Having one's mind stuck in a body with three other girls who definitely
~did not~ want to be there was not fun, Briar found. Especially not when
one's teachers could currently not help you out of this predicament. And
when one's students were sniggering about it.
No, Briar was definitely not in a good mood at all. On the contrary ... he was in a very bad mood, amused, yet bad mood. Tris still had complete control of her body, but there were three other minds crowded in her brain. She had barely managed to put up a shield and keep them from reading her private thoughts. Tris was in a very bad mood. So was Sandry. And Daja. From the sound of it, Daja had been in a very elaborate self-pitying mood when she was dragged into Tris's mind by who knew what. And Sandry had been talking to Linden. Lady Sandrilene had been talking to Lord Linden, Briar mentally corrected. Although it was somewhat amusing to have his mind-self sit back while the girls' mind-selves argued relentlessly, it was getting tiring.
Especially since they were starting in on him.
"How come you've not done a thing to help so far?" Tris's mind-self demanded, whirling on him, venting her anger.
"It's been too much fun watching you three fight like kittens." Oops. Wrong thing to say. While beforehand, the girls had been antagonistic towards each other as well, they now turned as one person. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The three girls had come to the same conclusions as their mind-selves advanced upon his mind-self.
As Briar found his mind-self being chased around Tris's mind, he idly wondered what his realy body was doing at the moment. Had it collapsed in a dead faint? He helped not. Had it frozen in place? He hoped not. But chances were, it had done one of the two.
Finally, Niko's gentle voice came through. "Now try to get back to your own bodies."
Their teachers had attempted relentlessly to reopen the channels that had driven them all into Tris's mind. Nothing had worked so far. This attempt failed as well.
"Maybe one of us should attempt to use magic," Daja suggested. "Tris's magic got us here in the first place."
"No," Sandry shook her head. "We'd probably just end up in that person's body."
None of them voiced the thought in their heads. Should either of them attempt to use magic, what would happen if the magic would not come to their beck and call. If they felt the emptiness and loneliness all the more acutely. And to feel it while your ex-friends, your ex-Circle-mates were watching you. That would be embarassing. It would wreck all semblance they had of a good appearance.
Brair looked around him. Pride comes before a fall, he remembered. And he wondered who would fall first. Who would collapse and lose his or her dignity? It would not be Daja. Traders were know for their haughty dignity, which kept their race proud despite the prejudices against them. Traders made an art of pride. It would not be Sandry. Nobles were known for their pride. And not just pride. Thier haughtiness and smugness made nobles do the silliest things to prove their ranks. Sandry may have been a good chum a long time ago, but she could still draw on that haughtiness to become a noble through-and-through when she needed to. And she would not give in to her loneliness. Neither would it be Tris. Tris had a short fuse and a large temper, but she was good at holding grudges. And her pride was also one that had been tested time and again, and had not failed her. She would not be the one to lose her dignity.
He was the street-boy. He had not even known the meaning of the word "pride" before coming to Winding Circle. They had definitely spoiled him. While pride had been a once foreign concept to him, it was now ingrained into is bones. He knew that he had made this complaint before, lodged it to his conscience. His conscience had ignored him, and his pride had taken over. He was the one who had not been brought up with pride instilled in him. And from the looks of it, he would be the first to fall.
"I'll try it," he said impassively. He saw something he did not recognize flicker over Tris's eyes as he said this, and he saw a wince from Daja. Obvsiouly, both had been thinking about the past as well.
But Sandry said not a word. Her face was blank and cold. She was ice.
Sighing, Briar closed his eyes. Meditating was something he did often, convicincing himself that it wasn't exactly magic. Slowly, he felt his mind-self become at peace. And he reached inside himself, to that wellspring of magic, and began encouraging it to grow. It hurt at first, because he was not used to doing this alone. But gradually, a willow tree began to grow, swaying back and forth as it formed.
He only needed to do something simple. Just to see if his magic still worked.
He breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. Slowly, he urged Rosethorn's plants to grow, tendrils reaching out and ensnaring the doorknob, pulling it open in such an eerie way. He was unaware of the presence ...
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+
The evil in the distance wavered. It had been searching for Lord Linden and Tasmindu Weaver. But now it was halted. Where once it had felt no power to match it, now it felt the power of four. The combined power of four. The evil began to take shape in its anger. What emerged was something not human.
It was a formless shape, a wraith, clothed in a black cloak with a long, drooping hood that hid his face from view. (a/n: imagine Dementors.) The lower half of its body faded into nothingness, resembling a ghost, just a pale, luminscent green. The top half had arms that stretched out. The sleeves slowly fell back to reveal withered, long, groping appendages where hands should have been. They each had five tendrils, one shorter than the rest, somewhat resmbling a hand and its fingers, but they were wrinkled, revelaing bone, and were the white-yellow color of death. And slowly, the things that might have been called hands pulled back its hood to reveal a monstrous void.
There were no eyes, only shriveled eye sockets with black emptines in them that seemed to glare balefully around it. There was no nose, only small slits resembling that of a snake. There was no mouth, but instead a gaping maw of nothing but yellow, cracked teeth. As it opened its mouth-like hole, a faint green light breezed out, emitting a despicable, nasty odor.
"The Four are here," it hissed. While before, its voice had only rasped, now its face made one wince as if there were fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. "The Four that backed the accursed Keystone so long ago are here today, protecting her unfathomable ancestors. But they are weak, vulnerable, susceptible. They will fall one by one, and I shall watch them ... and laugh."
And slowly the night faded as day arrived, even as night was falling at Winding Circle.
And the evil had arisen.
To be continued ...
