A/N: Hey, so this is just a short little poemfic on Lydia being a banshee. Honestly, I can't believe I didn't realize it before with all of her screaming every five seconds, and I'm glad that she isn't something really stupid...not that a banshee is reasonable either, cuz hey, we haven't had enough random mythical creatures running around, let's add in another shall we?
But anyway, I haven't written a fic for this fandom in a lonnnggg time, like back in the day when there weren't even 300 fics for this show and now there are over 8,000!? Way to go fandom. That is impressive! I just wrote this because there didn't seem to be much Lydia love out there and she's my new favorite character, replacing Allison after she took some psycho pills and went off the crazy train, and second only to Peter cuz I love the manipulative bastard :)
But again, sidetracked...please enjoy this poem that rather metaphorically speaks about Lydia's troubles and the chaos around her. Reviews/feedback of any kind is lovely!
Banshee
The Wailing Woman sings her song
A sad and mournful dirge,
Across the hills and down the dales
To another amongst the purge.
Fifteen cries now hit their peaks
The loudest and the last,
All five knots are now complete
Limitations far surpassed.
All strained and broken in battle
And wearied and worn from war,
The tides are turning in faster
They have come to settle the score.
With eyes that burn like fire
They color the sky in blood,
With intentions to ravage their sanity
And leave their banks to flood.
But the sound of her song carries
Across the hallowed ground,
Over all the ones still keeping
And the ones who think they sleep sound.
She wishes to do much more than chant
While those she love meet demise,
For songs alone are not enough to aide
Only death can spawn from her cries.
Naught a warrior, nor a wise man
The name they donned her was idle,
For this was who she really was
The Woman Who Knew Too Little.
