Soul Garden
This is a special garden on the island. This is where new inhabitants arrive after their memories have been erased. Inhabitants are forbidden from entering back into the garden.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Soul Garden is a part of 
Wandering Island.
1 Places in Soul Garden:
8 Characters Here
Durand [6] Innocent One - The Virtue of Justice
Evan [6] Innocent Two - The Virtue of Courage
Sibéal [6] (n.) the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason.
Concetta [6] Innocent Four - The Virtue of Temperance
Cecilia [5]
Lucian [5] Truth - Grace Apprentice (Grace, Secret wip)
Fides [5] Soulless One - The Grace of Faith
Makas [5]
Start Character Here »
The Wandering Island is a place where days pass with no inclination of time or fear of death. Worries simply disappear. How are you able to enter this wonderland? All you have to do is leave your old life behind. What a wonderful thought. Those who come from broken homes and cruel pasts can forget the hurt and pain of their previous lives and began anew in a life free of all misfortune. On this Island, life goes on peacefully. But no one on this perfect island was prepared for the storm that was going to happen.
Was it a whim by the Owner, maybe a mistake? No, the Owner never makes mistakes. Then why? Why would they ever let someone enter the island without taking away their memories? Their pasts. Thier impurities. This incident is currently being kept from the inhabitants of the island. Only the Owners must trust aids, the Graces, have any idea of what is happening: and that isn't much. But from the Owner, themselves, have commanded the Graces to watch over and convert the new innocents that have been sent to them. Now, here they stand in front of four new faces, that remember the one thing no one on this island does, not even the Graces. Themselves.
Amazed, confused, and frightened. You're stuck in a place that is beyond your imagination filled with splendor and wonder. But this island that you are trapped on seems too perfect. Taken from your home, you have been told that you will be staying on the island from now on. But why? How? So many questions and not one person has the answers. You lay in a garden so beautiful that it could have only come out of a fairytale. Restricting you from wandering around are black statues with fire coming from their heads. The only sign of your former life is a simple item in your hand, that holds your entire being. Taken from your thoughts, the statues blow their horns and a pleasant but bone-chilling sound emerges coating the air around you. And there, standing in front of you, stood four creatures, that you didn't have the confidence to call human.
Was it a whim by the Owner, maybe a mistake? No, the Owner never makes mistakes. Then why? Why would they ever let someone enter the island without taking away their memories? Their pasts. Thier impurities. This incident is currently being kept from the inhabitants of the island. Only the Owners must trust aids, the Graces, have any idea of what is happening: and that isn't much. But from the Owner, themselves, have commanded the Graces to watch over and convert the new innocents that have been sent to them. Now, here they stand in front of four new faces, that remember the one thing no one on this island does, not even the Graces. Themselves.
Amazed, confused, and frightened. You're stuck in a place that is beyond your imagination filled with splendor and wonder. But this island that you are trapped on seems too perfect. Taken from your home, you have been told that you will be staying on the island from now on. But why? How? So many questions and not one person has the answers. You lay in a garden so beautiful that it could have only come out of a fairytale. Restricting you from wandering around are black statues with fire coming from their heads. The only sign of your former life is a simple item in your hand, that holds your entire being. Taken from your thoughts, the statues blow their horns and a pleasant but bone-chilling sound emerges coating the air around you. And there, standing in front of you, stood four creatures, that you didn't have the confidence to call human.
"Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."
Fides
------------------
The Grace of Faith
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The Grace of Faith
âŹâŹâŹâŹ
xxxxxThe wind was blowing gently and the sun was shining serenely. It was but another fine, fine day on the Wandering Island - the so-called wonderland where sadness, despair and worries do not exist. Where people can throw their pasts behind and start anew, blissfully without a care for whatever problems they once faced. Splendid, magnificent, glamorous, words simply cannot express how heavenly it is. To share a privilege of becoming a part of this utopia, who could possibly ask for more?
At least, that is how a normal person would have perceived. Time means little here, as nobody becomes old. While one used to be worrisome of the never-ending cycle of life, they can all cast it all aside, and take all the time they can, as long as they remain within this Island, entrusting their hearts to its' splendors and allowing themselves to be basked and embraced by its' motherly warmth. They need not to question what they see, they no longer have to fear the uncertain, ephemeral future that once haunted them.
This is the true home for their souls, a refuge for their tiring and troubled hearts where sorrows will soon be but shadows of the past.
