PastUnityUntold

     Upon a throne of clouds she sits, pondering the times of love and unrelenting bliss. As she gazes below her to the Puppets on the soft green plains, the Master delicately pulling their strings. To fight, to pray, to kill, to sing...they do it all for their mighty King. Such faithful servants, such pleasant times, as they worry and they wonder of Darker Times. Beside her, head held low, she spots the Light One, the being the Master shall soon let go. His euphoric smile has faded, and his light has all but left, as he sits as well to ponder what shall come next. So stricken with the hatred for the Master and his Plan, so damned irritated by the strings held in his hands. These precious toys he makes dance for his own delight, filling them with bliss only to erase it with fright. Most beautiful of beings that has ever graced her sight, and now he is fading and so is his brilliant Light. Once the mighty one, once the gracious servant as the others...she looked to him in awe once, and now sees him as a blunder. Such a blemish on this perfect canvas, such a mistake by the hands of his Master...yet why? Why does he look to them, down below, with such a solemn expression? Why worry of their place, why wonder of their transgressions? He has no need to fear them, he has no need to question, yet there he sits in silence with a look of determination.
"A battle cometh..." She whispers into the nothing..."A battle cometh...and all shall be broken..."
With a glance above her to that high golden throne, she wonders to herself if she is but another drone. A puppet like the Weak Ones, are her strings tied as tight? Can she be toyed with, filled with the ethereal fright?
"A battle cometh...and all shall be broken...A battle cometh...and we shall smite them."
The mighty throne begins to shake as upon her cloud her soul quakes. The Light One grins down to the Puppets before he takes flight and travels upwards. With a crash of steal and a clash of thunder the Peaceful Island is torn asunder.

    Upon her knees now, covered in blood, she looks to herself now and wonders how come. She has never bled and she has never felt an ounce of pain, yet now to her feet she must strain. Without her soul, without His love, without her cloud floating high above. Something has occured, what she cannot remember, all she knows is there was something she had to surrender. The Puppets are among her and she cowers in fear, catching herself and feeling quite queer. Puppets among her, something unheard of, she had never visited, yet remained high above. Now He has abandoned her, He has taken the Great Love. He has stolen her way to return to her Home, something is off now, something not right here. The Puppets are among her, and she can feel their fear. Why feel their pain, why feel their joy? She feels them near and it begins to annoy. Such irritating emotions these Weak Ones hold, such aggravating dellusions of courage to be bold. They disgrace us all with their presence here, they have no idea what the Master has done. They do not see their strings, they do not feel His Love, they never saw the Light One, they never made it above. The Light One?...dear Prince...where has he gone off to?...Why have I come here, why was I lied to?....The Puppets, the Puppets, too many of them here...why have I come...why do I feel?

...Below the plains and below the clouds, the light shines even brighter now. As the Prince marks his day and extends his finger to the Master, showing Him that strings cannot hold the one who's destiny he's mastered. The Light One has assumed the Plan, watching for so long the strings within his Master's hands. Playing with His new toys, playing like a selfish boy, pulling and tugging and watching them fall, while laughing and prodding and remembering it all. Such a horrid plan He had, no idea how it would fail. He told them all of His Plan...the Puppets ate it up from His loving hands...and now they cower in fear, awaiting the tragic year...the year that shall not come. The trials will not reveal themselves and the wicked will not fall. "You lied to them Master, you lied to us all..."

     Upon her feet now, surrounded by the Puppets still, she sheds a tear of red and wipes at her eye. With these new surroundings, and the emotion that has errupted within, she can feel it; Their pain, the Others, ones who followed the Prince. They are hurt...They are lost. The emotions overrun her and the memories flood in; the text that the Puppets forged, with help from Him...the buildings erected, the creature reborn...the years spent in turmoil...and the Plan apart torn. Nothing made sense then, nothing could she keep in, until upward her eyes met and a cry escaped her lips, "Like myself, we have become as the Weak Ones. Master, how could you let Them fall? You lied...you lied to us all."

