Before - Legends "Human heritage" (The ancient conflict between the dark side & the light side of the Force)

Erm, he does not rape her. Sionnach wants to have a baby, too. It is mutual consent that they lie down together at the Beltane fires.

 

I read it as she said she didn't want to do anything with him....

wow. I'm REALLY sorry I read that wrong!

 

This is NOT my week!

 

It seems I fell behind again. I'm sorry. It is just that I need to cut on my online time due to computer/tablet related stress pains.

Great updates Azure! Your story is so original.

 

Now, dear Hazel, this is more my week. The flue is over and I can go back to work tomorrow after I already was at a meeting of kindergarten teachers today.

Do not feel sorry for falling behind. Especially when you need to cut on-line time and are on pain. Recently I have been seldom on-line myself and did not use my computer. I was busy with work, fitness, books and long walks.

Thanks a lot for the praise!


Also thanks to Nyota's Heart, earlybird-obi-wan, Lady_Misty & SWpants for commenting & sharing your thoughts about Lucien with me.

I am off to the fitness centre soon so I keep it brief. I had a busy, yet nice week in so far.

So I better do my update before DarthUncle falls asleep:


********************************************************************

Not much later, Irmgard munches happily on the scones that I baked for the occasion. I can tell that she is especially fond of the whipped cream and the lemon custard. My self-made raspberry jam also agrees with her.

“Darf ich fragen warum Mórag Eure Füße verstümmeln ließ?” I ask carefully as she finishes her third scone. May I ask why Mórag mutilated to your feet?

A hot pincer on her skin would have had a less devastating effect on Irmgard. She pales considerably, all traces of happiness gone from her round face.“Braucht... braucht sie dazu einen Grund?” she stutters. Does... does she need a reason for it?

“Meine Schwester hat immer einen Grund.” I decide to be frank. My sister always has a reason.

“Eure Schwester?” Her eyes widen in shock. Your sister?

I nod.

Irmgard gives me a pitiful gaze. “Familie kann man sich nie aussuchen, Freunde schon,” she muses. Family cannot be chosen, but friends can.

Then she falls silent, her eyes downcast. I give her the time that she needs, trying to sort out my own thoughts and feelings. She and I could be in a very different situation right now.

“Eure Gabe, Holde, was genau beinhaltet sie? Könnt Ihr mir helfen zu verstehen?” I make my voice as sweet as honey. My lips curve tenderly. What exactly is your gift, my sweet lady? Could you help me to understand?

Suddenly there is reserve. “How could I make you understand something that you see as witchcraft?” the Seeker cries out in accented Basic, not willing to share her mother tongue with me any longer. “You do not even understand your own actions. How many times did you sit at this table and stared blindly ahead? Cursing yourself for that what you are?”

I rise stiffly and Irmgard does the same. She is alert now.

“Please help me understand what I am dealing with, Seeker,” I get out in a level voice.

Irmgard takes some concentrated breaths before she explains, “When I touch something, I psychologically travel back into the past. I become one with the mind of a victim or even worse, the offender, at the time of the crime.” Wild tears steam over her cheeks suddenly. “When I cried earlier on today, I did not cry for O'Gradaigh. I cried for you. For the horrid acts of cruelty...”

I start walking forward, radiating irritation and anger.

The Seeker, simultaneously, starts walking backwards. “I cried for a man so consumed with pain, passion and hatred that it can be felt on every surface that he touches.”

My senses are reeling. I cross the room in several long strides. Then I catch Irmgard in a crushing kiss. Her pulse beats erratically at her neck, and her breathing is ragged, tight. I feel as though I cannot get enough of her, exploring her mouth, relishing her taste.

Without warning, she pulls away. “Dein Schlafzimmer war oben, doch?” she says huskily. Your bedroom is upstairs, right?

********************************************************************

It is a night worth to be remembered. Irmgard is sweet, funny and surprising. And she makes me laugh. She is all I want in a woman. I could not care less about the nexus of damaged skin tissue that cover large parts of her body. In my eyes she is perfect. For the first time I consider having a real mistress.

At the breakfast table I find enough the bravery to address the matter. “You can stay with me, if you really want to.” I produce a winning smile. “I have no other obligations at present. Well, there is my ward Sionnach, but...”

“Sionnach?” she whispered terrified. “The Tjiehenet clone?”

“You know her?” I ask.

Irmgard slides down from her chair and sinks to the floor, her shoulders shaking with sobs and fear. I give her time to gather herself and wrap the bearskin around us. Rhythmically and with soothing gestures, I run my fingers over her skin

“N-nine years ago the clone vanished from Dún Mor-Shiabh, the O'Gradaigh family castle,” Irmgard finally says. “Mórag send out her best Seekers, but they came back from their mission empty handed. In her furry she killed one of the women. A surrogate had to be found. They looked everywhere, even in the marshes of the Lake District. There they found me and...”