Somewhere within the Sanctuary of the Three Heavenly Graces, in the large garden situating behind one of its' three gigantic temples, a lone man with long, flowing white hair that gives off an unearthly feel to it, was sitting on a bench under an arch at the middle of the garden, and he seems to be deeply indulged in a book that he was reading. God knows how long had he been sitting here, bathed in the sunlight and let the wind carries all his thoughts away. The man seems to blend perfectly with his surrounding, becoming something that one can probably find only in a Renaissance work of arts.
"Maestro." A husky, matured voice suddenly appeared from nowhere, pulling Fides away from his immersion in the allure of the wise words of the book he was reading. A tall, thin man wearing a pair of glasses with a long white hair like him approached him from behind, "I believe the Innocents whom our almighty Owner spoke of have arrived. But I suppose I needn't have to tell you?"
"Is that so? Thank you for the reminder, dear Reinhart. I almost forgot about it." Fides said with his usual calm smile. It was quite obvious that he was joking. How could he ever forget his duty, and the important task that the Owner of the Island had entrusted him? To serve the Island and its' Owner is but the very purpose of his existence, the moment that he became the first to have tumbled his way here, and granted with the title as the Grace of Faith. It was the sole belief that had driven and motivated him for who knows how long, and he had sworn to never forget, even in sleep, "Well, I guess I shouldn't keep them waiting. As of now, they are like mere infants that had just left their mothers' wombs to greet the world. It would be bad to left them confused and uncertain of the gift that had just been bestowed upon them."
With that said, Fides closed his book and set it aside. He can continue with where he left off when he returned. Just as he stood up and grabbed his staff which he left laying against the bench, his assistant suddenly wrapped his arm around Fides, caressed his chest and leaned his chin against his shoulder. "You don't have to go, Maestro. Your colleagues can take care of the job just fine. I want to listen more of your stories, and there's a few points I haven't really gotten the gist yet about the theory of relativity."
Fides let out a quiet sigh and patted Reinhart's head, like he had always did since his assistant was but a small kid. The way he is clinging to Fides right now is, according to him, his own way of showing respect for his mentor. Cecilia once commented that it was a very suggestive way of displaying affection, and that there's a lot more to it that Fides wouldn't know. But he didn't pay much attention to it and felt that there's no problem letting his apprentice does what he want. "Yes, yes. I certainly won't forget to attend to my beloved student. But you of all people know well that slacking from my duty is unthinkable for me, right?"
"I know. And I wouldn't dare. I was just joking back at you, Maestro." Reinhart smiled and placed a light kiss on some locks of his teacher's hair. "Shall I accompany you to the warp pad, then?"
Exiting the Temple of Faith, Fides and Reinhart left for the warp pad of the Graces' Sanctuary. It is where he met up and greeted his three colleagues - Makas the Grace of Hope, Cecilia the Grace of Love, and the in-training Lucian the Grace of Truth. As the first inhabitant of the Island, Fides sees all of those who arrived after him to be either his younger siblings or children. Even more so with his fellow Graces whom he entrusts as his closest friends. Wasting no more moments for chatting, the four of them enter the warp and was transported to the Soul Garden - where new inhabitants are first arrived and prepared to become a part of the Island.
From the warp pad, Fides and his colleagues walked through the lustrous field of the beautiful garden filled with other-worldly flowers and plants. It was so breathtaking that it wouldn't be wrong to call it the Garden of Eden itself. Along the path leading to the warp pad, statues of Obsidians can be found standing vigilant as ever, blowing their rhapsodies through their horns to welcome the newly arrived inhabitants of the Island.
And the four of them came into Fides' sight. The lost souls granted with salvation from their miseries and sorrow to join the eternal bliss. As he and the other three approached the four new faces, Fides greeted, "Welcome, dearest wayfarers, to your new home. Please, you do not have to doubt what you see or raise your guards with us. We have been tasked to come here to greet you, and to help you prepare everything you may need before you begin your new lives."
Then, he took off his hood, revealing his face, "Allow me to introduce ourselves. We go by the titles of The Heavenly Graces. My name is Fides, and these three are my colleagues, Makas, Cecilia and Lucian. It is a pleasure to meet you." Fides smiled warmly, "Of course, I believe there is a great deal that you want to know about your being here. One thing I can assure you is that this is certainly not a dream. We are here to answer any questions you have in mind, so have you any?"
At least, that is how a normal person would have perceived. Time means little here, as nobody becomes old. While one used to be worrisome of the never-ending cycle of life, they can all cast it all aside, and take all the time they can, as long as they remain within this Island, entrusting their hearts to its' splendors and allowing themselves to be basked and embraced by its' motherly warmth. They need not to question what they see, they no longer have to fear the uncertain, ephemeral future that once haunted them.
