Fanfiction by Elizabeth Spencer
Elizabeth Spencer, DominiaSol@hotmail.com
"My Only Voice in the Shadow Wrought"Started: 2/14/00Last Edited: 5/1/00 Author’s Note: I pray I didn’t mess up any details in this story. (>_<) I didn’t have much information to work on about the incident of Elru, but I tried to make a story of it anyway. Yes, I realize the title makes NO sense whatsoever, unless you stay up until midnight, read it backwards and pretend its not English. Like the state I was in when I wrote this story. ^_^ Anyway, any comments, suggestions, corrections, opinions.. Anything. Please send them all to DominiaSol@hotmail.com. Anyway, this story is about the Tragedy of Elru. I wrote this as an attempt to give a greater bit of depth to Dominia’s character, and a justification as to how and why she might have come to admire Commander Ramsus so. How successful I was is, well.. up to you. (^_^) Enjoy! Something, someone, shifted her form ever so lightly, a feeling so distant it seemed separate from her form- more a sense than a feeling, flickering true through bursts of ember-flaring pain. Distant voices, crying off the horizons far, little of notice, little of care to her unreasoning mind, merely loud musings of if she, if anyone within this darkest living Hell still managed to draw breath, still managed to cling to precious life in spite of a Destiny thrown horribly awry. And still, a single voice, rung true, rung clear, etching itself in her mind ever more, echoing past the pain of her form, her mind, her whole being, although this voice, so edged in something quite near a hysteria of the chaos about, was little different from the other surprised, half living cries, despair-rung and soaring across the land with a sorrow without boundary. “Are... you all right? Someone must live, someone... Not everyone will, can, perish upon this night... I wont allow it...” It was only a soft sound, ringing gently, merely the cry of footfall upon dusk-gray stone. Upon such a well-paved road she moved, her steps unrushed, unhurried in any way imaginable as she made her way on in a sort of thoughtless grace. Above her hung a canopy clung in a brilliant spring’s emerald, bound upon branches which stretched above her path, intertwined through the sheer strength of age, drawn off of the ancient trees which lined either side of this pathway- all held in a sort of fictionally dryadic perfection. Yet, somehow, they held a sort of agelessness to them, drawn over paved road and held under a sky of purest expanse of thoughtless sapphire blue, drawing ethereal from the misted silver peaks aside, to the ocean ever so far off to the north. Every now and then the canopy would be broken by a ray of golden flare, a touch of silver-lined blue of the skies above, patterns of leaf-print thrown awry upon the paved stone as the whispers of wind caught through the trees about her. Somehow, it did not seem a day of omens, nor a scene drawn up for Apocalypse. Thus so, she seemed to give the world around her little care, her movements slow, purposeful, all part of a habit drawn deep from years of repetition- so commonplace, so banal, that it seemed little to take to consideration. Eyes of palest crystal sapphire raised up towards this canopy on high, her movements halted for a moment in a distant moment of contemplation, her gaze locked upon the flickers of sky she caught between the leaves above. A breath of wind reached her, hidden beneath such broken patches of forestry, catching upon strands of a blonde hair so pale, so fair, that it seemed to shine pearl-clad white, tossed about, caught upon her well tanned face, bound behind ears drawn to a sylvan point. So standing, so held, she was still to no degree set apart from the others of this since lost kingdom, not a rarity in her looks nor graceful poise, standing only in wonder and thought as a simple woman, of little more importance otherwise from the view of this world beyond worlds. Such is how the Elru always had been, so set apart from the world that they remained ever but a dream and distant cry upon the north-bound winds, forgotten to a world the Elru knew just enough of to remain far away from. They knew of a kingdom bound in sands, a kingdom carved of blackest smog and carved metal, of a kingdom encased in red glory high upon the sky, and an Empire which hung ever perched within their skies, ever watching, ever displeased, and yet ever elusive in goal or purpose, simply.. Watching, waiting, as if amused with the very expandability of the sylvan people who laid beneath its view. A small frown creased her face, youthful was it was, but nonetheless a woman still, a small shift in expression which only softly reflected the chaotic tanglings of emotion which drew sharply across her eyes. The lightest drawing of an emotion to mind seemed to shift her very poise and face in their echo, setting alight her eyes with a flare of emotions native to all those who so battled with such a power of feeling that most never had the heart to live by. She was an emotional soul, to say the very least, yet still she bore the lot of it up strongly, granting to the world the palest of emotions- a distant smile, a quiet look of wonder, a dark-clad glare... Little reason had she to show the world anything much stronger, to stand against it with a brilliant burst of sorrow that could tear the soul nor