I cup Irmgard's chin, making her to gaze at me. “If you would like, I will keep you close and save from the Holy Inquisition.” I wish I could have done the same for the family members that she lost so brutally. “If instead you want to leave this house and never come back, I can arrange transport and a safe place off-planet.”

“I... I... want to stay.”

“Are you sure about that?” I inquire carefully.

“You are not the worst I have encountered, and even have some good qualities.” Shesmiles gently at me.

“What gives this away?” My eyes narrow.

“The love for your children.” Her eyes are bright. “It surrounds you like the Force itself.

*******************************************************************

The next day I order a bigger bathtub, scented candles and other surprises from Amnion, like plus-size clothing or an electronic book pad with more than one million digital novels. Expensive trinkets mean nothing to my new concubine. But like me, she is a keen reader.

After a month, Irmgard encourages me to pick up wood carving again. I end up building a cradle for the unborn baby-boy Sionnach is expecting. Once it is finished, Irmgard walks me to the edge of Draíocht's property.

While I place my present on the doorstep Irmgard hides away in the undergrowth. I have attached three letters to the headboard. One is for Sionnach, one is for Éibhear and of course one is for the head of the family: Draíocht Mössa, my current nemesis.

I knock politely, but the door does not open, though I feel them inside the building. The aura reading that I get adds to my desperation. There is boiling anger and distrust; even fear from Sionnach.

Trembling like a mischievous teenager I return to Irmgard who lets me walk right into her chubby arms.

“I feel like a stalker,” I mutter against her chest.

“Don't focus on the negative!” Her large, yet gentle hands run through my hair. “You are not a stalker yet. Give them time to consider your offer. The same time that you granted me. Sometimes people need time and space to think. It is like... well like Fliegenfischen, ja?”

“Fly fishing,” I translate aloud and touch her left cheek lovingly, happy that she makes a real effort to use Basic more often. This should be rewarded. An idea forms in my mind.

********************************************************************

Once we stand at the wooded shores of the Vattenånga River and throw out our fishing rods, everything else becomes secondary. In harmonic silence, Irmgard and I focus on the task ahead of us.

Inherently fly fishing is a spiritual practice. Or rather, it is direct action in the present moment, becoming one with the Living Force in all its richness.

Focusing on my movements, to become one with the rod, the line and the bait is not difficult for me.With three slow and deliberate deep breaths I am able to let the tension melt away, to relax my body. My mind stays alert though, receptive like a bath sponge.

When I had been a sullen toddler with dangerous mood swings, Minou had tried to teach me valuable methods of relaxation. Back then it had been in vain. Only torturing and killing others had restored my equilibrium during my painful teenage years. The arrival of Éibhear in my life had changed that, though not quick enough. I am still learning softer solutions, giving my best to stay away from aggressive negotiations. Learning to fight bad habits is difficult.

After catching my fifth rainbow trout, I signal Irmgard to stop her own efforts. She hauled in two trout, three silver salmon, four artcic grayling and one char. I am deeply impressed.

“You know what, why don´t we stay here for the night,” I inform her, while starting dinner preparations.

“Hast du denn ein Zelt dabei?” she asks curious.

“I always have a tent with me,” I grin. “Comes with being desert born, I suppose.”

********************************************************************

Later, while we rest side by side inside the tent, I gather my courage and ask Irmgard something that is of great essence to me. “Your gift of psychometry, does that only work by touching items?”

She yawns and rolls away from me, placing an arm over her face. “There are not many tóraí na fírinne who can read persons by skin contact. We are quite rare.

“But they do exist,” I probe, running my fingers skilfully through her open hair.

“Most of them cannot take the pressure and go mad. You must understand dass... that Psychometry is a form of scrying, but without the crystal ball or a fire. I get, hum Eindrücke. Impressions.”

I do not like that there are women out there who can perceive the history of an item through images, sounds, smells, tastes – even emotions. They can be a danger to me.

“Do you think I can ever visit Sapuhru, Luçien?” wonders Irmgard so suddenly that she startles me.

“I see no reason why you should not. Let me teach you the language of my forefathers. Just in case.” I lean forward and start to nibble at her earlobe. “La oreille.”

“La oreille,” Irmgard echoes, her voice trembling with anticipation. The ear.

I continue my sensual expedition throughout her body, until we both forget my ‘lesson’.

It is a bliss to be with Irmgard, to be playful with her, and to actually almost trust someone. Due to my dreadful half-sister Mórag, she has experienced fear, pain and sorrow. Now and then she has nightmares about her past, wakes up in cold sweat, a piercing cry sounding from her lips.

There is so much that this Seeker and I have in common.

********************************************************************

One week after our return from the fishing expedition there is a knock at the front door. Before I can stop her, Irmgard tears it open, a delighted expression on her face. I put the jug with the vanilla custard down, wishing that my concubine would be dressed in more than just a silk morning robe. This will not bore well for me.

Draíocht walks in, giving me a queer look. But it is not me that she addresses at first.“Bist du in Ordnung? Hat er dir weh getan?” she asks. Her Elfin hands claps around Irmgard's much larger human hands. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?

