus chose male guardians. Eh, who was she to judge, though, right?
Cal laughed, but there was no real humor in it. So she'd correctly guessed he was a sailor. The siren bit was an especially nice touch.
And now she was urging him to take this sea relic. This, then, was the money-making venture.
"I'm sorry, I have no children," he said, glancing at the spear. It really was quite beautiful. "And I really haven't much cash on me. So if we can just go ahead and get this over with..."
He pulled out his wallet and watched the woman in cold-eyed resignation. Then something else struck him. "How did you know my name?" Now there was a hint of hostility in his voice. Racketeering was one thing; spying was entirely something else.
Ianna looked slightly insulted, "I don't want any of your money," she huffed, cradling her toddler close to her to keep from going and smacking him upside the head. She didn't NEED money.
Sure, she looked like she did, but she didn't.
"The spirit inside of that wand, which is now yours, is your child. Or, will be when it finally emerges. This little girl here? She came from one. She's my daughter. A Sidhe. Her name is Coailiann."
Coailiann's green eyes looked to the man and she smiled charmingly, "Hi!" she said again before suckling on her thumb. Ianna couldn't help but smile.
A soft sigh was given then, "I know your name because my daughter, Matilda, told me. She knows things. She's the one who trapped the soul in the wand there. If you don't believe me, touch the wand."
Cal's face mirrored surprise once more. He was unaccustomed this roller-coaster of emotions... and he didn't much like it.
But the woman had seemed genuiely insulted at his offer of money. He'd never known anyone pulling this racket to refuse pay so angrily and adamantly. And he'd seen in happen quite often, in some ports, anyway.
He really wasn't at all sure how to respond to that.
"So a kid will just pop out of this thing?" He tried to keep the incredulity from his voice, but failed. It was just too fantastic to be believed. He glanced at Coailiann. He wasn't sure he was familiar with the sidhe...though he thought he'd heard the word before.
"Hullo Coailiann," he said, waving his fingers slightly before continuing to speak to the woman. "I thought you said your daughter's name was Matilda?"
Cal's mind was a lock-box of facts.
"Besides, I don't really have time for a child..." The sarcasm was back. God help him, he couldn't refrain.
He did at least pick the wand up then; he wanted to examine the pearls more closely; from this distance, they actually looked real...
He was blinded by a sudden flash from the crystalline tip of the spear. Instantaneously, pulsating heat flew up the shaft, disappearing as quickly as the light had, but not before Cal dropped it onto the desk once more with a clatter.
This time his eyes were utterly accusing.
"You were acknowledged," Ianna explained when the wand acted up, and visablly winced at the clatter, "Be careful with it. If you break it, the spirit will die. You see, this is their second chance...They were killed or died horribly in a past life and..." she trailed off and sighed. At least he wasn't calling her insane and trying to threaten her like Danny had.
"I have Four daughters. Matilda and Coailiann...Del and Kishi. Kishi, Coailiann and Matilda are all from wands like those. Del is...Different." she paused, "Say hello, Matilda."
There was a thick silence before a voice filled the room, "Hello, Cal. Happy, mother? I was busy."
Ianna rolled her eyes, "YOU are busy? What are YOU doing other than laying in your bed and waiting for another wand to unearth and send me on another dangerous mission?"
"I'd tell you, but I REALLY doubt you'd want to know."
Ianna looked sick, "Uh. Yeah. You go back to doing that...." she coughed, "Anyway...She's in another realm. She built it herself..." a small shrug, "She's my eldest. And to answer your other question...No, they don't just pop out. They go through two state changes before solidifying into a baby. A wisp, their spirit emerging, and they solidify into a misty baby-substance. Then they solidify completely into an infant."
When his name came echoing through the room in a strange woman's voice, Cal looked uncertain for the first time that day. The expression sat oddly on his lean face.
