The Beginning

Vythica was taken aback by the girl's sudden questions. The Seelie felt as if she could tell the girl what had happened that dreadful day...even if she didn't know why she felt that way.
"Indeed I have seen too much," she said to the girl, "my betrothed was murdered right before my eyes." Even though Vythica couldn't understand the girl's personal pain, she was still no stranger to the feeling. In that way at least, Vythica could relate to her.

Mouth agape in a silent gasp, Evynne crumbled in on herself. Shivering, she murmured, "Yes, too much for you. But not too much for me. No heart is here. Just pieces. Pieces fluttering all away with every breath and tear and word and sigh and hope and fall and..."
She managed to regain control. Heat sluiced through her skull. This was all too much to bear now. She whimpered. Fae. Trouble. One in the same.

It appeared that she was awe-stricken enough by something about Vythica to completely forget the stone, and Hawthorne realized he would need to do something himself. And how would he have seen to much for her? His mother was a monk, not a Seer. And his father couldn't have been. But there is a way for you to see to much for her, chirped a voice in the back of his head. It was a devil's voice. By now he had trained himself to ignore it... most of the time. While Vythica was relating to her, he was thinking of what he could do, able to assume what Vythica had seen, knowing just a little about her past from talk around her lake. He was forced to take one of the few options he had left, and just use physical force to bring the stone to the girl's head. He quickly stepped in, hugging the girl tight in one arm to pin down her arms, and using his other to place the stone gently on her forehead. He muttered a few charms of luck and hoped for the best.

---

She's madder than I was, Seth smiled from the other room.

Restrained, Evynne was swept to the Fae's side. He was inhumanly strong, arms like steel compared to her toothpicks. Rather than hopelessly struggle, she went limp. Silent crystals slid over the crests of her white cheeks.
Suddenly, a rich brocade of colors swept her into a story. There was a cold room and a warm hand.
"My little one," Evynne crooned, but she was no longer Evynne, she was the woman in her vision, a warmhearted monk. "You are not him. You are your own. You are strong. You will be good. You will be light. You will always have my..."
She jerked violently out of the past, lodging in the present if only for a while. Tears streamed more readily down her cheeks.

((IS this okay? Trying to be inventive...))

((Definitely! It seems good.))
Suddenly Hawthorne was whisked into what he assumed to be the girl's world of illusion, of other times. His mother was there, yet... was it his mother? Either way, the message was meaningful. Yet, in the middle of her message, it ended abruptly. He was then returned to the present, and focused on the matter at hand, trying not to let the small lines of water forming under his eyes show.
The girl began weeping pitifully, and it seemed to Hawthorne that she was pulled back to the present, so he pulled her hand up to the stone and removed his own, backing away slightly, but ready to catch her hand if she went to drop the stone. He would give her a minute to compose herself and then ask how it worked, and if she saw the same thing he saw, rather then just rush in. He also stepped between her and Vythica after a second of thought, not wanting the pure Seelie to trigger another bout.

"Why did you do that?" Vythica said loudly, "Did you have to be so forceful? Look at the poor girl; she's crying! And what exactly was that?" She was referring to the vision. Vythica stepped over closer to Zephyr, "Did the stone cause it...?" She was so focused on the sobbing girl that she didn't even notice Zephyr's tears.

"Shh!" he turned to Vythica. "You could cause another fit! Or, at least you have a greater chance than I do." He again adjusted his position to be between the girl and the Seelie. "Yes I was forceful, and yes it was necessary. I'll explain later, in better privacy." He glanced at the door, and assumed Seth would be watching.

"Poor Faerie Fae," Evynne chanted softly. "All alone... all alone for all eternity..." Shivering, she ran her fingers across the cold, smooth stone. Experimentally, she bit it. "Give me robbers. Give me barons. Give me thieves in the night." She shook her head vigorously. "No Fae. Fae. Bad."
She sank slowly to the ground, still nibbling the stone.

((I'm heading out for the night, guys. Cya later!))

((Cya later! This will probably be my last post too.))
Clearly the stone had not worked as well as Hawthorne had hoped. Or she wasn't totally all right to begin with. "I'm only half Fae," he consoled. "If you'd even count that as Fae." He was becoming curious as to what made her hate all Fae so much.