I groan. Of course beanmna feasa know one another. How could I be so stupid?

“Er ist kein Untier, Schwester.” Irmgard smiles her brightest smile. He is no monster, sister.

“Pah! Da wäre ich mir nicht so sicher,” Draíocht spats. Pshaw! I would not be so sure.

My concubine laughs joyfully, making her entire body wobble in a loveable way. Then she leads our unwilling visitor to the table in the dining area.

Lidérc etiquette demands that I serve the women without talking and I am relieved that my concubine remembers that special detail. Sionnach never understood the rules and I could not seem to explain them well to her.

Under the burning gaze of Draíocht I serve fresh strawberry tart. The vanilla coating is still warm. My original plans for it have now been dashed.

While I stay discretely in the background, both women begin a conversation in the language of the Lake District. It is about Mórag and the beanmna feasa order, regarding a crusade that tears the Elfin nation apart and bothers other folk that live in the high North. They both have been at the very heart of that conflict for a while. There is much to speak about.

Over the course of three tart pieces I come to know that Draíocht is legendary for her silent revolt against my mad half-sister, and that her love marriage to Tomte Mössa is an inspiration to many.

“Ich danke dir für deine Gastwirtschaft, Irmgard.” Hastily, Draíocht rises from the table. Thank you for your hospitality, Irmgard.

Barely able to mask my disappointment I watch her walk towards the door. Her hand pauses on the handle. “Why do I need to open this stupid door all by myself, Luçien?”

I rush towards Draíocht, but I am not quick enough. She opens the door herself. The moment she walks outside she drags me with her at my elbow. I let it happen, even though I feel treated like a naughty teenager.

“Never let Sionnach see your latest leisure activities and never turn them into outdoor pursuits,” she hisses at me, but I detect a slight amusement underneath her stern features.

“My bond with Sionnach is a public one,” I say soothingly. “It was thus from the very first moment on. It cannot even end in this wilderness. I wish it was different, for her and for the man that she truly loves. I did not make the rules, Draíocht.”

Defeated, she sighs, “I would still not tell the lass about Irmgard.”

“Again, I did not choose all the complications that we are in right now. Certainly, my judgement was not the best at times, but please do not put the blame on Irmgard. She is faultless.”

“I much rather know that this Seeker is being happy inside your house than buried in an unmarked grave, missing even more body parts than she already does.” She turns her back on me and starts walking down the stairs.

“What about Éibhear?” I call after her, my throat tight. “What about the baby?”

She spins around, smiling for the first time she arrived at the lodge. “I am glad that you name the boy first.”

“He always will come first,” I assure her.

“Well, you need to win back his trust.” She waves mockingly.

********************************************************************

(To be continued!)

 

Lucien does have a sweet heart. I do hope he realizes that he doesn't have to hide his pain anymore.

 

AzureAngel2 - oh Irmgard is a joy and a balm to Lucien's soul. And those tarts, yum. I want one LOL

 

My sister always has a reason.

It’s just not usually a good one =/


Without warning, she pulls away. “Dein Schlafzimmer war oben, doch?” she says huskily. Your bedroom is upstairs, right?

*rolls eyes* Oh geez.


“You are not the worst I have encountered, and even have some good qualities.”
…
“The love for your children.” Her eyes are bright. “It surrounds you like the Force itself.

OK well that’s just freaking adorable.


“I feel like a stalker,” I mutter against her chest.

That’s because you are.


The fly fishing was relaxing to read. It wasn’t very Lucien, but it allowed HIM a mental rest .


I groan. Of course beanmna feasa know one another. How could I be so stupid?

‘Cause females will always catch a male off-guard, regardless.


Under the burning gaze of Draíocht I serve fresh strawberry tart. The vanilla coating is still warm.

I wish strawberries were in season here.


“I am glad that you name the boy first.”

“He always will come first,” I assure her.

Aw, he’s changing.

 

Irmgard is nice for him. He should be in the light and let the dark go

 

@Lady_Misty: Lucien is still a slow learner, especially on the emotional level. So he still is on his way...

@Nyota's Heart: Let us hope than that she will stick to him for a while.

@SWpants: Indeed, there is change... all so slowly.

@earlybird-obi-wan: If life would be that easy, we would have no story!



I am ill at home again, suffering from high fever and the flue AGAIN. So I keep it short:



Chapter 18: La belle cuisine

After a full week spent in isolation, Taran appears at the lodge. His fiery presence pulls me out of my Force trance. He shouts and bangs on the door until an overtaxed Irmgard lets him in. At one point he is ranting so loud that I can hear every word of his.

“You. Can. Not. Hide. Forever. Luçien.”

He ends up kicking down the bedroom door, and jumps on my mattress to throttle me with his huge, hairy hands.

“I cannot. Believe. That you. Have. Made. More. Babies. With. Sionnach.”