He fumbled for a cigarette. "Do you mind?" He waited for her answer, but he desperately hoped she didn't. He spoke again, feeling almost compelled to do so, prefacing it with a strange laugh. "I'm...sorry, I really don't know what to say. This is all..." "Preposterous," he'd wanted to say. Instead he let his voice trail off.
And even if this were somehow possible, as he'd said before, wasn't really thrilled at the idea of taking on a baby on his own.
"Go ahead..." she made a face. Ianna despised the smell of the things, and Coailiann didn't like them much either but...Eh, to each their own, "Just keep in mind there's a toddler here, eh?"
Coailiann yawned softly and curled close to her mother, tired.
"And yes, I understand. I almost had a heart attack when I found Matilda..." she shook her head and took a deep breath, "But if you walk away, you're killing a little girl."
Cal sighed. Obviously, the woman did mind. He put the cigarette away. "I'm sorry, I don't think I introduced myself. Cal Morgan, though I suppose you know that already." It seemed strange that he could have had such a lengthy and...crazy... conversation with someone he didn't even know.
His eyes were drawn back to the spear. Somehow, he wanted it. Wanted it very badly. Unusual for him, who put little stock in trinkets and baubles. Perhaps it was his sea roots coming out in him.
Hesitantly, he picked the spear up again. It did nothing this time.
"Tell me more," he asked Ianna. "How...would a child come out?" He still didn't really believe her; his deep-rooted cynicism refused to let him. But it wouldn't hurt to let her talk. He understood there were supposedly "stages;" but how was the whole thing supposed to work?
"Ianna Umbridge," she returned, stroking the white of her now-asleep daughter's hair. She then moved on to answer the man's question.
"When the spirit inside the wand finally gets used to you...It'll emerge in a wisp-like state. It's the spirit essence. Once it feels you've accepted it, it'll grow and become a dense mist. Mostly, people call these 'baby ghosts' because that's what they look like. The final stage comes when they feel it's safe for them to be their full form and then they solidify into infants..."
Ianna shrugged, "The entire process USUALLY takes about a month, from what I've seen but...Sometimes it takes longer. It depends on the guardian."
"I see."
He smiled at little at his inward thought. How "accepted" was this spirit going to feel when he didn't even believe it was there?
"So, you'll keep this place open, right? I can come back again if I have questions?" His eyes fell uncomfortably on the phrase announcing his fatherhood again. But it was alright to take the thing. It wasn't really true...
Ianna nodded, "Yes, but the Headquarters is where you'll meet other guardians. Come with me, I'll show you where it is. I think you'll like it, and you're pretty much welcome there any time."
The woman stood with her sleeping daughter and went towards the door to her right, opening it and stepping through. She simply hoped the other man would follow.
As they entered the main lobby Via the portal connecting the shoppe and the headquarters, the first thing noticable was the vast...largeness...of it. The high ceilings, edged with gold, the large chandeliers dripping with crystals, the smooth white tile-floors, colorful rugs, and beautiful paintings.
To the left was a large recreational area complete with a large flat-screen television, several rows of various games, movies, video game systems and books. There was a basket of toys in the corner, full of plushies, dolls, cards and various other objects which would appeal to most ages. Included in the area were several comfy looking couches and plush chairs just made for sitting, lounging or bouncing in. It seemed to be heaven on a fluffy carpet. It even had a foos-ball table and an air-hockey table....and for the slightly more food-minded GoTP, a mini fridge always full.
To the right was a large elaborate counter, which seemed to have a force-field of some sort around it, keeping anyone who was not Ianna or Matilda from going behind it. On the counter lay a roster with the names of all the Ghostly children and their guardians, and an appointment book.
From there, it branched off into halls with rows and rows of rooms. Some were storage, some were guest rooms, some were bathrooms, and one very large and ornate door to the end of the hall led to the gardens. "Welcome to Headquarters. As I said, you're welcome here any time. Usually other guardians are crawling around the place, but it's been quiet for a bit. Generally when a new guardian comes..."
