by Jen on Wed Mar 18, 2009 10:51 am
Ebb and flow as Vylrath's temper might, neither Caela or Isabella were adversely affected by his shouting tantrum. He had, in effect, broken his mental tie with his own new race when he gave himself over to whatever force drove his actions. His black eyes were a testament to that. He could scream when it fit his mood, but together, Isabella and Caela could will him out of their minds and shut him out. Isabella's abilities to infiltrate the mind were still strong but she only used her gift if forced.
I strongly suggest you attend to your guest and leave us out of this. You do not own us. You will not force our hands to accept or bow to anything.
Isabella's face never changed as she spoke calmly to Vylrath. Out of those gathered she had dealt with the petulant man the longest and therefore was the calmest. She could read the pain on her daughter's face. His audacity at hurting Caela every chance he got was beginning to get old. Hadn't he hurt her enough?
By now they were comfortably inside Isabella's sanctuary and she sat cross legged on the stone floor in front of the statue of Tempus, facing her daughter and grandson.
"How was the Faerie?"
"As fantastic as ever, Mother."
"How are your powers?"
"Growing. You would like me to attend to the garden while I am here?"
"Yes, please. I know you have learned much while with the Fae. It may work to our advantage so that we don't have to go far from this place to find sources of food beyond meat."
"As you wish, Mother." Isabella watched Caela move with a slender grace. She looked caught between old age and womanhood. Still, Vylrath lashed out at her as if everything wrong in his life was her fault. Isabella shook her head as the Caela opened one of the ornate double doors and closed it behind her. Her eyes settled on Trydian who still shook with ill concealed rage.
"Your father is old. He does not think like people do in this place. He was raised in Hell and still thinks and reacts in ways that are not acceptable in the Human world. I am not asking you to forgive him for his faults. I ask you to tolerate him for your Mother.
"How am I to tolerate a man that begot me on his own daughter and then neglects to claim me? In every sense that I got from him while I was in the womb, he was certain that I would be the perfect son for him -- that because I was a full blooded demon he would own his incest and claim me. Now he will not and he hurts my Mother even more."
"He cannot help himself. Vylrath is not unlike a fickle fox. When there is easier quarry to be had, he will abandon everything he has gained and go for the kill elsewhere. That he is still here, among us, is a miracle. I would wager it is simply because he has given us power -- and he can no longer give your mother and I anything else. We are shut out to him and his power to control us."
"I don't like him."
"You don't have to. He's your father. No one asks you to understand him, love him, or even like him. Tolerate him like we all do."
"Your patience is legendary, Grandmother. All I desire is to stick a knife in his heart and serve it, split in two, to you and Mother."
"I'm not entirely sure he has a heart, my darling."
Isabella smiled as Trydian barked a genuine laugh. When he was not worried and was allowed to free his emotions the boy was incredibly beautiful in his own right. His eyes, one lavender and one turquoise, were a testament to the women in his life and his protective abilities. He was their bodyguard and his sister's savior. As if remembering Sebilla, Isabella smiled warmly.
"How is Sebilla?"
"She studies far too much. Her seeing powers are excellent, though. She will be powerful. She desires to become an Oracle of sorts once she is done in the Faerie."
"She is a gifted young woman, just like you are a gifted man. How does she look?"
"Hideous. She's got the most perfect little face, perfect hair, and perfect silver eyes." Trydian rolled is own eyes and rested his hands on his knees. Isabella laughed and rested one of her hands on his in a grandmotherly gesture.
"When will she be home?"
"Soon, I hope. I do not like being away from her, but it was time for my return."
Isabella nodded and looked around the room. She didn't have a care in the world for the demoness beyond the four walls of her large sanctuary. She wasn't afraid for Caela because she would not cross paths, intentionally, with the creature unless Vylrath intended her harm.
"Come, show me what you have learned."
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Caela moved like a silent wraith through the webwork of halls in the temple. When she arrived at the garden in the middle, Caela went to work immediately. She kneeled in the dirt and worked to move plants and encourage them to grow properly. Her white dress was dirty in places, but overall she was very careful. Caela unplugged the natural spring that had once been used to feed the plants. As the cold clear water bubbled to the surface her face lit up with a smile.
While she worked she hummed a soft song that had no words, that she seemed to feel and hear in her own mind but could never voice beyond a hum. She hadn't heard the song in the Faerie as far as she knew, but it was comforting to her and so she continued to hum as she worked. Never quite understanding the reason beyond the beauty and soul of the song.
She knew, as she worked, that the plants themselves changed in various ways. Dead ones remained dead, but seeds sprouted in various ways. Perhaps their color was off, a little more blue mixed with the green. Maybe they flowered when they weren't supposed to, logically, be capable of producing flowers. Some produced fruit of perfect edible quality out of season, while others no longer produced fruit at all -- even if they were supposed to. Caela was starting to get the hang of what power her father had given her, mixed with the knowledge of her Faerie training, could do for the plants in their garden. Her mother was nice enough to let her experiment -- knowing always that Caela needed to learn by persuing rather than book reading. Besides, there was no book to be read on their gifts. Similarities, yes, but actual knowledge would come from their own trials.
If anyone ventured into the garden, where Isabella's large sitting rock graced the center, they would find Caela meticulously working with her back to the open archway. Her tools set within reach, a soft smile fixed on her lips, and her hands covered in dirt.
(Sorry for post hopping. I needed to clarify a few things and give myself a potential to stay in the thread ^_^)