Spinning Fate's Threads

Sorry, gang. So tired. I'll answer individually next time.

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Cain was restless. He had been pacing the confines of his room for over an hour by this point. After the dream that was a memory he couldn’t seem to get back to sleep. Not that he wanted to, not really. It had brought up other memories, some just as good and some nightmarish in their quality. All of those memories centered on a beautiful little witch that he hadn’t seen in centuries and suddenly felt the need to get his hands on. In any way possible. He really didn’t relish facing Blaze again. That thought was quickly followed by the warning that had sounded in his head from one of Circe’s fathers. He had no doubt the former member of Schwarz would follow up on the threat, probably with backup from Circe’s other father and everyone else in the general vicinity. He wasn’t anxious to bring the whole of Red Shaman down on his head because that was possibly more than even he could handle with any safety. But he would love to square off against Jeirn again. Any sort of contact would have to be made with extreme caution.



He forced his fangs back as at some point in time during his thinking they had lengthened again. It was odd, he thought, every time he thought about Circe there was an almost overwhelming urge to bite. Though her blood, along with the rest of the Created, was extremely toxic to Methuselah it wasn’t to him. The one and only time he’d ever had her blood in his system was when he had been injured from falling off of the scaffolding where the station was being repaired. He had landed where the supplies were being kept and an iron bar had been shoved through his chest. Seth had run off screaming for Blaze and Lilith, while Abel had stood in unmoving shock. It had been Circe who’d taken control of the situation and wrenched the bar from his body. Even at that stage she had been a consummate healer and had sealed the gaping wound as she went. Then she’d opened her wrist and fed him directly. He distinctly remembered arching up from the floor as her blood had pulsed rapidly to what seemed like every cell in his body. He hadn’t had the strength to fight as wave after wave of rolling, white hot liquid seemed to pour through him: healing what was damaged.



He smiled a little at that memory. “Hmm. There’s power in the blood.”





Abel suddenly felt as though he couldn’t breathe properly when they rounded the odd turn that brought Blaze’s home into clear view. The gentle sounds of the pipes and drums became a thousand times louder and he suddenly realized that a huge crowd had gathered around where the ship would most probably be docking. Near the dock were people who seemed to be dressed mostly in grey, brown or deep green, while further along he caught sight of yellow, orange, blue, red and finally purple at the very end of the long thoroughfare, interspersed with the various colors were sharp glints of silver and black at very pronounced intervals.



He turned to look worriedly at Blaze, who had sighed deeply and was shaking her head. He glanced backward upon hearing Takara and Jeirn chuckle.



“I’ll bet my hair that Granddad would be laughing himself silly if he were to see this,” Takara said.



“That’s a safe bet,” Blaze said, barely suppressing the growl in her voice. She grimaced while looking out at all those gathered and still gathering around the main thoroughfare. “Dear gods, we’ll be here forever.”



Hunt followed Blaze’s line of vision. “Christ on toast, I’d forgotten how downright plain these people make me feel, Blaze.”



Abel turned around fully to stare at him in disbelief because he’d never dreamed those words would ever leave Hunter’s mouth.



Blaze snorted. “Join the club, kid. Vain, pompous, egomaniacal, annoying faeries.”



“Fairies? I thought those were little bitty things,” Abel said.



“No, bebe,” Skye said. “You’re thinking pixies. Common mistake among Terrans and Methuselah alike as very few actually interact with the Sidhe anymore.”



“Nasty, stinky, pesky pixies,” Star said with a look of utter distaste.



“Not everyone holds your opinion of pixies,” Skye said calmly.



“Yeah, well, they should.”



“These people aren’t of the working classes,” Gun explained to Abel. “They’re the warrior and ruling class. No one out there is anything less than a Viscount in rank, even the soldiers. Abel, are you okay?”



Abel had visibly paled again and was swaying dangerously on his feet. “No. I’m fine,” he said, taking several slow, deep breaths.



“Maybe I should have just taken him to Dad and been done with it,” Blaze said, beginning to look a little worried.



“Yeah. That would have gone over well with Morrigan,” Jeirn said jeeringly.



“Let me handle my spirit mother,” Blaze said.



“You may have to do that sooner than later, Mom. Here she comes,” Takara said, nodding to where the crowd was parting as rapidly as they could, some seemed to be actually scrambling to get out of the way.



Abel leaned forward a little and squinted to see the person cutting through the throng like a wedge. The wave of power nearly rocked him off his feet as it hit him long before she ever came into clear line of sight and he was mildly astonished when she did become visible. The grand lady he had been expecting did not come into view. The individual striding down the walkway as though she owned it, everything and everyone in the general vicinity was barely taller than Blaze was. She was dressed or undressed as the case was, in boots that laced to the knee, a banded torc necklace and absolutely nothing else. Her hip length red hair looked like a small explosion of fire as the sea breeze blew it in all directions and her too blue eyes seemed to lock onto his even at a distance. He sincerely hoped she couldn’t see him start to tremble at that point.



Gun gently put a hand to the small of Abel’s back. “It’s okay. She isn’t nearly as scary as she first seems,” he said quietly.



“That’s good to know,” Abel said, sounding relieved.



Hunt looked wide eyed at his twin behind Abel’s back and mouthed Are you out of your MIND?



Gun glared at him. Abel didn’t notice the communication behind his back because he was too busy watching what was happening on land.



Morrigan had reached the dock and Abel could see her properly by that point. She was not overly muscular but from what he could see; and that was quite a lot all things considered, she was lean and looked incredibly strong even with her short stature. The heralds and high priests who had gathered near the ship looked ready to jump off of the dock to get away from her glare. She looked up at the ship and caught Abel’s eyes and held them. He was making the concentrated effort to not show he was completely terrified of her. She grinned at him after a moment and turned toward the assembled crowd.



“Enough of this ridiculous nonsense. Take your worthless asses home,” she growled, then faced the ship again. “Edana! Bring me that boy.”