Maureen led Erelah to a room upstairs. Erelah followed, trying to
take everything in, peering into other rooms, fingers reaching out to trace
the writing on the walls, which she recognized as Latin, although she could
not read it. There were no words between them, even when Maureen opened
the door to a room and gestured for her to enter. Erelah walked through
the doorway without even saying so much as thank-you. Her mind was so
occupied by her own thoughts that she didn't even notice when Maureen left
the door slightly ajar.
Erelah felt slightly exposed in a room with glass walls and rubbed her arms from a sudden chill. The bed was big and comfortable looking, covered in rich colored burgundy sheets, and she was exhausted, but wanted to take the time exploring the small room. To the right of the bed was a simple wooden chair, so different from the one she had occupied in the library. Along the wall to her right stood a small bookcase lined with a few books and several knickknacks. She read the titles, finding most of them to be poets, including Christina Rossetti, Amy Lowell, Robert Frost, William Butler Yeats and several other names she recognized. Just to the left of the headboard was a small side-table dominated by a lamp. Along the left wall was a dresser, which Erelah examined thoroughly, but found all the drawers to be empty. Also along the left wall was a door that led to a bathroom that was just as uninteresting. However, she was happy to see that the walls were made of a clouded, translucent glass rather than the crystal clear walls like the rest of the house. In truth, her room disappointed her after the magnificent library, although her own room at home was nowhere near as nice as this.
Fatigue fought with her wakefulness and Erelah decided she really had nothing better to do than give in. She'd figure the rest out in the morning. Slipping off her pants and throwing them over the chair, Erelah slipped beneath the covers and drifted towards much needed sleep and the escape of dreams.
-
An apparition stands at the foot of the bed, paler than the figure that sleeps within. A slightly puzzled and thoughtful look encompasses his face and he removes a pair of glasses in order to clean them with his shirt, as he is prone to do while thinking. The ghosts name is Dennis Rafkin, who's own death cam shortly before the demise of Cyrus himself. He stares in wonder at the girl that sleeps.
After his death, Dennis left the glass house that once belonged to a man he called a friend. He wandered restlessly, checking frequently in on the Kriticos family who seemed to be doing quite well having put the unpleasant events that occurred one night behind them. Through his wanderings, Dennis found himself back at the scene of his death. The house, however, was much different from the skeletal building he had left in tatters, but not unfamiliar as he had seen the amazing structure before it's destruction.
Having arrived with Maureen and the Torn Prince, he had not seen the girl yet, nor had he seen Cyrus. The sight of the house intact was unnerving enough, but the sight of Royce Clayton's ghost had deeply disturbed him. Out of curiosity, he had entered the house, Royce being the only one to mark his passage through the door. After seeing the angry spirit moved to his former cell, Dennis had made his way upstairs, becoming increasingly concerned. He found his feet carrying him to the library, only to suffer the shock of finding an alive and well Cyrus within. In danger of revealing his presence with a nearly uncontrollable exclamation, he took to pacing the halls and peering into the empty rooms.
It seemed to him that Cyrus had somehow come back and was picking up the pieces of the dream that had been shattered not so long ago. It was pacing, lost in thought, that brought him to an occupied room. The mere fact that someone else was still in the house startled him, but it was upon closer inspection that he found even more reason to be amazed.
As one of the living, Dennis had been blessed with certain powers. Now, as one of the dead, those powers affected him still. When he first saw Erelah, he saw exactly what any normal person would have seen. A girl lying asleep in bed, her auburn hair spread out in a fan behind her head and that serene expression only sleep could bring. Upon walking to the foot of the bed, he placed his hand, or meant to, upon the end board of the bed. With this action, Dennis was suddenly bombarded with a vision. He jerked his hand back, not because of pain, but because of the intensity of what he saw. Concentrating, he found he could summon the image at will. The vision he saw had the same setting as was before him, and he knew it was the girl that lay sleeping in his vision, except not exactly the same. What he saw frankly stunned him, even though his life had been full of paranormal experiences and his death spent seeing many things he had never had the chance to see in his short lifetime. This was the same thing, although he did not know it yet, that both Cyrus and Maureen had seen through the spectral viewers.
In place of auburn locks, silver blond tresses spilled over the dark colored sheets. The curves of her face were smooth and flawless, as was her skin that was silver-blue in the pale moonlight. Spread out behind her were what stunned Dennis the most. A pair of ivory colored wings were tucked behind her back, the longest flight feathers nearly reaching her heals. In short, it seemed to be an angel that had taken Erelah's place, if angels wore jeans and tank tops and slept in the houses designed by the devil and owned by scary old men plotting to take over the world. The was no halo, however, but her skin seemed to emit a soft light, a pale aura that accentuated each feature, but that might have just been the light of the moon.
