At least the storm stopped in death, she thought to herself. She didn't expect it to smell like petrichor and garden roses though.
Eirene coughed.
I can cough and smell... She thought. Had she survived?
The feeling of nothingness was replaced by the staining feeling of sore muscles. Surely, she had to be in heaven, but then why can she still feel the aliments of her humanly body?
Behind her lids, shadow and light began to flicker and she could feel herself bubbling to consciousness. Alive.
"How was she able to do that," she heard a voice growl. She slammed her eyelids shut tight and tried to remain as still as possible.
"I don't know, Vír, but what I do know is that you need to calm down, you're only making things worse for them. Calm. Down" A second unfamiliar voice. This one's voice level, soft. "Plus, I think she's awake,"
Shit. Okay. She tried to remember some of the self-defense one of her housemates, Jayce, had taught her. Palm of the hand up into the nose. Knee to the groin. And then run.
Her body involuntarily tensed out of self-defense and she felt a warm breeze push her hair off of her face.
"Hey, hey, hey, calm down," the second voice said, coaxing her to consciousness. Eirene let her eyes float open. Gods did her muscles hurt! "Don't sit up, though you may have survived, it's most likely not without great cost to your body, take it easy".
As her heavy eyelids opened, Eirene quested if she truly had survived. She must be in heaven. Before her knelt a figure with fair, pale features and a tangle of white hair that seemed to sway gently in the warm breeze circulating through the room. His presence emitted a comforting warmth, and she couldn't help but notice the soft, silvery hue of his eyes. His freckles that speckled across his cheeks gave him an air of youthfulness, he couldn't be much other than herself.
"An angel?" She mumbled softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. The breeze kicked up as the man laughed and the voice behind him choked.
"You could call me that," he smiled teasingly. "Vír, get her some water and something to eat." He called behind him.
"You truly expect me to play baby sitter and housemaid in my own home?" With that the white haired man looked at her and whispered, "Stay here," and went to go talk with the other person in the room.
Eirene slowly sat up, every muscle in her arms and back seemed to protest against the movement, but she had to figure out where she was. She had to figure out how to get home and make sure Violet was alright.
She propped herself against the rolled back of the chaise she seemed to be placed on and took in her surroundings.
Marble walls, smooth and pristine, surrounded the room. The marbles pale surfaces adorned with delicate veining that seemed to mimic distant thunderclouds and strikes of lightning. A few large glass windows sat in the opposite corner of the room, outside a gloomy day as normal.
The chaise beneath her and the pillows and blanket surrounding her were a symphony of soft grays. Plush gray textiles draped furniture and billowing curtains. Not much color to be seen.
Above the main area that lay in front of her, a large crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, it's multifaceted gems refracting ambient light into a gentle, diffused glow. The crystals almost looked like drops of rain.
A grand staircase, its marble balustrade intricately carved with motifs of swirling winds, swept upward with an air of majestic grace sat in the corner of the room.
Wherever she was, the tranquil stillness unsettled Eirene, as if time itself had chosen to slow its relentless march within these hallowed halls.
She slowly swung her legs to the side of the chaise and put her feet on the ground. Her boots had been removed and all that remained were the plush gray cotton socks of hers. She looked down at her pants and shirt and they seemed to be intact. Something that she'd never seen after being struck with lightning before.
Through sheer force of will alone, she shifted her weight to her tired feet and stood up. The room spun for just a minute but she gripped the top of the lounge sofa and steadied herself. She slowly walked toward the direction that she saw the two figures walk off to. Down through the living area she turned and saw an open air kitchen, not too dissimilar of the one that she had back at home. A large, marble island lay in the middle with two tall stools on the one side. On the other a range and some supplies. All pristine and white marble or gray stone.
The man with white hair was the first to notice her presence.
"Whoa, hey there, take a seat, seriously, you look like you're going to fall right over," he said, swiftly moving to her side and helping her settle onto one of the tall stools. Meanwhile, the figure attending to the food remained focused with his back to her. From behind, she could glimpse the soft curls of gray hair, reminiscent of billowing clouds, and the broad shoulders that framed his form.
"Where am I? What happened? Who are you?" Eirene steadied herself, her hands resting against the cool marble countertop.
"I'm Lyire," the white-haired man replied, a warm and welcoming smile on his face was already charming Eirene. He playfully nudged the other man's side, prompting a sharp look from the tall, gray-haired figure beside him. "But you can call me Angel, of course. This is Vír."
Vír turned around and placed a white porcelain plate before her, bearing warm bread and fresh pink jam. He poured a glass of water from a nearby pitcher.
If Lyire were an angel, what did that make Vír?
Vír's complexion was pale, much like Lyire's, but the resemblance ended there.
His eyes, a solid shade of gray, held no hints or variations in color. They seemed to pierce through Eirene, making her feel exposed, as if he had been watching her all along. The tangle of curls on his head was wild falling near his brow line. His features, meticulously chiseled with divine precision, appeared stern. He possessed a well-defined face, marked by delicate facial features, including a straight nose, full lips, and a gentle jawline. His white linen shirt clung to his skin as if he were a statue masterfully carved by master, long ago.
