Of Clear Nights and Ethereal Beings
It was an amazingly beautiful night, and Mordread was taking advantage of it. His pregnant lover had given him the night off to do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted was a simple stroll through one of the local parks without a million kids trailing behind him and pulling him in every other direction.
The fact that he didn't have to listen to Patrick's snark fest was just an added bonus. He loved the man, he loved him with all his heart, but even the ever patient Mordread could get tired of being called a heartless b*****d and a breeder.
But Mordread figured it was bad form to be so glad to be out of the house and had to do something to counteract the selfishness of his night off. He had stopped by a lovely little mage shop and bought a hand-crafted rose made of pure ice to use as a gift and to appease his lover.
The happy little item was currently glittering in the moonlight, almost glowing with it's soft, crystal coloring clouded over in cold.
Patrick would be pleased, he knew. Or, he hoped. He never knew with the darker man's mood swings any more.
Humming a tune, Mordread continued his stroll through the park, coming along to one of the wooded areas he had taken as his silent sanctuary. A place he could rest and dream and go back to a much simpler time. Not that his old life was anything pleasant, but the time had been much nicer. At least, in the cat boy's opinion.
Simple was good, and while the present was useful for certain things (Books that you could LISTEN to?!) he almost preferred the quiet simplicity of candle light and making your own food instead of going out.
Finding the spot he had marked as his own, the feline slid down to sit and leaned his head back against one of the trees to stare up at the stars. It was a clear night, and they were twinkling beautifully in the velvety blackness of the sky.
"Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight," he chanted, his old childhood game ringing in his ears, "I wish I may, I wish I migh�"
His voice trailed when he heard the low whine of a creature suffering in the distance. He froze. To go help it, or not? It could be rabid�But it was still a creature, wasn't it? Mordread took a deep breath and slid the ice rose behind one of his ears before pulling himself up and going in the direction he heard the noise from.
"Hello?" He called out, carefully making his way through the wooded area. It was outside of the cut path, so he was being extra careful not to let the thorny brambles catch his sensitive skin.
A low cry answered him, and disreguarding the pain of the thorns, Mordread diligently made his way over to the creature.
He was surprised to see a beautiful portrait of ethereal beauty laying half broken in a patch of pine.
"Oh�" he murmured, moving to kneel beside the being. Feathers of a startling white were scattered about her, blanketing the floor and mixing with the fragrant scent of pine, "What happened to you, beautiful?"
The herald couldn't answer, she simply shuddered and reached out for something. A wild look was in those unearthy eyes and it was almost enough to send the bewitched feline into hypnosis.
The only thing more beautiful was his lover, and yes, he was biased.
Turning his head to look in the direction the creature was reaching, his green eyes spotted a gray slab. Memories flashed through his mind and he winced � it looked like a sacrificial stone.
Was this magnificant being to be sacrificed? To what purpose? He wouldn't allow that!
Taking a deep breath, Mordread bent down to pick her up, "Shh, shh, I'll take you home an�"
A piercing, desperate cry and a weak struggle was his answer. She wanted the stone.
With a sigh, Mordread nodded his head, "All right, the stone it is, but you can't get there yourself�" he scooped the fragile being up in his arms and carefully tred to the flat stone, laying her on it.
The frantic look in the herald's eyes dimmed and she seemed to breathe in a sigh of relief, her unreal eyes lifting to look at her savior. She smiled weakly, fingers raising to point to the ice rose tucked behind the feline's ears.
"My rose? You want my rose?" Mordread looked doubtful, removing the ice crystal from it's perch on his head, "But it's for my lover."
With a low, sorrowful note, the Herald closed her eyes and rested her head upon the slab.
"Okay, okay, you can have my rose."
Carefully, the man set the object on the stone where the Herald grasped her delicate hand around it and clung. Nothing happened for a few moments, but a spray of light and colors began to spew from the stone, enveloping the dying being.
Green eyes went wide at the spectical, which was enough to throw him backwards and onto his rear. Thankfully, his tail had pulled itself out of the way � but he was unable to move as he watched the light display which seemed to now be filled with crystals of ice.
When the lights finally faded, his rose was gone. And the girl, the messenger, whatever she was, looked just a little bit more peaceful.
