When a nerve is touched Who: Angharad and Elfleda Where: Sunset Park, Las Vegas When: Current day, dusk
The cooler afternoons made walking more pleasant during the daylight hours and Angharad had decided to take a detour. Instead of her oft trod routes she found herself approaching Sunset Park, near the airport, to watch the sun in fact set. Families were there treating their canine companions to some time and space to exercise, some folk were running the trails, and others were simply sitting beside the lake, discussing whatever it was people discussed in places and times like this.
Her experiences, over the ages she had spent amongst those of this realm, had been many and varied, but the one thing she had found as a common thread through it all was the simple need for companionship, camaraderie, and this was what endeared her to them, and why she spent as much time as she did here. The many she had spent much time with, had borne children with, had farewelled as they had journeyed on, had each been different, but also similar, and as she found a vacant bench on which to sit and look over the lake toward the direction of the setting sun, she smiled to herself.
Down the slope a short distance away a young man collected the frisbee from his eager dog’s mouth, gave its head a quick pat and indicated the direction of the car park. He collected the lead and other accoutrement from the ground before setting the plastic disc spinning in the opposite direction he himself started out in. The dog bounded off, a pale streak covering the ground between the man and the now airborne disc quickly, retrieving it, and trotting back toward the man, knowing their time in the park for the day was done.
The span of mortal lives could slip through the ages like silver pouring from fingers. Mankind at play with canine companions were as constant a sight as they had been in times long past. Angharad had woven her own brand of wonders in those days, as had so many of her kind. Miracles, great and small, well before even England had been born and divided kingdoms ruled there, before the Normans came.
Lady Elfleda, Emissary of the Black Light… The young woman she had been was known by another name then. Another life, another perception of the world around her. Now there were many worlds and she travelled through them, duty-bound in service to that which had swallowed her innocence. Slipped between their doorways and windows, cracks and crevice.
For Angharad, Elfleda’s presence would be felt in ways no human would. The ethereal stench of impurity and corruption, engulfing the air before her, as if sounding Elfleda’s arrival with spiritual imbalance, rather than trumpets. Something one of Angharad’s station could not have ignored, even if it were asked of her.
Under the shadow of a nearby tree, the pale figure who seemed more bathed in her regal attire of black fabrics than wearing them, approached with a glide somewhere between ice skater and oozing slug. Elfleda was a creature of walking contradictions: Black and white, enchantment and revulsion. A far cry from the once innocent soul she had been.
“Sorceress...” The ebony blackness of those lips curved upwards as she spoke her introduction, somehow giving the impression of a cruising shark’s tail in her smile. “I bid thee greetings, in the name of the Black Light. Long may it guide our voyage…”
The first words had slipped into English from Angharad’s own native language, allowing the visitor to adopt a mocking tone with her final sentence, matching the manner in which she had curtsied. Something like a young girl at play with knives.
Angharad had, as expected, sensed the other’s presence long before the emissary had drifted into her field of vision. During those brief moments the sorceress had invoked simple protections that would make it possible to remain without becoming stained with the fetid tendrils of corruption that usually attended this exchange. She leaned back on the bench, still looking toward the receding figures of the man and dog. Since her meeting with her friend, now carrying the moniker of Shimmer, the sorceress had wondered when harbingers might appear, and now the presence was felt it was of little surprise, but did invoke some curiosity.
“Well, you always did like to make an entrance,” the Aos Si responded in the language common to their location, somewhat lazily. Her attire, a pair of pale faded jeans, and a white singlet beneath an equally faded pale denim jacket, could almost be mistaken for glowing in the diminishing light when compared with the atmosphere that now surrounded the bench. There were some ‘bejewellments’ on the jacket, one would mistake them for rhinestones if one didn’t know better, that formed symbols amongst their random placement, runes that offered the protection in whatever realm she would be.
“What brings you here?” she asked, wondering if Shimmer had ever had an encounter with the corruptress.
The figure's arrival was a suitable one. Elfleda's status was akin to a dimensional diplomat; representative of greater powers and empowered to speak and negotiate on behalf of the same. Nevertheless, this was no scheduled meeting. Elfleda had not shown up like this until now. Whether sent or here of her own volition, there was purpose in this.
