My Angel of Dreams
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"The will of the Lord and Goddess is with her," Thessa said, smiling thinly under her mask, "so there is no reason to worry. She will be fine." Her deep voice carried with it the strength and conviction of nearly two hundred years of service under the will of the Goddess, and Edgar had to caution himself against being so easily reassured, fearing that his apprehension might slip away into complacency. "She is beyond you in any case." He started, his gaze slipping from the object of his concern, surprised and alarmed that she would threaten him so boldly. "You have no right," he said heatedly, turning away from the stadium to glare at her, "to say that. She is..." His voice faltered, words stopping, piling up upon one another, choking him, and he found himself unable to say more. Her wooden visage, the mask of a white eagle, majestic and powerful, carved and painted so finely it seemed to breathe and watch, the symbol of absolute power and indomitable strength and will silenced him as effectively as a gag. His face contorted in an effort to control his sudden rage, at himself and at her, and he spun back to watch the contestants filing out into the battlefield. "You are, perhaps, a bit overwrought. Perhaps you should not watch, if this is how you will be acting?" "No!" he spat, almost shouting. "I won't leave, and you can't make me!" His hands shook. But for her small reunite of priestesses and guards, he might have been at this moment strangling her, so great was his rage and frustration. Thessa paused. "Edmund," she asked quietly, "would you please take Edgar away until he calms himself? He does no good to anybody here." Edmund bowed to her respectfully, then turned to Edgar. "Good sir," he asked gently, "would you-" "Fine!" Edgar spun around yet again, eyes casting murder upon the guard. "I don't need a guard to help me out. I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself!" he shouted, storming up the aisle with Edmund following at a short distance. "It might be polite for us to take our seats now, my lady," Emily said tactfully from behind her owl's mask. "People are waiting." Thessa started, glancing around quickly. "Yes, we shall. My most humble apologies," she said, turning to face the small clump of people who had been stuck behind her band and bowing deeply. That done, she turned again, regally, and began to proceed down the aisle, taking her seat just to the right of the entrance gates and sitting. Her back was held straight, with an overbearing presence which caused some mild discomfort in some other watchers, around her, though not at the least in her reunite, who knew her all too well. She waited, wordlessly. After a time, Emily spoke. "Was it really wise to let him come?" "I suppose not," came the reply, "though I wasn't expecting him to break down like that. He's usually so calm." "That's why he broke down like that," came the amused answer. Thessa sighed. "I suppose. You can't really blame him, though. No, you may. But it's perhaps not reasonable to." A muffled laugh emerged from behind the owl's mask. "You've never been a parent. You wouldn't know. Besides, you're always so calm yourself." "Yes. I suppose." They waited in silence for events to begin. "Why didn't her mother want to come?" asked Emily, breaking the blanket of tranquility which had settled over the group. Thessa shrugged. "I honestly cannot say. Perhaps you must have a child of your own, if you're to understand her reasons, for I certainly can't." An invisible frown pulled the corners of her mouth downwards. "It's a pity. Did you ever know her?" "No, I didn't." "I suppose not. She should be here, by all rights, but I hadn't the heart to order her to attend. Given the way that Edgar reacted, I find myself quite satisfied with that choice. She is a far more emotional person than he." She paused. "In but a moment you'll ask me about her mother, won't you?" Emily laughed. "You know me all too well." &nsp; "Well. She's named Cordelia, and is little less than forty years of age. She was a priestess under my service until a little more than ten years ago, before you arrived. She was very devout, as I recall, and extremely dedicated. She had the gift of reading the wind, though not very strongly. Her parents had raised her to be a wife, but her gift called her to us, and so she ran away right after exiting childhood." Thessa sighed, as if tired. "She was very social, cheerful, and generally uplifting, and was very kind and considerate as well. Unfortunately, she was very willful and stubborn...something amusing?" "No, not at all," Emily said, trying to stifle her giggles. "I think I'm just perhaps a bit anxious." "Yes, I am aware of the irony in my last statement," Thessa stated in a deadpan voice, "but she was a priestess, and nothing more, and a priestess must be able to take orders. What I must do is give orders." She paused again, glancing at her companion to make sure her mirth had subsided. "In any case, she fell in love with Edgar, and after a short period in which they tried as hard as they could to murder each other, they settled down and had a family. Almost classic, and quite a dull story, really. When Holly was born, though, that was when they began to fall apart. When we took her, Cordelia left with Edgar, and I haven't the slightest idea what they've been doing since. Well, more accurately, she stormed out with Edgar. Quite the pity. If Holly hadn't been born as she is, she'd still be with us, though I'm not suggesting that I'd rather that Holly weren't born." She paused again. "She was the one who had the idea of decorating the Hall for the Convergence, and she also repainted the ceiling. It used to be a vision of stormclouds before that. Almost everybody who remembers her would be very glad to have her back, though the odds of that are perhaps not even worth considering." She fell silent. "Anything else you