Cal could only stare. His mouth didn't quite hang open - he was far too controlled for that - but inwardly it did.
The "Headquarters," as Ianna had called it, was vast and richly decorated. Even so, it still had an inviting feel to it...and seemed as though whoever owned it often entertained children.
Nothing breakable was on a level low enough to be a danger to a child...or for them to be a danger to it.
"This is incredible," Cal murmured, genuinely appreciative. But 'other guardians'? Surely it wasn't...
He didn't even bother to let his mind finish that sentence. He needed his denial to remain intact.
The spear was cool, despite the warmth from his hand; and he found it soothing. He wondered where the other doors led off to...
"So where...did you find this?" He gestured with the spear.
"Nice isn't it? My daughter built it. It's magically enhanced...And you're no longer in Gaia," she grinned a bit at that, "You're in a pocket realm that was also created by my daughter. Matilda, not Coailiann." she paused at the question and sat herself on a stool, cuddling Coailiann to her.
"I found that on an island called Sirenum Scopuli. It's a place thought to be a myth but...Apparently, it isn't, right? I mean, I should have thought as much, after being to Atlantis..."
She trailed off quietly and shrugged.
"Sirenum..." Being a sailor, of course he'd read up on the siren legends. And Atlantis? His head literally spun. He heard the words, but it was as if he could not actually take them in. They rolled off him just as the mentions of "pocket realms" and magic did.
He resisted the urge to sit. He didn't want this stranger to see how shaken he truly was. By now, he wanted nothing better than to be back on his ship -- paint repaired or not -- with that salt tang filling his nostrils and the wind cooling his tanned cheeks.
And a cigarette. Yes, definitely that.
"Is there anything else I should know before I go?" His voice was flat, emotionless, as though he were operating his mouth with only half his mind engaged.
"No. Just don't break the wand...If you do...It dies," she smiled slightly and gave a small yawn, "In any case, that's all I need to speak with you about. You can leave the same way you entered, if you wish to. I need to do several things around here..."
She paused, "You really are welcome here at any time, Mr. Morgan. Please know that."
But Cal only nodded politely without answering. Welcome? H e wasn't sure that was entirely comforting, when there was a girl who spoke from nowhere and knew his name without asking.
Feeling as though perhaps there was something else he should say -- and having no idea what that would be -- he moved to the doorway with measured tread, hiding his awkwardness in reticence.
He stepped through the doorway into...nothing? Everything? That's the way it felt. But moments later the same strange little shop lay before him, rows and rows of books and dusty shelves along the walls, still sleepy and quiet in the heat of the day.
Holding the siren's spear loosely in his brown hand, he stepped back into the blinding sun.
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Posted: Mon May 08, 2006 8:47 pm
L u l l a b y
______________ ____ _ _
"I can't take my eyes off you..."
-"The Blower's Daughter" by Damien Rice
May 8, 2006
Picked up a strange relic in a shop today, from an even stranger woman. She went through an elaborate song and dance, complete with well-executed parlor tricks. To con me into a purchase, I thought. Not so, it seems. She gave it to me for free...
It's lovely. A spear, tipped with some sort of sea glass, I suppose. A rosy shell or two and a string of pearls - genuine - offset the watery hues. Reminds me of a tidepool, deep and shadowed. Even if it should not do all the preposterous things the shopowner promised, I can always hang it over the mantle.
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Later: 2:47 a.m.
If I cannot find the source of this song I will go out of my mind! A breath of wind, and just over the roar of the ocean...a whisper of melody, there, but only barely! So low I thought it at first only imagination or memory.
But now, after hours of this wide-eyed torment, I know it is indeed more. I feel as if I almost know the tune; but like the tide, it rises and falls, elusive, just out of reach.
God it is beautiful! But haunting...
