The spirit had only one more question that he felt he had to ask. He
indicated the fae thread and inquired, "?"
It answered with a Knowing glyph and the rising sun. The next image was of a tsunami. As the spirit began to protest his inability to catch the meaning, the soul cut him off and then hesitated, trying to think of a more clear way to explain it. Frustrated with the lack of words, it stuttered out a picture story, trying to show what happened from outside of itself.
"Mother, Father." A gravestone. "Brother." The long black hair was singed short and burns puckered up the whole of his left side from thigh to shoulder, the bright eyes bright with severe fever. "Wife." The spirit started at the sight of the woman burned beyond recognition, her mouth open in an unending scream. She struggled against the bonds that held her to a bed as she thrashed, trying to escape the agony that was her own body.
The soul pictured a stylized volcano on a map of the north. Shaitan, the spirit guessed. The soul was journeying on the mare to this volcano at a frenzied pace with intention to use the powerful fae there to have the portrait family again.
Here, the soul struggled again, actually confused at what happened to it. But it showed the same copse they were in and itself Working a Knowing directed to the east, the rising sun. East was where home was. The fae. as it reached out to use the fae, something odd took place. Unlike the sudden change before an earthquake, the fae-lines thinned. Instead of ceasing to Work for like an earthquake, the soul curiously directed it's Knowing to the fae itself. Then the fae surged, sweeping the soul's consciousness out of it's own body. It was like it had been caught in a tsunami.
The spirit took this all in. The story must have taken place just as the fae was ripped away from mortal hands and altered towards self-sacrifice. The thinning was the end of human Workings and the surge was their spells breaking free. In a way, it was his fault that the soul had lost it's body. Resolutely, he gave the thread a gentle tug. "Come back in," he invited.
The soul hesitated, turning it's attention back to the east. "Shaitan?" it asked.
He answered negatively, telling the soul that someone had crossed out the old rules and wrote a new one. You have to kill yourself to get your wish. Why jump into the volcano and have a healthy but lonely widow?
The soul answered with two babies in his wife's arms. They were expecting. He had no answer for that, but was concerned that his new body had suicidal tendencies.
The soul looked east again. Miraculously, it Worked the fae and sent a question east. So a soul isn't exactly human? Several moments passed. Finally, he sensed that the soul had it's answer. "?" he asked.
"!" it screamed, resounding in the spirit's mental ear. He found himself assaulted with heart-wrenching anguish again. Image after image came to him. Within moments, he saw the soul's entire relationship with it's wife. Childhood sweethearts. Years of footsie, first time holding hands, first kiss, the proposal, wedding night, news of the pregnancy, and the joy of learning that they were having twins.
And then its brother as a baby, as an annoying toddler that followed him all the time, that played with his toys, who wanted to play big boy games while acting like a sissy. Later as teens, the closest of friends that alternately got into various forms of mischief and charmed everyone about them.
The spirit caught his breath after the onslaught. He then asked testily, "And you did that why?"
Another gravestone next to it's parents, and a brother that refuse to respond to anyone and rocked himself all day.
"Go back! It's you and him now, go back!"
The soul wailed on about its dead parents, wife, babies, and semi-comatose brother. "No, no more pain. No more! Free me! End this! Take the body! Have your new start. Let me die! I failed them, I deserve to die!" The soul struggled against the fae thread, its leash to life.
"No! No! Stop!" the spirit pleaded. "Guilt will pass. Depression always ends! Come back!" he tried to command in desperation.
The soul paused. "You cry for me, a stranger?" It enveloped the spirit with warmth. "Do good to the world, in my name, with my body. I am done." And the frail thread broke.
The spirit gasped, mentally trying to grab at the intangible. But the soul was gone, and he suddenly felt cold and alone. He had begun to like talking to himself and getting an answer! His own humor failed to lighten his heavy heart, and he did indeed cry for the soul's lose.
Why cry for someone he barely knew? God, such behavior was unlike him! True, what greater gift could someone give you than their own body, but why did it happen this way? And dear God, what point was there in giving me an occupied body only to have the soul leave shortly after? What lesson was there in feeling its pain? To make me grateful? I'm alive, so of course I'm grateful.
The mare's wet muzzle smudged the hot tears coursing down his cheek. He opened his eyes and sniffled. "I'm okay girl, just shaken up a bit." The mare whickered an affirmative and moved off to graze. The spirit noted distantly that his senses were registering properly, but with the knowledge that it meant the soul truly wasn't home anymore, it didn't comfort him.
