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With the music came a terrible and beautiful teansformation upon the grey Al Sylian as he stepped upon the stage, his arms filled with wooden daggers and swords. The void in his face emptied of emotion and became solid and mysterious with each note. Leaning down softly, even those simple movements beautiful and calculated, Mirror laid each weapon upon the ground as if he were lying down a sleeping babe. The music repeated it's haunting beginning as he set himself up and walked in a slow circle, creating a strange design upon the stage. Then, taking his place in the center of his design, Mirror bowed his face as if he were looking with personal sorrow upon the blades. The music lapsed into the actual song and the dance comensed The Al Sylian began to step in and about the crossed swords and daggers, alternating from heel to toe. His fluid grace became natural and his body seemed made of something ethereal.

Then the eerie music, a strange unearthly metallic percussion, began to tumble over itself, faster and faster.

A strange mixture of supernatural elegance and menace, the dance was compelling to watch. Twisting, turning, leaping, Mirror's face was locked in a dreamy detatched rapture. His small dust colored wings followed his every twist and turn like silk, and his grey hair glinted in the lantern light.

Then suddenly, Mirror transformed into a beautifully deadly weapon.

With a flick of his booted foot, the dancing Al Sylian sent one of the wooden swords into the air and didn't even watch as it spiraled up and then down in the thick air. It looked like it was going to fall and spear the poor young man in the skull. However, he snapped out his arm in the midst of a turn and sent it back up harmlessly into the sky. Even though the weapons were wooden, the danger was real. The blades were still sharp, the points were still piercing, and the pain would still be real. The pace of the music creshendoed slowly and with the creshendo did the song become more frenzied. One by one, the swords and daggers were all kicked into the air, caught, and sent up again to glimmer in splendid shimmering sheen before tumbling back down upon Mirror. Some were ignored by the young Mirror and they fell upon the ground with an eerie clatter, only to be sent back up moments later. It became a deadly rain of sharp edges and hard blades. The Al Sylian was lost in the midst of the sword storm and the audience could see him duck and whirl out of danger within the ever changing vortex as he stepped and danced still upon an ever changing pattern of fallen swords upon the ground. All this was weaved tightly together in a brilliant performance of artistry and agility.

In the midst of it all, when the music was nearing its height and the dance could not possibly become more insane, did the audience faintly hear the slow and steady voice of Mirror. His voice called out of the deadly rain like a ghost wailing for someone to hear the tale of his murder. It made people shiver and it made them suck in their breath with hurt. If sound could inflict pain, this sound would've floored the entire audience. In fact, for a moment it sounded like he was impaled with one of the falling swords, but the sound was beautifully tragic. Then came a quick and frightening shriek from the depths of Mirror's diaphram, and the rest of the shaking screaming music completely halted.

The flute wailed a single declining note and all the swords fell upon the ground. Mirror was standing in the center of a perfect circle, his arms raised up above his head to the heavens and his chest pulsing quick with breath. His delicate face was filled with ecstasy and his feet were placed delicately one in front of the other.

~Huh~. For some reason Roan didn't seem to be returning his meaningful glances. It was almost as if he was ignoring him, though his better judgement knew that couldn't be the case...Nevertheless, if he was paying him much heed, it certainly didn't show.
Shrugging to himself, the Dark Lord shifted his attention to the spectacle that was finishing up before him, only to see Mirror standing in the middle of the wooden swords that Exodus had created. It didn't look all that impressive, but the clapping and cheering around him seemed to disagree--he must've missed something...Smiling, he clapped politely.

Snapped violently out of his trance that he had woven about himself in the dance, Mirror blinked stupidly at the seething applauding audience before he remembered what they were applauding him for. He felt a proud boiling heat swarm up to his cheeks and he had to force the moisture away from his eyes by looking up gratefully over the heads of the audience and into the sky.

A deep chasm of ache split open inside his abdomen.

Had...Had those he had killed...Were they watching this dance of his? Maybe, if they were watching, they could've seen how much he had done to try and appease them. Perhaps he had proven himself just a little? Maybe they had forgived him just...just a bit more.

Finally being able to control himself, the Al Sylian grinned sadly at the crowd, his face flushed with pride, and gave them an exquiste little dance that collapsed into a deep bow. He repeated this two more times, one for each side of the stage, before he turned away and began picking up the wooden swords and daggers from their perfect circle. Once he had delicately collected them all into his arms, Mirror gave the audience one more curt bow of his head and stepped down from the stage.

As he made his way past the crowd, the Al Sylian strangely began to feel a dizzyness warp his body. He blinked at the strange feeling, unsure of what it was, and tried to walk back to his friends. Soon, after he had taken a dozen more steps, Mirror watched as his sight sagged and his mind began to ache as if he had strained his mind too far or too long with flying. Well, that was odd. Why would he be feeling like this? What did he do that made him...

The words.

He forgot to say the words after the dance! He was supposed to wait for five measures of the song to elapse and then he was supposed to say the words! The audience...They must've thought that the dance was over. HIs concentration broke and he had forgotten to say the words. Unlike other dances, Mirror's dance actually created a thick and concentrated amount of psychic energy. It was what the Al Sylians do before certain ceremonies where they needed to generate massive amounts of energy to be used. If the words weren't said to close and stop the generation of energy, then it would continue sapping energy from Mirror's mind until it had everything. The creation was going out of control! The uncomplete strain of the dance was now taking its toll upon the small Al Sylian's body and Mirror dropped some of the swords as he threw a palm to his head.