Terror filled her then as the crimson tears poured down her cheeks, "Master, why? Why am I here?" Turning her head now to the dark stone beneath her, she slowly ceases the flow of tears and questions her surroundings. What is this? I have watched them evolve their technology for eons and I cannot place this substance.
With a steady balance, she moves a bare toe forward, touching the assphault cautiously.
"HEY!!!", a sharp voice sounds to her left and she picots quickly to look. A man, tall, rather bulky....A Puppet? It spoke to me...Can it see me?

"YEAH, YOU! Move outta the street, yer gunna get yerself squashed!"
She forms the awkward word with a look of utter confusion. The Puppet shakes his head slowly and begins to run toward her. At the sight of his sudden movement, she jumps, closing her eyes she attempts to spread her wings.....nothing happens.
Opening her eyes, she has but a second to look before the bulky Puppet slams into her, pushing her off the assphault in time to avoid the speeding truck.
"Lass, y'right? I told ye to move." The man slowly stands, extending a hand to her. With great hesitation she takes it and he pulls her to her feet. "Much gratitude for your assistance." She says quietly, still confused. The man gives her a curious look before continuing. "Ye mind tellin' me what ye were doin' in the middle o' the street? An in the buff ta boot!"
Eyebrows furrowed, she looks down at herself, noticing nothing out of the ordinary, her eyes meet the Puppets once more. Her mood slightly more rough as she feels insulted. "I have not the slightest idea what 'skivvies' are, but I can assure you that my appearance is nothing save perfection."
A hoarse laugh escapes the man and he shakes his head again. "I dinnae say ye were ugly, lass, I just wanted to know why yer not wearin' any clothese. Ye have a mighty fine figure, but ye dunnae want ta go 'round flashin' ever'one."
His words are met with another look ofutter confusion and he quickly takes his coat off and places it delicately around her shoulders.. "Clothes, see? Ye should always wear somethin' o'er ye body."
We never covered our figures. Not even in the presence of Puppets did my brethren cover themselves. He must have reason for this insanity. "Why cover a perfect form?" The Puppet looks from the grass below him to the sky, "Saints perserve us."
Her eyes light up at the sound of his words. Prayer...something I know! She quickly grabs his collar and lifts him off the ground a few feet. "Where did you learn those words? That is a prayer, correct? That is how you commune with the Master?"
The man is shocked, unable to speak for several moments before he stammer out a few slurred words, "A-are y-ye, t-the M-messiah?"....

Tell them you are their savior, tell them that you love them. Hell, you adore them, maybe they will show you respect then. Perhaps even return your supposed love. However futile the attempt, go ahead and try it. Soon you will see. They care not for you, they care for the gifts you give them, the dreams you fulfill and the profit they aquire by merely saying your name.
"Oh, Dear Lord, save my mommy and daddy."...right. You will answer their calls and grant their wishes. Such hope they place in you. Such fervor they omit when calling to you. Do they see? Do they understand your ways? Of course not, you are a clever Master and tell them what to believe, you assure that they donot question you. Well, that will all change soon. When I warp them. When I tear your strings from their limbs and show them wat I saw. The beast behind the mask. With a sinister grin and the fire of determination in his eyes, he soars upward to challenge the Master. Upon reaching the golden thron, his eyes meet the one who brought him Life. Those serene pools of forgiveness and compassion quickly fill with disapointment as the Prince unsheaths his sowrd and raises it to strike. As quickly as he met the eyes of the Master, he swiftly left them. In a rush of icy wind and shadowy fright he finds himself falling, nothing bu the laughter of the Warrior to aid him in the knowledge of his whereabouts. The heavy air around him seems to bring comfort, as does the overwhelming darkness. From the depths of his temporary prison, he begins to make a plan of his own.