"There are whispers, Angharad. The most frightfully scurrilous rumours that you might be... Involving yourself further in the affairs of man. I daren't believe them, of course. That you would trouble yourself with such indignities," Elfleda spoke, trailing off with an audible tutting noise of disagreement. "Your kin have loftier concerns, do they not?"
"Rumours? You always know more than me in that department. Or should I say you're usually the source." The 'proprietress' of Lux shrugged, feigning boredom, wondering how long it would take for the other to get to what mattered. The words of Shimmer's warning were still indelibly etched in her recent memory so it was less a surprise to see the Corruptress arrive, like a vulture to the decaying carcass of another's prey. It was the timing, and nature of the prey that kept Angharad in place. If something was afoot in the dark realm this one would know of it.
"Tell me of these rumours."
"Oh, you know how gossip can be... So uncaring. Even cruel," Elfleda unhelpfully supplied, electing to start a slow, shark-like circling around the bench where Angharad had chosen to sit. Didn't have to be overtly warned as to the protection. She could feel it. In the etheric world, auric extremes of light and darkness halted sharply at one another's touch, either unwilling or incapable of mixing. Elfleda's scent of burnt sugar wafted on the breeze.
"Why, the thought of one so mighty... So blessed, exposing yourself to the contamination of mortalkind? It's positively scandalous."
The sound of Elfleda's fabric swished from behind and Elfleda was felt to have drifted dangerously close. In truth, it pained her to be so. Actually, physically pained her. An aching soreness, like frostbite, but one which could be covered by a smile and the agent of corruption leaned in.
"Wouldn't you rather be somewhere with a nice plague, healing festering wounds and dancing under the moon? It could be arranged, if that's what suits you... It would be my pleasure."
The usual stream of attempts at temptation were expected, as poorly as they sounded to either beings’ ears. Elfleda knew there was little, if anything at all, she could say to offend the sorceress, but still the attempts were made each time, almost becoming a traditional precursor to any exchange. Angharad hitched a sandaled foot up onto the bench, her knee now with chin resting upon it. The other leg was also folded, across the foot and with heel now against her other thigh. Hands wrapped loosely around the supporting ankle as the sorceress’s eyes appeared to stare into the distance, farseeing, inattentive to what was going on around her.
“It’s nice of you to be so concerned about my wellbeing, Elfleda, truly.” The smile on her face was cold as she turned her head to rest her temple on her knee.
“Careful, you might hurt yourself being so close.” Her nose wrinkled momentarily. “And you really do need to look into your daily hygiene routine, it doesn't seem to be doing you any favours.”
Her head lifted again, arms now stretching up above her head for a long moment, head tilted back as if she was looking into the last vestiges of the sun’s orb now almost completely hidden by the horizon. Her hands parted and lowered until her arms were resting lightly along the top of the bench, a bracelet on each wrist now partially visible from beneath the denim sleeves. A soft glow was still discernible, and it continued to just beyond the reach of her physical presence. “Are you going to get to the point? I can’t imagine this is simply a social call out of concern for my well-being.”
“Close… Yes,” was all Elfleda had responded with. Angharad was not defenceless and barbed comments had a weight of their own on the verbal battlefield. Her torso raised back to full height, retreating from Angharad’s personal space, allowing the Black Light’s emissary a small measure of relief, not unlike moving away from the heat of a blazing fire.
At her core, Elfleda was still as she once had been. A human soul, abducted for ritualistic sacrifice. Someone consumed, converted. She was no demonic entity, nor even possessed by one, but she could speak for them and her very being was drenched in infernal corruption. Someone fated to act as a symbolic trophy; a one-time innocent held aloft as the result of a conquest, whose loyalties were now rooted in the shadows. Being around her could be detrimental for many, but with Angharad, the diplomat was voluntarily placing herself at risk.
For this was her purpose in being here. To sniff around Angharad, attempting to get a hint of which way the sorceress might lean, now that the supernatural winds were starting to whip up, of late.
“Your well-being is my concern. There are fires which have been lit, great Angharad. Fires which will burn themselves out, given time,” the unholy messenger elaborated with a knowing point of nailed fingertip in the air before her. Feet restarted their slow pace around the bench, causing the volume of Elfleda’s black dress to resemble a floating ice berg drifting in search of a ship to sink.
