A/N: Okay, as some of you may know, I am utterly crazy, and this is me. Rambling. I don't know what the paige this is, but I know that most of you won't like/understand it. That's cool. But I've been quiet here on FFN and thought you could all do with a little KT on these warm October nights. In August.
So just accept these innane mumblings for just that; the continual flow of my mind, and I wrote just exactly what came to me. Flames are possibly even more welcome than nice reviews. Support your local KT!
*
And The Dead Unite
*
Prudence Halliwell doesn't like twinkly music. Oh no. No, it flat-out annoys her on most occasions. She was probably the only baby in the world who screamed in rage at the mobile suspended above her crib to satiate her curiousity and give her mother and grandmother a break from the continual racket of her cries. So we can only imagine her displeasure when, while basking in the warmth and security that heaven generally offers, she hears the tinkling of bells in her ears.
And she keeps hearing them.
One particularly bright and sunny day, she'd chosen to spend her quality leisure time at the beach, hanging out with her little heaven Piper and her little heaven Phoebe. These Pipers and Phoebes are not the real thing, but Prue attempts to solace herself this by acknowledging they will be here someday, even though that sounds like she wants them dead. In heaven, anything you want, will be. In Prue's heaven, she lives with her sisters and is married to Andy Trudeau, happily. Her mother is still alive and her father, Victor, is never anywhere to be seen. Her grandmother is also alive, and they are all happy. She even has a little girl, though she has no name. It's never brought up.
Of course, that isn't the way heaven is shaped for everybody else. For example, in Patricia Halliwell's heaven, she lives in union with her old Whitelighter Sam, and she is in her twenties, and she has two children; Prudence and Piper. The children are well-behaved. They are not witches. Penelope Halliwell rarely even pokes her head around the door in Patricia's heaven; it simply does not occur.
In so many ways, heaven is fabulous. Anything you wish to happen, will happen. People you knew on Earth can be reunited, living or dead, and behave any way you like.
But for those who know that? The poor souls who know that it can be perceived as a sham? It is very lonely.
Though the point here is not to discuss the aspects of, highlights and downfalls of heaven.
"It's not?"
No, Prue, it's not.
"Oh... I had some things I wanted to bring up about that, though."
Save it for the epilogue. Or someone who cares.
"Fine."
Where was I? Right, I think I was getting right to the point, which I seem to have taken a long time consider. Prue did not like tinkly music, and now all she was hearing was it bearing down on her ears, so loud it was like the buzzing of an inferno of bees, cursing at her and screaming at her.
Unable to take anymore, Prue enters The Real, where dead people can meet each other out of their own heavens, and have proper discussions with the actual people, rather than their own heavenly versions.
"It won't damn well shut up!" Prue yells to her grandmother, who takes on a soothing tone and frowns gently.
"Oh, Prue," she scolds lightly. "Didn't you know that's the call of the Elders? They wish to speak with you."
Anger presenting itself in Prue's scowl, the ghost stamps her foot on the cloudlike floor, and lenches her hands into tight fists by her sides. "Well why couldn't they have said that in the first place?" she growls loudly and with a brash, furious sigh, turns on her heel and stalks off to consult somebody else on how exactly she locates the Elders, who can be extremely evasive when they wish to be.
"Even when they want to see me," Prue agrees huffily.
Eventually she stumbles across a group of Whitelighters who are gawking at a new addition to heaven, a slim, attractive, twenty-something and lethal-looking brunette. They yelp in pain when Prue stumbles across them, knocking them over like in ten-pin bowling, but seeing as there's only five of them, so let's save a whole lot of headaches and call it five-pin.
One of them gets to his feet and adjusts his hood, before extending a hand to Prue. "You okay, miss Halliwell?" he asks gently, helping her to her feet. "You were stumbling at forty on a thirty-limit lane. I'm gonna have to give you a ticket."
Prue grumbles as the speeding ticket is plastered onto her forehead before ripping it off and stuffing it into her pocket. "You know, it's friggin' rude to put it on my face when I'm standing right here," she says, opposing his gesture to a situation where she had projected out of her body or something similar. And it is true, what he did was rude. But he is just spiteful because she wouldn't sleep with him the other week. "Now tell me, how do I get to the Elders?"
