Quickly, a blck clad figure darted down the deserted
street in the pouring rian. Huge, icy drops falling in sheets, lightening
crackling madly all about, thunder crashing one boom atop another, a wild
show of nature's warthful vengence. Finally, the figure reached it's destination,
a large, dark building, in the gothic style,from it's windows, no light
escaped to the street, but the murmur of voices within could be heard between
thunderous boom, if one but listened carefully... Without pause, the figure
reached out a pale delicate hand and shoved open the massive door, dissapearing
within immediately, the door closing with a muffled boom behind her.
Silently, she stood, just inside the door, as yet unnoticed by the crowd
gathered within. Slowly, she surveyed the room as she removed her sodden
cloak to reveal, not her customary druid's robes, but a loose black linen
blouse, and legs encased in black leather, the pants caressing her thighs
and the curve of her derriere like a lover's touch before flaring slightly
to accomadate the ever-present hand made boots...
Then, from out of the gloom, the greetings began to come. Absently, she
answered them, barely registering the identity of each voice, and made her
way to her customary seat, on the floor in a niche carved from the center
of a wall of shiny obsidian blocks which she'd claimed as her own so long
ago...
Quietly, she sat, watching the goings on in the room. Here, several people
were arguing the merits of this band over that; there, someone was threatening
another wioth the promise of a napalm bath and a match; and
in the midst of it all, someone was sitting in the rafters tossing, of all
things, popcorn and fruitloops at various people in the crowd...
Sitting silently on the cool marble floor, her back braced against the
smooth , shining blackness of the obsidian blocks making up the wall, she
reached deep within herself for the peaceful calm of a meditative state.
Taking a deep breath, she sent her gaze toward the floor,and peered, not
at the patterns in the stone, but through them... The deeper she looked,
the more alive the patterns seemed, almost writhing within the confines
of their stone prison. The almost living, shifting patterns aided her in
opening a door on thoughts long locked away, without losing contro; of them.
Slowly, the thoughts came, awakened from their slumber. Thoughts of the
pain, and the abuse she'd suffered, and the emotions and pieces of herself
she'd hidden away, to save them from the crushing reality of her life.
She'd hidden away all that was sweet, gentle, or fragile. The ability
to feel, the capacity for love, for friendship, her heart, and her soul,
leaving an empty shell, only capable of bitterness... or so she'd thought...but,
bit by bit, it had begun to escape, and now, she was at a loss for how to
deal with the thoughts and feelings she had begun to have... It was as if
she were feeling and thinking for the first time, she wasn't able to keep
her thoughts in order, nor to reign emotions which often slipped from her
control...
She was entranced by the beauty of it, yet terrified of the consequences.
How could she open herself to all this, and still be safe from harm? She
feared she couldn't, and often ran away from the discomfort of unfamiliar
emotions...but just as often, her stubborn, willful nature forced her to
stand and face it all. It was a war within herself; one she wasn't sure she'd
survive.
What was it, she wondered, about this person that allowed him to affect
her like this when no one else could? Why did he haunt her dreams at night?
Why was she constantly thinking of him? Worrying about him? Why did she struggle
against a compulsion to tell him her innermost thoughts? She didn't know,
but she wondered if perhaps he too, felt similarly compelled... was that
why he stayed away? she wondered. Was that the reason she'd not seen him
all week? perhaps he was even less comfortable than she with the strange
thoughts which danced within her head; perhaps he did indeed entertain similar
thoughts...