I close my eyes, hoping that he kills me in one clean go, but I am dragged downstairs, feeling every bruise created by the steps. I am thrown in a chair, with two muscular legs clamped around mine.

“I will have no more nonsense any longer,” Taran says, and a spoon is forced into my mouth.

I cough, while Kartoffelsuppe, potato soup, runs down my throat.

“Listen, kitty, I want you to eat at least two bowls of this stuff. Have some Buttermilch, too. Don't make me force feed you the entire time.” He holds the spoon out to me, his eyebrows raised in exasperation.

Sighing, I accept the spoon and start to eat. The soup is delicious. I must say that Irmgard is an excellent cook when it comes to sturdy Hausmannskost.

********************************************************************

Taran stays for a week. I take every insult he delivers as a tender declaration of friendship. His social skills are rusty, and his emotions are a greater chaos than my own. Irmgard tries to connect with him, but he makes her uneasy with his wolfish nature.

I walk him to the edge of the forest on the day he decides to go. “When will you come back?”

“That bean feasa would like to have seen the last of me,” he mumbles. “A pity though. I like a woman you can balance a pint of beer and a plate on.”

I slap his straw-blond head. “Mind your manners.”

“Hey, did I say that she is ugly? Elfin woman can be painfully thin and anorexic looking. Your Irmgard has substance.” Suddenly, Taran grabs me by the ears and forces my nose against his. “You better stay put with her and stay away from the whelp.”

“Sionnach will never get pregnant from me again, Carcra.”

“I better hope not. The pains of the dark side will pale in comparison to my anger if you forget that promise of yours.” He lets go of my face and sends a vicious punch into my stomach, which makes me fall on the floor. “You will not disappoint the new baby.”

********************************************************************

Irmgard visibly relaxes when it is just the two of us in the house again. Soon, we fall back into our normal pleasant rhythm until a stone smashes through the bedroom window one morning.

Before Éibhear can run away from the crime scene, I materialize next to him in only my bloomers and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You knocked, my son?”

All colour leaves his face, but then he sets his jar anew and starts screaming incoherently. Blinded by anger and tears alike, he starts hitting me and I let it happen. When he strains his right wrist and collapses, I kneel in front of him and pull him close to heal the injury.

“Feeling better now?”

Gravely, he shakes his head. “I hate you still.”

I kiss his brow. “I fear you still love me so much that it hurts.”

Again, he breaks out in tears. His pain pierces my heart.

“I am sorry, that I wanted a new baby with your mother. You must believe me that I still love you.”

“Not... about... me,” he whispers . Every word seems to be a giant effort. “You... hurt... her.”

“Her feelings, yes,” I confess. “But nothing else.”

His huge eyes search mine. Afraid. Curious.

I stand my ground.

After what seems like an eternity, he coils his small arms around me. “You must be more aware of things, father.”

“I am sorry.”

“Sometimes sorry is not enough. Aunt Draìocht hates you now, so does everybody else.” His breathing is irregular. “Please do not make me hate you for being so rough on maman all the time.”

I am glad that Irmgard has custard pudding and rhubarb ready for us when we join her in the house. Éibhear and I share it in peace.

********************************************************************

(To be continued!)

 

Wonderful! That second scene was touching because of the beginnings of compassion from Lucien and I think Irmgard helped very much smoothing things over.

 

Never broken a window before but I remember trying to run away from a 'crime scene' as a child.

I do believe that a child can never truly hate a parent.

 

children are forgiving. Lucien should remember being a child

 

“I cannot. Believe. That you. Have. Made. More. Babies. With. Sionnach.”

Neither can I


Taran stays for a week. I take every insult he delivers as a tender declaration of friendship.

Hah! As well he should.


he sets his jar anew and starts screaming incoherently. Blinded by anger and tears alike, he starts hitting me and I let it happen.

Good. You deserve it.


“You... hurt... her.”

“Her feelings, yes,” I confess. “But nothing else.”

I don’t believe it. Eibhear doesn’t either. HMPH.


(yet I’m glad there is healing)

 

Children are precious

 

@Hazel, SWpants, Lady_Misty, @Nyota´s Heart, earlybird-obi-wan

I cherish all your comments, but I am in a hurry so I make a short update without answering back much in return. I hope you all can forgive me.




I am there for Sionnach on the day that she delivers, but she wants me gone once our baby boy is washed and nestled against her chest. Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling of the alcove that she rests in. She is as cold and distant as the icy tops of the Vallum Ventii. I pushed her too much. Her Tjiehenet heritage is the key for her survival now. She is drifting away from me.

“Ruadhan and Ciall will be here in the afternoon. I want you gone before that!” she announces.

I glance at Draíocht, who does not return my look. That confirms that the two famous reivers indeed have been in contact with Sionnach. This will not fare well for me.

A thousand questions form in my mind, but I know that none of them will be answered today. And I certainly cannot bother Éibhear with them. He would feel like a spy, a traitor, if I start making inquiries. But there is another I can turn to.