Rolling his eyes and sighing boldly, the Whitelighter shifts his weight and mutters a reply. "Straight ahead, left, then first on the right."
Thanking him curtly, Prue turns around and realises what she'd just been told doesn't make sense: The Real is an expansive place with no boundaries and most certainly no corridors or doors. However, looking over her shoulder, she sees the Whitelighter nodding encouragingly, so decides to give it a shot.
Walking dead ahead, making a straight line towards nowhere in particular, Prue slowly halts and turns right to a ninety degree angle, then makes a one-eighty upon realising she was supposed to turn left. Tutting at herself, she then takes the first right and finds herself in a completely different area, and most certainly not the one she has been expecting. "Dammit, Leo," she curses to herself the name of the Whitelighter who had directed her so wrongly (not to be confused with Leo Wyatt, however). "That petty bastard!"
Prue isn't in the Elders' chambers. Prue is hard-pushed to even hazard a guess at where she is at all.
In front of her lies a vast land, where the ground is made of red bricks and the sky seems to be confined in a square of light, covered with a protective film. A huge dog-like creature bounds across the brick ground just a little ahead of her, and leaps into an orange lake, spraying water for a huge distance around. Prue gets splashed with some of the orange water. She finds it thick and syrupy to the touch, and not in the slightest bit appealing.
A rodent squeaks around her feet, sniffing at her gingerly, it's whiskers furrowing and nose snuffling. Prue is not afraid, for some reason, as usually such a creature would repel her. As a matter of fact, she is beginning to feel drawn into this strange and mysterious, yet placid and cheerful world. Perhaps she would like to stay here a while.
Smiling, Prue proceeds further into the world, not seeing the huge black mist that has decended from the square of sky, the soul-eater comprised of smoke and pain, that wishes to devour her ghostly form from the inside.
Not every place in heaven is safe.
She does not see the dark cloud, blackened and cancerous, slowly trickle over to her and wrap itself around her leg, nor does she notice it when, frantic with anger at hearing the call of the Elders again, she spins on her heel and marches back out the way she'd come in, and the smoke is forced to untwine itself from her ankle; and she never will know how close she was to non-existance.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mutters under her breath, and makes her way through the space that is The Real with no real direction in mind. Eventually she decides to simply think about the Elders, close her eyes, and take three paces forwards. On the second, she has already arrived in the correct location. "Well finally," she breathes.
"So glad you could join us, Prudence," says one of the cloaked creatures.
"Well it would've been much faster if you'd just teleported me here," Prue snarls, already disenchanted with the Elders, more so than she had been on Earth. "So what is it?" she demands rudely, folding her arms and tapping her foot. "And it's Prue!" she adds, further adding to her own and the Elder's disgruntlement.
The Elder rubs at his face in an almost prayer-like action, and sighs. "Prue," he begins, emphasising the 'ooo' sound of her name in a very patronising manner. "You have been dead for two years now."
Blunt much?
"And I was also under the impression you guys were sensitive about this sort of thing," Prue growls, not really understanding why she's so angry, but accepting it all the same. "Look, just tell me: what do you want? Because all this jingling and jangling? Is so not making me smile, and you know, it makes your Whitelighters seem very campy when you consider how often they hear it and how they react to it..."
Of course she is thinking about Leo.
"Of course I am."
"Um... who are you talking to?"
Prue's attention snaps back to the Elder and she blinks, realising that he cannot hear, see or in anyway interpret the narrative of this story. "Weird," she mutters, then sniffs and shakes her hair a little. "Anyways, your point?"
"Right. You're going back to Earth."
The sound of Prue being utterly gobsmacked really does resemble a somewhat smug-on-the-Elder's-part silence. Somehow she summons words. "W-what? I can go back? To my sisters?" Prue is one of those few people that knows how fake the people she lives with in heaven are. It has depressed her thoroughly.
"Sisters? Oh, no, no of course not," the Elder says in the most diminuative voice Prue has ever heard in her life. And from that moment she hates him, and from that moment she knows things can only get worse. "No, no. You'll be teamed up with someone quite different to yourself."
"And what will we be doing, pray tell?" Prue inquires, a bemused glare plastered on her face.
"What you expect to be doing," the Elder replies.
Frowning, Prue narrows her eyes and makes herself taller. "Fighting evil?"
