Welcome to Gaia! ::

She looked around wondering what was going on. The fog pulsed out and seemed to have consumed everyone. She could not see her feet, let alone anywhere in front of her. The bulging masses in the fog made her think that others were nearby. She walked towards one bulge to find it disappear. She looked around, finding a white figure. Who was this? Mercy questioned its existence in her mind. It beckoned to her though. Everything in this spoke of home. Not just of Amity, but of her own home.

When she was younger, about 6. Before her father disappeared. She was suddenly there in her home, with her father and her mother. Smiling as her dad brought her a book from ...someplace. "It's rare, Cece." her father said, a smile on his face. Cece, no one had called Mercedes that since her father, she had redefined herself as Mercy. She went to sit on his lap though, disregarding that she was Mercy now. Her mother came to roost in her perch next to the chair.

Her family was special. Her mother was the greatest harpy that ever lived, well in her eyes anyways, and her father was the best sorcerer this side of Moonday. They were happy, in this moment. Her mother didn't harp about her father, and her father loved his little girl. He enchanted the book to speak, but there were times where he would take over, and those times usually put Mercy, no Cece, to sleep. Cece loved the low baritone of her father's voice. She often thought that he had enchanted it to work this way, putting her to sleep.

The sitting room was warm, and she was curled up in her father's lap, her mother cooing near her. In this moment, all Cece could think was that she was happy, as happy as any 6 year old could be. Her father brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, as her eyes started to flutter. She was jolted awake though with a single thought. I am Mercy. She was no longer Cece, that had ended years ago. She was brought back to the present, with the white figure still tugging her forward.

"No, I don't want this." She said, trying to pull away. But it seemed as soon as the white figure touched her she was taken back again. This time she remember the "hot chocolate" beverage her father had fixed her right before they settled into the living room before her bedtime. How the hot liquid scalded her tongue and yet tasted so good. The enchanted story and there she was closing her eyes again. She snapped them open, but she sure if this continued she'd be lost again.

Once again she tried to fight this sensation. Try and go against the happiness, to remind herself that fathers disappear, mother's become bitter, and little girls must grow up. But just thinking of that moment in her lifetime, and Mercy couldn't help but want to go back. To feel that happiness once more. It's not like she wasn't happy now, she was. She just missed that moment. And there she was again, with her father.

"It's rare, Cece." her father told her, a smile on his face. He patted the cover and told it something, but Cece was unsure. Her father was a great sorcerer. He opened the hardback book and it started to talk, causing Cece to clap her hands."Daddy is the best" she exclaimed before getting sucked into the story the book was telling. It started, Once upon a time...

[WC: Just hitting 603]

They passed by her without speaking. Friends, neighbors, all progressing towards new ritual, new comfort. A new home.

Fina often teased her for favoring a 'hobby' that so closely mirrored her work, mocking her inability to leave crafting behind when she went home for the night. But there was something different when the cameos were concerned, their own little art. It was more than just ensuring a solid setting, than working the aesthetics and practicality to a perfect balance. Each little sliver stripped away, each chip from the gem's faceted surface was more a venture in fine art than jewelcrafting.

The amethyst fit easily in her palm, held with an attention and adoration that most reserved for small children. It was a painstakingly slow process, but the gift was almost done, its level of customization something that Ylaria had never quite attempted before. It was tradition to capture scenes from classic mythology, to display portraiture of those that mortals worshipped...but this extended much farther than that.

Smiling faintly back at her was the face of Medea. The familiarity of it was a little eerie, she had to admit, but no other icon would be fitting enough for its recipient. To him, she was more than someone to worship -- she was everything. Through his dedication shone a devotion that was impossible to not admire.

A fine brush passed over its surface, removing any glittering remnants. A candle held behind it illuminated her completed work. The cameo was returned to its velvet box to await a frequent visitor, and as she considered a method of presentation, she couldn't help thinking briefly of her sister. Little Fina, aspiring to be a priestess, to inspire hope and camaraderie to the rest of their clan. Ylaria had her own hope: that her sister, should she make it there, might find a guardian who could be even half of what Alke was.