to rise high with a fury aflare... What use had she, of all people, to such emotions? She was but a simple woman, to a simple world... A small sigh escaped her lips, as she slowly drew a strand of silvered hair behind an ear, her expression unreadable, her eyes cast in a personal sort of wonder, her thoughts as distant as the wind’s farest reaches, soaring upon a world quite distant from her position upon a pathway of stone. What is this emotion within me? Echoed distant musings, as fleeting as the windfall. Its so peaceful here. So, why do I choke upon emotion- worry, wonder- as if I were anxious of something? A tangle of emotions so sat lodged within her pale eyes as she stood, completely still, wondering. It was hardly uncommon for emotions to claw their way into dominance so, held in silence but all the more alive to her mind, and yet, still, this was a pestering feeling, deep at the back of her mind- thrashing, never far out of reach of thought. She frowned softly, weakly, a flicker of irritability rising to her face as she leaned gently against the aged bark of a tree, lightly frustrated at her own inability to sort out an unjust paranoia, to make reason and sense of a panorama of emotions that drew within her soul- ever present, often ill illogical, and quite usually frustratingly so. Although, as often is so, her capacity of powerful worry and flaring temper stood hand in hand with a quiet, but strong affection, an empathy of the most literal sense, a power and surge of ever present emotions- be they ill or to her greatest benefit- that seemed to draw strength and life into her world of simplicity. In such a way, they granted a touch of color to her very existence- a flare of adoration gave life, connection to a world of commonplace habit, just as anger gave her a gauge of foe and self, a touch of drama that drew energy to her actions, meaning to her otherwise easily overlooked life. I wasn’t meant to be forgotten in the flow of things. It seemed so obvious to her, all through the depths of her life. Let others marry away to empty dream in frivolous consent to a life bereft of meaning. I have yet to find my cause, my hope.. My life. Simplicity simple, although ironically, it was a tale lived out and followed by so many others, often with lives of little more meaning than those they left behind. A strange tangle of Fate, yet understandable: mortals were not created to be remembered or praised- they were created to die, to perish for an end undetermined. For God. Yet she found no haven in religion, in faith. She had never found a cause to follow within any faith presented. Whatever God was, where ever he might be, if Anywhere, was beyond her notice, her care. Her loyalties were to herself, her faith in her own footfall and knowledge that someday, somehow, she could prove herself as something more... Proving for value, for worth. A dream as commonplace as the peasant habits of the life she turned away from. But it was her dream, if such made it any more real, any more empowering, to her heart. Someday, sometime, she would find a reason and a dream more full of life, more full of meaning, something that her whole heart could follow as might a bird to her flock. Someday she would pry value from her existence as a commonplace woman in a commonplace world, and give herself a Value of accomplishment, of remembrance, that none other seemed to aspire for. It was only a matter of waiting, of watching, for that Sign to come... To come and show her a way of life all her own, to a Fate all her own, to a Path that would allow herself to prove herself to the world, once and for all. She gently pushed herself away from the tree, laughing softly, but kindly, beneath her breath. Perhaps she was but a dreamer, caught upon the silken web of fantasy and distant legend, awaiting a Prince who could never come... But still, she looked about to her life, so plain, so simple, and always her mind simply cried desperately how empty, empty, empty it all was... She could not live with knowing she could be more. If nothing more, she had ambition at her side and to her hand. And no ills have ever come to this world of an emotion-borne ambition and dream unfulfilled. She turned her gaze southbound, gaze tracing the pathway of stone which wound its way up here, to this hilltop set away and above the boundaries of the small country of Elru, sprawled beneath her in a sort of existence founded in pride and maintained in partial spite of whatever vultures watched it above, set beneath her in all its beauty. Above the town as she was, set apart and so high above that she seemed the only soul upon this earth to grace such a lovely point, her frustrated look faded, softened, into a fond sort of smile. Perhaps she had her problems. But her life was to no reach bad... Unfulfilling, always. But she could not say she was unhappy.... Emotion is a power underestimated, a power that drives the soul from acts simple to deeds remarkable. A power that grants meaning, that grants the vehicle of a cause towards the fullness of life. And so she followed, hand in hand with it, happy for her yet pleasant life, be it empty as it may yet be, held in love for her treasured family, her friends, worried for her world cast in anxious worry, and most of all proud, terribly proud, of her own steps and choices- her own life, certain somehow, although