"Not as such," exhudes the Elder cryptically, as usual. "Not 'evil' as such."
"Well you hardly mean we'll be fighting good!" Prue chortles in a dismissive tone, then her face falls when she sees the look on the Elder's face. "You don't, do you? Because I'll walk right back out of that door-" as she speaks, she turns, and realises there is no door. As a matter of fact, there's no way out.
"Well I knew that," she complains irritably.
I know you did, Prue, but the readers-
"Shut up about the damn readers!"
"Who are you talking to?" asks the Elder once more, finding himself rather unnerved by Prue's sudden movements and changes in temperaments.
"No one IMPORTANT!" Prue yells, her face pointed upward objectively.
Fine. Anyways-
"Anyways," Prue butts in, "Who is this mystery partner, and what the heck are we gonna be fighting?"
"Well," begins the Elder, quite tired of being interrupted so often. "Your 'mystery partner' will be chosen by the Source, and you will be fighting whatever force comes up against you."
He'd had Prue at the Source. He'd had me at the Source. As for you, I have no idea, not being you, or being your life narrator (although I assure you, you all have one - when you think you're talking to yourself, uh uh, it's your narrator you're talking to) so can't really tell. However, it's sufficient enough to know that he had both Prue and I at the mention of the Source, and how he would be sending a partner for Prue to work with? Good and evil, working together? How can this be?
"Good and evil, working together? How can this be?" Prue... repeats.
"It just can!" snaps the Elder darkly. "Now get the hell out of here and stop asking annoying questions!"
With that, he claps his hands and there is a flash of lightning.
Prue finds herself utterly nude in a dark cavern.
There are clothes draped on a nearby stone, warmed by a flickering fire. Prue notes that it is ventilated, although she appears to be underground. With much annoyed sighing at the obviousness a man laid these out, she eventually pulls the leather pants and tight, black short-sleeved top before freezing upon hearing a familiar voice.
"Ah, you found the clothes I left out for you," it says.
"You're kidding me..." Prur utters, and turns to face him. "Cole," she nods curtly, keeping her greeting as void as possible. She still hates him. Well, who wouldn't? After all he put the Halliwells through, who could honestly forgive him, even like him? Only an insane person. Or a stupid one.
So just accept these innane mumblings for just that; the continual flow of my mind, and I wrote just exactly what came to me. Flames are possibly even more welcome than nice reviews. Support your local KT!
*
And The Dead Unite
*
Prudence Halliwell doesn't like twinkly music. Oh no. No, it flat-out annoys her on most occasions. She was probably the only baby in the world who screamed in rage at the mobile suspended above her crib to satiate her curiousity and give her mother and grandmother a break from the continual racket of her cries. So we can only imagine her displeasure when, while basking in the warmth and security that heaven generally offers, she hears the tinkling of bells in her ears.
And she keeps hearing them.
One particularly bright and sunny day, she'd chosen to spend her quality leisure time at the beach, hanging out with her little heaven Piper and her little heaven Phoebe. These Pipers and Phoebes are not the real thing, but Prue attempts to solace herself this by acknowledging they will be here someday, even though that sounds like she wants them dead. In heaven, anything you want, will be. In Prue's heaven, she lives with her sisters and is married to Andy Trudeau, happily. Her mother is still alive and her father, Victor, is never anywhere to be seen. Her grandmother is also alive, and they are all happy. She even has a little girl, though she has no name. It's never brought up.
Of course, that isn't the way heaven is shaped for everybody else. For example, in Patricia Halliwell's heaven, she lives in union with her old Whitelighter Sam, and she is in her twenties, and she has two children; Prudence and Piper. The children are well-behaved. They are not witches. Penelope Halliwell rarely even pokes her head around the door in Patricia's heaven; it simply does not occur.
In so many ways, heaven is fabulous. Anything you wish to happen, will happen. People you knew on Earth can be reunited, living or dead, and behave any way you like.
But for those who know that? The poor souls who know that it can be perceived as a sham? It is very lonely.
Though the point here is not to discuss the aspects of, highlights and downfalls of heaven.
"It's not?"
No, Prue, it's not.
"Oh... I had some things I wanted to bring up about that, though."
Save it for the epilogue. Or someone who cares.