Once outside, I transport straight to my own porch. Irmgard is in the kitchen garden, tending to it lovingly. “Can you walk up to Draíocht with me?”

“Warum?” She stops her watering, frowning deeply. Why?

The disturbing thing with Irmgard is that she is highly sensitive to the emotions of other beings. That comes automatically with her skills as a Seeker. Lying to her is almost impossible.

“I need your expertise,” I say.

“I will not give it to you for this, Luçien.” A curtain falls over her eyes. “Talk with Sionnach and ask her directly what is going on. Confront people instead of stalking them.”

Speechless, I take her in. Defiance was the last thing that I expected from her.

“I am done reading the past for others,” she continues. “My powers are vacant since I became your concubine. Yet you ask me to spy on Sionnach?”

“Then don't,” I roar and run off, taking with me the burning wish to hurt her.

********************************************************************

The next days pass in absolute silence. I stay out of Irmgard's way and she tries not to cross mine.

One afternoon I am required to show up at the langhús.

Before I leave the lodge, I veil myself. In the old days, a veil was a protection against sudden outbreaks of bloodshed between male Lidérc. For me, it always was a protection against unwanted eyes on my face.

When I knock at the front door a bearded man answers, his olive skin and fine livré seem out of place.

“Narthex?” I ask, totally taken aback. My gaze moves on to find the next impossible person. “Agathos?”

“What a pleasure to see you, old friend,” Narthex says and grasps my hand just a little too firm. “I had no way to contact you over these past few days.”

“I was on a mission for papa,” I lie. “Nobody could have reached me.”

“We took the liberty of doing the adoption ceremony without you,” Agathos informs me cheerfully and I can feel that his bliss is acted.

“Adoption ceremony?” My glare settles on Sionnach, who radiates a certain air of liberation.

Agathos' smile is still too bright when he starts addressing me again. “Sionnach wanted to acknowledge her roots. Giving birth to her youngest child makes this a very understandable request. I was all too happy to assist her and Ruadhan.”

My stunned gaze meets that of Ruadhan. “So you have found the daughter that you once lost,” I suggest, fully aware that this remark will hurt him badly.

The outlaw, once considered to be a friend, smiles icily at me. “Aye, and I would hate to lose her again by some strange twist of fate.”

“I see,” I reply with as much dignity as I can muster under the circumstances. Sionnach has gathered powerful allies while I was licking my wounds from our last encounter. Friends have turned into severe enemies, I cannot blame them for choosing her side over mine.

Agathos forces my attention back on him. “It also would pain me very much if any harm would come to Sionnach. She is my kin.”

“Then it is my duty to protect her even more after tonight,” I reply mechanically.

“I have no doubt about you doing just that,” Ruadhan answers pointedly.

Offering me a vendetta would have been more honest than all those vague threats. I prefer the ways of his father. Taran never shuts up when he feels treated unfairly or thinks that my course is wrong.

********************************************************************

Outside, another surprise waits for me - a Sapuhrian star cruiser. I can feel Irmgard inside and also the pilot.

When the landing ramp closes behind me, a uniformed fovea centralis agent stands in front of me. She is a giant of a woman. I can see that she trains hard in the gym. Her biceps are wider than mine. There seems to be nothing soft about her except for her eyes. They are honey-coloured, as is her short hair.

“I am Captain Magenta, your private escort to Sapuhru.”

“Am I banished from Draconis forthwith?”

She shakes her head vehemently. “The prince consort has asked me to fly you and your companion to Fort Grand. Mistress Yeotenn wants a word with the two of you. That is all I know.”

Minou has chosen to send for me. For Irmgard as well. That is bad news.

********************************************************************

“We need to say good-bye to one another.” Irmgard wipes at the tears trailing down her cheeks as she speaks. “I do not regret our time together, but I cannot be what you need. Your latest outbreaks made me realize that.”

Despite the burning feeling in my chest, I look back stoically. “What do I need?” I say at length in a levelled voice, fighting back the black tide of bitterness that rises in me.

“Temperance is about your age,” Irmgard answers straight away.

“Who?”

“Captain Magenta.”

I roll my eyes, irritated. “Why, in the Name of the Force, do you think that I need a replacement for you?”

“Give it a try,” Irmgard pleads. “The good captain loves it rough.”

“Pardon me?” I knit my brows.

She blushes. “You know how to Force choke a person, right?”

I shoot Irmgard a startled look, my eyes wide open. After all the time that we had spent together as lovers she should know the real me and how uncomfortable such a suggestion makes me feel.

“Luçien?” she pleads, trying to reach out to me. “Please talk to me.”

My jaw clenches and I brush off her annoying fingers. “We are done talking,” I say in a quiet tone and curl my fingers into tight balls at my sides.

Being a witch hunter is the ultimate test of selflessness. Over and over again I have to face unending emotional pain, while feeling the true agony of others. Irmgard has alerted me to a new level of personal sacrifice. I am vilified by others, by people I know and care for. It is another pain that I need to live with from now on.

********************************************************************

(To be continued!)