I have been posting up shorter and shorter chapters ... but more and more frequently. Is anybody proud of me? :)
No, Briar was definitely not in a good mood at all. On the contrary ... he was in a very bad mood, amused, yet bad mood. Tris still had complete control of her body, but there were three other minds crowded in her brain. She had barely managed to put up a shield and keep them from reading her private thoughts. Tris was in a very bad mood. So was Sandry. And Daja. From the sound of it, Daja had been in a very elaborate self-pitying mood when she was dragged into Tris's mind by who knew what. And Sandry had been talking to Linden. Lady Sandrilene had been talking to Lord Linden, Briar mentally corrected. Although it was somewhat amusing to have his mind-self sit back while the girls' mind-selves argued relentlessly, it was getting tiring.
Especially since they were starting in on him.
"How come you've not done a thing to help so far?" Tris's mind-self demanded, whirling on him, venting her anger.
"It's been too much fun watching you three fight like kittens." Oops. Wrong thing to say. While beforehand, the girls had been antagonistic towards each other as well, they now turned as one person. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The three girls had come to the same conclusions as their mind-selves advanced upon his mind-self.
As Briar found his mind-self being chased around Tris's mind, he idly wondered what his realy body was doing at the moment. Had it collapsed in a dead faint? He helped not. Had it frozen in place? He hoped not. But chances were, it had done one of the two.
Finally, Niko's gentle voice came through. "Now try to get back to your own bodies."
Their teachers had attempted relentlessly to reopen the channels that had driven them all into Tris's mind. Nothing had worked so far. This attempt failed as well.
"Maybe one of us should attempt to use magic," Daja suggested. "Tris's magic got us here in the first place."
"No," Sandry shook her head. "We'd probably just end up in that person's body."
None of them voiced the thought in their heads. Should either of them attempt to use magic, what would happen if the magic would not come to their beck and call. If they felt the emptiness and loneliness all the more acutely. And to feel it while your ex-friends, your ex-Circle-mates were watching you. That would be embarassing. It would wreck all semblance they had of a good appearance.
Brair looked around him. Pride comes before a fall, he remembered. And he wondered who would fall first. Who would collapse and lose his or her dignity? It would not be Daja. Traders were know for their haughty dignity, which kept their race proud despite the prejudices against them. Traders made an art of pride. It would not be Sandry. Nobles were known for their pride. And not just pride. Thier haughtiness and smugness made nobles do the silliest things to prove their ranks. Sandry may have been a good chum a long time ago, but she could still draw on that haughtiness to become a noble through-and-through when she needed to. And she would not give in to her loneliness. Neither would it be Tris. Tris had a short fuse and a large temper, but she was good at holding grudges. And her pride was also one that had been tested time and again, and had not failed her. She would not be the one to lose her dignity.
He was the street-boy. He had not even known the meaning of the word "pride" before coming to Winding Circle. They had definitely spoiled him. While pride had been a once foreign concept to him, it was now ingrained into is bones. He knew that he had made this complaint before, lodged it to his conscience. His conscience had ignored him, and his pride had taken over. He was the one who had not been brought up with pride instilled in him. And from the looks of it, he would be the first to fall.
"I'll try it," he said impassively. He saw something he did not recognize flicker over Tris's eyes as he said this, and he saw a wince from Daja. Obvsiouly, both had been thinking about the past as well.
But Sandry said not a word. Her face was blank and cold. She was ice.
Sighing, Briar closed his eyes. Meditating was something he did often, convicincing himself that it wasn't exactly magic. Slowly, he felt his mind-self become at peace. And he reached inside himself, to that wellspring of magic, and began encouraging it to grow. It hurt at first, because he was not used to doing this alone. But gradually, a willow tree began to grow, swaying back and forth as it formed.
He only needed to do something simple. Just to see if his magic still worked.
He breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. Slowly, he urged Rosethorn's plants to grow, tendrils reaching out and ensnaring the doorknob, pulling it open in such an eerie way. He was unaware of the presence ...
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+
The evil in the distance wavered. It had been searching for Lord Linden and Tasmindu Weaver. But now it was halted. Where once it had felt no power to match it, now it felt the power of four. The combined power of four. The evil began to take shape in its anger. What emerged was something not human.
It was a formless shape, a wraith, clothed in a black cloak with a long, drooping hood that hid his face from view. (a/n: imagine Dementors.) The lower half of its body faded into nothingness, resembling a ghost, just a pale, luminscent green. The top half had arms that stretched out. The sleeves slowly fell back to reveal withered, long, groping appendages where hands should have been. They each had five tendrils, one shorter than the rest, somewhat resmbling a hand and its fingers, but they were wrinkled, revelaing bone, and were the white-yellow color of death. And slowly, the things that might have been called hands pulled back its hood to reveal a monstrous void.
There were no eyes, only shriveled eye sockets with black emptines in them that seemed to glare balefully around it. There was no nose, only small slits resembling that of a snake. There was no mouth, but instead a gaping maw of nothing but yellow, cracked teeth. As it opened its mouth-like hole, a faint green light breezed out, emitting a despicable, nasty odor.
"The Four are here," it hissed. While before, its voice had only rasped, now its face made one wince as if there were fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. "The Four that backed the accursed Keystone so long ago are here today, protecting her unfathomable ancestors. But they are weak, vulnerable, susceptible. They will fall one by one, and I shall watch them ... and laugh."
And slowly the night faded as day arrived, even as night was falling at Winding Circle.
And the evil had arisen.
To be continued ...
I have been posting up shorter and shorter chapters ... but more and more frequently. Is anybody proud of me? :)