This is the true home for their souls, a refuge for their tiring and troubled hearts where sorrows will soon be but shadows of the past.
Somewhere within the Sanctuary of the Three Heavenly Graces, in the large garden situating behind one of its' three gigantic temples, a lone man with long, flowing white hair that gives off an unearthly feel to it, was sitting on a bench under an arch at the middle of the garden, and he seems to be deeply indulged in a book that he was reading. God knows how long had he been sitting here, bathed in the sunlight and let the wind carries all his thoughts away. The man seems to blend perfectly with his surrounding, becoming something that one can probably find only in a Renaissance work of arts.
"Maestro." A husky, matured voice suddenly appeared from nowhere, pulling Fides away from his immersion in the allure of the wise words of the book he was reading. A tall, thin man wearing a pair of glasses with a long white hair like him approached him from behind, "I believe the Innocents whom our almighty Owner spoke of have arrived. But I suppose I needn't have to tell you?"
"Is that so? Thank you for the reminder, dear Reinhart. I almost forgot about it." Fides said with his usual calm smile. It was quite obvious that he was joking. How could he ever forget his duty, and the important task that the Owner of the Island had entrusted him? To serve the Island and its' Owner is but the very purpose of his existence, the moment that he became the first to have tumbled his way here, and granted with the title as the Grace of Faith. It was the sole belief that had driven and motivated him for who knows how long, and he had sworn to never forget, even in sleep, "Well, I guess I shouldn't keep them waiting. As of now, they are like mere infants that had just left their mothers' wombs to greet the world. It would be bad to left them confused and uncertain of the gift that had just been bestowed upon them."
With that said, Fides closed his book and set it aside. He can continue with where he left off when he returned. Just as he stood up and grabbed his staff which he left laying against the bench, his assistant suddenly wrapped his arm around Fides, caressed his chest and leaned his chin against his shoulder. "You don't have to go, Maestro. Your colleagues can take care of the job just fine. I want to listen more of your stories, and there's a few points I haven't really gotten the gist yet about the theory of relativity."
Fides let out a quiet sigh and patted Reinhart's head, like he had always did since his assistant was but a small kid. The way he is clinging to Fides right now is, according to him, his own way of showing respect for his mentor. Cecilia once commented that it was a very suggestive way of displaying affection, and that there's a lot more to it that Fides wouldn't know. But he didn't pay much attention to it and felt that there's no problem letting his apprentice does what he want. "Yes, yes. I certainly won't forget to attend to my beloved student. But you of all people know well that slacking from my duty is unthinkable for me, right?"
"I know. And I wouldn't dare. I was just joking back at you, Maestro." Reinhart smiled and placed a light kiss on some locks of his teacher's hair. "Shall I accompany you to the warp pad, then?"
Exiting the Temple of Faith, Fides and Reinhart left for the warp pad of the Graces' Sanctuary. It is where he met up and greeted his three colleagues - Makas the Grace of Hope, Cecilia the Grace of Love, and the in-training Lucian the Grace of Truth. As the first inhabitant of the Island, Fides sees all of those who arrived after him to be either his younger siblings or children. Even more so with his fellow Graces whom he entrusts as his closest friends. Wasting no more moments for chatting, the four of them enter the warp and was transported to the Soul Garden - where new inhabitants are first arrived and prepared to become a part of the Island.
From the warp pad, Fides and his colleagues walked through the lustrous field of the beautiful garden filled with other-worldly flowers and plants. It was so breathtaking that it wouldn't be wrong to call it the Garden of Eden itself. Along the path leading to the warp pad, statues of Obsidians can be found standing vigilant as ever, blowing their rhapsodies through their horns to welcome the newly arrived inhabitants of the Island.
And the four of them came into Fides' sight. The lost souls granted with salvation from their miseries and sorrow to join the eternal bliss. As he and the other three approached the four new faces, Fides greeted, "Welcome, dearest wayfarers, to your new home. Please, you do not have to doubt what you see or raise your guards with us. We have been tasked to come here to greet you, and to help you prepare everything you may need before you begin your new lives."
Then, he took off his hood, revealing his face, "Allow me to introduce ourselves. We go by the titles of The Heavenly Graces. My name is Fides, and these three are my colleagues, Makas, Cecilia and Lucian. It is a pleasure to meet you." Fides smiled warmly, "Of course, I believe there is a great deal that you want to know about your being here. One thing I can assure you is that this is certainly not a dream. We are here to answer any questions you have in mind, so have you any?"