Then she turned, smiling more politely. Deciding to opt for a more equitable manner.
“Angharad… Mighty Angharad… Let us not be enemies. I come to warn, not intimidate. Light and darkness may quarrel, but there need not be war. I impart only that there is no need for you to... “ Meddle. “Trouble yourself with these concerns, should you hear of them. They are being tended to.”
Angharad knew of the emissary’s background and origins, having been party to encounters with the predecessors of Elfleda, and others of her ilk. The ‘chosen ones’ who’d been dragged from their lives into the service of those who had deigned it so. Through the ages there had been times when the Aos Sidh had been requested to intervene, to rescue a child taken, but there’d been no plea in this case, and deep in her heart that knowledge did lend a hidden sadness for the soul of the one before her, forsaken to the dark without battle.
The fae listened, her curiosity having been piqued. Her attention was always heightened when this diplomat appeared for she was indeed quite talented in her ability to twist and corrupt, to draw out truths even the bearers were oblivious to. She had tried it with Angharad on more occasions than the sorceress could count. While having failed each time, Angharad was drawn to note that the Corruptress had in fact honed her skills continually, nuances now more refined, a scalpel wielded with precision instead of a broadsword powered by brawn.
“We both know there is no light without darkness, no recovery without loss,” she finally sighed, her head angled a little to one side as she looked at the figure standing before her. “Who’s decided they need to stretch their muscles and stoke which fires?” She doubted there would be much detail, but the message Shimmer had delivered had been enough to give Angharad some precursor, and as she’d learnt through her existence, there really was no such thing as coincidence. Especially not when entities such as those who held Elfleda’s loyalties were stirring. Machinations, set in place by underlings, each not knowing the moves of another, made for challenging times. Never would one learn the true intent in one sitting, or sometimes even one hundred. Each piece would be honed and shuffled into place by individuals set on a path from which they would oft not return, and no remorse would be shown by the instigator. They were but fodder to their machinations.
“And more importantly, who’s tending to it, and how?”
Elfleda's head had tilted from one side to the other, listening to the reasoned logic of cosmic balance. Thoughts she could agree with - for the most part. There was a system, were agreements in place. Schedules. Power was wielded by both sides - and often by those in between. Equations, contingencies... Detente when action would prove detrimental.
But there was also subterfuge. A quality Elfleda had been schooled in deeply, since her conversion. And deception was only as successful for as long as it evaded detection. Angharad's presence had the potential to become a significant obstacle, if she was so inclined.
And obstacles, like dragons, were best dealt with by methods other than direct confrontation. Elfleda had taught that much to her young student, Fern, not too long ago.
"I'm not told everything," the diplomat thoughtfully replied, raising eyebrows in an affectation of innocence. Even dressed as she was, that natural quality had never deserted Elfleda. "But there exists a maelstrom... An imbalance in the fulcrum. We of the shadows know better than to allow its unleashing. There are efforts at correction is all I can say."
But whether truths or half-truths had just been spoken, was another question entirely.
And Angharad sighed. It was going to be one of those ‘hundred-encounters’ types of situations. But it was at least confirmation that she should perhaps pay some attention to eventualities that might hint at being more of the troublesome, than the mundane or regular.
As if a premonition, the name ‘Florence’ floated into Angharad’s mind’s peripheries, the name mentioned by Shimmer during their exchange, describing the energy fluctuations that had briefly brought Angharad to this location, this region, a few centuries earlier. Her visit at that time had been short, the disturbance being a part of a battle that was waged between factions outside the Aos Sidhs’ realm. While she did at times assist in restoring balance, and aiding in the resolutions of conflict, there were many battles that were fought without interference of those not involved. It was the result of the battle that had been waged in this area that had drawn her, the fluctuations, and surges that had at times threatened to destabilise the region. Each time it had been untraceable, and with little long term affect that it had slipped from their view.
Until recently. The earth, the rocks, the very soils which gave so much to support life, were disturbed in a manner that had drawn the sorceress to the location, and now there was indications, the tiniest of vibrations in the fabric of this realm, that there was something in the offing. Something that was potentially to cause an imbalance from which none might be able to recover.
