F i d e l i t y

[Armony]

Closed.​

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How dare you, leave those below to ruin!

A bright light. This was all that was seen. A bright, white, light which held the wrath of a pit of fire. She heard nothing, saw nothing but this dear light, and bathed in it's fury. She deserved this ... Did she not? She had betrayed the one she loved the most, and this would be her punishment. She was to never bathe in his radiance again ... never to speak with him again ... never to quietly sit in her garden.

Do you hate me now ... ?

Falling. That was all she could manage. She had no wings to soar, no wings to save her from this fall. That light was fading, slipping from her grasping hands. She was a forgotten one. ... No. She was the one which had forgotten.


Sera awoke with a start, eyes large silver moons filled with terror. The hour was unknown to her, as were the two large brown eyes staring down across her counter. Her back ached; it burned with the heat of a thousand suns. Maybe this was why she wept. Her breathing was ecstatic, glistening tears pouring down the soft face to mix with the deep color of her hair. The thick cerulean mass seemed to cover her, hiding her from the outside world, like a curtain of velvet. The small girl doubled over, head burying into her shaking hands. No ... this wasn't at all why she wept. It wasn't he pain in her back, or the frightful nightmares she'd been having night after night. It was her heart. It ached, feeling like a bottomless pit of deep sorrow; one that would swallow her whole, and never again let her see the light of day.

"Miss? Are you alright?" The voice was soft, holding the care of an experienced mother.

Sera looked up, silver orbs meeting those of a worried brown. For a moment the younger female thought of falling into the shoulder hovering over her, of letting her tears weight down someone else for a change. No ... she couldn't do that to this kind woman.

"I'm fine." She answered with a shaky voice, hidden behind a lovely smile. "I had a nightmare is all."

A hand was offered to her, which she took gladly before standing. That was when she noticed the time. In an instant worry had entered her large eyes, "I'm so sorry!" With this small apology she turned to rush for a cooler located in the back of the small, bright, shop. The chuckling escaping the elder woman followed her, casting a comforting shadow over the tear stained girl. It was as if she were telling her, It's alright - Everything will be fine soon.

Grasping a large arrangement of roses, she turned on her heels. Her hair danced, following the pattern of the black skirt about her small legs. She had been here since the early hours of the morning, working on special orders for a funeral to happen this afternoon. She hadn't slept last night ... or the night before.

"I'm terribly sorry for making you wait." Extending the large vase she was once more, greeted with a smile.

"It's quite alright, dear. Have a nice day, now."

Sera watched the elder woman exit in silence, a small smile playing upon her lips. The low chime of the silver bell above the door caused an air of nostalgia to fill the small flower shop. The owner remained still, leaning against her counter in silence for a time. Her breathing calmed, eyes closing softly to enjoy the fresh scent of morning glories to her left, and lilies to her right. The only place she felt at ease was in this place, and the small garden on the roof of her apartment. It was a strange feeling, almost as if ...

That garden I see in my dreams ... I wonder if anyone cares for it anymore.

 

[Mediciner]

The rising sun aroused him soundlessly – far better than any other alarm clock a person could hope to build, for no-one could ignore bright light forever – and passed through his intangible figure to greet the land below. Had he really been sleeping? No . . . it was a sort of forced state of lethargy; fatigue? Was that what it was called? He had never experienced it before in life, but it was the best word to describe how he felt currently: slow thought-processes, a touch languid, and . . . oh, where had he floated off to now? The boy flipped onto his stomach, rubbing at his eyes as he surveyed this new scenery.

Scents. Natural smells reached his slow-to-react senses.

Was he near a forest of some sort? No, he remembered straying into a town the night before. This was another construct of man’s world, a hubbub of humans. The countless numbers of them all! Had he the memory for it, perhaps he could have recalled the many different aspects between these settlements across the world, but no, his mind was on something that seemed to have become more pressing in recent years. Perhaps it was this innate compulsion that had dragged him from who-knew-where and back to Earth; though it could have been more specific as far as where to look! The planet wasn’t exactly miniscule. Regardless . . .

Natural smells. Refined earth. Living breaths. And . . . flowers?

“How quaint,” mumbled the little spirit, lazily floating closer to the building where the array of scents was coming from. At least while taking control of their environment, some humans were benevolent enough to keep hold of nature’s gifts. But why would he be led along in his “doze” to this particular shop? He had seen far grander places positively bursting to the brim with plants, areas by far more pleasing to the eye and monumental than this. Then again, he had long since allowed himself to be tugged along by this Enigmatic Impulse; if it decided to plop him down in a flower shop, maybe it was a sign of getting a break from wandering. Not that he ever minded; it wasn’t as if he could get tired from floating too much, or whatever it was the E.I. believed he needed a rest from.

“In the least I am left alone for now.” For the most part, demons didn’t enjoy prowling at first light. Without so much as a blink, Twiddle slid through the wall of the shop. Now sitting, he tilted his head this way and that, examining each individual flower as if it contained something hidden behind each petal. Certainly a sight for sore eyes in the morning.

 

[Twilight12]

"What do you want from me! I'm just a kid!..." Those were the first words that the boy named Xaros uttered from his lips, in his current deep-frightened state. " Those dreams, they felt so real, as if i was there right now...only i wasn't, but i can recall the events from my mind as if were to somehow record these images, and watch it again. The boy was terrified, he didn't know what to believe. He knew it was stupid to question himself, he knew yesterday about the events that he did, he knew that theres no possible wasy that that was real. " Its only a dream, nothing more, nothing less".