With hardly any trouble, Dennis found he could switch between the vision and the reality of the girl. It didn't take long for him to make the odd decision that they were the same. However, exactly what it was before him remained a mystery. Removing his glasses and absent-mindedly wiping them with the edge of his shirt, Dennis was lost in thought. He recalled once hearing of people who claimed to have souls that were other than human, but he had never believed their claims and so never looked further into it. A glimmer of doubt appeared within his previous beliefs. 'Perhaps, just perhaps...' the thought trailed off as he approached the side of her bed, to better examine the features of her face.
Suddenly, he jumped back, startled as her eyes shot open. The vision faded as his concentration broke. The figure in the bed sat up slowly and gazed sleepily about the room.
-
A presence invaded Erelah's drams. Impatiently she pushed it away, unwilling to be stirred from the comfort of sleep. But the presence persisted and grew closer. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Comfort lost even in her dreams Erelah awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest from the effort of breaking form her dream. She wasn't able to see anything, but she was familiar enough with the spiritual realm to know what someone, or something, was there. But as soon as she sought to locate its source, the presence was gone.
Although there wasn't much light, there was enough for her to see that the door was left open a crack. Slightly puzzled, but too tired to care, Erelah hesitantly lay back down. She could not long fight off the threat of fatigue and soon drifted back to a peaceful sleep.
-
Dennis took a few stumbling steps backwards in shock. He wasn't expecting this girl to be so sensitive to his presence and decided it best if he left. Quickly he retreated from the room, not looking back. He might have thought she was a psychic, but her reaction was not severe enough and seemed in no way to be painful. His mind, however, drifted away from that question and was brought back to the eyes he had seen before the vision had faded. They had been strange, stranger than any eyes he had known. The color was a blue green that seemed to swirl with it's own life, and there had been no pupils. Just two unmarred circles of vivid swirling color framed by her lashes, and they were burned into his memory.
-hey, Dennis is here (sorry, couldn't leave him out of the story). So, you might think an angel is a little hokey or something, but it had to be that way, but don't fret over it, there is still much much more to learn. I know this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but the next one was so long that I split it into two. Anyways, thanks for reading this much and hope you stick around .
Erelah felt slightly exposed in a room with glass walls and rubbed her arms from a sudden chill. The bed was big and comfortable looking, covered in rich colored burgundy sheets, and she was exhausted, but wanted to take the time exploring the small room. To the right of the bed was a simple wooden chair, so different from the one she had occupied in the library. Along the wall to her right stood a small bookcase lined with a few books and several knickknacks. She read the titles, finding most of them to be poets, including Christina Rossetti, Amy Lowell, Robert Frost, William Butler Yeats and several other names she recognized. Just to the left of the headboard was a small side-table dominated by a lamp. Along the left wall was a dresser, which Erelah examined thoroughly, but found all the drawers to be empty. Also along the left wall was a door that led to a bathroom that was just as uninteresting. However, she was happy to see that the walls were made of a clouded, translucent glass rather than the crystal clear walls like the rest of the house. In truth, her room disappointed her after the magnificent library, although her own room at home was nowhere near as nice as this.
Fatigue fought with her wakefulness and Erelah decided she really had nothing better to do than give in. She'd figure the rest out in the morning. Slipping off her pants and throwing them over the chair, Erelah slipped beneath the covers and drifted towards much needed sleep and the escape of dreams.
-
An apparition stands at the foot of the bed, paler than the figure that sleeps within. A slightly puzzled and thoughtful look encompasses his face and he removes a pair of glasses in order to clean them with his shirt, as he is prone to do while thinking. The ghosts name is Dennis Rafkin, who's own death cam shortly before the demise of Cyrus himself. He stares in wonder at the girl that sleeps.
After his death, Dennis left the glass house that once belonged to a man he called a friend. He wandered restlessly, checking frequently in on the Kriticos family who seemed to be doing quite well having put the unpleasant events that occurred one night behind them. Through his wanderings, Dennis found himself back at the scene of his death. The house, however, was much different from the skeletal building he had left in tatters, but not unfamiliar as he had seen the amazing structure before it's destruction.
