Subject: [FARPG] An Elementalists Observations
Author: Kit (in case you couldn't guess from the subject)
Date: May 30, 2000
Note: These lines of poetry were written by Sylvia Plath, from "The Courage
of Shutting-Up"

But how about the eyes, the eyes, the eyes?
Mirrors can kill and talk, they are terrible rooms
In which a torture goes on one can only watch.
The face that lived in this mirror is the face of a dead man.

These are the words that paced through Audion's mind, but he knew not their
origin.  In his subconscious he sat, knees curled up beneath him chin and
arms wrapped loosely around.  On one side, bone touched bone.  He might have
a chance at healing some part of that soon.  His broken and mangled aura....

If only the world would begin again.  The mirror, that portal of blackness
through which impressions of the prime material reached this place, had
cracked a little.  Time had apparently frozen.  The void's tendrils pulsed
near and over the crack, repairing it slowly.  Things would be fine again
soon.  The unicorn was still standing out there, a sentinel over his
eventual target.  The bandits remained frozen in their confusion.

If only things would start up again.

Audion stood, then did something he hadn't in a long time.  He looked at the
surface of the pane instead of within it.  He looked at himself.  A
sorrowful hand reached forward and delicately contacted the pane where the
vision of his skeletal one shimmered.   "I hate this...this incessant
waiting.  When will my life return, and this poor mockery end?"

He felt the shadows rise behind him and embrace him, tendrils wrapped like
lover's arms around his shoulders and waist.  He laughed, then looked again
within the pane.  "Yes, she'll be yours.  Not now, things are stopped right
now.  But soon, very soon."