Welcome to Gaia! ::

It's.... odd. In the midst of all this teeming life, I feel lonely. I'm never alone, something I have resented more than once, so why would I be lonely? Is it the lack of knowing those like me? I know it isn't missing the purity of another angel, Alana has plenty of companions angelic in nature. (Though, admittedly, most of the denizens of Alana's little 'domain' tend to me more demonic in personality than not!) I can name two who are angels to me, at least, who I love, and dearly. Naira is an innocent angel, with a heart as big as her wingspan. And Nakshidil, young and beautiful, and yet so grown up, a nurturer in spirit. The bane of my existence is obvious to all... Between the flushing, and his other filthy tricks... even though Crout and Alana have come to an understanding, and the flickering desire he once bore for her has cooled, he is still a malicious protector, and his jealousy fades not.

But what does he feel he must protect between Alana and I? The elf, when I met her, was a tanned woman with the hair of spun fire, and eyes so green an emerald would be jealous. I found out later that it was her glamour, a cosmetic magic. The first time I saw her without her magic, however, it stole my breath from me. Her hair was the color of onyx, shimmering stone spun into raven silk, cascading down her back to her waist. Her ears were lightly pointed; and her eyes, at first glance, a shimmering amethyst. Upon closer look, however, they were tri-coloured: The inner circle, around the pupil was a sapphire blue, so deep it was almost black. The center ring was the amethyst color, that jumped out at you. And the outer circle, so thin it was almost invisible, was a shimmering gold, nearly metallic. She was tall, almost 5'9, and curvy. From the swell of her hips, to the small waist and the full bosom, she was muscled like an athlete, not quite a warrior. All pale, creamy flesh.

Physically lovely, emotionally stunted.

Alana is a walking personality quirk. One can never predict her moods, or what she may think. I would say she is too good to be true, but I somehow cannot bring myself to classify her as good.

But watching her became a near obsession to me. Not lustfully, by any means, but curiously. After all, this was the woman fate had chosen for me to be with, until death do we part. And she is nearly immortal, and I am an angel. It will be centuries before we part! her death will come eventually, yes, but not for centuries. Am I not entitled to observe my lifelong companion?

One day, after everyone else had long since gone their separate ways into the house, mostly asleep, She reached out her hand to me, silently. And I took it, and we walked. It was a full moon, hanging heavy and low in the sky, and I remember it clearly. Her hair was plaited away from her face, but the rest hung loose, those ebony tresses gleaming like strands of the night itself. Her dress was white and pure, almost like spiderwebs spun into gossamer, the covering she always wears when she wants to dance the faery circles. We walked together, through the trees, hand in hand silently; and I was pleased she had so quietly, wordlessly, invited me to the dance. We sat on a log in the clearing, watching the lights flicker quietly, when she opened her mouth and asked me quietly about who I was. How I had come to her.

Alessendrei had been my previous partner. He was a Russian banker, proud and powerful; he was one of the few who was financially stable even in the heart of Mother Russia. He had been part of a powerful trio of men in control of a large bank, when one of the men had died suddenly. It had been a huge scandal involved a horse and Alessandrei's noble lover's husband, so I didn't ask too many questions... I really didn't want to know. Alessei capitalized on the death, and accumulated a large nest egg of wealth, spending it on all the physical pleasures of life: Whores, drugs, and alcohol.

When he died, no one (not even I) mourned his loss. There were no children to do so, and his mistresses were all financially well off from his frequent patronage. I had been with him for years, and I could not mourn the loss of a man as truly evil as he. I had failed him. My heart had grown as cold toward him as the snow which froze the earth.

Where was I to go? I didn't know. Until one day, in the coldest of winter, I knew. The knowing did not come the way the banker's summon had. This one came to me in a wave of summer's heat, and the scent of honeysuckle on the vine. So I sought this new partner, this new companion, the flame to melt my ice; the promise of a gentle heat to thaw the chill Alessei had brought to me. The rest of the story, well... That is known. My trials, my tribulations... Heh, I should let you know them all some day soon.

It appeared, as I finished my story, that that night was only for my confessions. Alana looked at me with dark eyes, then smiled and stood, sweeping to the center of the glittering lights. It was the first, and thus far the last, time I have seen her move so freely, so unburdened.

Right now, as I write this, I am sitting on the edge of the table, next to my partner, eternal and beautiful of body and spirit. Mind, I am still debating. And she is watching me with those bewitching faery eyes of hers. "Xue?"

"Hmmm?" I answer, fighting out the urge to reach for her, but that would break my transcription. It's rare Alana is so polite, and unteasing.

"Dance with me?" And I look up, meeting her eyes, my hand still not stopping. Still writing faithfully. And we look at each other silently, both knowing it is not a dance that she needs from me.

I prepare now to set my book aside. The moon is full again, the sky dark and starless. Again she wears that white dress. Her hair tonight is twined with Ivy, and falls in a hundred tiny braids. "Of course, Alana." I answer finally, and set my book aside.

After all, we have an eternity, but she needs me now.