yet undecided. So she stood, smiling gently, the very world about her seemingly set more alight, softer in such a sign of purest joy, under the perfect stillness and beauty of a spring’s late day, the glory of a pale gray-blurred-brilliant red upon a horizon of a setting dusk... Breezes of quiet playfulness flew by, and all the charms of an otherwise beautifully graceful day stood in full bloom and display, as common as any other day may bring. All was perfect, serene, seemingly unbreakable, infinite. Such it was, and should of always been, when the fire red of the sky shifted, within the breath of a moment, into true fire. All the beauty that was but a moment before seemed to come, within the breath of a moment, all to a crashing stop, as the quiet peace and unrivaled tranquil beauty was perverted, only too swiftly, into such a dark mimicry of life... A single, surprised cry echoed through this distant forested path- much to her surprise, quite of her own voice- as she became aware.. painfully aware.. of a brilliant, sudden pain which echoed through her form, accompanied by the realization that she was no longer standing where she was but a moment before... Nor was she standing. Sprawled upon the stones once beneath her feet, now seeming to no bit peacefully chill, but darkly cast in a light of mixed gold and brilliant, blood-choked red, she wondered in all the span of a moment what had managed to throw her with such force so many, many feet away from where she had stood but a moment before. Shakily, weakly, she dragged herself to her feet, her movements awkward in the sheer wonder and shock which wracked her body, as she took a few stumbling steps forward, down the path, towards Elru... Her pathway, framed in trees, much to her surprise was, at its Elru-held edge, marked with trees shattered, broken, with whatever force had thrown her awry, but a tiny figment of the chaos which reigned off below. After the longest of moments did she realize what she thought she saw. Gears...? Hovering here.. There, before the center of Elru? But.... What business could they have, to what cause could they of come... Only one Gear stood above the others, brilliant despite the distance between its watcher and itself, a red as dark as an innocent’s drawn blood- standing tall, winged, broad, and clad in a sort of piercing aura and power, palpable from even where she was. It alone.. It alone seemed the source of this chaos- of all that laid about it in shambles... Around it sat wreckage of other Gears, of others, insignificant to its wrath, its force, that had once been within its path.... Her eyes ever wide and locked upon this Angel Dark, she shakily managed but another weak step, fully entranced a moment, in an awe more than grim at the sheer force of that which could send its very waves to even where she stood. And yet, this had other implications.. And meant such a very great deal more... As that which could maim and destroy that from where she stood in watch, could easily.... Her glance fell finally, ever so timidly reluctantly, to below the Gear, to the masses of once-houses, now aflare in a fire-shone inferno, brilliant and unceasing, all that they were now laying shattered, broken, and half thrown across the winds that still wailed across the Elru. All before her stood visible, spread before her in all its display of gruesome, dark beauty, a shamed and blackest mockery to the sight which laid so lovely but a moment before, as the cries anguished, the screams edged in sorrow’s sharp-edged pain echoed from the expanse before her, little noticed to her already stunned, overwhelmed form, all but blended into another highlighting figment to this, this... dream... Little more could it be! It was too horrible to be truth, too terrible... Her form shuddered softly in the mimicry of a sob she could not manage in honestly, quite against her will, as she stared, frozen, at this sheer destruction, unsure of what she was to think, what she ought to do.. She was but a woman in a forgotten land, a simple woman... Not a fighter, nor a hero... She closed her eyes tightly, swallowing hard, desperately willing her shuddering form to calm, to still, before she drew open her eyes slowly, a flare of determination bound alight behind her ever brilliantly expressive eyes. Perhaps she was simple, commonplace, a simple woman, lost to a simple village, but.... But in the same breath, it was more than obvious, more than a simple decision, a simple fate. A child of Elru, she was never hateful of such a title nor a gifting... It was simply her life, as imperfect as it rang. Beloved family, dear friends, a life smeared with joyous memories and sharpest desperations, littered with tears and laughter, joy and sorrow, as was always the life of any simple woman anywhere about the very world... And there it laid, being torn awry by some force unknown, be He there as tool or weapon, or Demon as it so seemed, perched so smugly above all her love and sorrow, all her twisted and interlocked facets of her life, managing with the single gesture of a hand to blow all of it, every last drop and shard of it, into nothing, oblivion, as forgotten as ash upon the wind. Her eyes seemed to light with a fury as of yet unknown, her eyes of palest blue sheathed in unshed tears, unable to be loosed, but willingly able to be drawn into her anger beyond words, as