"Half-Fae? Do you feel less sorrow, less pain? If you are cut, will you not bleed?..." Evynne trailed off, feeling a calming numbness buzzing around her head. A blanket of fine mist descended over her, blurring the vision of her third eye. She blinked frantically. No one likes to be blind, but eventually she was able to focus more steadily on the situation at hand.
Suddenly realizing all the gibberish she'd spouted in the presence of these immortal beings, she hiccuped nervously and felt a furious blush paint her cheeks.
"I'm s-so s-sorry, Sir, Madam. I-I should be going n-now. I will not t-trouble you with m-my p-presence."
Rising shakily to her feet she attempted to sidle to the open doorway, emerald still clutched unconsciously in a death grip.

"Alas, even true Fae are exempt to none of that." Noticing her white knuckles around the emerald, now happily hers due to its apparent usefulness. "Wait," Hawthorne again stated. He took a seat at the carefully polished oak table and gently motioned for the girl across.

Loathe to disobey, Evynne lowered her head obsequiously. "Wish you a something?" she murmured very silently, almost to herself as she shuffled her feet across the floor.
Peeking through her hair, she glanced at the female curiously, then stopped at the male's side.

"Please sit, if you will," Hawthorne requested. "I have a few questions, nothing to be afraid of, but no need for you to stand throughout the whole thing." He put on a smile, to seem a little lighter, but he doubted it would affect this one much.

Obediently, Evynne delicately took the seat opposite. "What do you wish to know?"

Hawthorne leaned in a little, lowering his tones. "When you were in your... bout, did you see a scene with a, er, woman, near the end?"

Vythica noticed the girl glance at her before sitting across from Zephyr. Even though she wanted to go over to see if the girl was okay, she held her ground. She didn't want to cause the girl to have another bout, which Zephyr believed she would should she approach the white-eyed one.

Driven by a curiosity born in all Seer's to analyze, remember, to see, Evynne gazed at the tense lines of Hawthorne's face. That was his name. She knew.
"I saw love, and I saw happiness, and I saw it all go away." She paused a moment to observe any emotion he might display. How had he seen? she wondered. Maybe, given physical proximity, she could...share the vision? But it must only work with Fae.

"Makes sense," Hawthorne stated, leaning back some. It seemed like a typical vision- too much information in too short a time. And perhaps she shared a bit of the vision that specified to him, but didn't see any importance in or remember it herself. And he had one other question for the girl. "Do you hate yourself, too?" he said in a quiet, somewhat sad, voice.

Evynne whimpered softly, feeling the threads of time, remorse soaked as they were, strung behind his pain.
"You only hate half of yourself," she offered tentatively, not entirely sure it was true. "Even the moon has a dark side."
Suddenly, she was fascinated. Was his mixed blood causing him grief? It was the mortal blood vs the Fae! A well of sympathy overflowed in her. She clutched the emerald tighter.

True, he thought. Even so, if it was Seelie blood, it may not be as shameful for him. "What was one of your parents?"

"The Goddess Foresight and the Reaper of Sleep. Mother and Father of Seers. They birthed these looking glasses in a commune of the deathly eye. Their blood is old and stale in our veins. We are more mortal than Fae now, hence our strength has dimmed; the Druids of old would weep at our shame, our helplessness, our weakness..."
The history of the Seers was tangled and shady. She only knew it because it had been her first lesson in times. Learn from the past, gather the present, shape the future.
Those days when Seers banded together were gone now.

"I see. The strength of your Fae side must be magnified by your age, as the only other Seers I've met have been older. Or perhaps were you born of two Seers?" Hawthorne asked inquisitively. He knew many talents were stronger in youth, but was not educated if Sight fell into that category.

Evynne mumbled softly, "Mother: Seer. Father: air." Inhaling a deep, breath, she pushed back a vision of grayness that is the perfectly mundane. "Do you have any chocolate?"
Instantly, she was afraid she'd asked. Fae answered to no one. But oh how she wanted it! Very, very badly. The last time she'd eaten had been two days ago.

"I could get her some," Vythica spoke up, speaking mostly to Zephyr. "I don't have any at the moment but perhaps I could run out for some?" She felt compelled to help the girl because of all the pain she had been through. Getting the little one some chocolate wouldn't be very difficult; it was the least Vythica could do. There was only one problem...
"Where do they sell chocolate at this hour?"


((Oh chocolate, how I miss thee...-gave up candy for Lent-))