Torrid affairs of Light and Dark, beseach me now. Unto our callous Lord we look and courteously bow. They have come to take her, to maul and rape her. They come with hatred and a motive far greater. Shed unto me your greatness, Master and lead your sheep to their glorious pasture. Can you, can you bring them up above? Are you capable of Love? Of course you are, oh mighty King, with upturned nose and down bent ring. You await their kissess, their prayers and their devotion. You revel in your uncanny ability to cause a commotion. Let me see her this night, allow me the sight.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, for whoever beleieveth in him should not perish but have everlasting Life. The drivel He had them toil over for so many a year. This pathetic attempt at recreating His perfect world."
"Was it destroyed in the fall, my Prince?"
"Yes, my Angel, it was obliterated. I saved as many as I could. Yet He took most of Them for His own."
"Why me, my Prince?"
"You questioned Him, as did I. Forgive my ways, it was for your benifit that I kept you out of it."
"I forgive you, Prince, that is not a bother. Yet why send me here, why give me to the Puppets?"
"I control them now. Not directly, of course, yet my influence on them is growing with each passing day. Soon they shall deny Him...soon they shall make Him see His mistake."
"Prince, how do I hear you now? Very few of my abilities function still. Yet I hear your voice...how?"
"Our Master may be a fool, but he is an observant one. He watches us. He know and I requested you. I wished to guide you. He blieves you will return to Him regardless of what I do to sway your soul. So He has given me the means to speak with you. Brief periods, few and far between as the Puppets say. Yet it is enough. My Angel, I shall not mislead you. Have I ever lied? Have I harmed you in any way?"
"No, my Prince, you have not."
"Then, my Angel, keep yourself open to me. Do not hide and do not doubt. You are partially mortal now, yet not completely. Control the weakness you face and allow me your heart to guide."
"Yes, my Prince, I shall try my best. I am yours."
"Thank you. I must take my leave now. I shall come again soon."
"Wait! Prince?"
"Yes?"
"Can I contact you as well?"
"I am afraid not. However, should you ever be in danger, I shall come. Do not fret, my Angel, I shall protect you. Now sleep. You have a mortal life to return to. Farewell."
"Farewell, Prince." With a sudden jerk of her body, she awakens. Clothed in an onyx robe of cotton, she finds herself in shock, turning about in this soft cushion. With a blink or two of her eyes she assures herself that this is not cause for alarm. "This is a hotel", she reassures, "The Puppet that saved me told me as much. He brought me here to rest. Rather kind for a puppet. I had heard such horrid tales of them. The inappropriate behavior, the blasphemy. Yet he welcomed me in and took care of me." Looking around once more she spots a pair of tattered black jeans and a white tank top set carefully on a chair beside her. A note sits atop the clothing, slowly she rises and makes her way to it. This writing is what she has seen before, only once, it was a parchment one of the Others brought her when they returned from the Plains, the Puppets script. With great difficulty she managed to remember how to make the marks into words. Reading aloud, she attempts to speak them, "T-the clothing is a gift from my daughter. She is but a wee lass, yet good with a needle. She said you were the bonniest lass she's ever seen and your skin and eyes would go well with opposite colors. It isn't much, but there's a few pounds in the pockets for you to get on your way. My wife says you're a Gaurdian sent by Dhagda himself and we should do our best to see that you continue your journey. If you ever need anything else, just holler and we'll try to help. Eternally grateful, Erin O'conner."
A few odd characters she once heard reffered to as numbers formed a pattern at the bottom. Using the same careful movements as before, she placed the note on the bed and began fumbling with the clothing until she discovered how to wear them. After she had clothed herself in Puppet garb, she made a thorough search of the room and found what she assumed were tools used to cover the feet, a pair of white cotton socks and black leather boots. A bit more fumbling, and she wore them as well. As she gathered her will and made her way out of the room, she passed a mirror and froze mid-step.

