(no subject)

[Cold. Dark.]

She screamed, once, giving way to panic for an instant before realization dawned. After that, she was quiet, struggling silently for mastery. The emptiness pressed in on her, and it was an effort to breathe slowly, steadily, and not hyperventilate. The darkness seemed a living thing... she pushed the thought away quickly, her eyes widening with terror. Thinking that way was the very last thing she should do. She closed her eyes, and fought for calm.

*Young...*

It was a sigh, pure thought that strummed through her and over her. Abruptly, she relaxed. As she did so, the darkness throbbed, and she was not alone. Their minds touched hers, probing, questioning, seeking. Defiantly, yet a little uncertainly, she acquiesced, well aware of what was at stake.

*Irregular...*

She fought back rebellion at the mind-taste of disapproval. Screaming that everything about her was irregular would win her nothing, and reminding them that she was (as yet! she added fiercely where they would not hear her,) no substitute for the One who had gone was not a wise tactic. Instead, she let memories play through her mind, giving them the feel and sounds and tastes of life earth-bound, deliberately picking out those remembrances that best supported her cause. Time, she thought hard. There must be more time. They are teaching me so much; I am doing no harm. There has been progress, there will be more.

*Progress...*

She smiled, confident now. There was acquiescence in the overtones, curiosity sated for the moment. Quietly, she waited for the decision.

She did not have to wait long.

*Return...*

The "voices" grew fainter, faded entirely from her mind, and she was once more alone.

(no subject)

Once they were out of sight, Elise turned back to Kyle. "Where was she? Do you have any idea what happened?" He shook his head in negation. "I have no idea what happened, except that she went swimming. We found her on the dunes... it looked like she started to come home, but..." he trailed off with a motion toward the bed. Elise sighed, and gave a helpless glance at her child.

The slight figure on the bed suddenly began to tremble almost violently, her hair tangling as her head turned from side to side. Her lips moved, as though whispering, and her hands clenched tightly. Silent and pale, Kyle and Elise moved to either side of her and took her hands, each hoping that the contact would prove soothing. When the tremors ceased as quickly as they had begun, however, relief barely eased the lines of strain and puzzlement on the caretakers' faces.

An hour, then another, passed quietly. Sion came back into the room with drinks and the offer to relieve one of the two who kept watch, but one look at their set faces was enough to show that neither was willing to leave. Nor, as the night wore on, did there seem to be much hope. Lyssa's body alternately burned hot with fever and went cold with chills. Sometimes a flutter of her eyelids would rouse a moment's hope, but after the first few occurences, even that response dimmed.

In the still hours before dawn, however, there was a change. Only Kyle, of the three, could have attested to the moment of Lyssa's recovery, but he never would speak of it, except to Lyssa herself. He had dozed off, as had Sion and Elise, Lyssa's hand still tucked firmly in his. It was the slight pressure of her hand that awoke him, and a tingling in his arm that he could not explain away and that broke through his sleep, though not unpleasantly. He opened his eyes, and blinked, trying to focus on the bed. Once he had done so, however, he blinked again. The figure on the bed was limned in green, the faintest of glimmers danced along her skin... and along his arm, where he held her hand. The glow faded almost immediately, so quickly he almost could have believed it a dream, and with it went the unnaturalness of the figure on the bed. Lyssa murmured, turned on her side, and fell into a regular, restful sleep. Sion and Elise, waking in the early morning, found her so, and declined to wake her.

(no subject)

Such a lovely, quiet day it's been. The sky this morning was the softest thing I've ever seen, blue shading to gray lightening to gold streaking to gray deepening to blue, all dyed cotton wool and babies' blanket-like. As if to make up for the melting of yesterday's snowfall.

I'm not sure which was prettier, this morning with the sun peeking out from behind those clouds, or yesterday, when I walked through that stillness that comes when the world's carpeted with white, and the flakes are still falling, shaved-ice-crystal contact, whispering through the air.

They say that the rainbow was the sign of the covenant, the promise that never again would the world be destroyed by a Great Flood. If that is so, then I think that snow must be the reminder of what could be, consolation for what is. Hush, it soothes. Watch me, I am covering all the faults, all the harshnesses, all the broken places... and while I am here, the world will seem new.