"There is no home for me out there," she said sternly, ushering the little figure along with a dismissive hand. She stubbornly stayed close to Alke, refusing all of the other familiar faces, all eerie in their own way, too. As her gaze sought out Medea's smile through the thickening fog, it passed a greyed ghoul, whose veiled features mirrored her own.

Though there were many who surrounded her, starkly contrasting to the few nearby her own steadfast form, she looked extraordinarily alone.

She pitied her a final time.

Blue sky, endless blue sky. Or at least, she pretended it was, instead of the dusty buildings obscuring her view. There was nothing else in this place she barely recognised now that she remembered wanting to remember. She sat alone, on a car she didn't own, holding a cheeseburger she had no appetite for.

Had there once been someone else here? It seemed like something was missing, something that had once had some importance. Setting the cheeseburger down, she turned to look beside her--

The hand caressing her cheek was not warm, but icy-cold; the eyes staring at her as blue as her own. Strange and yet familiar.

Answer me.

It took her a long time to think about it. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, but found she had no idea what to say- what was the question, even? Something about home?

Home was not a word that had crossed her mind in a long, long time. And now it had, now when she closed her eyes, imagining home, there was.. there was barely anything. Little flashes of white, blue, light violet. The high-pitched keening of a cat crying, somewhere a door slamming. Loss, emptiness, hurt. The feeling of missing something, or someone. All she had left were gaping dark holes in mental images, ugly and jarring. As if someone had taken a nail and hammer to her life, and simply knocked out parts of it.

I had to. You wouldn't come back to me.

There was a spark in the air, glowing blue, the light pulsating as it spoke. She stepped across the darkness to it, both drawn to and repulsed by its unnatural brightness. The second she reached out to touch it, a brilliant white enveloped her, eating away at the darkness, completely consuming everything--

"The boss is that way," he said, patiently, tugging at her, his eyes bright with excitement, as always. Still something kept her from giving him her full attention, something in the distance, a tall white figure.

I won't leave you, she promised, words that only the other could hear. It doesn't matter anymore, it's okay to move on. Together.

The smallest of smiles, an indulgent nod, a tired sigh as Alynthe turned away from her, simply dissipating into nothing. Once more she felt the comfortable pressure of the apophis, close to her, curled around her mind.

"I'm ready," she said, and took his hand.

It's raining. He's drenched with water and his shirt is clinging extremely uncomfortably to his skin, making his arms and legs feel heavy. It's difficult to move fast, but he wants to get out of the rain, so he slips into the nearest building he can find. He does not know which building it is, but it's close and he's cold.

Inside, the building is drafty and large, and there are wide, expansive hallways and brightly lit torches lining the walls to add a cheerful glow. These aren't the Reaper Dorms, where he makes his own residence within the quiet, stone walls, but instead he has stepped within the Monster Dorms.

He has been at school for several weeks now and still he feels lonely.

It is difficult to adapt to a new place, he has found out. His family is encouraging and they have told him that he will do well at Amityville. He believes in their words, and he cherishes them, despite the fact that he cannot help but feel as though he is walking into a battlefield, somehow.

But who is he fighting?

Six weeks at school and he feels as though he is just going through the motions. He loves it here; learning is his forte, and he feels confidence in his ability to do things when it comes to anything educational (math is his strong suit, after all). But for some reason, he feels awkward around people - he has his own facade, of course; he can play it off, be charming and confident and flirtatious if there is a need for it.

But he has no close friends here - only acquaintances - and he feels lonely. Overshadowed by his older siblings, whom he adores, he does not know how to do things on his own anymore.

He tries not to show this, and most of the time he succeeds. Maybe if he tells himself he's not lonely enough times he'll start to believe it and he'll be just fine.

How many times is "enough?"

Inside the Monster Dorms it is quiet and solemn and there is no one around - at least he thinks so, as he stands there, wet and dripping on the thick red carpet that lines the floor of the hallway. He wonders how long it will keep raining - he is cold and the Reaper Dorms are across the campus. Walking in this heavy of rain will surely mean getting a cold, but so does standing here in his wet clothing.

He lifts a hand, presses his fingers against the cold glass of the window. His breath fogs the clear surface.