Stephen got up from his emerald shaded color room and got ready for the pacifist morning he had planned. He walked outside his door and proceeded to the Forest. He knew of the dangers goin' in there, but then again, that itself was a another dream. In this dream though, he saw demonic looking creatures in this area. This time, he got close to a demon and the Demon had scratched him on the lower stomach area. Next morning, He found himself having slight pains/aches around that same area, and to his surprise, there was the same mark that the Demon had marked him. Stephen didn't care, he figured it was something during his sleep that he accidently cut himself, he wasn;t the most stationary sleeper anyone ever knew.

Regardless, he processed into the Forest to go into his favorite spot. Beyond the old humongous Oak Tree, to the left on the entwined jungle vines, straight into the cave like area, left to the pathway, lied a undetected Jungle Beach. Stephen made his way onto the shore and threw himself to the white-clear sand, and relaxed.

 

[stripes]

Layla stared at her hand as it blocked the dull sun from her face. She sighed and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as she calmy tried to breathe. Her goal was to get out of her bed and go walk the chambers, recording things that were needed to be recorded, watching things that needed to be watched, standing around talking to angels, something she has done since her creation. She closed her eyes and raised from her bed. Same as always, white and pale with a sun that never stopped shining, giving her no peace.

As she walked down the aisle trying to correct her robe, she saw no angels talking in the corners, she wondered where was everybody. Something she was probably to young to hear about. Of human years she would probably be around the age of nintey five, but here, she was a teenager, with much to learn, and little knowledge, she hated the down talk, but it was something she had to live with until the elders saw it fit to leave. Her tied up hair irritated her because it constantly iched from the gold pins provided to her, she tried to get her spot without causing an attention to herself as she walked outside of the corridors to a small patch of grass.

SHe sat down and begin writting her dreams. The ones of humans, she always had dreams about humans, the Creators prized creations. He loved them, but then detested them. His emotions for the humans seemed to something of rather intrest. She always wondered why did he create them, if he only uses them to create pain in their world. Sometimes she knew that he tried all his best to make the world right for the humans, but she also knew that the way the humans tried to make the world right for themselves only led to diseases, famin, death, plaques, a horrible way to live, a horrible way to suffer through the centuries.

 

[Armony]

For the last half hour her eyes had been unconsciously looking toward the large grandfather clock in the corner of her shop. The noon bell would be ringing in another hour, and a half. She had to have this casket piece done by then. The air of the small place had changed from that of joyous nostalgia, to a mist of small sorrow. Funerals were never things that the female enjoyed arranging flowers for. It wasn't the fact that many orders poured in, or the fact that she had to rush through other arrangements sometimes.

It was the heavy burden that filled her as she read over the requests to be printed on cards, and the faces of those who entered. Even those who phoned in orders sounded as if they would break at any given time.

A set of silver shears were dropped, small hands shakily grabbing an off-white rubber band. Her cerulean locks were pulled up messily from her neck, small bits falling down as she moved towards a cooler in the back to frame her face. The way she moved was mournful; her stature was almost bend in reverence, large eyes downcast to the floor as she glided the well known path of mixed scents. Days like today were ones better left unremembered. The early morning would be calm, peaceful, as if providing a calm before the coming storm. Later on today it would surely cloud over, as if to cast a shadow of sorrow over the whole town. It would rain by nightfall, if not before then, as if trying to cleanse and comfort the land and it's people of this sorrow.

Grasping a small container of white, and green Daisies she turned on her heels. It was times like this she seemed to glide, almost hover in her well known atmosphere. Placing the small container down she started carefully placing daisies about the centerpiece - yellow daffodils. The low purr of the air conditioner caught her off guard, and Sera's eyes jerked upward as if expecting to see someone. No one was there.

She paused, almost as if trying to rethink it, before walking around the small counter in the corner of the shop, passing down the small isle of flowers to the front door. Upon reaching it, the low chime of the silver bells echoed sending a shiver of comfort down the girl's spine. Propping the door open, a warm current mixed with a soft breeze entered the shop. She remained here, eyes gazing out onto the busy street. Something about today was strange.

She turned, eyes shifting over the eastern corner, to the window that faced towards the bookshop beside her own. She paused then, eyes backtracking a moment. There she remained, frozen in the middle of her island of flowers in confusion. She had seen something ... she was sure of it. Brows knitting the small girl sidestepped, heading closer to where a tray of Forget-Me-Not's resided. A warm breeze entered, sending the small bells on the door into an uproar of melodic beauty. Grasping the black tray of eight, it was straightened and pushed back correctly upon it's resting place. Standing, Sera turned to return to her work once more. I really - must - sleep tonight.

 

[Mediciner]

I really - must - sleep tonight.

A whisper of the breeze? He could see the effects of the invisible force upon the tenants of the shop, caressing their trusses of lively-colored petals as it passed through, but had it carried another’s voice as well? Or was it echoing his subconscious’s thoughts? Did he really need more “sleep”? Odd that it would in a female’s voice then . . .

“. . . Ah. Her thoughts, not mine,” he concluded, still under the effects of – sleep? fatigue? unconsciousness? – and therefore slow on the uptake. Having been so long a wayfarer of the world, he grew to notice that sometimes thoughts of others could be heard under ideal conditions. Not that he took up the habit of eavesdropping over the years, but the boy was quite taken with interest about the inner workings of man’s mind. Yet how many years had he been “researching” with nothing to show for it but more questions? Nothing was ever accomplished, it seemed. The sound of another’s voice was pleasant every once in a while for a lonely spirit, however.

The woman’s behavior suddenly piqued his attention. She acted as though something had disturbed her : his presence? It was not the first time that a human noticed him of course, but the rarity of the occurrence was still appreciated, and so Twiddle left the little group of marigolds he had been examining to float on after her a polite distance behind, hands clasped together beneath the long sleeves of his shirt. Perhaps . . .

“A sign if you can hear me?”