 

Yikes, losing Irmgard bums me out even though I know she is not his soul's destiny. Still, she was a positive, bright, healing influence.

Everyone is "siding with" Sionnach, according to Lucien. It's not a case of you're on my side or else, but he sees it that way.

(Woohoo!) I know Pants will have something to say to all this stuff happening.

 

Ah, things are not looking good for Lucien but hopefully they will get better.

 

Lucien is in deep trouble. He causes that himself. Stubborn guy.

 

Hey, I always have something to say
I'm glad others agree with me that he's being a stubborn donkey.


she wants me gone once our baby boy is washed and nestled against her chest.

I don’t blame her.


“Talk with Sionnach and ask her directly what is going on. Confront people instead of stalking them.”

I agree. For being such a hard guy, he’s such a wuss sometimes.
And he’s childish. Waaahhhh don’t spy for meeee waaaahhh *runs*


Good for Sionnach and the adoption ceremony!


Sionnach has gathered powerful allies while I was licking my wounds from our last encounter. Friends have turned into severe enemies, I cannot blame them for choosing her side over mine.

1. At least he realizes he’s being stupid and can’t blame her.
2. “Friends are SEVERE ENEMIES!! RAWWRRR” Again, I’m rolling my eyes at his immaturity.


Her biceps are wider than mine.

NICE


“Give it a try,” Irmgard pleads. “The good captain loves it rough.”

Whip him into shape, eh?


Being a witch hunter is the ultimate test of selflessness. Over and over again I have to face unending emotional pain, while feeling the true agony of others.

See, I think the opposite. If he’s in pain from it, then it’s just stupid, not selfless. “I’m killing people and it huuuurts!”

 

The week went by so quickly and I was happy as usual about the comments of Nyota's Heart, Lady_Misty, earlybird-obi-wan & SWpants. I happen to know that Hazel & DarthUncle are too busy to post.

So, before I am off to the sport centre I will present you more to comment, discuss, like or hate!



********************************************************************

My stay on Sapuhru is short. Minou shows me openly that she is not pleased with Sionnach's new pregnancy and has to say a lot about it. So does my foster-father Alezan. I leave them behind in blind anger.

Captain Magenta lurks around the exit area of our star ship. Different emotions run over her face, when she sees me approach the hanger. Her lips open to speak when I step on the loading ramp, but one sharp look of mine makes her close her mouth again before a single word of comfort leaves it.

“I will retreat to my cabin, Captain,” I state. “Please join me, for I have a proposal to you that might interest you.”

She gives me a court military nod and follows me, suppressing a smile.

Not much later we sit opposite one another in the passenger cabin and I take time to study her.

Captain Magenta has a hard jaw line for a female, but her face with its mossy-green eyes is pleasant. I especially like the golden shimmer in her honey coloured hair. Another thing that awes me is that she has honed her physique over years of dedication, hard work and determination.

“Milord, I am glad that you consider such a relationship with me.” She searches my eyes. “But you never did something like this before, did you?”

I shake my head.

“Then we need a binding contract, you and I.” She wipes her mouth clean with the back of her right hand. “A contract that might need some changes later on, because you are the learner even though you should be the master.”

Master. That this word is like a red rag to me. My grandfather forced me to say it too often. “Can you call me something else?” I ask.

“What would you prefer?”

Helplessly, I shrug my shoulders.

“What else are you not comfortable with?” Temperance asks.

“The part where I am supposed to hurt you.”

Even though this seems an obvious disappointment for her, she puts on a brave face. “This is why I said we need certain agreements to understand our likes and dislikes even better.”

“Might I ask why a young and intelligent Ophidea half-blood like you wants to be ruled by somebody else? You seem so independent, so in charge of your own feelings.”

My question brightens up her face and gives it an unexpected, almost dreamlike softness. “I signed up with the air force of fovea centralis when I was twelve-years-old,” she explains eagerly. “I find that I sometimes need a holiday from my multi-tasking and let someone else take charge for once.”

“So, it is more than just craving for pain?”

“Pain is so close to pleasure, milord.”

Carefully, I add for consideration. “For me pain is just an intense, religious experience.”

She sustains her chin with her right hand. “I can ask the prince consort for a prolonged holiday. My overtime has piled up the past two years and he has begged me to use all those hours for my own good.”

I already know Agathos' answer. “Please do not mention my name to the prince consort,” I bite out. “He would not understand.”

She arches a perfect eye brow. “Are you afraid that he will think negatively about it?” One of her hands curls around mine, that rest on the table. “Agathos is a very open person. There is not much that can shock him.”

“I would not be so sure.”

Many at the royal court see me as deviant already. Some even regard me as a sociopath. I would not want Agathos to do the same.

********************************************************************

Of course it had to be Polysýndeton. But that serves me well. I need closure. I stand in a large park where the temple district with its quirky old buildings had once been. The majority of the citizens have decided against a reconstruction. In a city state, where building plots cost a fortune, this is an impressive decision. So they had a different form of memorial: the Algea Park.