Concetta
iiii Theme: Paper Lantern by Hikaru Station
iiiiiiiiiiiii FC: Kotobuki Tsumugi | K-On!
Xi Dialogue : #33A1DE | Thought : #DB7093
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When Concetta is suddenly enveloped by that bright white light on her way home from school, all she really registers is that the only thing around her is darkness. XX
In stark contrast to the blinding light, what Concetta opens her eyes to next is an abyss. She almost doubts that she's even opening her eyes at all, as there's not a change in what she sees before or after. She feels like she's floating, weightless, in what must be space or maybe even Heaven - though the idea that she'd get to go to Heaven after how many times she's gone against her beliefs is...laughable. XX
Out of nowhere comes a Voice. Concetta doesn't hear it, per se, but rather words seem to sound in her head, words she knows aren't her own thoughts speaking. The Voice offers her a chance to release her flaws, and immediately Concetta's interest is peaked. A way to get rid of constant temptation? Of course she'd want that! But then the Voice tells her the price of having her great flaws whisked away. XX
It doesn't seem worth it. Flaws or no flaws, Concetta could never bear to forget her grandmother or her few sweet friends or the boy who had asked her out on a date just that afternoon, because even though she'd turned him down, it had warmed her heart to know someone wanted to love her that way. No, she couldn't forget. XXX
The Voice was displeased; Concetta can feel its frustration in her mind. But as she wonders if perhaps it will take her memories anyway, she feels something soft brushing up against her cheek, and there's light behind her eyelids, and wind brushing against her forehead. She opens her eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight, and finds that she's no longer floating in the dark abyss with the Voice. XX
In her line of sight, Concetta can see blades of tall, green grass raised above her, high enough to shield her from the sun and likely from any watchful eyes. There are small, delicate-looking pink flowers just to the side of her head, and Concetta picks one without hesitation, sitting up the weave it into her hair, only to find that one of her braids has fallen undone, the hair tie snapped and no longer useful. XX
Undoing the other braid and tucking both hair ties into the pocket of her blazer, Concetta stands and looks around the clearing. Flowers in every shade of pink and white stretch out around her and the air feels cool but not cold, shafts of light filtering in from above. And she's not alone in this beautiful, ethereal place, either. XX
Concetta's first instinct is to try and see if they're all alright, and she steps carefully - trying to crush as few flowers as she can - toward the person closest to her, who happens to be a young-looking girl with beautiful hair tangled in pale white buds. XX
"Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Concetta asks, sighing in relief when the girl opens her eyes. She goes to make sure the other two are okay, but both boys are awake and upright by the time she's back on her feet, so she opts to smile down at the girl near her and extends a hand to help her up. "I'm Concetta, hello!" XX
In stark contrast to the blinding light, what Concetta opens her eyes to next is an abyss. She almost doubts that she's even opening her eyes at all, as there's not a change in what she sees before or after. She feels like she's floating, weightless, in what must be space or maybe even Heaven - though the idea that she'd get to go to Heaven after how many times she's gone against her beliefs is...laughable. XX
Out of nowhere comes a Voice. Concetta doesn't hear it, per se, but rather words seem to sound in her head, words she knows aren't her own thoughts speaking. The Voice offers her a chance to release her flaws, and immediately Concetta's interest is peaked. A way to get rid of constant temptation? Of course she'd want that! But then the Voice tells her the price of having her great flaws whisked away. XX
It doesn't seem worth it. Flaws or no flaws, Concetta could never bear to forget her grandmother or her few sweet friends or the boy who had asked her out on a date just that afternoon, because even though she'd turned him down, it had warmed her heart to know someone wanted to love her that way. No, she couldn't forget. XXX
The Voice was displeased; Concetta can feel its frustration in her mind. But as she wonders if perhaps it will take her memories anyway, she feels something soft brushing up against her cheek, and there's light behind her eyelids, and wind brushing against her forehead. She opens her eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight, and finds that she's no longer floating in the dark abyss with the Voice. XX
In her line of sight, Concetta can see blades of tall, green grass raised above her, high enough to shield her from the sun and likely from any watchful eyes. There are small, delicate-looking pink flowers just to the side of her head, and Concetta picks one without hesitation, sitting up the weave it into her hair, only to find that one of her braids has fallen undone, the hair tie snapped and no longer useful. XX
