TOUCHING GOD
Webster's Dictionary defines fire as a rapid, persistent chemical change that releases heat and light and is accompanied by flames, especially exothermic oxidation of a combustible substance.
Such a truly clinical definition for something as uniquely beautiful and energetic as the flames themselves. That definition fails to capture the pureness of it, the stark flow of energy in waves and tongues. As the fire raced outward from her epicenter, Robin never so much appreciated just how much words cannot capture the true awe of fire. The girl herself had never gotten the chance to watch as her own tongues of flame licked through the air, each more elegantly curved and sinuously arching than the last.
Granted the sudden lengthening and extension of time around her, Robin finally had the opportunity to look so very closely to the flames of her heart, her Craft's inner fire. The swirling s-shapes and curlicues seemed to hold such infinitely delicate patterns, drawing her into the pale glow. Each singular flame held a bright orange light, with a burnished blue beneath it, luring her emerald eyes to the very heart of the fire.
Each singular flames seemed so vivid and perfect in its tiny, miniscule existence. They were each fairies, spirits, with lives and minds of their own. Each lathe of fire flickered into existence, lived its faint and short life, before sparking and birthing another touch of fire before dieing again and returning to nothing. Every death birthed a more beautifully unique and glorious sprite. Energy waved in and out.
Things passed languidly around the Craft user. The passersby turned slowly, at an agonizingly stunted speed. Their mouths morphed from the curved smiles of anxious tourists and the weary set lines of tired travelers into the surprised "o"s of shock and horror, pure and filled with nothing but terror.
Even Robin had become stuck in her own place, conscious of everything around her, but frozen in the moment.
The beating of hearts spread, as the cars speeding past outside came to a crawl. The only thing that didn't change, that didn't slow with the strangest of hushed darkness around everything, was the interloper, Sierra. The girl just laughed, each haughty exhalation booming and echoing into eternity. She just stepped forward, shaking her head in mild amusement.
"Ah, another Oracle shows her face," Sierra laughed.
Robin felt ripped forward, torn by some pull at her heart, tearing the girl from time. She felt hurtled forward through the very fabric of existence. The girl became accelerated, coming forward in time, to that moment, but her flames remained so terribly slow.
Leanna gave a slight nod of her head, as if in regard. "Oracle."
"Ah, supposed friend and kin." Sierra nodded, but there came no respect in the action at all, merely mockery. "So very astute."
"Robin…." The assassin whispered in an almost angry sounding voice.
The Craft user seemed to understand, gathering up herself and pooled her energy suddenly. The resounding outward explosion was devastating. Hiroshima unleashed. Robin herself had never felt such anger, such annoyance and pure energy pour forth from herself. It became liberated until Sierra just side-stepped out of the way.
"Oracle." Sierra chirped, pointing a finger into her chest.
Leanna leaned back, pushing Robin sharply before the resounding backlash of energy came at them. The assassin spun suddenly, grabbing at Robin's wrist and dragging the girl sharply. Robin let out a slight cry of surprise as Leanna hurled the Craft user forward and up into the air, slightly. She moved too fast for it to be natural.
Her eyes opened wide. A faint blue aura seemed to engulf her all around, and around Leanna. Kathain's Craft. The Oracle's powers lived on in Leanna, all around her, and the assassin was using it to their advantage. Leanna pushed Robin threw the air and through the very essence of time around them, accelerating the time around Robin. The teenage fire starter readied herself and threw as much of her inner fire as she could at Sierra.
Again, Sierra seemed to be ready for this, fully aware of what was to happen. The girl tucked and darted to the side, but, at the last minute, Robin changed direction of her fire. Those liquid flames just caught the Oracle's arm, singing her flesh a wonderfully charred, black color.
Sierra just cocked her head to one side, and gave a sly sort of grin. "Boys…."
They emerged as if from time itself, suddenly coming to life from their stifling slowly moving spots and becoming animate. It was like watching mannequins start to move about. Leanna spoke first, asking and, somehow, demanding without any emotion.
"Ready to party, Robin?"
xxxx
Marcus practically beamed.
"Ah, my prodigal children, coming home," he crooned again, from the doorframe, a strange glint in his eye. "Won't you come in."
Amon hadn't been quite sure what to expect when Kristo, Geoff, Brett, and the others took him "home." He half-hearted entered the two story, former colonial, with its autum orange paint heralding a different era. The house felt old, ages old, as if thousands of years had passed between those walls and the doorframes just as easily as they did in the moment of entry. The very weight of the place felt oppressive and dark, so much so that even the stoic Amon felt a mild shudder trembled through his muscles and seep into his core. Perhaps time its self collected there, pressing down on them, bearing down on their very souls.
