Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any of these characters but Nathalie.
Please comment, tell me what you think. This chapter will explain more
about their customs. No flames, please. Also, statements within the :: are
thoughts, as I have yet to learn the HTML required for fanfiction, Thank
you again.
Eisheth's Call
******
Chapter Three: Darsanga
The scream echoed on through my mine, even after the actual sound ended. Again the gray foam rose up, but this time it crashed against my senses, numbing all of them, except for the incessant need to stand, to comfort, to end the torment of their mind and body. The world blurred around me, the distortion of an Angel's presence, I was told later. At that moment I doubt I noticed; for the screech was revoiced.
I rose, not heeding the exclamations of Imriel, the admonishes of Joscelin and my father, the worried question of my mother. I would have seemed rather dazed, but for the purposeful gait as I made my way to the origin of the shriek. Eisheth was watching, I am sure of it; I did indeed hear arrows whistling past me, but not one found its mark this day.
The wounded person soon came into my vision; a male honey-skinned non- D'Angeline, clutching his shoulder. A blossom of color could be seen underneath his fingers, a dark crimson fit to match my gown. An arrow lying next to him, broken and bloody explained this wound quickly; the arrow head was still attached, so at least I would not have to pull it out.
I started at the last thought, breaking my reverie. I was not a healer; yes, I knew how to bind smaller cuts and scrapes and yes, I had some sort of training 'just in case'. But this was no longer dealing with a bruised knee, a splinter in my thumb; this was a life.
A hand grabbed my arm; I attempted to shake it off, but the fingers closed more tightly about the appendage.
"Where are you going?" Came the growled voice, one I was not familiar with immediately. "There are arrows shooting about!" The obviousness of the words almost brought a chuckle from my throat.
"Well seen." I mutter, wrenching my arm free. I still didn't glance towards his face, the hold upon my mind still driving me to stop the echoing screams in my head. Feeling the other person- a man, I was sure- make another grab for my arm I whirled about, stepping over a fallen decoration to reach the injured man. A muttered curse, a plea cried; nothing truly registered on my mind. It was all filed carefully away, for future recollection.
Kneeling beside the wounded man I swept my skirts about me, laying the garnet fabric away from the man. 'Twas not only vanity that lead to this action- it wasn't decent for bandages anyhow. The color was so alike the color of blood it would be difficult to tell how heavily he was expelling blood, and would therefore be rather useless.
For a moment I merely sat there, rather confused. The unremitting urge in my mind to reach the man, to cease his screaming, rapidly loosened. I heard a sigh; perhaps my own, perhaps another's. ::You shall learn.:: A voice murmured into my mind, certainly not my own. I lifted my hand to check his pulse, a movement unconscious, laying my fingers gently against his throat. It was weak, but there, indicating his state of living.
I made to pull my fingers away, but my vision suddenly shifted, skewing to one side as the ballroom became a blur, as if I was spinning out of control, and my outward vision abruptly went black, the only gaze I had the one in my mind..
My knees suddenly hit against cold hard stone, jarring my mind clear of thoughts. I blinked away the tiny dots of black, attempting to trace my way through my muddled thoughts.
Sadly, it was not to happen anytime soon.
In front of me loomed a dark, domineering building; I could feel the vibrations of hatred and death radiating from the structure. It was a desolate place, a place of nightmares, of the immense and staggering weight of slaughter, of depression, of betrayal. Patches of the dirt were stained, and with what was a simple matter to guess, owing to the pile of bodies that littered the ground.
A shuddering breath entered my lungs, bringing in the taste of the destruction and revulsion, bile rising in my throat. Ever so slowly my gaze rotated about the scene, a numb feeling the only barrier between the horror and reaction. Bodies, so many bodies crumpled at random, stacked nonchalantly, mutilated and defecated upon, lay everywhere. The lone fortress in the only added to the feeling of desperation, ebony stone foreboding as the bodies that decorated the ground.
So deep was the pain engraved upon the land, so dark were the minds of the creatures which once were here even the sun did nothing to dispel the feeling of oppressive weight. The light seemed a mockery of all that should be, a challenge to make merry amidst the horrendous backdrop. And even so, all seemed dim, adding to the already surreal quality of the land. The most terrifying part was that it was real.this place truly existed in the world which but a few moments ago felt so bountiful and endless.