God yes, haunting. I have paced across the sand several times this night; it feels as though it should be from the sea; and yet I hear it most clearly when I hold the spear in my hand. It is still faint, and yet I feel as though perhaps I could sleep so long as it rests in my fingers.
But this is impossible. I did not outwardly laugh when the woman Ianna told me the spear held the soul of a siren, but I did not believe her. Now...
I have made a terrible mistake.
If only I could hear the song in its entirely. It is beautiful, I am certain. And maybe then...then what? I don't know. I should return to the shop. Explain to Ianna that I simply can't keep this thing, can't do what she asked of me. If the spear does hold what she says...should it not belong to a woman, anyhow? Is it not dangerous for me to keep it?
And yet, God help me, I want it. Surely, in the morning, it will seem less strange. The song will be silenced, and I'll have some peace...
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Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 7:37 am
R e s i g n a t i o n
______________ ____ _ _
Eamane settled herself outside of headquarters in her new favorite spot, the gardens. She spread her full skirt around her on the grass and gathered a handful of flowers into a pile by her feet. "youw would probably prefer seaweed wouldn't you Kiran" She said too the wisp of mist that floated above a strange golden trident as she began to twine the flower stems around the smooth shaft.
The little elf hummed to herself as she worked, enjoying the sun and the pleasant breeze that always seemed to be present.
Cal Morgan was not a particularly credulous man; he'd seen many a hectic port on many a strange shore, but he had not willingly believed that what he held in his hand indeed contained some long-dead soul...certainly not of some mythical being.
Even being transported to the headquarters he now stood in had not fully convinced him. Surely, surely there was a reasonable explanation. That was what he'd insisted.
But that, of course, had been before Raidne sung to him...
Even so, that was the story he still insisted on this morning.
He ambled through the grass head down, glancing over his shoulder in a way that almost suggested shame. His erect, lean frame and the quiet confidence in his strangely light-but-brilliant blue eyes vied for dominance with this other impression.
So intent was he, staring at the "wand" in his hand - spear was much more like it - and listening for that wonderful melody again, that he was upon the garden's other occupants almost before he knew it; and by then, it would have been far too rude to turn away.
He smiled rather self-consciously at the petite, dark-haired woman in front of him, seeming unsure of what he should say. Deeply tanned fingers worried at the wand in his hand.
Kiran noticed Cal long before his guardian who was completely engrossed by her flowery passtime. He managed to levitate his wand slightly moving it out of her hands.
Eamane felt her hands slip away from Kiran's trident and she dropped a rather large purple flower onto her lap. "Kiran," She began to scold the wand and then stopped as she spotted the new man in the garden. Her face lit up with a friendly smile. "Hello there." She grabbed Kiran's wand again and stood letting a shower of bright blossoms fall to the ground. She pushed a strand of hair behind one long pointed ear.
Cal's eyebrows raised as the trident this woman had bedecked with flowers managed to drift out of her hands. "Kiran," the woman had said. Was this, then, another Ghost?
It certainly didn't look like a "wand." Those strange blue eyes flickered to the crystal-tipped spear. But, he reminded himself, neither did she...
The small woman made a pretty picture there in the grass, skirt fanning out and flowers scattered, helter-skelter, in a fragrant pool around her. He started as Eamane's very feminine gesture revealed a very un-human ear. Was everything here straight out of some fantasy?
But manners overrode incredulity, and with a robotic gesture, the man extended his hand. "Cal Morgan," he said by way of introduction. His eyes traveled again to Raidne; but he was not yet comfortable enough with the idea of introducing an inanimate object.
The wand, affronted, hummed so low it made Cal's hand tingle.
The Garden of the Headquarters was a vast place...so it wasn't a surprise that those who inhabited it at this present time overlooked one thing: a congregation of butterflies around a humanoid one of their own.
Neveah danced with her butterflies, regardless of who else happened to be in the gardens at this point in time. Her style - though hard to pin down to the styles most humans labeled - was mesmerizing and comforting, a larger and more expressive representation of the dance every regular butterfly does each and every day, whether it realizes it or not.