Undoing the other braid and tucking both hair ties into the pocket of her blazer, Concetta stands and looks around the clearing. Flowers in every shade of pink and white stretch out around her and the air feels cool but not cold, shafts of light filtering in from above. And she's not alone in this beautiful, ethereal place, either. XX
Concetta's first instinct is to try and see if they're all alright, and she steps carefully - trying to crush as few flowers as she can - toward the person closest to her, who happens to be a young-looking girl with beautiful hair tangled in pale white buds. XX
"Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Concetta asks, sighing in relief when the girl opens her eyes. She goes to make sure the other two are okay, but both boys are awake and upright by the time she's back on her feet, so she opts to smile down at the girl near her and extends a hand to help her up. "I'm Concetta, hello!" XX
So, this was it huh? This is where his life would change into something else entirely. I mean, mistakes happened, right? Heâd gotten in trouble with the law plenty in the past. Mainly just speeding tickets and parking fines. But this? People wouldnât look at him the same anymore. He had a record now. A proper one. Taking in a deep breath of cool air, Evan wasnât sure what he felt. Was it the weight of burden? Guilt? Maybe. It was hard to tell. Either way, he was here now. Lying in the cold of his cell, awaiting the consequences of his actions. It hurt, and it was hard, but he needed to do it. Accept the facts. He was scared for what it meant for him. To be a criminal. And when his time was up, what then? Life would never be the same. Still, scared as he was, he wasnât going to ignore it. He had to take responsibility for what he did. Thatâs why heâd admitted guilt in the first place. Now he had to brave societyâs judgement. Gently bringing his hand up to his neck, Evan gingerly rolled the ring of his necklace back and forth between his fingers, before letting it loosely drop.
Closing his eyes to try and sleep, Evan didnât notice the change to the space around him at first. Then he heard it. Or was it a feeling? It was hard to describe, but it prompted him to sit up and look around, a sudden flash of light causing him to cry out and shut his eyes again as they failed to adjust to the sudden change in brightness. Hazy pinpricks filled his vision, but as soon as it had come, the light faded, leaving him in darkness. But not the familiar one heâd gotten to know over the past few hours. A sense of weightlessness -not falling - just kind of floating. Evan was acutely aware that the pressure of the mattress was gone, instead leaving him absently devoid of touch apart from his clothes against his skin. It was eerily disconcerting to have his feet off the ground.
Was this void some sort of manifestation of the stress heâd had over the past week? Either way, it was a pretty trippy dream. Flailing about in the dark, Evan tried to get upright. Or at least, the direction he felt was upright. Still, it was hard to stop his momentum from almost tossing him right round again. Finally however, he managed to face in a way that his equilibrium told him was correct, and almost as if it had been waiting for him to do so, a voice spoke to Evan at that very moment. Not with words. Or maybe they were? Honestly, this place made little sense to Evan, and his mind felt clouded, so he wasnât good at paying attention. Innocent? Virtue? Island? It was all a little ludicrous. He was anything but innocent. In fact, Evan said as much to his mystery guide. His subconscious or whatever it was. Losing his memories for some inner peace or something⊠No, screw that. He wasnât forgetting Amelia or what happened. It was his fault. To simply forget it and move on would be a cowardâs way out of the situation. He thought heâd resolved to do this but⊠Maybe there was more conflict in his mind then he thought if he was questioning himself like this and dreaming up some fantasy?
Before Evan had any further time to contemplate his situation, it was like the world fell apart. Or maybe it came back into reality? Suddenly, gravity was ripping him downwards through the darkness at an alarming rate, sending him tumbling and hurtling towards⊠Well, there was no end in sight, but it was terrifying all the same. Then, sharp and jarring, he hit something. Exhaling and gasping for air, Evan sat up, sweating and bringing a hand to his face as he caught his breath. Jeezus⊠What a nightmare. Felt so real too, his heart was pounding a mile a minute. That wasnât the only thing pounding though, he had a splitting headache to boot. Too disconcerted to lie back down, Evan set his hand down next to himself to stay propped up. Then, he began to take in his surroundings as all at once his senses told him it was all wrong. It was light out. Grass with warm dew between his fingers. A breeze across his face. WhereâŠ? HowâŠ? Dragging his fingers through the dirt, he could feel the grains. Was this⊠A dream? It felt real⊠And heâd never had a lucid dream before.
âAre you alright? Can you hear me?" Turning towards the source of the noise, Evan began to realise he wasnât alone in this place. Two girls were just a few metres away from him, a taller looking chick leaning over another girl, while just a few feet away a brown haired fellow was getting his bearings. He didnât recognise any of them, which was pretty weird for a dream. Well, dream in a dream. Some inception shenanigans going on it seemed.