I was sure it was real. I was hallucinating, or something similar, yes; but the image I saw was real, the stench, the horrendous battering urge to bow my head and sob, or laugh, or scream, or do something to end this numbness that fell upon my very being upon arriving to this place.it was real.
It was real.
A person, a grinning face.scenes sped past me, too fast to catch any more then a glimpse of the memory. Beatings, threats, terror, stark fear, and Blessed Elua the pain...the grinning face was always there, laughing insanely. And then blurring, whirling colors, as reality skewed once more, hurling me back, away from the madness, from the pain, from the weight of death..
Again cold stone met my knees, and then my torso and head as I collapsed on the marble floor of the ballroom. I blinked dizzily as the man- was he not injured? sat up, a sharp pain slicing through my shoulder. ::Eisheth.::
Blackness threatened to overtake my vision, swimming in the corners of my gaze. I took a breath, and then another; the decimation still hovering about my mouth. Voices, I heard them; two familiar, three vaguely so, various others at varying degrees of recognition in my horribly distorted mind. Footsteps, rushing over to where I lay, my semi-conscious state registering inane facts and completely ignoring others- such as the welfare of the wounded- was he still wounded? man.
"Nathalie, Nathalie, Blessed Elua what have you done?"
"Look at his shoulder-"
"Have they stopped?"
"Who's wounded?"
"Fools, the girl is just lying there, help her!"
"Nathalie." A voice out of so many pierced the oncoming fog. Two eyes peered worriedly at mine. They were of a dark, rich brown color; but one had a spot of red, blood pricked. "Nathalie, what did you see?"
Phedre's voice was comforting and warm, flowing through the tangled mess of cries and shouts, of the general mayhem of the room. I felt so cold, so numb, so empty, the dark fortress rising once again in my mind's eye..
"Nathalie, what did you see?" She asked again, laying a hand on my shoulder. I managed to blink, shaping the word with my lips before adding a voice to it.
"Darsanga."
I whispered it, but she heard it; I know so because she recoiled as if struck, the last thing I saw before the darkness swamped me, blissfully empty and silent, comforting, the word echoing through my mind even so.
Darsanga...
******
((This will be explained next chapter, for those of you who have not read Kushiel's Avatar. Please comment on this chapter- I really appreciate it, as it helps me improve my writing! Thanks!
-DarthPixie))
Eisheth's Call
******
Chapter Three: Darsanga
The scream echoed on through my mine, even after the actual sound ended. Again the gray foam rose up, but this time it crashed against my senses, numbing all of them, except for the incessant need to stand, to comfort, to end the torment of their mind and body. The world blurred around me, the distortion of an Angel's presence, I was told later. At that moment I doubt I noticed; for the screech was revoiced.
I rose, not heeding the exclamations of Imriel, the admonishes of Joscelin and my father, the worried question of my mother. I would have seemed rather dazed, but for the purposeful gait as I made my way to the origin of the shriek. Eisheth was watching, I am sure of it; I did indeed hear arrows whistling past me, but not one found its mark this day.
The wounded person soon came into my vision; a male honey-skinned non- D'Angeline, clutching his shoulder. A blossom of color could be seen underneath his fingers, a dark crimson fit to match my gown. An arrow lying next to him, broken and bloody explained this wound quickly; the arrow head was still attached, so at least I would not have to pull it out.
I started at the last thought, breaking my reverie. I was not a healer; yes, I knew how to bind smaller cuts and scrapes and yes, I had some sort of training 'just in case'. But this was no longer dealing with a bruised knee, a splinter in my thumb; this was a life.
A hand grabbed my arm; I attempted to shake it off, but the fingers closed more tightly about the appendage.
"Where are you going?" Came the growled voice, one I was not familiar with immediately. "There are arrows shooting about!" The obviousness of the words almost brought a chuckle from my throat.
"Well seen." I mutter, wrenching my arm free. I still didn't glance towards his face, the hold upon my mind still driving me to stop the echoing screams in my head. Feeling the other person- a man, I was sure- make another grab for my arm I whirled about, stepping over a fallen decoration to reach the injured man. A muttered curse, a plea cried; nothing truly registered on my mind. It was all filed carefully away, for future recollection.
Kneeling beside the wounded man I swept my skirts about me, laying the garnet fabric away from the man. 'Twas not only vanity that lead to this action- it wasn't decent for bandages anyhow. The color was so alike the color of blood it would be difficult to tell how heavily he was expelling blood, and would therefore be rather useless.