Having arrived with Maureen and the Torn Prince, he had not seen the girl yet, nor had he seen Cyrus. The sight of the house intact was unnerving enough, but the sight of Royce Clayton's ghost had deeply disturbed him. Out of curiosity, he had entered the house, Royce being the only one to mark his passage through the door. After seeing the angry spirit moved to his former cell, Dennis had made his way upstairs, becoming increasingly concerned. He found his feet carrying him to the library, only to suffer the shock of finding an alive and well Cyrus within. In danger of revealing his presence with a nearly uncontrollable exclamation, he took to pacing the halls and peering into the empty rooms.
It seemed to him that Cyrus had somehow come back and was picking up the pieces of the dream that had been shattered not so long ago. It was pacing, lost in thought, that brought him to an occupied room. The mere fact that someone else was still in the house startled him, but it was upon closer inspection that he found even more reason to be amazed.
As one of the living, Dennis had been blessed with certain powers. Now, as one of the dead, those powers affected him still. When he first saw Erelah, he saw exactly what any normal person would have seen. A girl lying asleep in bed, her auburn hair spread out in a fan behind her head and that serene expression only sleep could bring. Upon walking to the foot of the bed, he placed his hand, or meant to, upon the end board of the bed. With this action, Dennis was suddenly bombarded with a vision. He jerked his hand back, not because of pain, but because of the intensity of what he saw. Concentrating, he found he could summon the image at will. The vision he saw had the same setting as was before him, and he knew it was the girl that lay sleeping in his vision, except not exactly the same. What he saw frankly stunned him, even though his life had been full of paranormal experiences and his death spent seeing many things he had never had the chance to see in his short lifetime. This was the same thing, although he did not know it yet, that both Cyrus and Maureen had seen through the spectral viewers.
In place of auburn locks, silver blond tresses spilled over the dark colored sheets. The curves of her face were smooth and flawless, as was her skin that was silver-blue in the pale moonlight. Spread out behind her were what stunned Dennis the most. A pair of ivory colored wings were tucked behind her back, the longest flight feathers nearly reaching her heals. In short, it seemed to be an angel that had taken Erelah's place, if angels wore jeans and tank tops and slept in the houses designed by the devil and owned by scary old men plotting to take over the world. The was no halo, however, but her skin seemed to emit a soft light, a pale aura that accentuated each feature, but that might have just been the light of the moon.
With hardly any trouble, Dennis found he could switch between the vision and the reality of the girl. It didn't take long for him to make the odd decision that they were the same. However, exactly what it was before him remained a mystery. Removing his glasses and absent-mindedly wiping them with the edge of his shirt, Dennis was lost in thought. He recalled once hearing of people who claimed to have souls that were other than human, but he had never believed their claims and so never looked further into it. A glimmer of doubt appeared within his previous beliefs. 'Perhaps, just perhaps...' the thought trailed off as he approached the side of her bed, to better examine the features of her face.
Suddenly, he jumped back, startled as her eyes shot open. The vision faded as his concentration broke. The figure in the bed sat up slowly and gazed sleepily about the room.
-
A presence invaded Erelah's drams. Impatiently she pushed it away, unwilling to be stirred from the comfort of sleep. But the presence persisted and grew closer. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Comfort lost even in her dreams Erelah awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest from the effort of breaking form her dream. She wasn't able to see anything, but she was familiar enough with the spiritual realm to know what someone, or something, was there. But as soon as she sought to locate its source, the presence was gone.
Although there wasn't much light, there was enough for her to see that the door was left open a crack. Slightly puzzled, but too tired to care, Erelah hesitantly lay back down. She could not long fight off the threat of fatigue and soon drifted back to a peaceful sleep.
-
Dennis took a few stumbling steps backwards in shock. He wasn't expecting this girl to be so sensitive to his presence and decided it best if he left. Quickly he retreated from the room, not looking back. He might have thought she was a psychic, but her reaction was not severe enough and seemed in no way to be painful. His mind, however, drifted away from that question and was brought back to the eyes he had seen before the vision had faded. They had been strange, stranger than any eyes he had known. The color was a blue green that seemed to swirl with it's own life, and there had been no pupils. Just two unmarred circles of vivid swirling color framed by her lashes, and they were burned into his memory.
-hey, Dennis is here (sorry, couldn't leave him out of the story). So, you might think an angel is a little hokey or something, but it had to be that way, but don't fret over it, there is still much much more to learn. I know this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but the next one was so long that I split it into two. Anyways, thanks for reading this much and hope you stick around .