| Fiona woke outside, not sure how she had gotten there and how long she had been...unaware... The storm still shouted it's rage and she found herself clad only in the tattered fragments of her slip... she pulled her bedraggled, wet hair from her eyes... now that her vision was unveiled she saw fragments of her velvet dress and she picked one up... noticing that it seemed torn to shreds... she thought for a minute and it was like her vision was now... seeing only during lightning flashes... her memory the same... she remembered a primal fury... echoing the storm... reflecting the storm... one with the storm... remembered the unearthly cry... knew that it was her... and she shuddered... not caring to remember any more... Fiona stood and flicked back her long hair, heading for her house...her prison. She stealthily made it back to her rooms without anyone seeing her and quickly changed. She put on her durable leather pants and tucked her light silk shirt into them. Pulling on her boots she tucked a dagger into each. She made her way to her dresser and pulled out a candle and lit it from the fire roaring in her fireplace. Having no need to do it earlier, she was well acquainted with her room. She caught her reflection in the mirror and gazed at the mud that was like war paint on her pale skin. She touched the stranger in the mirror and saw the blood streaking the glass; absently looking down and ripping out the jagged glass embedded in her palm....not even feeling the pain....remembered the madness outside...and she washed her face until it was red and almost burning from the fierce and frantic scrubbing. A flicker of the madness shone in her brilliant golden eyes...barely a trace of the green that usually was predominant. She shook herself and wrapped herself once again in her calm. She strode down the hall and when she found a guard, she gave crisp orders that a section of the house was to be cleared of anyone not family. She said she would take care of the dining room, but that he should also contact the dining room servants and be sure they complied as well. He saluted and said that it would be done immediately, but she was already walking away. When he mentioned her father and said that he would have to clear it with him, she spun around and said that her father was busy. She was taking care of this for her father and if he interrupted him she would deal with the guard....personally. The guard swallowed and said that it would be done as she ordered. She tucked his image into a corner of her mind though, she did so abhor being questioned...and she never forgot a face... Fiona threw open the doors of the dining room and glanced around. The ghost was gone and father was no where to be seen. She set down the oil lamp which she had retrieved on her way here and surveyed the room. Grandmother and Argyyle were still on the ground where they had fell, the body of the servant still by the window where she had murdered him. She went over to the body and grasped the slippery handle of the dagger and pulled, pushing her boot down on the body until the dagger gave way with a slight sucking noise. She cleaned the dagger on the slave's clothes, her only regret that now she would have to use another food taster. So long to train...she shrugged. She knew that the slave had had to die...no one could see the family have any weakness and to see the family hurt as well was a death sentence. Especially for a lowly slave. Somewhere inside her mind, she knew that she had killed the slave out of an intense blood lust and was glad that there had been a slave to kill...that there hadn't only been family members here when she had succumbed to the feral beast...the beast that was the storm... only the storm... wind played with her tresses and she glanced into the darkness with a smile of longing. Oh to be a part of the storm again...to be the storm again...and she wrenched her eyes away. Dumping the dishes off a wheeled service cart she dragged Argyyle over to it. It took her awile to pull him onto the lower surface. It took her even longer to manhandle Kirial's body until she had swung it onto the top. Her limbs swayed a bit and it looked like she was waving to Argyyle. Fiona laughed. She placed the oil lamp between her grandmother's arm and her body and tied the arm with a drapery cord to the other arm. This way the oil lamp would stay secure. Though she did tie it a bit harder than she had to, grandmother had favored Kirialen, after all. Though the cart was quite big, it would have to be for the elaborate meals they had, still Argyyle's legs sprawled onto the floor. Fiona sighed and decided that if she held Argyyle's ankles, she could pull the cart too. Taking another drapery cord she tied Argyyle to the cart, so she wouldn't pull him off. It was long, hard work pulling the cart that threatened to tip over...time and time again. She would get a few lurching steps and she would have to adjust the bodies and then move again. She was about half way to the infirmary when she saw the ghost watching her... Sighing deeply, she addressed the ghost. There was no fury in her voice, the evening had been quite draining and Fiona had regained her composure, so it was with rolling eyes and a calm, weary voice that she said, "You... again. What do you want?" The soft breathing of her unconscious family did make her add, " If you are going to throw me into a wall, can you at least wait until I get them to the infirmary?" Muttering under her breath, " Real nice way to greet your family, if you are our mother. " |
| The Thunder Rolls |