such became obvious, in all her desperate loss... That not a Fate in the world could take her life from her, her memories and family and home, and all in the same breath. She would not allow it. Within the span of a breath’s rising, drawn as if upon the wings of a speed called upon by the most desperate, sudden rush of will- of a dark, struggling hope and wrenching anger, she took off, dashing with all her natural grace and speed back towards the town below. Her eyes stood alight with Purpose, with a peculiar loyalty that always had remained, although unused, within her form- for herself, her life, her home, if nothing more. Down streets of stone and shattered, fallen tree, of scorched land and fallen life, with all the speed granted to those drawn by emotion and will alone she ran- futile, perhaps, but nonetheless strong in her own way, through flame and screaming cry, desperate wail and falling breath. And yet at every step, it took every inch of her struggling will to bind her eyes away from that around her, to keep her mind away and her thoughts aside from all of that which echoed around her, threatening to drive all of her desperate struggle into a collapsing, writhing agony of tearfall. All about her the shattered remains of housing, of tree and greenery, of possession and life laid now shattered, burning, caught in varying levels of destruction, but each and every one of them Lost. Little was it in comparison to the death, the single thing which slowed her steps most as she ran so panicked through Elru, tears staining her face, trailing with no will of her own, no control of her own, although her face still held the darkest glare of hatred upon it, eyes narrowed, steps heavy. Little could she stop such a conflict of emotions- all around her people cried in agony, drew their final breaths and screamed to heaven in voices edged in anguish for pleas of salvation, of mercy. And with their every word, the land about them seemed to darken, to let loose tears and bewailings of its own, in echo and in mimicry of all that Lost around it. How could she not find her family, her beloved ones, echoed within those falling souls? Not a single person knelt in the street alive, not a single soul cried salvation or aid, as such pleas seemed stripped from their mouths, and instead they wailed death, succumbed to it, lost to themselves, each other, to sorrow and to pain, and to this power unbelievable that had torn, within moments, through their entire country of Elru. Do not listen, Do not Look, Do not, Do not..... There are things you can bear, but to listen, to watch.... Will only drive you to follow.... Pitiful thoughts, desperate, often broken bits of echoed word within her head, all pleading, begging, that she simply continue on- find those you know, you love, do what you Must, or succumb. It was a miserable shell of a decision. She half skidded to a stop, her breaths heavy, shuddering, as she wiped aside a flood of forgotten tears with the back of a sleeve, staring before her at the scene which stood at the center of Elru, form shuddering, her gaze desperately flickered about the land, unable to find a single other... Other Elru, still alive, still moving... There stood the Gear of darkest red, towering above all, and upon its shoulder perched a rider clad in just as grim a blood’s fallen scarlet, half seeming pleased to all that which his unbelievable powers had drawn to this land, this once beautiful, beautiful land... Another stood on foot, silver haired, fair skinned, a sword at hand, clad in an outfit unknown beforehand to the still-standing Elru woman, and yet as frantic as he seemed, it seemed not to matter to her, not to the moment, as strange as he was.. Simply because He was not of Elru. Yet not another seemed to stir anywhere in this town, spare towards the sweetest touches of breathless death. It was a foolish gesture to come, perhaps... But so she stood, shuddering, watching, from upon a road framed on either side in an inferno of lost life and fallen wood, eyes shifting between her Homeland, struggling to death, and this darkest, blood-clad Demon who stood so contentedly above. So she stood, until, in something of a gesture of boredom, unintrest to whatever the silver-haired man had to say or do, the Demon raised a hand, as if so dismissing, yet no such gesture was ever any less innocent. And with that, the young woman let out a shrill scream of sharpest pain, thrown from her feet, as might anything in the area, anything not dead, fallen, falling, as she landed hard upon stone once more, a sharper, numbing pain rising to her form, finding herself unable to shift further from that spot.... She shuddered weakly, in pain as much as sorrow, eyes sealed tightly shut, her whole form unable to conjure up the faintest response spare brilliant sparks of pain which rose through her form, numbing, as sharp as if she laid within a fire true, instead of upon ash-scarred stones. She could barely move besides such a shuddering, her breaths shallow, shuddering, half choked between blood and tears. She simply hurt from every edge of her body, as she cursed herself silently, through the faintest of temporary bursts of realization and thought, as much as the thought unbearable would allow, of how foolish she was, how foolish, foolish, foolish... She wanted to cry out, to scream as so many before her