There is something on the floor that catches his eye. When he looks down he can see that it is a shadow, much like his own, but moving of its own will. It spells out words, insults and snarky remarks, and somehow Sparrow is amused, in spite of himself. He himself is partial to the use of shadows within his own life; it surprises him that there is another who shares a similar use for them.

Who does this shadow belong to, he wonders.

""

He does not recognize the voice, but it makes him look - and he can hear a faint clipping noise, the soft tapping of her hooves against the ground before he sees her, shyly extracting herself from the darkness of the shadows gathered in a corner. Her eyes are enormous, gold and glowing, and there is a terribly sad and uncertain expression on her pale-skinned face, ears pinned back against her hair.

She is beautiful, and he is stupid.

When she speaks again, her voice is softly apologetic, and the blush that dusts her cheeks is such a vibrant contrast to her white skin that it startles him for a moment, watching the rosy hue appear. He wants to reach out and touch her face, to see if the red is just as warm as it looks, but that would be inappropriate and he does not even know her.

"....hi."

It is so small and hesitant that he almost misses it. But he can feel himself relaxing, even though she is so very painfully shy that his heart already aches for this girl that he does not even know.

"I apologize for my appearance; I'm afraid I'm not quite...quite up to par at the moment.

"My name is Sparrow. Sparrow Heartreed."

She looks up at him, and he thinks she is such a very lovely creature indeed. He has seen his fair share of beautiful ghouls, of course, and he very much enjoys talking to them, but he has never seen anyone like her. It is a cliche phrase, perhaps, but there is something distinctly unique about her.

"Bird? Sparrow? Sparrow Heartreed? You are sparrow?"

She speaks as though this is not her first language. He watches her approach, and when she takes his hand, her fingers are soft and gentle and her skin is warm. She is too close, close enough that when she presses her cheek to his and nuzzles their faces together in greeting he can feel his own heartbeat quicken, can feel his face grow redder and redder.

He has not ever been greeted so affectionately before. He does not know how to respond.

"Wren Innis."

Somehow he has the feeling that this meeting will not be the only one, even after he has changed and is more properly dressed in warm, dry clothes and they are sharing a meal together.

And it isn't, and he is pleased.

He falls in love so fast and so easily that it's as though he were somehow waiting for her, and she him. He had not meant to fall in love, and he had not meant to do so with anyone at school, but there is no stopping this and he does not want to stop it. He tries telling himself that he is not, tries to laugh it off, but that is pointless and useless when his feelings are so very obvious. And when he kisses her and she responds, her claim on him breathed against his lips, the ache of loneliness in his chest begins to ease, just a little.

"Mine," she says, and he smiles.

"Yours?" he asks her softly, and he can feel her heart beating against his own. She is so very precious to him, his beautiful ghoul, his favorite person.

"All yours. And you are mine."

Now she holds out her hand to his, pale white and her wings are fluttering against her back as though beckoning him forward.

"Coming?" she asks him, and he just looks at her and wonders how he has managed to be so fortunate. He certainly does not deserve her, and sometimes he wonders whether the pain of loneliness will ever really leave him.

But she is here, and she is waiting.

He reaches out and takes her hand. Her fingers are warm in his and they fit nicely, perfectly, within his own. He squeezes her hand affectionately and she smiles up at him, curling against his side and leaning into him. He pulls her close and breathes in her scent, familiar and reassuring.

She smiles, and it is beautiful.

He wants to go home to her.

"Yes," he says. "Yes I am coming."


[ WC: 1192 ]

His hand slid free from her's as he let it go, rough callouses lingering over her own smooth ones before dropping. It didn't feel right to linger, to claim her hand in his as the ebd came. Lance leaned back in his chair, dismissing his weapon and sliding her over his fingers. He reclined, eyes skyward as the fog descended.

It was as if he was on his own little island. He could see the dark shapes move past him, inhuman and alien as they sought one singular desire: home.

"Excuse me. Are you crossing as well?"

Lance jumped, cursing his own incompetence. He made to snap a reply, pausing as the figure grabbed him and began pulling him along. Lance stumbled after him, barely able to keep up until his long strides caught up with the smaller figure.