want to know?" "No," said Emily thoughtfully. "That's more than enough. On a slightly cheerier note, have you the faintest idea when this will get underway, or may I go purchase some confections from that vendor over there?" She stood, still, waiting as the contestants and spellweavers flowed around her, as the wind blew peacefully above, as excited spectators jostled for position among merchants and guards, as Thessa sat and her father stormed away. She could feel his anger, like the finest of sandpapers against the softest of skins as he shoved his way through the breeze outside, his rage in his movement and breath. She felt something which there was no name for, which she did not properly know, and then she shoved him away, and he vanished from her mind. The spellweavers were gone, now, the contestants either waiting or entering. She shuddered briefly, almost ripping the sleeve of her loose shirt apart, then bent down and shoved her palms into the cold ground so that they wouldn't move without instruction, as they were sometimes bound to do. Holly made a very curious sight, garnering many strange glances as others moved around her as she sat, cross-legged, on the ground. A teenager, seemingly tall and unnaturally thin with short light brown hair, a small mouth, and gently closed eyes, she seemed almost fey in appearance. Not beautiful, but almost handsome, she had been mistaken for a boy before, though she did not know it, and would not care if she did. She wore a pair of amazingly thin and soft sky blue pants, and a loose sky blue shirt, and that was all. Even that much, though, grated, and horribly so. She strained her teeth as she tried to keep her hands on the floor, agitation falling off her in showers. It was sometimes like this. It was when she felt that it was like this. The finest cloth in the world, which yet barely touched skin turned to horsehair chains and suffocating blankets, and she could not breathe, could not feel, could not think, and it filled her with such a frustration that knew no bounds. It had been a true trial for the priestesses to get her to wear even those. Her parents had simply given up. She wanted to lash out, to scour the horrible prison from her skin, so that she could breathe again, but countless repetitions or lessons and such had impressed upon her the importance of not doing so, so instead she tried to drive her hands through the stone. It usually worked. Luckily enough, this time was one of the times that it did, and the revulsion left her so suddenly that she collapsed, gasping. One of the more leisurely attendants, still hanging around, noticed her lying on the floor, and looked around, surprised that nobody else had noticed before him. With a slight shock, he realized that everybody had noticed, but were loathe to approach her for whatever reasons they knew. He shrugged, slightly disturbed, then walked over to ask her a question. "Excuse me? Are you all right?" He frowned at her lack of reaction, then tried again after a few seconds. "Excuse me?" Still, there was no response. A bit disturbed by the strangeness of it all, he spoke a third time. "Excuse me, young miss? Is there anything wrong?" When no response was forthcoming, he frowned, genuinely worried for her health. "Here," he said, bending down, "let's get you to a priest." He reached out to lift her up, and was shocked when he found himself flying backwards through the air, without warning. He hit the ground hard, and stood up, shaking his head. "I'd better go get a priest..." he muttered, casting a concerned look at Holly as he ran off. "Did you feel that?" asked Thessa, sharply. Emily looked up from her small selection of horribly colorful candies and muffins, surprised. "Feel what?" "The air moving." She shook her head. "No. What happened?" Thessa's eyes were closed, and she frowned, slightly. "Oh. It's just Holly. I suppose I should tell her to get out into the arena now, shouldn't I?" "If it speeds this up, yes, it'd probably be a good idea." The hawk's mask peered down into the area as she felt out the design of the building. "Well, then," she said, shifting the air in front of Holly very slightly, "that's done with. I hope she hasn't mauled some poor innocent fool to death while she was down there." "Don't we all," spoke Emily, chewing on a little green-striped bear. "Want one of these little gingerbread-bear things?" she asked, waving one in front of Thessa. "They're good." "Emily," said the hawk's mask, slowly turning to face her, "not to be intrusive or anything, but how do you manage to eat things with a mask on? It's quite mystifying." "That's a secret," she said, grinning behind her mask. "Oh, look. Holly's come out. I hope she knows what she's doing." They watched her walk out with avid interest, Emily crunching a purple dragon and Thessa frowning with intense concentration. Holly stopped at the base of the stairs, raising her hands to either side of her, as to form a cross. "Do you think she wants a gingerbread...uh...strange-leviathan-like-thing?" Emily asked, holding one up and grinning. "Go ahead and see," replied Thessa. Emily grinned and tossed the cookie towards Holly with all her might. It landed, uncaught, directly in front of her. "Guess not." Thessa was almost glaring at her charge, and still concentrating intensely. She could feel what Holly was doing, if she tried hard. It was very difficult when it was something as subtle as reading the wind. When the fireworks started to fly, she mused, everything would be much easier to see. She was looking forward to watching this, not only for the excitement, but in a sort of way that she would, possibly, call motherly, though anybody else would probably reject that term out of hand. She smiled slightly, willing calm into the child, and then sat back, closing her eyes. "Though I'd like to try one of those, if you'd be so kind," she said, lifting her mask upwards.
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