He had no hope of regaining a little redemption from his victims now.

Breathing hard, the Al Sylian struggled to move his tongue to shape the words and somehow save himself from completely being drained, but he couldn't. His gold eyes widened until his pupil nearly took over his entire iris. He was already too far gone to shape words with his mouth. Mirror was only a couple yards away from his friends when he slowly stumbled to a stop, his hand upon his head, and collapsed like a crumbling statue.

The young widow put a hand to her head. Something was wrong. She could not put her finger on it. Theron grew quiet as mother & son felt the psychic energies with their latent psychic talent sensing it, knowing what it was on some inner level but not knowing anything on all others.

Talk to him. Our way. Trelweny was too far gone, in too deep in her own mind to question they kyunru's voice within. *Mirror... Mirror... You're not alone. You can do it. We're with you.* Again on some level the latent talent felt her son & Keyna's minds with hers. The empathy she employed daily pressed her to add to the mental assurances *Mirror, you can do it* though she did not know why.

Myranda supported her friend, and glared at the kunkun until Tien was quiet. She knew what had most likely affected the human woman -at least as far as Trelweny's own skills were concerned. She was certain that like other such bouts this too would pass. Note: as Timex programmed, must work more closely with getting Trelweny to accept & train her gifts.

As for Trelweny, she would not remember any of this but a "funny sensation of energy " once it was over.

((I so rarely throw "my" latent telepath/empath abilities out so fully, but I figured a massive amount of psychic energy nearby/around would probably effect "me" (& Theron) in some way. If I've totally got the wrong idea about the psychic energy please feel free to bonk me or something & I'll edit if need be. *huggles*))

Lying upon the ground, Mirror couldn't hear the squeals and gasps from the crowd. He couldn't hear the cries or the uneasy panicked colloquy. He simply laid there, his gold eyes still open wide and his mouth gaping open as if he had just been shot through the head with an invisible bullet. That's how it felt like actually. An incredible swelling like the thunderhead storms over plains, an exquiste weight compressing from all sides, a burning heat that didn't feel hot. Mirror felt as if he were some poor lump of coal that was tucked away in the bosom of the earth, moaning as the weight of the world pressed down upon him and tried to make him turn into a diamond. The figures all around him had melted away in his vision and blurred together. It frightened him. He didn't know who was good or who was bad. He assumed that there were friends nearby, but not even that thought could calm him. As he breathed, it felt as if he were breathing in plasma. The air was so thick around him and he knew that his mind was doing something to it. Compressing it almost. It felt as if a cocoon was being tightly woven around his small mute body. He felt like he wanted to scream, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even blink his eyes. All he could do was twitch his tongue and jaw, and squeeze the muscles in his wings so that they stuck out awkwardly.

In his mind he felt a soft prodding, like someone was trying to speak to him. He was too far gone to comprehend it. The psychic strain he was feeling was beginning to tear away at his mind. He had to stop the drainage or release it somehow, but he simply couldn't access anything inside his body that would help. It was within him and he couldn't reach.

Myranda nodded as the nalgae looked their way, taking the woman by the arms and directing her to follow the others. Her cold aqua eyes imparted little her dislike of following a man, but the GaiaCom knew she had not been programmed or designed for leading. Besides, Trelweny needed her -and she had been programmed for that.

The child clung to his mother's hair & ears but seemed more aware of where they were going than she did. Trelweny was almost more like a robot than the GaiaCom that guided her steps. Her untrained mind was focused on only two things -holding onto Theron & continuing her strange message. *Mirror! You can do it! You know what you need to do, now do it! Focus! Be strong! You're not alone. You can do it. We're with you. You can do it!*

Terrified by the thoughts of bottles that Myranda usually threatened with, Tien remained oddly silent and landed on the witch's hat with violet eyes wide. The poor kun wondered what was wrong with its 'pelae' that neither woman nor child spoke. Caylee hopped from Myranda's shoulder to the kyunru's back, whose only reaction was a quick fluttering of the wings as Keyna mentally supported her human bond. She more than anyone understood the human woman's uncertainty with her psychic abilities. Through their mental link the fae kyunru knew Trelweny's thoughts & feelings. Like the GaiaCom -though she could not know it- Keyna agreed that Trelweny would have to come to terms with her talents. As her inability to control her gifts at a time such as this made poignantly clear.

Quaking softly, Mirror do little but moan and twitch his small body in Shade's arms. His golden eyes were lolled back into his head and his mouth was now beginning to drip drool. Every so often the Al Sylian would even choke upon his own drool and convulse with choking gasps before his throat was forced open and he quickly swallowed.

Mirror could very well feel his fingers tingle and curl up like withering fronds as his blood flow was slowed and restricted by the stress upon his brain. He had never known what it felt like before, this untamed and unlimited mental power and now that it swelled upon him, Mirror was scared. He couldn't catch the reigns or reel in what he had let gone out of control.