Temperance stands next to me, wearing a wide travel cloak.

We had been heading for an exclusive private club down town. But I felt the need to visit the place where I once lived happily with my family.

I silently speak a prayer and then I bend down to plant the three flower seeds carefully into the soft ground. Visitors of this park are encouraged to show their respect to the dead this way.

I am relieved that Temperance does not ask me any questions about our detour. She just remains in absolute silence next to me, until I am finished with my internal affairs.

“Thank you,” I breathe when I get up again.

My companion blushes due to my praise and looks bashfully to the ground. Quickly, she puts on an oval shaped mask, consisting of black velvet. It covers all but the outer edge of her face. The so-called Servetta Muta is secured by a small bit that is held in place by the teeth.

Club going Amnionians have a long tradition of wearing masks. Those masks, grotesque art pieces of leather or porcelain, encourage licence and pleasure. In the past I always avoided clubbing, but I am not the man that I used to be before the death of the twins.

********************************************************************

The club's façade is rather boring. It is painted in steel gray without flashy colours or signs that I am accustomed to seeing. At the door a young woman, wearing a feather mask, stands guard. She looks like a fairy tale creature this way, half owl and half human. Of course she recognizes Temperance as one of her own and acknowledges her with a cool nod. Then I get scanned intensely.

I am glad that I wear a mask myself. It is a baùtta, designed to comfortably cover the entire face and shows the inclusion of an over-prominent nose. There is also a thick supra orbital ridge, a somewhat projecting chin line, and no mouth.

Finally, my companion and I are waved through.

The lightening is dim. Everything is in grey, black, and red. From Temperance I already came to know that this place is famous for its strong drinks, hot tunes, and occasional outbreaks of violence, both consensual and not.

My eyes widen as I see the first evidence of it and am unable to tolerate it for very long. After only an hour, I furiously lead us back to our hotel room.

“Permission to speak, milord?” Temperance asks softly under lowered eyelashes.

“Yes,” I sigh exasperated and sink on the mattress.

She stands in front of me like a statue, motionless. From the heaving of her chest I can tell that this is a very emotional subject for her. “As a Force healer you should know that there are many ways of healing, milord. This is one of them.”

“You will end up dead one day,” I warn her and reach out for her to make her sit on my lap. “Let me at least tend to your wounds. I cannot stand seeing you like that. Senator Kithara was not very gentle with you tonight. I know I had no right to knock him down like that, but...”

Something wet drips on my hand. Temperance is crying. “This is not working, Luçien.”

I do not know what alarms me more – her tears, her words, or the usage of my name.

Shivering, Temperance takes me into her arms and I let it happen. I am able to smell the unmistakable scent of blood. The riding crop has cut deep into her back.

“I judged you wrong,” Temperance sniffs. “You have such a vulnerable, compassionate heart. My life style is not yours. I am so sorry that I put you through all of this.”

“Don't,” I beg her. “I gave you my consent, did I not?”

That makes her laugh and hug me even more.

“To be honest,” I whisper into her hair, “I really have trouble with this master and servant aspect, Temperance. Somehow it makes me constantly think about your belated god queen and the things that she had to undergo as a child.”

She jerks back from me and rubs her eyes. “It does? I would have never thought that you carry an ounce of compassion for Arcānā in your heart.”

I give her a wry smile. “When she was still alive, we were indeed arch-enemies. But now I think that, when love cast her out, she turned to the dark side at a rather vulnerable age. Not even her own husband was able to bring her back to the light. But the sight of the burning body of her eldest daughter on the temple plaza made something click deep inside her. She made the absolute self-sacrifice. I... I would not even be surprised to her that her redeemed soul grants her to be an angel of the Force ever after.”

A tremor goes to through Temperance's body before she pins me down on the bed and starts kissing me passionately. New tears flow, but I can tell from the shimmer in her eyes that they are a sign of joy.

“Let me give you a special good-bye present,” she whispers.

“Who am I to oppose you?” I smile.

********************************************************************

When I check on Sionnach on my return to Draconis, I find that she has grown extra fingers and toes, just to show me that she is a true Tjiehenet. I wonder if she is going to colour her hair blond soon, wear those dreadful dreadlocks from the River Valley and get a morbid hobby like raising the dead. Acting out is one thing; committing sacrileges around me is a different matter.

I am unable to talk with her though. Draìocht does not let me inside the langhús when I stop by to pick up my sons for a walk. Ruadhan and Ciall hand the boys over to me. Their grim faces make it feel like I am taking part in a hostage exchange.

When I complain to Éibhear about this treatment one afternoon, he laughs. “You are the villain to them, papa. Be glad that they just blame you for making a new baby with maman. Grandfather Taran told me about Lady Tramp.”

It takes me a while before I realise that he speaks about Temperance. “I cannot believe that the old scoundrel is talking to you about that.”

“I came to see you when you were on Amnion. Grandfather opened the door and let me in.” His sharp Elfin face looks up at me. “Of course I made him tell me. I can manipulate the Force, too.”

