Telfenham stared after his son, the stinging insult still in his ears. Never before had his son turned his ire against him, it was a side Telfenham had never before seen. He turned back to Gilean. "Judge not my son, Eosos."
"He's going to get himself in trouble..."
"You have been in much the same fashion for other reasons. You may not recall your final days in Elysium, but I do. As much as it may disgust you to be linked in such a manner, you and my son are alike in many respects."
"Perhaps... but I didn't aim to harm any others with my opinions. I only tried to change minds.. not others' lives."
"It may not have been your aim, but it was the deed. You may have only seen your own desires, but it pained your father and mother greatly. And your opinions separated what would have been a life long union."
Gilean looked down and Telfenham knew he had pushed upon an issue deep within the lesser celestial. If he could press on this, perhaps he could force a trust between his son and Gilean. "After your father was banished, the tribunal asked your mother if she would join him. And she severed all knowing of you or he."
"I never intended that... I didn't know that would happen."
"Opinions have consequences, as do judgments."
"Perhaps... but your son knows the consequences, I did not."
"You seem to misunderstand my statement. It matters not whether you know, but there are consequences to every single action we take, Eosos. Including when we choose to judge one another. He is still my son."
Having made his point, Telfenham turned to the skies. None of this boded well, but he had no other alternative. "I have your eternal promise?"
"Yes, providing I get back. Not that I doubt you... but more your son."
"I cannot stop him if he follows, Eosos."
"If he keeps me from my family, I have only one recourse left."
"His desire is not to keep you from your family, but to take her from hers," Telfenham spoke plainly.
"You know it is in his best interest not to follow. You must do what you can to prevent him from going."
The idea of an outcast telling him what to do made Telfenham irritable. "I will get you to your home. My son has no quarrel with your return to your business."
"Yes, but I have no intention of rejoining my family, only to rip another asunder. You have to understand that."
"If you will not agree to the terms, what reason have I to rejoin you? You damn me for pitying my son's pining heart. We all make our mistakes. Mine was hoping to give my son love, and he did seem to be grooming it while Sanria was here. She truly did wish to remain, you understand. Given her life. She truly wished to forget."
"Do you truly think that your son will not use his presence, and the presence of this place, to get the result that he wants regardless of her wishes?"
"I have only the power to advise him. But just as you had the choice to go against all warnings and council given to you before your exile, he, too, has that choice. I, however, do not wish to be exiled from my family and community and race because I wanted to offer him the chance for love he had yet to experience."
"It should be her choice. Please... just see to that. Have him understand that. It's not love if they don't have the choice."
"I will only see to that provided I have your word," Telfenham said.
"I will trust you," Gilean replied with a nod.
"You will have to."
Father Turncoat
Velentham listened to his father speak to Gilean, his auditory acuity riding along the fabrics of his reality. It angered him that his father could be so blunt about his issues and he would have confronted him were it not for the fact that respect was utmost when it came to his Telfenham. Almost. Now, Gilean had refused his idea. Velentham couldn't figure out why the man sent him into rage, but he didn't care. If he could just get Gilean out of his face, get the man back where he belonged, get him to Sanria, he didn't need to worry at all. He'd never see him again anyway.
"If I aid you, you must swear to me that you will never utter a word of this to any Celestial in any time from here until perpetuity. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Telfenham's voice rang clearly, and it alarmed Velentham deeply. If his father got involved, there would be no chance of his going along. He would never see Sanria again. He wouldn't put up with Gilean only to be deprived of what kept him from slaying the man right up front.
Velentham appeared in a flash of light. He took a moment to look over at Gilean, his contempt absolutely clear, then turned to his father. "No. Father, no."
"Velentham, this is the best way for all. We will rid ourselves of Eosos and you will not disrupt any lives."
Disrupt lives?! "Father, you cannot do this. You cannot choose him over me!"
"Velentham, you do not love her. My son, you have no true idea what love is. I am sorry, but this is how it shall be."
It would not do. It could not be. Velentham stepped back from his father, feeling incredibly wounded. Suddenly, he stepped into the elder Celestial's view. "I will find my way there. Mark my words."
"Velentham, don't. Look at me," Gilean said. And Velentham turned his burning silver eyes onto the man. Every bit of rage and contempt boiled on the edge of his mind. "All of the distaste you have for me, all of your disdain... is this what you want to be? Because it's exactly what you're heading for. Being just like me."
"I will never - never - be like you. I will not turn my back on my race, or my pride."
"Nor your arrogance," Gilean whispered.
"Watch your tongue."
"Enough," Velentham's father stood between him and the object of his hatred. "My son, you are out of line. Go to the cottage. Stay there until I call for you."