"I'm Concetta, hello!" That tall girl spoke again, and Evan reflexively winced at the increased racket as his head reminded him how much it was stinging. âYouâre also way too loud.â Evan grumbled as he finally got to his feet, dusting himself down. Bringing his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sunlight, Evan did another once over of the area for anything of familiarity, but was left with failure. Softly swearing under his breath, he placed his hands back into his pockets as he looked down to the other fellow, back to the girls, then back to the man below him. Just what the hell was all this?
ââSup Toto? You from Kansas cause thisâŠâ Evan gestured around him, looking about to the flowers swaying about in the breeze. âDonât look like home.â Turning back to the man, Evan thought about extending a hand, but then thought better of it after spotting the multitude of bandages and the like on his body. âDidnât know the Mummy originated in OzâŠâ Evan stated plainly, not really thinking anything on it as he walked over towards Concetta and her newfound friend, glancing back to see if the other fellow followed as he stood a short distance away, forming a small semicircle with the group.
âSo, anyone know whatâs going on here? Or is that too much to ask?â Shifting his stance slightly to place his weight on his other foot, Evan smirked slightly as he noticed the disproportionate heights of the girls before him. Heâd have to make a joke out of that at some point. Coming up with something so soon was a tall order though. Good jokes about height were in short supply. Musing on all this, Evan briefly squinted to some figures in the distance, making their approach. Well, that could be dealt with when they arrived. For now heâd deal with the people in his immediate vicinity.
A day as monotonous as the last, and certainly as monotonous as the next. The dimly lit apartment room was his realm, while the concept of time was forgotten about a week ago. It's been about a month since he lost his job, living only on a savings account, although thinly stretched. Turning on your clients if evidence points to them being the true culprit isn't exactly a plentiful business practice, at least, in the money making aspect. But at this point, he isn't justified any remorse for his poor decisions. He spent his bank loans on beer bottles.
Durand slouched over, finishing another glass of the cheap liquor and placing it down with a loud thunk. He always hated staying idle like this, but that didn't change a damn thing. The one person that inspired him was gone.
Durand closed his eyes as an almost otherworldly voice filled his head. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. But the voice, it sounded soothing and harsh at the same time, and he definitely wasn't this far gone. The voice spoke of a wondrous island where his flaws would simply not exist. At first, Durand would be glad to become perfect in every aspect. He simply felt inferior to his sister's vision of him, she always told him to reflect on himself and to never be dishonest for personal gain.
However, it did seem too good to be true. Durand would lose his precious memories, his memories with his beloved sister. He always saw himself as flawed, despite portraying himself as perfect to the people around him. However, he felt like he didn't have the liberty to forget his mistakes. He found his mouth gasping out an exasperated but affirmative no. But the voice, didn't seem to like that. He didn't have much of a say as he was whisked away in a party of bright white.
He felt like he was falling into a black void, or was he drowning in darkness? He was feeling a list of things that were both unfamiliar and certainly unwelcome. Before he had the chance to scream, he found himself in a field of flowers. It smelled nice. He must be dead, right? Many thoughts clouded his head, Durand didn't even take the effort to stand up.
The silence was rather enjoyable, until he could hear not one, but TWO voices that most certainly woke him from his groggy daze. One telling the other to shut up, with decibels even louder than the first statement that warranted the shush. He just wanted them all to be quiet. The flowers felt nice enough for a nap, but the background noise prevented him from doing such.
In moments like this, Durand took the time to stand and look about. In a place of unfamiliarity, Durand always would crack down on the last detail. It all did seem like a dream. The air was filled with an almost permanent haze, like they were in a movie. Durand felt for his pocket. Something was in there, he thought as he pulled out a small pocket mirror. The gift from his late sister. Last he checked, he left this at their old family home, but it was here. Spotless, with the jewels glimmering bright, despite collecting dust in the attic. Something certainly was off, not wrong, but simply off.
He walked over to the group, just in time to hear the redhead's query. He glanced in the distance to see a group of 4..people? Most certainly not human, but even Durand felt suffocated by the enigmas. Question time can come later. Durand cleared his throat, having not spoken in a long time. "I don't think it's too much to ask, it's just that you're simply asking the wrong group."
Durand slouched over, finishing another glass of the cheap liquor and placing it down with a loud thunk. He always hated staying idle like this, but that didn't change a damn thing. The one person that inspired him was gone.
Durand closed his eyes as an almost otherworldly voice filled his head. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. But the voice, it sounded soothing and harsh at the same time, and he definitely wasn't this far gone. The voice spoke of a wondrous island where his flaws would simply not exist. At first, Durand would be glad to become perfect in every aspect. He simply felt inferior to his sister's vision of him, she always told him to reflect on himself and to never be dishonest for personal gain.