Whatever Elfleda was withholding was eventually going to be revealed, and Angharad had patience. The simple fact the emissary had chosen to visit her was weighty in itself. So the dance around would begin, the sorceress would wait, warned, and whether it took an hour or a century of this realm’s time she would learn.
“And you speak for all of the shadows?” she asked, head cocked to one side with open curiosity. “Or just those who deign you worthy of a tiny morsel, a scrap?”
"I serve the Black Light. It is not for me to question its will, any more than grass should question the soil. That which rebels courts intolerance."
The Black Light was not a term commonly defined in most human texts. Elfleda often referred to it to convey what might be considered the opposing force, an inversion of, either the heavenly realms or the source of compassionate love behind them.
As above, so below.
She was, however, no robot. Angharad's implied comment did not go above her head, but nor did she respond in kind. As with Angharad's outward indifference towards her own earlier dialogue, now an amused ghost of a smile crossed Elfleda's ebony lips and she half-turned, observing the sorceress from a different angle.
"You think me a loyal dog, pacified with bones by her master?" Eyes blinked and Elfleda reached slowly forth, moving a hand into the fae's aura. Around her pale skin, the impression of a flicking shadow could be seen, as if ethereal black flames were licking at her arm. "I am no pet, Angharad. It is not enslavement which binds me."
The comparisons were intriguing. “Your choices of comparison are revealing. A dog? A slave? Grass? I have no idea why you would consider yourself as such, or your masters as soil. From what I’ve known the relationship between the earth and her grasses is symbiotic, one supports the other with life-giving sustenance, which does the same for others, then returns to replenish when its task is done, providing sustenance, and life, all interdependent, all coexisting without conflict.”
She turned to look in Elfleda’s direction. “Is that what you do?” She shrugged lightly and frowned as the chill of the other’s tendrils encroached. “I merely pointed out that you, yourself, said there is trouble brewing, that you come to warn me of the stoking of fires, but when I ask a question to learn more, you say they don’t tell you everything. So either you know, and are not saying, or you don’t know, and they’re not telling.”
“Which is it?” she asked, turning to look directly at Elfleda now, “are you truly coming to warn me, or seeking to disturb and disrupt?”
Elfleda watched on, patiently absorbing the retorts with poker-faced unwillingness to even hint at a usable direction. She finally answered with a, "Yes." Decisive, if cryptic. Nothing obligated her to clear the proverbial fog. If anything, it was in her interests to perpetuate it.
"Do as you wish, sorceress. I would not presume to control your path. Not without invitation... Perish the thought, hmm?"
Elfleda smiled again and, this time, looked up at the sunlight streaming through leaves. Somehow, things looked slightly darker in her immediate vicinity, although without any means of discerning precisely how. Neither trees nor grass seemed happy to have her near.
"Tell me, Angharad. Have you considered teaching them? The humans? Not the conventional arts, you understand. Lost knowledge... So that they might recapture it?"
Again the sorceress eyed the black-lipped being as she obfuscated and changed the subject. It both puzzled and intrigued her, at times, and again she wondered at the young woman who’d been taken from her life, her world, and become the representative she was now. What had her life been like, who had held her hand when she’d been scared, how she’d been comforted during illness, and when she’d been sacrificed. Her reference to ‘the humans’ had triggered this channel of thought, the complete removal of association with her own origins.
The Aos Si couldn’t begin to imagine how it would be to be given away, abandoned by her own kin. Her home realm was her sanctuary, a place of safety and trust. In this world of humans she had seen many examples of the cruelty humans were capable of inflicting on one another, and the one standing there now was another consequence of this aptitude. But there had also been times of great benevolence, of communities banding together to support one another through times tragic and traumatic. Each individual was capable of extremes of actions, from benevolence to behaviours beyond comprehension.
“Teaching is only possible when there are minds open to learning. Perhaps there are some who seek this knowledge,” she shrugged, “and perhaps I will cross paths with them.” She turned her eyes to look out toward the last of the sun’s rays retracting behind the distant hills for a moment. “I’ve seen the consequences of trying to impart knowledge beyond the ken of those listening, and it never fared well for any involved. Each individual is responsible for their path, and their choices.” Another soft sigh as the night fall was completed. “I am oft left wondering where it will lead, but unless requested... ” Then paused, turning her attention to Elfleda again. “...or prompted I will not interfere.”