Velentham stood for a long moment, looking at the father he had loved and obeyed for so long. 'I gave you an order,' the elder spoke into his mind. Velentham sneered, "Undfamnachmedour," he whispered to his father in Celestial, and turned back to the cottage.
"If I aid you, you must swear to me that you will never utter a word of this to any Celestial in any time from here until perpetuity. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Telfenham's voice rang clearly, and it alarmed Velentham deeply. If his father got involved, there would be no chance of his going along. He would never see Sanria again. He wouldn't put up with Gilean only to be deprived of what kept him from slaying the man right up front.
Velentham appeared in a flash of light. He took a moment to look over at Gilean, his contempt absolutely clear, then turned to his father. "No. Father, no."
"Velentham, this is the best way for all. We will rid ourselves of Eosos and you will not disrupt any lives."
Disrupt lives?! "Father, you cannot do this. You cannot choose him over me!"
"Velentham, you do not love her. My son, you have no true idea what love is. I am sorry, but this is how it shall be."
It would not do. It could not be. Velentham stepped back from his father, feeling incredibly wounded. Suddenly, he stepped into the elder Celestial's view. "I will find my way there. Mark my words."
"Velentham, don't. Look at me," Gilean said. And Velentham turned his burning silver eyes onto the man. Every bit of rage and contempt boiled on the edge of his mind. "All of the distaste you have for me, all of your disdain... is this what you want to be? Because it's exactly what you're heading for. Being just like me."
"I will never - never - be like you. I will not turn my back on my race, or my pride."
"Nor your arrogance," Gilean whispered.
"Watch your tongue."
"Enough," Velentham's father stood between him and the object of his hatred. "My son, you are out of line. Go to the cottage. Stay there until I call for you."
Velentham stood for a long moment, looking at the father he had loved and obeyed for so long. 'I gave you an order,' the elder spoke into his mind. Velentham sneered, "Undfamnachmedour," he whispered to his father in Celestial, and turned back to the cottage.
The Best of Both Worlds
Telfenham walked out of his cottage with a profound sigh. He had helped Gilean find his past, but even he wasn't prepared for everything it would mean. He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked out into the field, sinking into his own thoughts. He was far too old to have this happen to him. To have a traitor within his midst, one that he helped to bring back - he was facing exile. Gilean wasn't only a traitor, he was- 'Telfenham... I know you can hear me. I need to speak with you.'
Gilean's voice soaked through the fabric of the planar reality and within seconds, Telfenham bent space and stood at the side of the young man. He felt exhausted by the sheer immensity of what he had done and what he would undoubtedly have to do to rid himself of the trouble. "I assume you heard what your son has recently said to me. I find his offer unacceptable. I will not lead him back, only to see him rip another's happiness apart."
Telfenham agreed. He had attempted to set his son straight regarding Sanria and bringing her back to no avail. Velentham would hear none of it. Somehow, he had been given a hardened hot-head for a son. "Eosos, my son has his failings as many of us do. None, not even Celestials, are perfect."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Gilean said with a chuckle.
"That said, we do have a slight issue. You see, when I offered up the rose for Velentham to use, I did not anticipate it bringing back an outcast."
"So, you knew of his plan?" Gilean asked.
"Look at this place. It is beautiful. What mortal wouldn't wish to live in a place like this? And Sanria did. Why not give my son what he wanted. It didn't seem to harm any."
"But it's not really a choice..." Gilean said with a light sigh.
"It would have been should she have pined into the rose. Desire activates it... If she would have desired to return, she would have."
"Yet, here I am."
"You desired to know more about yourself."
Telfenham knew he must remedy the situation. He had to get Gilean on his side, had to get the lesser celestial to agree to a term that would get him home and keep him quiet for eternity. "You must understand, I have no desire to be here. I am happy to leave you both and never speak of this. I only wish to go back. As a father of a somewhat... wayward son, you must be able to see within you to help me," Gilean said.
"If I aid you, you must swear to me that you will never utter a word of this to any Celestial in any time from here until perpetuity. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"You help me get back home and you have my eternal promise."
Before anything could be agreed upon, Velentham arrived in a blaze of light.
Gilean's voice soaked through the fabric of the planar reality and within seconds, Telfenham bent space and stood at the side of the young man. He felt exhausted by the sheer immensity of what he had done and what he would undoubtedly have to do to rid himself of the trouble. "I assume you heard what your son has recently said to me. I find his offer unacceptable. I will not lead him back, only to see him rip another's happiness apart."
Telfenham agreed. He had attempted to set his son straight regarding Sanria and bringing her back to no avail. Velentham would hear none of it. Somehow, he had been given a hardened hot-head for a son. "Eosos, my son has his failings as many of us do. None, not even Celestials, are perfect."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Gilean said with a chuckle.