However, it did seem too good to be true. Durand would lose his precious memories, his memories with his beloved sister. He always saw himself as flawed, despite portraying himself as perfect to the people around him. However, he felt like he didn't have the liberty to forget his mistakes. He found his mouth gasping out an exasperated but affirmative no. But the voice, didn't seem to like that. He didn't have much of a say as he was whisked away in a party of bright white.
He felt like he was falling into a black void, or was he drowning in darkness? He was feeling a list of things that were both unfamiliar and certainly unwelcome. Before he had the chance to scream, he found himself in a field of flowers. It smelled nice. He must be dead, right? Many thoughts clouded his head, Durand didn't even take the effort to stand up.
The silence was rather enjoyable, until he could hear not one, but TWO voices that most certainly woke him from his groggy daze. One telling the other to shut up, with decibels even louder than the first statement that warranted the shush. He just wanted them all to be quiet. The flowers felt nice enough for a nap, but the background noise prevented him from doing such.
In moments like this, Durand took the time to stand and look about. In a place of unfamiliarity, Durand always would crack down on the last detail. It all did seem like a dream. The air was filled with an almost permanent haze, like they were in a movie. Durand felt for his pocket. Something was in there, he thought as he pulled out a small pocket mirror. The gift from his late sister. Last he checked, he left this at their old family home, but it was here. Spotless, with the jewels glimmering bright, despite collecting dust in the attic. Something certainly was off, not wrong, but simply off.
He walked over to the group, just in time to hear the redhead's query. He glanced in the distance to see a group of 4..people? Most certainly not human, but even Durand felt suffocated by the enigmas. Question time can come later. Durand cleared his throat, having not spoken in a long time. "I don't think it's too much to ask, it's just that you're simply asking the wrong group."
x
x
x
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"So hear my battle cry! I'm out for blood to claim what's mine. Finally questioning, if I am my own worst enemy..."
- Battle Cry by Beth Crowley
SIBĂAL MAC AODHAGĂIN
âââââââââââââââ
prudence
âââââââââââââââ
prudence
It was a normal day.
The temperatures were cold in Dublin, as usual. Sibéal was walking home from gymnastics practice, as usual. The same foreign couple, speaking rapid Irish Gaelic with perfect grammar, but an absolutely horrible accent that made their words incomprehensible, was standing in front of the same chocolate shop, as usual.
Sibéal took the same path to her home, where she would be greeted with an empty house that would stay empty for the next few hours. Except as Sibéal entered her house, her routine went completely off course and next thing she knew, she wasn't in her house. In fact, she probably wasn't in Ireland at all.
Was Sibéal floating? She couldn't put her finger on it. That was her immediate assumption, but now that she was going over it, she wasn't all too sure. The situation reminded Sibéal of her dreams - always abstract, never definite. Most people at some point in their lives mentioned or described on of their dreams at some point; perhaps not always to perfect detail, but enough that one could have at least a very basic grasp of the situation in the other's dream. Except for Sibéal, she could never describe what went on in her head while she slept. No language could describe Sibéal's dreams; they were beyond words, beyond her own comprehension.
It felt like one of her dreams right now.
"Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Sibéal fought to open her eyes, the tightness in her chest loosening once she gained control over her body once again. A tall blonde was extending a hand in Sibéal's direction, the latter nodding in thanks as she accepted it. "I'm Concetta, hello!" Concetta? ... sounds Italian.
There was some redhead making comments about Toto and Kansas, and in all honesty, Sibéal did not have a clue what he meant. Well, except for the fact that Kansas was in America, but the United States were common knowledge. Sibéal snuck a glance at Concetta, noting the thirty-centimeter height difference in dismay. She was hoping that not everybody in this...place were absolute giants, but the closest person to Sibéal's height was the snarky redhead, and even he was at the least fifteen centimeters taller than her.
âSo, anyone know whatâs going on here? Or is that too much to ask?â the redhead asked with a smirk on his face, most likely comparing Concetta and SibĂ©al's heights. The redhead seemed like a trickster; SibĂ©al expected some height jokes in the future.
"I don't think it's too much to ask, it's just that you're simply asking the wrong group." The other man with brown hair responded. He reminded Sibéal of the characters in literature who always spoke in riddles, although the man's words weren't difficult to comprehend.