For a moment I merely sat there, rather confused. The unremitting urge in my mind to reach the man, to cease his screaming, rapidly loosened. I heard a sigh; perhaps my own, perhaps another's. ::You shall learn.:: A voice murmured into my mind, certainly not my own. I lifted my hand to check his pulse, a movement unconscious, laying my fingers gently against his throat. It was weak, but there, indicating his state of living.
I made to pull my fingers away, but my vision suddenly shifted, skewing to one side as the ballroom became a blur, as if I was spinning out of control, and my outward vision abruptly went black, the only gaze I had the one in my mind..
My knees suddenly hit against cold hard stone, jarring my mind clear of thoughts. I blinked away the tiny dots of black, attempting to trace my way through my muddled thoughts.
Sadly, it was not to happen anytime soon.
In front of me loomed a dark, domineering building; I could feel the vibrations of hatred and death radiating from the structure. It was a desolate place, a place of nightmares, of the immense and staggering weight of slaughter, of depression, of betrayal. Patches of the dirt were stained, and with what was a simple matter to guess, owing to the pile of bodies that littered the ground.
A shuddering breath entered my lungs, bringing in the taste of the destruction and revulsion, bile rising in my throat. Ever so slowly my gaze rotated about the scene, a numb feeling the only barrier between the horror and reaction. Bodies, so many bodies crumpled at random, stacked nonchalantly, mutilated and defecated upon, lay everywhere. The lone fortress in the only added to the feeling of desperation, ebony stone foreboding as the bodies that decorated the ground.
So deep was the pain engraved upon the land, so dark were the minds of the creatures which once were here even the sun did nothing to dispel the feeling of oppressive weight. The light seemed a mockery of all that should be, a challenge to make merry amidst the horrendous backdrop. And even so, all seemed dim, adding to the already surreal quality of the land. The most terrifying part was that it was real.this place truly existed in the world which but a few moments ago felt so bountiful and endless.
I was sure it was real. I was hallucinating, or something similar, yes; but the image I saw was real, the stench, the horrendous battering urge to bow my head and sob, or laugh, or scream, or do something to end this numbness that fell upon my very being upon arriving to this place.it was real.
It was real.
A person, a grinning face.scenes sped past me, too fast to catch any more then a glimpse of the memory. Beatings, threats, terror, stark fear, and Blessed Elua the pain...the grinning face was always there, laughing insanely. And then blurring, whirling colors, as reality skewed once more, hurling me back, away from the madness, from the pain, from the weight of death..
Again cold stone met my knees, and then my torso and head as I collapsed on the marble floor of the ballroom. I blinked dizzily as the man- was he not injured? sat up, a sharp pain slicing through my shoulder. ::Eisheth.::
Blackness threatened to overtake my vision, swimming in the corners of my gaze. I took a breath, and then another; the decimation still hovering about my mouth. Voices, I heard them; two familiar, three vaguely so, various others at varying degrees of recognition in my horribly distorted mind. Footsteps, rushing over to where I lay, my semi-conscious state registering inane facts and completely ignoring others- such as the welfare of the wounded- was he still wounded? man.
"Nathalie, Nathalie, Blessed Elua what have you done?"
"Look at his shoulder-"
"Have they stopped?"
"Who's wounded?"
"Fools, the girl is just lying there, help her!"
"Nathalie." A voice out of so many pierced the oncoming fog. Two eyes peered worriedly at mine. They were of a dark, rich brown color; but one had a spot of red, blood pricked. "Nathalie, what did you see?"
Phedre's voice was comforting and warm, flowing through the tangled mess of cries and shouts, of the general mayhem of the room. I felt so cold, so numb, so empty, the dark fortress rising once again in my mind's eye..
"Nathalie, what did you see?" She asked again, laying a hand on my shoulder. I managed to blink, shaping the word with my lips before adding a voice to it.
"Darsanga."
I whispered it, but she heard it; I know so because she recoiled as if struck, the last thing I saw before the darkness swamped me, blissfully empty and silent, comforting, the word echoing through my mind even so.
Darsanga...
******
((This will be explained next chapter, for those of you who have not read Kushiel's Avatar. Please comment on this chapter- I really appreciate it, as it helps me improve my writing! Thanks!
-DarthPixie))