The Humanoid Butterfly had come to the gardens today for a purpose. Her new charge was a Drow, and a Drow, by nature, cannot stand to be in the sunlight. As a butterfly, she thrived on the light...and being forced into darkness was something she never wanted. So, she brought her ghost-like baby to the gardens, outside in the fresh air with the hope that he may grow accustomed to some amount of light before he materializes for good. She would bend to bringing certain areas of the house to darkness, but she at least needed him to stand some amount of the outside world...this way, they could meet halfway in their light preferences.
So far however, this was proving difficult. The ghost infant, though resting in the shadow of a tree, was sending a grim note of discomfort to the mind of his guardian. Her dance only served one purpose...to calm him down long enough to distract him from the discomfort.
"Zah...I know...but on the surface, you can't hide in the house forever...You'll have light bombarding you whereever you go...Please don't hate me for this, Its for your own good!" She spoke while she danced for her ghostly charge, a slight wimper to her voice. The purple one could only sink deeper into the shadows, taping his spider-tipped wand against a tree.
The tall man still waited politely on the...elf's? name, but could not help but be distracted by a butterfly-ish woman dancing by herself - and, apparently, talking to herself as well. The blazing sunlight prevented his eyes from piercing the shadows in which her wand lay.
Questioning her sanity, Cal shifted his weight uncomfortably, hoping she would come no closer.
Unfortunately for the man, the butterfly did, in fact, notice. Well...not at first. Though she had been dancing to quell the discomfort of her ghostly charge, she at first only got glimpses of others that were in the gardens alongside her, but alas...she never drew attention to it.
Until Zasalamel pointed them out more thoroughly to her. Apparently the spiderling felt a sort of connection to something else in the garden...another wand or two, perhaps. He sent a small pang of recognition towards Neveah, but that recognition was laced with uncertainty. That also meant there were other women around, probably a female spirit.
After feeling this, the butterfly stopped dancing and looked around, leaning back to catch sight of the others. "Oh, company!" She keened happily, leaning back to the shadow to tempt the purple ghost into the light: naturally, this brought a bigger wave of discomfort, but it waned in the curiousity the little one possessed.
"I uh...hope I'm not intruding..." She spoke quietly at first once she had walked over, 'cradling' the ghost in her slightly elongated, thin arms. Everything about this woman seemed stretched...but for whatever reason, it gave her more of a graceful look than it did awkward.
The little elf extended her hand in return and curtsied slightly. "Eamane Telquessar" She responded to the introduction, "and this is Kiran" she said holding the wand out for Cal to see. "He's a selkie...or will be. At least that's what Ianna told me" She stopped short realizingshe was babbling. Meeting new people made her a little nervous and slight blush stained her cheeks.
She didn't even notice the butterfly woman until she spoke. Eamane turned and gave her a smile as well, "Of course not!"
Of course not? Cal's inner monologue answered the butterfly woman quite differently...but he had to admit, his outward answer would probably have been the same as Eamane's...albeit a bit less enthusiastic.
She's introduced her wand, hadn't she? Drawing a deep breath, he nodded to the spear in his hand. "Raidne," he said in that taciturn way of his, though he spoke only in a stumbling attempt to make Eamane more at ease. Not that he was particularly gifted in social situations - quite the contrary, in fact. "Ianna said -"
Cal couldn't help the slight hesitation in his voice as he glanced sideways at the butterfly woman with some sort of ethereal form cradled in her arms. "She'll be a siren," the man managed at last. "Ianna seemed to think that's why she chose me..." His low smoker's voice trailed off as he realized he'd gone from talking about a soul in a wand as impossible, to talking about it as certainty.
"Oh good, thank you!" The butterfly sighed in relief, moving one hand (though being mindful of the ghost she partially cradled) to rest her fingertips against her collar bone.
