"Testimonial #2: Chance is Always There"

Where: No Idea

When: No Idea

Who: NPC...personal pgc, not for a large use at all, or by any without request. Just for the post.

No one knows my story. No one's ever really heard it enough to realize they could listen. It's a song on the wind. The melody that seems to evade your mind even though it's on the tip of your tongue and is just outside your reach.

I'm ages old. And yet I was born a second ago. I am as strong as the wind. As breakable as the water. I am all that embodies Chance, and all that is the day, the moments you can change your life and remake you. I, Barakeil, Chance, The Choice of Chance, choose when to speak and when to give the chance again. And yet always.

But maybe that's all I am. Or perhaps all I was supposed to be.

Maybe that's why my story seems to start with that fateful day. A day like every other up here. It's was bright outside, white; music ethereal, the sighs of joy and the peace wafted like a heavy scent of pure ecstatic joy.

It was a day like any other. And she- she was just like all the others like her.

A sinner. A major. All defiance and anger trapped in a small corporeal form. Taken from the world because the Arc's were worried for what they saw her do, and saw her potential to do.

Her. Ah, how do I start with her? She has beauty, very beautiful, yes. But we…our kind, can't be fooled and tricked with the outer beauty so much. But she is beautiful. More beautiful than many I ever met, and there are so many. It being only one of the reasons why she is the one out of millions who I follow wherever, whenever, try to help.

She was -is- a child, and a bitch. She a temptress, and frightened little girl. A playful tease, and a hard minded tactician. She is a warrior, and a lover. A poet, and a killer. She could amaze you with a simple word, a slight of her hand, or kill you in less three seconds.

So of course, she was as she was then. And I hated her. She was all I despised. Someone who sucked life, smothered the breath out of hearts and gorged themselves in the blood of innocence.

It was even, almost fair, in a sardonic way. We hated her. She hated HIM, and us.

She is still a child to me. And yet she is a Goddess. My dearest and most loved Lord, absolve me of that thought. She carries herself through life like she is. But she is flawed, yet always trying, and maybe, just maybe, that's what makes her perfection.

Ahh. Little killer in her silks and leathers then, and again when weaves her wills, so different the next morning from the life she remembered. One night a haunted and hungry whore for some man with power and money, who would have been wrapped around her finger within that week and the next morning an enlightened and shunned member of the Heavenly accord. Not by her choice, mind you. By HIS...or by the Arc's.

And shunned for her given appearance. The black wings. The forsaken. The unforgiven. And I? Her watcher of course. Well not hers specifically. I got them all when they came. She would get the same chance they all got. It had been long whispered she was simply dead now as she'd been alive. Just dead in a living body.

And yet now to think...if they could only see her smile, or hear her true laugh, see the tears of pain and the sound of her anguish when she actually let go. If they ever got a chance to see the real her. It is love. In a fashion. She is the unattainable. One not of us, and not of them. She isn't anything anyone's truly ready for and she's never really been ready to live or smart enough not to just leap in completely and loose herself.

It was months before we had a real conversation. I barely said a word to her for that long. She deserved as such till she could prove atleast a wit that wasn't brash or stupid. They all did. Or so I had figured then. Maybe I've just gotten soft because I've seen worse and know that they still can't come close. They wouldn't know how.

Her name is Casse...but few ever live to know her long enough to touch the true Casse. She introduces them to the masks.

Riven..the thief. Smart little girl. Electrical, technology, hacker. Knows her way around your gun, like she does your body. Wants to break you in two. Hates the words 'commit' and 'exclusive' but wants you to rock her world till the sun comes up, and you realize she's given you the slip and the night of your life. You could never forget her.

Tandy...ah, so few and so many saw this face. Beautiful child, and teacher. Peaceful as the bending grass in the sway of the wind. Tempered. Compassionate to no fault. Easy to get along with. Willing to give you space and time to blossom. Pushes you for your full potential with soft hands and a warm heart. You love her.

SpellSong...She knew everything you couldn't conceive of. She spoke of God, and the Endless, as if they were children each. To her you're nothing if you can't help her, or she can't step on you. She can hide from you, make do whatever she wants you to do with a touch or the sound of her voice. She hates distraction, and adores her thrill, even at the cost of your life. You want hate her.

HeartAche...Child in tears, with your life in her fingers. She comes close to the quick, but no longer can make the kill. She chokes, and she hurts you for her choke, even while she does worse to herself inside. She tosses you out a window, waiting for you to beg back. Accepting you in a moment, for something that resembles safe or something that resembles love and need. She is shattered. Wants you to bleed, to cry for her. Maybe she needs you to because she can't. You don't know, but you want to save her.

SpellSong, revisited...a killer in a petticoat, and a little of everyone you adore.* She was a drink of water to you standing in a dessert you haven't realized. So jaded, and so in need, without showing. So beautiful, and dying on the inside. She'd kill you for looking at her wrong, and love you just for hating her. So twisted by time and tide, searching for the way to make it right. To make herself right. Fighting to break the pattern…..fighting to free herself at your expense. You want her dead.

I've seen them all, watched her grow, die, be reborn, resurface. I've watched her take pride in killing new born babies, and cry at the death of a child who never was. I've watched her find peace, and have it torn from her so fast she lost ever ounce it had given her, even her sanity.

I love her.

She is my bane. My child. The one I will watch over till time is done, or she gone. Whichever come first.

I do not look to her death, even though I could see it if I wished.

But I will watch over this beautiful, half-angel, lost child, till the moon sets in her eyes, and her heart fills in like the sea. And when she finds peace, there will be like none have ever seen. And maybe then I will rest to find another who needs of me more than see...when Casse sees peace. If Casse sees peace.

When she cane pick up the pieces of the deaths of mother, sister, extended family, son...and the heart break of father, brother and lover...and forgive herself the trespasses she takes of those and, more deeply, of herself.

When I find that pure joy in her as was when she was young, or the deep contentment in her I saw in Japan and the true peace when she understood the music of Heaven.

Until that day..I'll be the angel on her shoulder, for all that that implies of a woman-child so hell bent, helping her try to see the light, giving her the whisperings of the truth of the love she won't let herself have in her life again.

From this day...until till that last.

For I am all that embodies Chance, and all that is the day, the moments you can change your life and remake you. I, Barakeil, Chance, The Choice of Chance, choose when to speak and when to give the chance again. And yet always.

I give her that chance, which will always be out held, till the day she might see...she is not so lost as she is to herself, and thinks she is to her world and all she still holds with love. She still has a chance.

no tags.....just a testimonial

* - a line from "Baby June", SIP, Terry Moore