"Wait -" His mind tried to catch up. This wasn't possible. He couldn't be doing this. He was paralyzed, told by multiple hunter-doctors that his days were numbered, marked now not by how long his heart continued to beat but by how useful he could become as he was.

Lance liked to think he was resouceful. Jobs and honest work were difficult to come by when the odds were stacked against you by association. Sometimes the only thing left was dishonest work, work that few would consider in light of the risks involved.

He could feel her move beneath his thighs. She was beautiful; he always has a weakness for red hair. He reached forward to touch it, running the silky strands through his fingers. She didn't care. She tossed her head and continued the steady rocking motion, concentrating. He leaned forward, knees squeezing gently as she threw her back into it. God he loved this horse. Lance had fallen in love with her at first sight. He didn't bother to ask how much she was. It took time, slipping into her pasture at night to charm her and gain her trust. The sun was setting when he mounted her bareback, her hooves thundering against the golden prarie grass.

He loved the feeling. The sensation of freedom, the wild joy of knowing that he could expect a bullet in his back at any moment.

The bullet never came. Lance allowed his horse's galloping rhythm to lull him to a state of rest. This was where his home was: wherever he made it upon his horse's back.

(( word count idk YEAHHH PHOMETERNET))

Bix was still standing with Before, hands on his friend’s shoulders, when the fog rolled in. “What’s..?” He looked back at Before but the other young man seemed also entranced.

Someone was talking to him and he turned. What she said wasn’t necessarily important, he was already caught up in something else. It was like his mind was rewinding. All the best things.

Staring into the fog was like watching a movie screen, a highlight reel of his life with all the best parts. First it was a sunny day on a hill with a certain strawberry blonde hunter. This was the most recent. Smiling and laughing and talking about the past. It faded with them staring at the sky and his face changed into one more battered, dirty bleeding, but it was a good moment for him, in his own mind’s eye. He lay across the body of Before, his back scorched and burnt, having saved his friend from almost certain death. It shifted again to him filled with resolve, a moment he’d forgotten, in his dorm room sifting through his belongings. It was the night he’d talked himself into agreeing to join Deus. A moment when the organization filled him with boldened resolve and hope. It melted again and stayed, unwavering and definite. Was this his happiest moment? Suddenly he wasn’t watching anymore. He was there.

It was grey outside but bright, the grass and trees were heavy with the scent of rain and as he looked at his feet he saw that he was wearing his heavy leather boots. It was chilly enough that he was also decked in flannel but it was always this cool in the morning. He was grumpy because it was early and his face still burned from being against the pillow. The sound of heavy feet crunching the grass finally drew his gaze and it was followed by smaller feet, faster, hurrying around. Bix saw his dad in his heavy sweatshirt picking his way out towards the woods with his gun and fishing gear. Little Nicky ran behind, pink cheeked and bright eyed.

He was alsways like that. His golden hair made him look a bit like an angel in the morning hours. He never seemed tired at this time of day. He was always awake and happy and pink with exertion. It seemed like a lot of work to be that eager and attentive all the time. But the funny thing was that Nicky could get him to do anything. He was too perfect and cute and fun and impossible to deny.

“Ferd’nand.” Nicky ran to him and grabbed him by the hand. “You’re coming right? You won’t get back on your computer till after dinner you said. You promised me right?”

He was Ferdinand here. He was a son and a big brother. He was a student and his biggest worry was getting honors and still managing to keep up with his online RPGs. He remembered thinking how he was missing a few hours of some event. He wanted the items but Nicky was better. Nicky was adorable and he begged and threatened the lives of his action figures if he didn’t come.

“Nick, I’m already here. Look see? Boots shirt. I even put pants on so obviously I am coming.” He sounded exasperated, bored, but when his brother cracked a brilliant grin and hopped happily in place, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

Nicky turned from him, carelessly running towards their father. The man was heavier in his middle age but he was solid bodied and tanned from hours and hours outdoors. His walk was interrupted by his younger son and he patiently turned a bemused gaze as the boy rambled at him.

“Dad I wanna catcha catfish. A big one. When can I learn to catch them with my bare hands? I’ll be like.. WAAAAH and then fish will be like BLOOOAHWWAWAWA and I will grab it and flip it and it’ll be all strong and we will like wrestle and flop and splash and –“ Nicky kept going, pantomiming his battle with this fantastical catfish that he would epically battle.