"Fine."
Where was I? Right, I think I was getting right to the point, which I seem to have taken a long time consider. Prue did not like tinkly music, and now all she was hearing was it bearing down on her ears, so loud it was like the buzzing of an inferno of bees, cursing at her and screaming at her.
Unable to take anymore, Prue enters The Real, where dead people can meet each other out of their own heavens, and have proper discussions with the actual people, rather than their own heavenly versions.
"It won't damn well shut up!" Prue yells to her grandmother, who takes on a soothing tone and frowns gently.
"Oh, Prue," she scolds lightly. "Didn't you know that's the call of the Elders? They wish to speak with you."
Anger presenting itself in Prue's scowl, the ghost stamps her foot on the cloudlike floor, and lenches her hands into tight fists by her sides. "Well why couldn't they have said that in the first place?" she growls loudly and with a brash, furious sigh, turns on her heel and stalks off to consult somebody else on how exactly she locates the Elders, who can be extremely evasive when they wish to be.
"Even when they want to see me," Prue agrees huffily.
Eventually she stumbles across a group of Whitelighters who are gawking at a new addition to heaven, a slim, attractive, twenty-something and lethal-looking brunette. They yelp in pain when Prue stumbles across them, knocking them over like in ten-pin bowling, but seeing as there's only five of them, so let's save a whole lot of headaches and call it five-pin.
One of them gets to his feet and adjusts his hood, before extending a hand to Prue. "You okay, miss Halliwell?" he asks gently, helping her to her feet. "You were stumbling at forty on a thirty-limit lane. I'm gonna have to give you a ticket."
Prue grumbles as the speeding ticket is plastered onto her forehead before ripping it off and stuffing it into her pocket. "You know, it's friggin' rude to put it on my face when I'm standing right here," she says, opposing his gesture to a situation where she had projected out of her body or something similar. And it is true, what he did was rude. But he is just spiteful because she wouldn't sleep with him the other week. "Now tell me, how do I get to the Elders?"
Rolling his eyes and sighing boldly, the Whitelighter shifts his weight and mutters a reply. "Straight ahead, left, then first on the right."
Thanking him curtly, Prue turns around and realises what she'd just been told doesn't make sense: The Real is an expansive place with no boundaries and most certainly no corridors or doors. However, looking over her shoulder, she sees the Whitelighter nodding encouragingly, so decides to give it a shot.
Walking dead ahead, making a straight line towards nowhere in particular, Prue slowly halts and turns right to a ninety degree angle, then makes a one-eighty upon realising she was supposed to turn left. Tutting at herself, she then takes the first right and finds herself in a completely different area, and most certainly not the one she has been expecting. "Dammit, Leo," she curses to herself the name of the Whitelighter who had directed her so wrongly (not to be confused with Leo Wyatt, however). "That petty bastard!"
Prue isn't in the Elders' chambers. Prue is hard-pushed to even hazard a guess at where she is at all.
In front of her lies a vast land, where the ground is made of red bricks and the sky seems to be confined in a square of light, covered with a protective film. A huge dog-like creature bounds across the brick ground just a little ahead of her, and leaps into an orange lake, spraying water for a huge distance around. Prue gets splashed with some of the orange water. She finds it thick and syrupy to the touch, and not in the slightest bit appealing.
A rodent squeaks around her feet, sniffing at her gingerly, it's whiskers furrowing and nose snuffling. Prue is not afraid, for some reason, as usually such a creature would repel her. As a matter of fact, she is beginning to feel drawn into this strange and mysterious, yet placid and cheerful world. Perhaps she would like to stay here a while.
Smiling, Prue proceeds further into the world, not seeing the huge black mist that has decended from the square of sky, the soul-eater comprised of smoke and pain, that wishes to devour her ghostly form from the inside.
Not every place in heaven is safe.
She does not see the dark cloud, blackened and cancerous, slowly trickle over to her and wrap itself around her leg, nor does she notice it when, frantic with anger at hearing the call of the Elders again, she spins on her heel and marches back out the way she'd come in, and the smoke is forced to untwine itself from her ankle; and she never will know how close she was to non-existance.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mutters under her breath, and makes her way through the space that is The Real with no real direction in mind. Eventually she decides to simply think about the Elders, close her eyes, and take three paces forwards. On the second, she has already arrived in the correct location. "Well finally," she breathes.