had, to plead with whatever God was left for her for a moment more, for all of this to turn spring clad and emerald lovely once more, for all of this to be but a perverse dream, for some mercy to be given... But not a word, not a sound could draw to her form, spare the faintest hint of a whimper of pain. There were voices around her, not of Elru.. She knew they were none of Elru, and thus their words only blended more into the panic and chaos of all that about her, so distant to her conscious mind that she could grant not a distinct care to any of the destruction left about her. All that was left was her own agony, her own final drawing breaths.... Someone shifted her form lightly, yet it felt so distant, so separate from her form that it did not even seem a part of her, but a distant sense from between spasms of unbearable pain which granted her no other option but to listen, listen to that which dared to delay her final moments. And still, a single voice rung true, rung clear, etching itself in her mind ever more, echoing past the pain of her form, her mind, her whole being, although this voice, so edged in something quite near a hysteria of the chaos about, was little different from the other surprised, half living cries, despair-rung and soaring across the land with a sorrow without boundary. “Are... you all right? Someone must live, someone... Not everyone will, can, perish upon this night... I wont allow it...” Slowly, painfully, she cracked open eyes of palest sapphire blue, daring to look weakly into the holder of this beautiful, begging voice, uncaring, unable to care how pitiful she may look in such a glance, so lost between death and the final reaches of life she was, before this person- this Not Elru.. Not a single Elru seemed to remain in life but her own miserable existence- but nonetheless he stood there coaxing her, in some odd means of desperation of word, into life, with words edged in panic, out of an inability to do anything else. The Demon gone, the city a shambles, what else, who else was there... She shuddered weakly, rather in spite of herself, an action borne of little more than agony, as she only barely managed to hold her unfocused eyes upon this face before her, pale, framed in silver, and yet still asking something, something, distant as it was.... “Are you all right? Can you move?” She shuddered softly, and almost to her surprise, she could almost move, somehow, when willed, somehow, when asked. She shifted lightly, tried to force herself into a sitting position, yet her very form seemed to scream in agony against her, proclaiming that she, she who should be wished dead, should be, and should not be here attempting to draw into sitting, standing, or any other mimicry of life... She glanced weakly up to him, managing a light nod, muttering something under a harsh, pain-touched voice of being in pain, but alive nonetheless... He looked somehow relieved, as faint a change in expression as it was, and more than likely just imagined by the young Elru. But still, she managed a weak smile, an echo of any sort of honest emotion, more a mirror of her suffering than of anything more. He willed her move, she had, he asked her if she was okay, and somehow, she wished herself to be. Somehow, she was dead, and yet Alive, all in the same moment, and yet no longer somewhere in between.. Was she but one of the Dead standing Alive at the very words and will of this man? Somehow, she drew breath, somehow, she was alive, in some way, despite what Fate had in store for the Elru... He seemed a Savior, there, before her, questioning her into life and awareness, mortal perhaps, but with all the looks of an Angel fallen, with all the aura of one to be held in awe, a respectable awe... And yet such a soul stood before her, asking her to live, begging her into consciousness where once Death had settled most firmly... Something stirred within her, deeply- not a love to say, but a sort of appraising, a deeper emotion so darkly locked within her that it seemed to draw a strength, a life, back into her form all in its very existence, a form which seemed to draw away the numbness, the darkness of her pain, to grant her a Will to live that only this man.. This wonderful man, had granted her, with only a few words... It was a sort of awe, a worship, and yet so much more. She stirred weakly, pushing herself half into a sitting position, more similar to keeping herself in a shadow of a half sitting position, held up by her arms, as much as they screamed in pain against it. In response to this, he seemed somewhat calmed, if only the smallest bit- after all, of all the death and fallen lives, the sign of one still clinging desperately to life is a beacon seldom unappreciated, as he asked, simply, quietly, an edge of a faded, but still present chaos of emotion upon his voice, no matter how he tried to calm it. “Who are you?” She blinked slowly, glancing up to this face of this Earth-thrown Angel, her Savior, her final sign and signal to live, and she remained silent, unsure of how to answer, what to do at first, until finally, from the depths of agony, she recalled a single word which had once been her own, in her now shattered, lost, forgotten life. And this alone she managed to whisper, weakly. “...Dominia.”
Page Design by Arcana. Posted on 06/03/2000.
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