"Yes, and I believe the right group is coming this way," Sibéal spoke, tone completely neutral as she gestured slightly towards the four whimsical-looking beings approaching them. The man with long, white hair was the one to speak - she couldn't see his face, but he reminded Sibéal of Merlin from the tales of Camelot.
"Welcome, dearest wayfarers, to your new home." Sibéal didn't like what was coming out of Merlin's mouth, but she remained neutral and polite. "Please, you do not have to doubt what you see or raise your guards with us." Easier said than done. "We have been tasked to come here to greet you, and to help you prepare everything you may need before you begin your new lives." Merlin took off his hood, revealing his not Merlin-like face. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. We go by the titles of The Heavenly Graces. My name is Fides, and these three are my colleagues, Makas, Cecilia and Lucian. It is a pleasure to meet you. Of course, I believe there is a great deal that you want to know about your being here. One thing I can assure you is that this is certainly not a dream. We are here to answer any questions you have in mind, so have you any?"
"Please, elaborate on our 'new home,' if you wouldn't mind." the words flowed out of Sibéal's mouth; she didn't play around. The blonde wanted to know what going on, and if Merlin (Fides) was kind enough to answer questions, then Sibéal wasn't going to hold back.
The temperatures were cold in Dublin, as usual. Sibéal was walking home from gymnastics practice, as usual. The same foreign couple, speaking rapid Irish Gaelic with perfect grammar, but an absolutely horrible accent that made their words incomprehensible, was standing in front of the same chocolate shop, as usual.
Sibéal took the same path to her home, where she would be greeted with an empty house that would stay empty for the next few hours. Except as Sibéal entered her house, her routine went completely off course and next thing she knew, she wasn't in her house. In fact, she probably wasn't in Ireland at all.
Was Sibéal floating? She couldn't put her finger on it. That was her immediate assumption, but now that she was going over it, she wasn't all too sure. The situation reminded Sibéal of her dreams - always abstract, never definite. Most people at some point in their lives mentioned or described on of their dreams at some point; perhaps not always to perfect detail, but enough that one could have at least a very basic grasp of the situation in the other's dream. Except for Sibéal, she could never describe what went on in her head while she slept. No language could describe Sibéal's dreams; they were beyond words, beyond her own comprehension.
It felt like one of her dreams right now.
"Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Sibéal fought to open her eyes, the tightness in her chest loosening once she gained control over her body once again. A tall blonde was extending a hand in Sibéal's direction, the latter nodding in thanks as she accepted it. "I'm Concetta, hello!" Concetta? ... sounds Italian.
There was some redhead making comments about Toto and Kansas, and in all honesty, Sibéal did not have a clue what he meant. Well, except for the fact that Kansas was in America, but the United States were common knowledge. Sibéal snuck a glance at Concetta, noting the thirty-centimeter height difference in dismay. She was hoping that not everybody in this...place were absolute giants, but the closest person to Sibéal's height was the snarky redhead, and even he was at the least fifteen centimeters taller than her.
âSo, anyone know whatâs going on here? Or is that too much to ask?â the redhead asked with a smirk on his face, most likely comparing Concetta and SibĂ©al's heights. The redhead seemed like a trickster; SibĂ©al expected some height jokes in the future.
"I don't think it's too much to ask, it's just that you're simply asking the wrong group." The other man with brown hair responded. He reminded Sibéal of the characters in literature who always spoke in riddles, although the man's words weren't difficult to comprehend.
"Yes, and I believe the right group is coming this way," Sibéal spoke, tone completely neutral as she gestured slightly towards the four whimsical-looking beings approaching them. The man with long, white hair was the one to speak - she couldn't see his face, but he reminded Sibéal of Merlin from the tales of Camelot.
"Welcome, dearest wayfarers, to your new home." Sibéal didn't like what was coming out of Merlin's mouth, but she remained neutral and polite. "Please, you do not have to doubt what you see or raise your guards with us." Easier said than done. "We have been tasked to come here to greet you, and to help you prepare everything you may need before you begin your new lives." Merlin took off his hood, revealing his not Merlin-like face. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. We go by the titles of The Heavenly Graces. My name is Fides, and these three are my colleagues, Makas, Cecilia and Lucian. It is a pleasure to meet you. Of course, I believe there is a great deal that you want to know about your being here. One thing I can assure you is that this is certainly not a dream. We are here to answer any questions you have in mind, so have you any?"
"Please, elaborate on our 'new home,' if you wouldn't mind." the words flowed out of Sibéal's mouth; she didn't play around. The blonde wanted to know what going on, and if Merlin (Fides) was kind enough to answer questions, then Sibéal wasn't going to hold back.
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