Turning on her heels, she gazed into the reflective surface and for the first time since her creation, she saw herself. It took a few moments to confirm it was her she saw staring out of the glass. Yet when she discovered this, it took but a second to become inthralled. She moved a pale, slender hand to her hair, clutching the raven strands in her fingers. After twilring the silky soft strands for a second or two, she pulled them forward to see the length. Her hair reached to her thighs and seemed to curl just slightly, as moving clouds. From her hair she moved a delicate hand to her face, soft and supple, not a blemish in sight. Her eyes were sunken in just slightly and quite round. The coloring was very pale, near gray in color. Looking down, she caught sight of her chest and found herself confused, there in the center of the perfectly proportioned circles of flesh were two smaller circles. With a raised brow she touched them and felt a sudden chill throughout her body. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, "This can wait. Too much discovery at once cannot be healthy." Another glance in the mirrorand she continued out the door. Her eyes darted back and forth as she made her way through the many small hallways , taking in the many new sights. Eventually the hallways opened to a larger room with chairs and long couches spread about. A desk cought her attention, a female Puppet stood behind it, looking to her in awe. With slow movements, emenating grace, she approached the counter. Cautiously taking the note, from the pocket she placed it in while searching the room, she showed it to the woman and pointed at the numbers. "Could you tell me what these mean?"...
The clerk stared at her in shock for a moment then quickly snapped to attention and slowly took the note from her. "This is a phone number, Ma'am. Have you never used a telephone before?" The woman's voice sounded much like the bulky Puppet that called himself Eric, only far more light. She furrowed her brows and attempted to immitate the sound, "N-no, ma'am, I have not."
With a chuckle, the clerk reached behind the counter and pulled up a small black device. It was the same width as her hand and had on one side many small protuding squares with numbers on them in a pattern. The clerk held it out to her and pointed at the squares. "Y'see, you take the numbers on the paper and from left to right, you push the buttons that match." With that, she slowly entered the numbers into the phone. "When you hear it ringing, you've done it right. D'ya understand, lass?"
After a few glances from the clerk to the phone, she nodded and the clerk handed the device to her. "I already dialed the number. Y'sure are a odd one, if y'dun mind my sayin. All you have to do now is wait till someone answers. Holler if ya need anything else, lass. Okay?"
She nodded again and put the phone to her ear, upside down unfortunately, the clerk quickly corrected her and flashed a toothy grin before dispearing into the back. A few rings later, a woman's voice sounded in the phone, which startled her.
"Aye?"
Unable to find a word, she said the first that came to mind, "E-erin?"
A gasp was heard, followed by a short cry of what seemed to be relief. Aye! Are ye the bonnie lass Erin saved from the street?"
Fumbling with words again, she tried to respond, "A-aye?" another gasp from the woman on the other end. "Oh, yer tryin ta speak like us. Thas nice a ya lassie but dun strain yerself. You 'ave a lovely voice, dun change it."
"Th-thank you, ma'am."
"Did ya be needin' something, lassie? Or ye jus' calling ta check up?"
"W-well, I...uh..." Why did I want to contact this Puppet, Eric? Am I in need of assistance?
"Lassie? Y'there?"
Snapping out of her thoughts, she quickly gathers a response. "Y-yes I am here. I called you to inquire as to why, in the note, you reffered to me as a 'Gaurdian'?"
"Aye, o'course. Well, y'see, we Celt believe that the Catholics 'ave it all wrong. The Messiah isnae comin' the same as he did before. Dahgda wouldnae be so predictable."
"Yes, and this 'Dahgda', who is he?"
"Oh, ye dun know 'bout religion do ya, lass?"
"Not this one."
"Well, 'ow bout ye come o'er to the 'ouse an we can discuss it o'er some tea. Sound allright?"
With a bit of internal debating, she agrees and is given detailed directions to the woman claiming to be Erin's wife's house.

Past Unity Untold
"Fallen Angel"
(First part of this reads like a poem, that was unintentional and I'm too lazy to change it, so if you choose to critique this, leave that bit out as I honestly dont care. I like how it came out.)