He always did love her voice.
He had, at one point, accidentally heard her sing, when she had thought he had fallen asleep in the too-short hospital bed. She was simply whispering, her head drooping onto the firm edge of the mattress as drowsiness overtook her. The tune was coming to a halting stop as she dozed… until a slender finger as laid gently on her shoulder, quietly complimenting her on her voice.
It was the only time he heard it. And yet, he always brought it up, somehow. Never jesting, just pointing to the fact that it went so unappreciated by all except him. And then he would ask her to someday sing for him, at a moment of peace that he could really listen.
Now, she owed it to him.
The expanse of sky around Holly was a pale gray, with only the slightest hint of its normal vivid blue. Clouds obscured any sun beams that would even dare burst through, leading the eyes path down to the verdant green below. Hills stretched out in a patchwork of hues, typical of Eire's handiwork. This scene gave the world kind of a contrasting quality: muted tones above, vibrant colors below.
There were only six people present, each gathered around the grave in a solemn order, watching in sad silence. The priest had left a long while ago, leaving the family to their selves. The burial, it seemed, was up to them.
The coffin remained open yet, displaying Artemis's serene features to the world. Both Juliet and Holly had gently, caressingly, touched up the abrasions not covered by clothing: a slight bruise at his temple, a long, thin slice along his brow, a burn at his chin. Each was so carefully covered that it was unnoticeable now. Only pale skin remained. But it wasn't like its normal pallor; stark and blunt, sticking out of the surroundings so obviously it hurt the eyes. Now, it seemed soft, absorbing the pale light around them and glowing in it. He seemed… entrancingly beautiful.
And that was the skin alone. His face held an expression she oft wanted him to sport, but now wished was replaced by the normal sarcastic, cunning look. His brow was not furrowed, his eyes gentle and closed in natural- if eternal- sleep. His lips, usually spouting observations or a cutting comment, now were closed and, if one looked close enough, seemed to be mid-question, puckered and opened as if a sound would suddenly rise from his throat. Like he wasn't really dead.
Holly bit her lip and ran a finger down the wood of the coffin. It was smooth and soft, coated in a honey-colored stain. The grain twisted and turned as if connecting so many lines into one band. It reminded her of life, of the way they all connected. Not just the general populace, but Artemis and the fairies. They were never supposed to meet. Never supposed to exist as a singular force.
She sank down into the soft, moist peat and leaned her face over the edge of the coffin, looking closely at Artemis's features. His soft, thick raven hair. His pale skin. Pink lips. The small ear that always seemed to be overlapped by one certain section of hair. The slight indentation that thinking left him, right beside his right eyebrow.
These were all things she'd miss.
The adventures. The feeling of accomplishment once they succeeded. Then the sudden absence of adrenaline that caused them both to frequently fall asleep on shuttle rides. The bond that tied them tighter, like a noose, each time they met. Each time, drawing them closer together. Both knowing it would lead to the inevitable fate of death.
Gone.
And she owed him a song.
She lifted a wild rose petal, its soft edges folding its velvety length around her coffee finger. Around her was strewn hundreds more, each making a path from coffin to grave painted in colors of orange and gold.
A breeze blew past her, carrying the petal across the verdant green hill and down the meadows.
As whisper grew, at the back of her throat, eventually climbing its way out into song. The family watched in stunned silence as she pushed every fiber of magic into her voice.
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Her voice was smooth and sultry, with an obvious hint of the old blood in her, bringing out an Irish accent and an enchanting phonation.
The wind pushed harder, bringing with it more petals that curled around the spectators and whipped Holly's hair. She closed her eyes as the red hair flew into her face, contrasting the black lashes and elfin features.
I wish I was on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill
And every tear would turn a mill
Is go dté tú mo mhuirnín slán
Holly stood, hand sliding down the length of the coffin. The grass surrounding them and on the hills beyond swirled and sounded with an intense roar, echoing her voice in harmony.
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
The oak tree above bent and whipped, it boughs spinning and swinging in rhythm with the song. The elf's face was upturned, feeling the magic coursing through her veins and the heat of power racing through her mind.
It was all for Artemis.
I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my only spinning wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel
Her voice rose to an amazing power, with the winds behind her and the trees as her drums. Orange petals circled around her at a dizzying speed until she was almost blurred from view.
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
Angeline gasped as she felt the brush of the petals, their scent almost identical to Artemis's: a hint of spice, nature and sea. He was… here. With them.
I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red
And through the streets I'll beg my bread
Until my parents shall wish me dead
Holly opened her eyes, vivid turquoise blue and hazel against the bright orange. This was for Artemis.
For her friend, who was so much more.
For her partner, who had done so much more.
For her life, which would never be more than it was with him.
For her love, who would never be.
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I had my heart again
And vainly think I'd not complain
As the petals settled, as the trees calmed and the grasses slowed, she sighed and sank back into the peat. All of her energy was gone, her hearts empty and her sadness engulfing.
But she looked, once more at the face of Artemis. And a subtle change had occurred.
He was smiling.
Smiling, because he had finally, after these years of hardship, reached bliss.
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún
Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
The obscure we see eventually. The completely obvious, it seems, takes longer.
~Edward R. Murrow
'Suil a Ruin' translates into 'Walk, my love.' It is an old Irish folk song that is so… beautiful. I love it. :) Link is in my profile for it. 'Suil a Ruin' By Celtic Woman.
On another hand, I am ssssooo sorry for my long absence. But there are actually some very good reasons.
How long have I been gone? Since November?
Ya… my computer died. Something in the motherboard: All files gone.
Sigh.
So I had to go about recovering those. And then…
Writer's Block struck majorly.
So ya. I'm working on it, ya'll. I am about four paragraphs away from updated both 'Purgatory of the Angels' and 'Rain Over Shamrocks'. But I can't get it. They sound… awkward.
Anyway, encouragement is appreciated. This story is my attempt at rejuvenating myself.
Hi. :)