She was usually not one to suddenly barge in on a conversation...but she chalked this barging entirely on the ghost baby hovering slightly above her cradling arms. Funny what an unexpected parenthood could do to a pers--err--thing. Neveah did stay silent for a little longer, her natural talent of observing people taking the forefront at the moment. Funny...he hadn't said much, but it seemed that the male guardian is in the same position she once was! Eventually, she spoke up.
"Well its nice to meet you both! I'm Neveah...and this-" A tilt of her head was all she did to motion to the purple ghost in her arms. "-Is Zasalamel. He'll be a Drow..." Though she'd accepted it, her last four words had a ring of dismay to them. A Siren...no wonder the spiderling's mental whine of discomfort was a little stronger around that pretty spear-wand...though he must have realized she was harmless in her current trapped state. "Its a gorgeous day out, isn't it?" The butterfly smiled, a happy attempt at conversation.
The spiderling continued to send his discomfort over the sunlight to his guardian, even though she was doing her best to lean in such a way that her shadow passed over him. As if the sun wasn't bad enough, there was a soon-to-be girl nearby! Luckily, the fact another boy was present cancelled out the girl, so Zah was only left with the sun to complain about. Curious to see what he could do however, the little ghost baby attempted to prod at the wisped selkie's mind in greeting.
"Drow?" Cal knew the old myths, particularly those related to the sea. And he'd seen everything from fae creatures to werewolves in Gambino. But this was something he wasn't familiar with. "What's a drow?"
He shifted his grip on Raidne's wand, unintentionally putting it closer to the ghost form. Then he started, blue eyes narrowed, yet staring into space.
There it was again! That song that kept him awake almost all night. It started low, barely a whisper, and remained elusive, like snatches of a melody caught on a breeze...never enough to learn the full melody.
Biting his lip, he tried to read the faces of the two women with him in the garden. They seemed oblivious; as he suspected, they heard nothing.
Neveah paused, looking thoroughly curious. Someone didn't know about the Drow? ...Oh wait, not a lot of people did. The butterfly seemed to have forgotten that fact, since she'd been doing so much mind-straining research on them.
"Oh! A Drow is a dark elf, basically. They live under the ground in pitch darkness...so the light blinds and hurts them. They're uh...not known for their kindness..." She trailed off nervously, giggling softly. "But I've read that babies change depending on how they're raised so...we'll see." The butterfly finished, then leaned her head to the side, noticing the way he snapped out of a rather vacant look. As in tune to detail as she was, it was only natural she'd notice his look, but not the source of it. "...Hey, are you okay...?" She questioned worriedly.
However, her Spiderling gave a pang of discomfort when the female's wand was put closer to him, though his thin cry was chalked up to the fact they were outside. The wand's song managed to subdue him for a little bit, calming down both in Neveah's mind and visually. After a moment or two he started to get uncomfortable again, but unforunately, the means to showing his discomfort was few to none. Instead, he showed visually what he couldn't vocally...his ghostly form wiggled in distress, and his 'hands' came to his face, where his ears would be. The song was pretty and comforting, but there was something he didn't like about it.
Cal regarded the ghostling in fascination. So this woman, too, had received a child that hadn't been exactly "good" in his past life. The boy-ghost, Cal could swear, heard that unearthly tune, too. Because he'd been feared, as his own Siren once had? Or was it truly just because he was a he?
Zasalamel had calmed at first, but seemed to get antsy as Raidne's low-pitched song hummed higher and louder. And Cal did what he would never have believed he would: he spoke to the spear in his hand.
"Shhhh," he murmured softly. "You're upsetting him." He didn't look at the two women in the garden at first, dreading their expressions. It did look a bit crazy, after all. Cal seemed to be unable to long hold onto the concept that these ladies had gone through the exact same thing...
The wand responded momentarily with a high, sweet trill, almost as though it pleased her to be noticed, to be spoken to. And, to Cal's surprise, the noise ceased after that.
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