"That said, we do have a slight issue. You see, when I offered up the rose for Velentham to use, I did not anticipate it bringing back an outcast."
"So, you knew of his plan?" Gilean asked.
"Look at this place. It is beautiful. What mortal wouldn't wish to live in a place like this? And Sanria did. Why not give my son what he wanted. It didn't seem to harm any."
"But it's not really a choice..." Gilean said with a light sigh.
"It would have been should she have pined into the rose. Desire activates it... If she would have desired to return, she would have."
"Yet, here I am."
"You desired to know more about yourself."
Telfenham knew he must remedy the situation. He had to get Gilean on his side, had to get the lesser celestial to agree to a term that would get him home and keep him quiet for eternity. "You must understand, I have no desire to be here. I am happy to leave you both and never speak of this. I only wish to go back. As a father of a somewhat... wayward son, you must be able to see within you to help me," Gilean said.
"If I aid you, you must swear to me that you will never utter a word of this to any Celestial in any time from here until perpetuity. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"You help me get back home and you have my eternal promise."
Before anything could be agreed upon, Velentham arrived in a blaze of light.
Sea of Fog
Colin walked out of the side door of the cavern and into the secluded bit of forest that served almost as another backyard for the family. Fallen pine needles muffled his footsteps as be strolled toward the gently running stream a short distance away, a contented smile on his face. He was lost in thoughts of his wife, son, and more children on the way when he heard the snap of a twig very close behind him. He turned with a chuckle, "Oh, Sanr..."
But wait, not Sanria. A sharp sting in the side of his neck. Then darkness.
Colin dreamed within a rolling fog. He was tossed and jostled like a helpless piece of driftwood on a turbulent sea of hazy disorientation.
Images floated before him as he bounced upon the waves.
Sanria, dressed in a brilliant white gown... she was walking away yet
looked over her shoulder, calling to him. She wouldn't stop walking
and his legs were so heavy, the earth was like mud. She slowed, but
still kept walking. He caught up, reaching to place a hand on her
shoulder. She turned, now walking backwards. She held his hand
sweetly, told him she loved him, caressed his hand. Then green.
Her eyes bright green. Blinding. He was holding nothing. She
had turned away - now running toward the green light from her
own eyes. He tried to run after but his feet wouldn't work.
The mud. Not mud, lava. His feet no longer there but he
still ran. He could catch her. He could put out the
green light. She would stop running. His legs
were gone. He crawled... dragging his
body. She was almost gone.
Reaching. Sinking.
Burning.
Sanria!
Colin tried to blink his eyes open. His eyelids fought him, conspiring to prevent him from waking. He focused all of the will be could gather, like trying to organize turtles to pull a cart. Yet he finally managed to open them. He couldn't focus. He was in a bed. Where was he? Was this home? Time seemed an endless mystery. Yesterday seemed like years ago and he didn't even know what yesterday was.
He commanded the herd of turtles to turn his head to the side. He had to see where he was. He slowly looked... a woman. Dark hair, smiling. Home. He must be. He spoke with a mouth that felt full of dandelion seeds. "San...ria?"
The reply was reprimandingly direct. "No, not Sanria."
But wait, not Sanria. A sharp sting in the side of his neck. Then darkness.
Colin dreamed within a rolling fog. He was tossed and jostled like a helpless piece of driftwood on a turbulent sea of hazy disorientation.
Images floated before him as he bounced upon the waves.
Sanria, dressed in a brilliant white gown... she was walking away yet
looked over her shoulder, calling to him. She wouldn't stop walking
and his legs were so heavy, the earth was like mud. She slowed, but
still kept walking. He caught up, reaching to place a hand on her
shoulder. She turned, now walking backwards. She held his hand
sweetly, told him she loved him, caressed his hand. Then green.
Her eyes bright green. Blinding. He was holding nothing. She
had turned away - now running toward the green light from her
own eyes. He tried to run after but his feet wouldn't work.
The mud. Not mud, lava. His feet no longer there but he
still ran. He could catch her. He could put out the
green light. She would stop running. His legs
were gone. He crawled... dragging his
body. She was almost gone.
Reaching. Sinking.
Burning.
Sanria!
Colin tried to blink his eyes open. His eyelids fought him, conspiring to prevent him from waking. He focused all of the will be could gather, like trying to organize turtles to pull a cart. Yet he finally managed to open them. He couldn't focus. He was in a bed. Where was he? Was this home? Time seemed an endless mystery. Yesterday seemed like years ago and he didn't even know what yesterday was.
He commanded the herd of turtles to turn his head to the side. He had to see where he was. He slowly looked... a woman. Dark hair, smiling. Home. He must be. He spoke with a mouth that felt full of dandelion seeds. "San...ria?"
The reply was reprimandingly direct. "No, not Sanria."
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