"So glad you could join us, Prudence," says one of the cloaked creatures.
"Well it would've been much faster if you'd just teleported me here," Prue snarls, already disenchanted with the Elders, more so than she had been on Earth. "So what is it?" she demands rudely, folding her arms and tapping her foot. "And it's Prue!" she adds, further adding to her own and the Elder's disgruntlement.
The Elder rubs at his face in an almost prayer-like action, and sighs. "Prue," he begins, emphasising the 'ooo' sound of her name in a very patronising manner. "You have been dead for two years now."
Blunt much?
"And I was also under the impression you guys were sensitive about this sort of thing," Prue growls, not really understanding why she's so angry, but accepting it all the same. "Look, just tell me: what do you want? Because all this jingling and jangling? Is so not making me smile, and you know, it makes your Whitelighters seem very campy when you consider how often they hear it and how they react to it..."
Of course she is thinking about Leo.
"Of course I am."
"Um... who are you talking to?"
Prue's attention snaps back to the Elder and she blinks, realising that he cannot hear, see or in anyway interpret the narrative of this story. "Weird," she mutters, then sniffs and shakes her hair a little. "Anyways, your point?"
"Right. You're going back to Earth."
The sound of Prue being utterly gobsmacked really does resemble a somewhat smug-on-the-Elder's-part silence. Somehow she summons words. "W-what? I can go back? To my sisters?" Prue is one of those few people that knows how fake the people she lives with in heaven are. It has depressed her thoroughly.
"Sisters? Oh, no, no of course not," the Elder says in the most diminuative voice Prue has ever heard in her life. And from that moment she hates him, and from that moment she knows things can only get worse. "No, no. You'll be teamed up with someone quite different to yourself."
"And what will we be doing, pray tell?" Prue inquires, a bemused glare plastered on her face.
"What you expect to be doing," the Elder replies.
Frowning, Prue narrows her eyes and makes herself taller. "Fighting evil?"
"Not as such," exhudes the Elder cryptically, as usual. "Not 'evil' as such."
"Well you hardly mean we'll be fighting good!" Prue chortles in a dismissive tone, then her face falls when she sees the look on the Elder's face. "You don't, do you? Because I'll walk right back out of that door-" as she speaks, she turns, and realises there is no door. As a matter of fact, there's no way out.
"Well I knew that," she complains irritably.
I know you did, Prue, but the readers-
"Shut up about the damn readers!"
"Who are you talking to?" asks the Elder once more, finding himself rather unnerved by Prue's sudden movements and changes in temperaments.
"No one IMPORTANT!" Prue yells, her face pointed upward objectively.
Fine. Anyways-
"Anyways," Prue butts in, "Who is this mystery partner, and what the heck are we gonna be fighting?"
"Well," begins the Elder, quite tired of being interrupted so often. "Your 'mystery partner' will be chosen by the Source, and you will be fighting whatever force comes up against you."
He'd had Prue at the Source. He'd had me at the Source. As for you, I have no idea, not being you, or being your life narrator (although I assure you, you all have one - when you think you're talking to yourself, uh uh, it's your narrator you're talking to) so can't really tell. However, it's sufficient enough to know that he had both Prue and I at the mention of the Source, and how he would be sending a partner for Prue to work with? Good and evil, working together? How can this be?
"Good and evil, working together? How can this be?" Prue... repeats.
"It just can!" snaps the Elder darkly. "Now get the hell out of here and stop asking annoying questions!"
With that, he claps his hands and there is a flash of lightning.
Prue finds herself utterly nude in a dark cavern.
There are clothes draped on a nearby stone, warmed by a flickering fire. Prue notes that it is ventilated, although she appears to be underground. With much annoyed sighing at the obviousness a man laid these out, she eventually pulls the leather pants and tight, black short-sleeved top before freezing upon hearing a familiar voice.
"Ah, you found the clothes I left out for you," it says.
"You're kidding me..." Prur utters, and turns to face him. "Cole," she nods curtly, keeping her greeting as void as possible. She still hates him. Well, who wouldn't? After all he put the Halliwells through, who could honestly forgive him, even like him? Only an insane person. Or a stupid one.