I sink down on my knees until I am eye-to-eye with him. “What did you do?”

“Just pushed his mind,” he mumbles. “Found a lot of stuff in there that I did not want to know. About him and also about you.”

It takes me every ounce of self-control to remain calm. Shouting at the boy would not get me anywhere. I need to make him understand the falsehood of his deed. “Forcing your mind on others is wrong, and I know what I am talking about.”

“It is like moving a muscle really,” Éibhear sulks.

Garou, bound to my chest in a large shawl, starts crying.

“Hush,” I whisper to my baby son and pat his right cheek, while my other hand remains fixed on his brother's shoulder. “Use the Force against enemies whenever you like. But never against family members. I want you to be a better man than I am. Is that understood?”

The defiance in his eyes slowly melts and he leans forward to place a light kiss on my nose tip. “Grandfather's head is a scary place anyway.”

“What else can you do?” I ask in a casual tone of voice, thinking about the dark Tjiehenet legacy concerning necromancy.

“To be honest, I really don't want to know, papa. I'd rather be a lumberjack.”

Garou sneezes and I wipe his tiny nose for him. Then I say to Èibhear, “You asked earlier on if I can take you to the midsummer fire tomorrow night.”

He nods eagerly.

“You are not old enough for that, Amhantar.” Using his Elfin soul name for the occasion is a bit harsh, but I wish absolutely no discussion about the matter. “Many adults will be indulged in... activities I do not want you to see yet.”

He makes a face. “You visit Amnionian nightclubs with lady friends of yours and I am not allowed to see the midsummer fires.”

This child exhausts me from time to time. He is both immature and too clever for his own good. Like Grianán.

“Draíocht has her family visit,” he argues on. “They camp in tents all over the property. Don't you think I already heard and saw...”

One of my hands moves around his neck and the other one comes to rest on his mouth. “Never underestimate the Force or a baby brother. He is listening to us more intently than I want him to do. Please let us change the subject.”

Anger turns into embarrassment. Then Éibhear nods slowly and I let go of him.

“You expressed your wish to have a tree house recently.” I give him a winning smile. “Why don't we talk about that? As you may have noticed, I have restricted visiting rights. Every moment with you and your brother is precious to me.”

His eyes turn large and then he whoops in astounding joy.

“I have paper and a pencil with me,” I inform him, while he starts to jump around me like a little twister. “Why don't we sit down on that tree trunk over there and you explain your wishes to me.”

********************************************************************

When I bring the boys back at sun set, Draíocht waits for us at the tree line that marks her property. The tent village has grown considerably, while we were away.

I leave with the promise that Sionnach will not attend the local fires, but celebrate here among Clan Mössa. There is this feeling deep in my guts that there is new trouble ahead with her.

Dawn breaks, making the shadows of the trees larger and I quicken my pace back home. On the veranda I find a note. It is done in Taran's pin sharp handwriting. He informs me that he will meet a former army pal of the crack unit for tonight. They want to do some hunting. I hope for the local community that they will only go for a four-legged prey. Midsummer should be an occasion for joy, not for sorrow.

That night, I cannot find much sleep, tossing and turning around in my bed like a leaf in the wind. It's not Taran's usual cravings for fresh meat that I fear. It is Sionnach's safety.

 

Well curiosity killed the cat; supposedly. I still can't find proof it did.

Sionnach could be playing with fire and not realize it thinking that it is freedom and not take heed to the dangers around her.

 

Very interesting stuff here, with Lucien's varying responses to Temperance and his sons. I think he is developing scruples or at the very least is letting them show more.

 

Lucien is nice with his son

 

“Then we need a binding contract, you and I.” She wipes her mouth clean with the back of her right hand. “A contract that might need some changeslater on, because you are the learner even though you should be the master.”

I don't know. It's just....weird to think of Lucien in that type of relationship. He abuses people but he has a reason (in that convoluted mind of his). In romance though, he's a true lover. Or at least tries to be.


I silently speak a prayer and then I bend down to plant the three flower seeds carefully into the soft ground. Visitors of this park are encouraged to show their respect to the dead this way.

I like it


“I judged you wrong,” Temperance sniffs. “You have such a vulnerable, compassionate heart. My life style is not yours. I am so sorry that I put you through all of this.”

Exactly!


When I complain to Éibhear about this treatment one afternoon, he laughs. “You are the villain to them, papa. Be glad that they just blame you for making a new baby with maman. Grandfather Taran told me about Lady Tramp.”

It's so true, but odd to hear from the mouth of him!


“Just pushed his mind,” he mumbles. “Found a lot of stuff in there that I did not want to know. About him and also about you.”

*shakes head* It's good Lucien didn't yell. I don't know what I would do. But I may not have had that control.


He makes a face. “You visit Amnionian nightclubs with lady friends of yours and I am not allowed to see the midsummer fires.”

You're a child. Get over it.

Lucien is a good papa.