He sighed as he recalled being somewhat a people person in his mortal lifetime. He would have to find a city.
It answered with a Knowing glyph and the rising sun. The next image was of a tsunami. As the spirit began to protest his inability to catch the meaning, the soul cut him off and then hesitated, trying to think of a more clear way to explain it. Frustrated with the lack of words, it stuttered out a picture story, trying to show what happened from outside of itself.
"Mother, Father." A gravestone. "Brother." The long black hair was singed short and burns puckered up the whole of his left side from thigh to shoulder, the bright eyes bright with severe fever. "Wife." The spirit started at the sight of the woman burned beyond recognition, her mouth open in an unending scream. She struggled against the bonds that held her to a bed as she thrashed, trying to escape the agony that was her own body.
The soul pictured a stylized volcano on a map of the north. Shaitan, the spirit guessed. The soul was journeying on the mare to this volcano at a frenzied pace with intention to use the powerful fae there to have the portrait family again.
Here, the soul struggled again, actually confused at what happened to it. But it showed the same copse they were in and itself Working a Knowing directed to the east, the rising sun. East was where home was. The fae. as it reached out to use the fae, something odd took place. Unlike the sudden change before an earthquake, the fae-lines thinned. Instead of ceasing to Work for like an earthquake, the soul curiously directed it's Knowing to the fae itself. Then the fae surged, sweeping the soul's consciousness out of it's own body. It was like it had been caught in a tsunami.
The spirit took this all in. The story must have taken place just as the fae was ripped away from mortal hands and altered towards self-sacrifice. The thinning was the end of human Workings and the surge was their spells breaking free. In a way, it was his fault that the soul had lost it's body. Resolutely, he gave the thread a gentle tug. "Come back in," he invited.
The soul hesitated, turning it's attention back to the east. "Shaitan?" it asked.
He answered negatively, telling the soul that someone had crossed out the old rules and wrote a new one. You have to kill yourself to get your wish. Why jump into the volcano and have a healthy but lonely widow?
The soul answered with two babies in his wife's arms. They were expecting. He had no answer for that, but was concerned that his new body had suicidal tendencies.
The soul looked east again. Miraculously, it Worked the fae and sent a question east. So a soul isn't exactly human? Several moments passed. Finally, he sensed that the soul had it's answer. "?" he asked.
"!" it screamed, resounding in the spirit's mental ear. He found himself assaulted with heart-wrenching anguish again. Image after image came to him. Within moments, he saw the soul's entire relationship with it's wife. Childhood sweethearts. Years of footsie, first time holding hands, first kiss, the proposal, wedding night, news of the pregnancy, and the joy of learning that they were having twins.
And then its brother as a baby, as an annoying toddler that followed him all the time, that played with his toys, who wanted to play big boy games while acting like a sissy. Later as teens, the closest of friends that alternately got into various forms of mischief and charmed everyone about them.
The spirit caught his breath after the onslaught. He then asked testily, "And you did that why?"
Another gravestone next to it's parents, and a brother that refuse to respond to anyone and rocked himself all day.
"Go back! It's you and him now, go back!"
The soul wailed on about its dead parents, wife, babies, and semi-comatose brother. "No, no more pain. No more! Free me! End this! Take the body! Have your new start. Let me die! I failed them, I deserve to die!" The soul struggled against the fae thread, its leash to life.
"No! No! Stop!" the spirit pleaded. "Guilt will pass. Depression always ends! Come back!" he tried to command in desperation.
The soul paused. "You cry for me, a stranger?" It enveloped the spirit with warmth. "Do good to the world, in my name, with my body. I am done." And the frail thread broke.
The spirit gasped, mentally trying to grab at the intangible. But the soul was gone, and he suddenly felt cold and alone. He had begun to like talking to himself and getting an answer! His own humor failed to lighten his heavy heart, and he did indeed cry for the soul's lose.
Why cry for someone he barely knew? God, such behavior was unlike him! True, what greater gift could someone give you than their own body, but why did it happen this way? And dear God, what point was there in giving me an occupied body only to have the soul leave shortly after? What lesson was there in feeling its pain? To make me grateful? I'm alive, so of course I'm grateful.
The mare's wet muzzle smudged the hot tears coursing down his cheek. He opened his eyes and sniffled. "I'm okay girl, just shaken up a bit." The mare whickered an affirmative and moved off to graze. The spirit noted distantly that his senses were registering properly, but with the knowledge that it meant the soul truly wasn't home anymore, it didn't comfort him.
He sighed as he recalled being somewhat a people person in his mortal lifetime. He would have to find a city.