Yet, despite the sculpted appearance, Vír was no angel.
His eyes bore into Eirene with an intensity that seemed to judge her every move, as if she had done something personal to him or something.
"Where am I? What happened? Can you take me home?" Eirene was cautious of eating or drinking here in a place that seemed so otherworldly, but the loud noises her stomach was making overpowered her common sense and she began to eat.
"You're in my home, human," Vír said with irritation in his voice. "Remind me why again that is, Lyire?" He began idly cleaning up the things he had out to make food, struggling to even look at Eirene.
"You found yourself in the mortal realm during one of the storms," Lyire began. "Lightning struck you, but instead of burning, you channeled it. You controlled it." He reached out for her hands, his fingers outstretched, and Eirene, driven by instinct, pulled her hands away. Lyire persisted, gently grasping her wrists and holding her hands out, palms upturned, for Eirene to inspect.
Her hands were not her own, or at least, not as they once were. Upon her palms, near the base of her middle fingers, a bolt of lightning began on each hand, like a tattoo. They originated there, then arced upward, winding around her hands and enveloping her arms. Eirene couldn't tell where the marks vanished beneath the fabric of her sleeves. A gasp left Eirene's mouth as she inspected her hands and arms.
"How did you do it?" Vír didn't even deign no turn around and look at Eirene when he addressed her. He just continued mindlessly puttering around the kitchen, his attention now caught to something outside the window there above the sink.
"How did I do what?" She couldn't help the irritation in her voice. She swallowed down some water and rolled the sleeves of her shirt down to cover the markings.
"No one is able to command elements, let alone elements under the Thunderous Ones... control," Lyire stood at the edge of the marble counter top, eyes staring at the markings that still revealed themselves on her hands. She slipped her hands under the countertop and placed them firmly in her lap.
"By all accounts you should be ash on the ground of the mortal world. And yet, here you are," Vír turned on his heel to address her now, predatorially walking forward, eyes examining her up and down and into her very core.
"I don't know," Eirene admitted. One second she knew Violet would be struck, the next minute she shoved her, replacing her and bracing for the strike. Her heart ached, Violet. Please let her be okay. Please.
"That's the thing. No one knows," Lyire stood and started cleaning up the food in front of her, refilling her water from the pitcher before her. His voice was soft and kind, she felt that he truly was confused, maybe concerned. Vír however seemed irritated. "We were discussing this while you were out, whatever you did must have really done a number on you because you've been asleep for days now. I think the only thing we can do is once you're feeling up to it, we take you to the other Guardians and let them decide what to do with you." His white hair flipped in front of his eyes for a second and he blew it away with his mouth, the wind strong enough to blow the strands fully back and out of his face.
"I'm sorry, the Guardians? What are those? And what are you?" Eirene watched as Vír kept his gaze studying her. Lyire appeared amused at his irritation.
"I thought we went over this already?" Lyire teased. "I'm an Angel, remember?" And he gave her a sly and flirty wink.
"No really," she pressed. Lyire's eyes met Vír's for just a moment and Vír's eyes shot down and back, a silent confirmation between the two of them.
"Well, you're from the mortal plane yes?" Eirene looked at him unbelieving. "You are," he continued. "We are the Guardians. We control different elements and forces of nature on the mortal plane. I'm Lyire, the Wind Guide." He nodded his head to her with a soft smile. Just that motion sent a soft and warm breeze her way. "That is Vír, the Thunderous One. Some people call him the Storm,"
Eriene felt her stomach churn. She thought she was going to be sick. The storms that ravaged her world. The storms that look her parents. The storms that almost hurt Violet.
She pressed back and stood up from her chair, her legs betraying her beneath her as she wobbled to stay up right. Lyrie put a hand on her back to keep her steady but she pushed it away. "You," she accused, her voice breaking. "It's you. You seemed so familiar, and that's why." Anger now bubbling up, threating to spill out everywhere. "Lyranth is a mess, people live and die under your reign of terror. You, you," she struggled to come up with the words.
"Monster," he growled, the word like thunder on his lips.
She turned her back and ran, her socks slipping on the marble floor. Out, I need to get out she thought to herself. She could hear Lyire calling to her from the kitchen but the noise in her head was so loud it felt like it was going to burst. He called again and she turned around, he and Vír were approaching and it was all she could do to not be swallowed up by the pain in her chest and the noise in her head.
"STOP!" She screamed, she almost couldn't recognize her own voice. Lightning ripped through the ceiling, marble dust flying everywhere. A gust of wind quickly blew it out of the way and the bright bolt of lightning shattered through the floor in front of them, leaving nothing but smoke and dust in front of them.
Her knees felt weak, she could feel pain creeping down her shoulders and arms, and for the second time, her world went dark.