Dad dropped back a few steps and clapped a strong arm onto Ferdinand’s back. “You know he loves when you come with us. Thanks for tearing yourself away from your little box for five minutes.”

Ferdinand began to protest, face red, but he noticed his dad was laughing at him. “Just you wait till I figure out how to make it print money, dad..” He joked, relieved he wasn’t being given trouble.

His dad barked another laugh and shoved him, making his older son stumble under the unexpected force. “When that day happens you can stay in there as long as you want!”

Both men were then stopped by Nicky he was asking them something and neither of them had been paying attention.

“Were you guys even listening?”

“Yeah.” Ferdinand scoffed at his brother.

“Well then.” Nicky stared at them intensely. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
Both men seemed relieved. They could answer that.

“Oh yeah awesome dude!”

Dad laughed too. “So awesome little buddy.”

Ferdinand followed, his grump seemed to have faded. He walked slowly, ploddingly towards the woods and the lake beyond.

[WORDS: 876 ]

Ever fascinated with the gray phoenix since it was interesting to watch it fly around Tori ever wondering when it was going to attack. Then suddenly a thick white fog rolled it that made everything vanish from site and she gripped Before’s shoulder a little tighter. Tori started to panic some as she didn’t want to be alone or to lose her friends since she had just gotten back to them, but just as quick she started to calm down to why she didn’t know and might never know.

Turning when she heard a voice but couldn’t really focus on who was speaking as the figure forces her forward and really didn’t hear the next question that was asked as everything just felt so right and Tori thought that home did sound really nice since so far it had been one long battle and she just wanted to read.

Sitting alone playing with some of her dolls that were her only friends and craved any attention from her parents that she cares for. They were always busy doing something with work or with there friend and occasionally she would meet those friends too but only briefly as one would show off there toys to there favorite friends. She didn’t care since she would get attention of the parents that she believes loved her. “Victoria, dear please put down those dolls and come with me,” her mother said with a stern voice no warmth at all. Quickly Victoria did what she was told since she had learned to keep her mother waiting could be a bad thing. Following her mother to her office to see that there was someone else in the room waiting for them and Victoria hid behind her mother since she didn’t like strangers all that much.

“Now do stop that, Victoria,” her mother sternly said. “This is Ceridwen is will be your new nanny and this time don’t drive this one away either and that is an order,” she sternly added since she didn’t want any more of her daughters fighting her mother any longer only perfection was what she wanted of her daughter. “Now Victoria go with Ceridwen and do be good,” her mother said and there would be no arguing about it as everything was final and Victoria knew it was and sighed a little since she didn’t want a new nanny since all the other ones she had wanted her to be perfect in everything and she just hated it. All Victoria wanted was her mother to tell her she loved her and to take care of her instead of the nannies

Ceridwen took Victoria by the hand and let her out of the room and Victoria leading her new nanny where her room was. Not too long they had gotten inside her room that had everything a child could ever want, but it was never what Victoria wanted.

“So how old are you, Victoria?” Ceri asked once the door was closed and they were alone with a warm happy smile.

“I just turned eight,” Victoria answered softly a little shy and a little suspired too as not many of her other nannies cared to know that or at least have her tell them. Most of them just sat down somewhere to watch as she played a living statue that just watched to make sure she did what her mother wanted and tattled when she did things wrong.

“That is a good age and when I was your age my own mother started to tell me stories of where she use to live and many great other things and also you can call me Ceri as that might be a little easier for you to say,” the new nanny said still smiling warmly.

“That is cool as I haven’t heard many stories before since my mother really doesn’t like those time of things and why do you smile?” she replied and had to wonder why this nanny was different.

“Well I will make sure that your mother doesn’t learn that I be telling you those type of stories as they are wonderful to hear and I think that you will like them,” Ceri answered as she thought on the question Victoria had asked of her. “I smile because I want to and because I’m happy. Also Victoria I want to be your friend to teach you everything that I know and for you to be happy as well,”

“Really?” Victoria asked unsure if this was just a trick.