Somewhere in the ether, a distant rumbling had made itself known. Quiet, but in apparent response to what had just been volunteered. Something to which Elfleda seemed to react with pleasant acknowledgement, suddenly looking over her shoulder at something unseen. The smile she wore had not waned. Her eyes, indeed, had momentarily widened in either pride or delight.
I will not interfere.
"A wise deduction," the figure in black proposed in ready agreement, turning back. "There are loftier matters of concern. Balances to consider."
The pale messenger's hands lifted slowly together, steepling fingers out before her. The pose gave Elfleda a thoughtful appearance and she made a cultural gesture of deference, as known to Angharad's people. "It pleases me to consort with one of such worldly experience," she added, then reached out a pointed finger, as if to wipe dust from a mantlepiece, except did so in a vertical motion to the air. The digit passing cleanly into mouth, seemingly to taste. "I understand you have coming festivities to prepare. If I could be of any assistance, I'm sure you won't hesitate to call upon me, hmm?"
The reaction was enough to confirm what Angharad had suspected. And just like the emissary, Angharad had managed to give the response sought without actually admitting or acknowledging the assurance hinted for. She might not teach, or attempt to guide where it was not requested, but she had been known to apply her skills to help keep the balance in this world.
She remained seated, the rumbling slowly fading as the emissary fingered the air in front of her. Shimmer’s words carried weight, the multi-phasestial messenger having always been the bearer of communications one would only ignore at one’s peril, and it seemed she still had that ability to channel such. Whatever had happened to her, whatever had brought her here, now, it was more than mere coincidence, and the sorceress felt there was more that could be learned. And learn she would. In ages past the Fae were widespread, but their number had thinned through the millenia, and the Aos Si moreso. Theirs was a part of a realm that had reached into many worlds, many planes, but as they passed over and their numbers diminished their influence soon faded and access to the knowledge kept there was gone. One such as Shimmer was a blessing, bringing a link to realms now out of reach, and the sorceress now believed there was more to the message from beyond.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Angharad responded. A finger tapped lightly where it rested on the back of the bench, the beat familiar to any who knew the sorceress’ songs, a playlist for the festivities already taking form in her mind. “Let me know if there is any message you would like to have passed on to any of your kin?” she offered.
They might not be locked in physical battle, but the words killed Elfleda's veneer of friendliness as surely as a sword through the gut. The phantom-like temptress' expression turned blank, draining of emotional energy, before a stormy attitude moved in and replaced it. Showing up had been a strategic decision, but this had shifted it into something more personal.
Or maybe it was the influence of whatever had been whispering its dark intent to Elfleda's mind, ever since her baptism of infernal corruption. Something which preferred to shield its loyal servant from certain truths.
"An unnecessary complication," reasoned her simplistic reply. Elfleda could hardly voice a threat when the offer had been made in the form of an opportunity. Only refuse it. "As is my presence here."
Elfleda's response was like that of a squid jetting away from a potential danger. She didn't seek to continue the conversation, though it may have been due to end, regardless. Raising the possibility of placing her in contact, even if indirectly, with the souls of those who had once known her, was clearly something the infamous Lady Elfleda felt an implicit aversion to.
And blackness silently opened like a festering wound, gaping wide around her to swallow hell's messenger into its embrace.
The sorceress was a little surprised, her offer given in passing due to the other’s knowledge of the upcoming celebrations. It had been a genuine offer purely meant for the spirit of the girl who once was, given the acknowledgement of the approach of Samhain. It was a time when the veils between the two worlds were the thinnest, and when spirits would cross through, some intent on harm, some intent on mischief, and others with a desire to lay to rest the worries and sadness of their loved ones. If Elfleda had intended to surprise Angharad she succeeded with her sudden reaction to a simple offer of solace. It was this which had been the most interesting of the entire exchange.
The now lone figure lowered her feet to the ground again, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, propping her chin on her hand and staring straight ahead. The visitation was considered and learnings gleaned as was the norm after an event such as this, but there was more learned from the actions and reactions than perhaps the emissary had meant to deliver with her message. A short while later the bench was empty.