Gypsy's Song
**Discalimer...Alas I do not own or have copyright to Han Solo...darn kids...He belongs to the god that is Lucas!! Heh... All others are mine**
Pink clouds stretched lazily across a purple bed as the sun retreated to sleep and woke the moon. Surrounding mountains changed in the sun's shadow from evergreen to deep blues and blacks.
A lone figure stood atop one of the changeling peaks, overseeing the day's close. Soft winds arose whispering the clouds on. Mingled with the breeze was a sweet soprano as gold as the morning's dawn. It was the voice of the figure.
As the moon awoke he shown down through clouds trying to glance at the singing figure. Slowly he rose peering over the obstructers.
In the moonlight the figure seemed to blend in with the settling night, for it was shrouded in a black hooded cloak that trailed the ground. Graceful hands appeared removing the hood as the last note of the song swam away in it's own echo.
The face was delicately featured; dark skinned. One brown, and one bright blue eye sparkled in the limited light. At first glance the face appeared human, yet at closer inspection it was feline.
A man came up behind the feline creature, he was tall, dark haried, and human. He smiled at the creature, then peered over the edge of the peak. Slowly he brought his hand to his chin rubbing a small scar, then spoke," I ain't seen anything this beautiful in while."
The humanoid smiled, taking on a mock Irish accent, her imitation almost perfect, "Aye, Ah alwaz kneuw that Irreland was one of the most bautiful Countries Earth had."
The tall man came over to the alien, looking down at her in a sideways glance. Curiosity blazed in his deep brown eyes. "Yeah. What kinda' song was that you were singin'? It sure ain't in Zantoren."
" Gaelic trraslation of'ah funeral song. My mentorr, Gypsy, was half'ah Irrish, his ansectorrs came from'ah herre and Egypt." The alien had a unique accent all her own, sounding like none he had ever heard before, he smiled to himself, looked at her, then turned. Facing the valley below, he sat down dangling his feet over the steep drop, "Ya , brought 'em here to bury 'em in his homeland?"
"Yes, dis was hisa favrroite spod to prractice and'a trrain me, heh grow up arround herre and always said dhat dis was the most brreathtaking place on Irreland." Slowly she walked from the edge of the peak. Her path took to her to a lush green hill with a wooden marker atop a fresh mound of earth. The marker was large, Gaelic and standard English were carved exquisitely on it.
"Hey, Lexi! Where'd ya go?" Her companion jumped up following in the direction she had gone.
"Ov'ah herre." Lexi pushed the right side of her cloak over her shoulder and removed a saucer shaped weapon from her belt. It's metal flashed in the night and the gold paint seemed to shimmer. Emeralds and sapphires that were imbedded in the weapon every few inches winked up at her as she rotated the item. She ran her finger along it's sharp edge, fighting a silent battle with her emotions.
As her friend came behind her he stopped, sensing the tension that seemed to rise in the fast coming mist of the night. He moved to speak, but stopped, rubbed the nape of his neck and fell back in silence.
In front of him Lexi was loosing her battle. Her eyes were shut tight and hot tears slid down her cheeks. Her hands wrapped around the weapon and her blood flowed along it's edge as freely as her tears. In a fit of anger and loss she screamed, flinging the object frisbee fashion. It shrieked through the night burrowing itself into the wooden marker and leaving burn marks as it settled.
Lexi fell to her knees, sobbing she rocked herself back and forth. Her hands trembled and smeared her face with blood as she brought her hands to the bridge of her nose. She cried out Gypsy's name to the heavens, but only her own distraught echo cried back.
Her friend ran forward instantly, dropping beside her. Blindly she reached for him and he held her, stroking her head and rocking her as mother would an ailing child.
"Wh-why Han, why? Heh was like a fatherr to me." Her voice was strained, small and child like.
Han shook his head, beginning to cry himself. All he could offer was his love and comfort.
**Discalimer...Alas I do not own or have copyright to Han Solo...darn kids...He belongs to the god that is Lucas!! Heh... All others are mine**
Pink clouds stretched lazily across a purple bed as the sun retreated to sleep and woke the moon. Surrounding mountains changed in the sun's shadow from evergreen to deep blues and blacks.
A lone figure stood atop one of the changeling peaks, overseeing the day's close. Soft winds arose whispering the clouds on. Mingled with the breeze was a sweet soprano as gold as the morning's dawn. It was the voice of the figure.
As the moon awoke he shown down through clouds trying to glance at the singing figure. Slowly he rose peering over the obstructers.
In the moonlight the figure seemed to blend in with the settling night, for it was shrouded in a black hooded cloak that trailed the ground. Graceful hands appeared removing the hood as the last note of the song swam away in it's own echo.
The face was delicately featured; dark skinned. One brown, and one bright blue eye sparkled in the limited light. At first glance the face appeared human, yet at closer inspection it was feline.
A man came up behind the feline creature, he was tall, dark haried, and human. He smiled at the creature, then peered over the edge of the peak. Slowly he brought his hand to his chin rubbing a small scar, then spoke," I ain't seen anything this beautiful in while."
The humanoid smiled, taking on a mock Irish accent, her imitation almost perfect, "Aye, Ah alwaz kneuw that Irreland was one of the most bautiful Countries Earth had."
The tall man came over to the alien, looking down at her in a sideways glance. Curiosity blazed in his deep brown eyes. "Yeah. What kinda' song was that you were singin'? It sure ain't in Zantoren."
" Gaelic trraslation of'ah funeral song. My mentorr, Gypsy, was half'ah Irrish, his ansectorrs came from'ah herre and Egypt." The alien had a unique accent all her own, sounding like none he had ever heard before, he smiled to himself, looked at her, then turned. Facing the valley below, he sat down dangling his feet over the steep drop, "Ya , brought 'em here to bury 'em in his homeland?"
"Yes, dis was hisa favrroite spod to prractice and'a trrain me, heh grow up arround herre and always said dhat dis was the most brreathtaking place on Irreland." Slowly she walked from the edge of the peak. Her path took to her to a lush green hill with a wooden marker atop a fresh mound of earth. The marker was large, Gaelic and standard English were carved exquisitely on it.
"Hey, Lexi! Where'd ya go?" Her companion jumped up following in the direction she had gone.
"Ov'ah herre." Lexi pushed the right side of her cloak over her shoulder and removed a saucer shaped weapon from her belt. It's metal flashed in the night and the gold paint seemed to shimmer. Emeralds and sapphires that were imbedded in the weapon every few inches winked up at her as she rotated the item. She ran her finger along it's sharp edge, fighting a silent battle with her emotions.
As her friend came behind her he stopped, sensing the tension that seemed to rise in the fast coming mist of the night. He moved to speak, but stopped, rubbed the nape of his neck and fell back in silence.
In front of him Lexi was loosing her battle. Her eyes were shut tight and hot tears slid down her cheeks. Her hands wrapped around the weapon and her blood flowed along it's edge as freely as her tears. In a fit of anger and loss she screamed, flinging the object frisbee fashion. It shrieked through the night burrowing itself into the wooden marker and leaving burn marks as it settled.
Lexi fell to her knees, sobbing she rocked herself back and forth. Her hands trembled and smeared her face with blood as she brought her hands to the bridge of her nose. She cried out Gypsy's name to the heavens, but only her own distraught echo cried back.
Her friend ran forward instantly, dropping beside her. Blindly she reached for him and he held her, stroking her head and rocking her as mother would an ailing child.
"Wh-why Han, why? Heh was like a fatherr to me." Her voice was strained, small and child like.
Han shook his head, beginning to cry himself. All he could offer was his love and comfort.