“Yes really as every child should be happy and I will try my best,”

Victoria smiled wide as she was happy still unsure of Ceri would keep her words but something different from the normal sounded fun something that was also scary too. But this was much better than having a living statue watching her every move.

A year had gone by how time flew when one was having so much fun. Learning all kinds of wonderfully things that were secret to just the two of them and it made learning all the other things so much better and lest of a hassle.

“Ceri can you tell me that story again, it’s my favorite one,” Victoria pleaded as her voice was warm and filled with joy. No longer was this little girl craving for attention from a mother that didn’t want to give any, but a nanny had given her all that she had ever wanted, to be loved.

“Yes, my little one. I will do anything in my power to do for you,” Ceri said with equal warmth since she loved the little girl that wasn’t her own, but loved her like Victoria was her daughter of her heart and soul.

((Word Count - 976))

He could see, Muka and Ev as they floated above him but soon the fog started to curl around and it grew thicker and thicker as they started to fade from his sight. He didn’t know what was happening or why they had vanished so easily from his sight but he tried to walk even quicker as if running to keep up but it was useless. Even the ground below him had faded away into nothing.

“Ev?..... Muka?..... Anyone….. is anyone there?” He as clutching his side as each breath he draw gave him pain, he tried to keep them shallow but it didn’t matter. It was still pain that ripped through his body causing his head to think of nothing else.

Figures started to appear, grey in color as they moved silently as if unaware by him standing there even more so they did not concern himself when he tried to make contact with him. They were in appearance very similar to the Four Clan members and in a way it was almost like a funeral procession crossing roads and finding their way all heading to the end.

Was he dead? The thought crossed his mind as he thought that his body could have easily slowly dissipated into some place, some sort of death that permanently lingered and now he was to choose like the Four Clans in where his destiny in death would be.

Then she appeared, her voice like a light in a dark leading to him a purpose however his face was filled with utter confusion. She had a question that he was not prepared for, she did not give him a direction or even why he was there but instead she sounded as if she was curious to his reasoning for being there.

“Crossing?” He asked unsure of what she meant by those words, but he was moving, his feet taking steps forward heading in the same direction.
It would be okay…. All of it would be like home.

Home

“I have a gift for you Joachim… its very old so you have to be very careful with it,” A rougher voice replied as a ten year old Joachim stared at him in wonderment in a rather well furnished study. It smelled musty, like the old books that lined all of the walls filling ever empty shelf space, a dark wood lined the shelves and floor were filled with luster from years of polishing and care. Even the chairs and rugs were nostalgic in the since that they belonged there and would forever remain there, large and oversized with a heavily decorated in a flourishing pattern.

There he sat, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his pale face contrastingly sharply with gloomy room. His father gave him a rather large smile that made the lanky un-kept man even more amusing to look at it as he pulled an old engraved wooden flute from a silken purse.

“This flute has been in the family for years, and I think it is time that you should have it,” He replied holding it out to his son. Unsure if he should touch it Joachim looked at him with hesitation holding out his hands.

“Go on take it, it is not yours,” His father reassured him giving him another grin as he placed it in his sons hands.

Joachim admired it carefully he had never expected such a gift! A sense of joy and pride flooded his face.

“Oh and every pied piper needs a mouse so… I hope she will do for now you will get more on your own but this one will be your first,” His father replied patting his pockets trying to remember where he had stuck her.

“Ah her she is,” He replied realizing it was in the pocket of his waist coat, pulling the baby ebony mouse out he placed it gently on his head. She seemed rather happy considering she make a lot of various noises as she looked at the father and then at the orange field of hair that she found herself in.

“Her name is Merel, now make sure to take good care of her.” He replied patting his son on the shoulder before picking up the silk purse and handing it to him.

Gently nodding his head trying to not to dislodge the little mouse as she squeaked and burrowed herself into his hair.

“It is nice to meet you Merel,” He replied trying to peer up at his head as a faint smile spread on his face as the flute remained curled in his fingers.

The room, the memory all started to fade as Joachim found himself there in the fog walking with them, their words were soft but he knew what they were. They were all heading there and there was no reason to turn back, to leave.

Home.


((814 words <3))