The stairs went in two directions. Down and to the right to a sitting area with a large television. And up in front of them. In truth, neither option went very far, no more than five paces in each direction. But downstairs seemed so homey. The dripping wet Nycole, still damp from her involuntary shower, pushed past Amon before traipsing down the stairs and plopping down on the couch.
Something had irked her. Brett just gave a tired shrug and followed the others upstairs, to where Markus bade them enter, sighing as he went, "Better left alone."
Amon glanced down, to where the girl sat, sulking as the others pounded up the stairs. Nycole just sat, her knees drawn up to her chin. She chewed on her lip, almost bitterly so as the water ran down and off of her clothes, soaking onto the chair. A dog sat next to her, tan spotted on a white fur coat, and a noble face, but a mutt-bred never the less; it didn't seem to care. Nycole's blue eyes stared at the television as some cartoon played, but she wasn't watching. Instead, the empath stared through television, into the pixels and out of the universe.
"Nycole?" The name fell from his lips, tumbling out, unbidden.
Nycole just shook her head. "No. You go up."
Amon took a few steps down. From nowhere, kittens spilled out, crawling about his feet, and clamoring for shoelaces, mewing the whole time; the man picked one up, curiously. "What about you?"
"Don't you understand?" the girl asked stiffly and curtly.
Amon shook his head. "No…. what is it?"
Nycole abruptly rose and gathered up the kitten from his hands, cradling it against her chest protectively, as if she were some mother cat and Amon, some terrible predator. "They're gathering."
He could already hear the nervous laughter from upstairs.
"Nycole…."
The girl shook her head. "You're a Warrior, now. Chosen among the Chosen." Her breath, ever from the few feet away, blew hot and accusatory upon his cheek. "It is your duty. So leave me alone."
"I don't understand…" he shook his head.
"Amon, listen to me. I have lost my sister. My other sister is missing somewhere in the world, with who knows what following her." Nycole sighed heavily. "I'm an Oracle. I don't expect you to understand my means nor my goals." She fixed a harsh glare upon him. "But I do expect you to listen and leave me to grieve in my chosen way."
Suddenly, Amon saw her for what the girl thought she was, a curio, but felt her pain. "I miss both Robin and Kathain."
"Bullshit."
Alcohol remained on her breath, lingering between them on the air as Nycole drew close, suddenly, almost yelling in Amon's face. It had loosened her lips, but not her mind. The empath's mind remained as sharp as a tack. The former hunter hadn't quite been expecting this from the still damp girl.
"I loved them both," he finally whispered as cold as frost its self.
"Good, at least you'll get to be the honest one in the end," Nycole sarcastically noted in an ominous tone.
Amon looked down to the kittens as they scattered, as if shrouded by the same, foreboding sensation as he, bearing down and pressing over him like dark clouds, as Nycole's power engulfed him. "I always am."
"Go on," the red-head sniffed. "Court's almost in session."
Amon glanced to her. "Will you be alright?"
"When I mind my missing sister."
xxxx
There were Thirteen.
No, not just the group of them. They actually numbered thirteen strong, excluding Sierra herself. Leanna had been expecting them to be gathering, but not nearly this swiftly. And, yet, there they were. Men, all of them. Leanna knew they would be. She had known her whole life. She hurled herself at them. Not her physical being, but her mind, her spirit in all it's splendor.
Feathers fell upon the air.
Blood splattered.
Fire burned.
The air felt hot and alive, burning and scalding with each and every beat of their hearts, and the massive, driving beats of down feathers. Leanna cut threw them, slashing at them with a boot knife. The girl accelerated her every move, carrying her body swiftly and surely through the air. The girl whirled, with Robin at her back, casting forth her own flame.
But they weren't strong enough.
A quick, driving blow sent even the great Leanna, Oracle to the Thirteen, slamming to the ground, her feathers broken and bent, her form crumpling and defeated. Robin gasped in horror as a trickle of blood erupted from beneath those cotton white wings, accelerated through time and advanced faster than it should have, sped by Leanna's own Craft over Time ands its flow.
The girl leapt over Leanna. Friend of not, Robin would not let her be killed.
But there were just oo many….
xxxx
TROUBLE AFOOT! Danger! Oh my:::faints: … guess you'll just have to ait until I regain consciousness and pry my carcass off the floor.