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Disclaimer: I do not own these charactors (alas) and am making absolutely no money for this.
A Night Like Many Others
She waltzed across the deserted ballroom in the arms of a man cloaked in shadows. He led her powerfully, gracefully, pulling her closer as they spun. She melted into him, their every move in prefect synchronization. Her shimmering ice colored gown flowed around his darkly clad legs. For hours it seemed they danced to an unending melody. Though his face was shadowed, she felt no fear, no hesitation. He was as mysterious as a moonlit lake yet as familiar as her square ring. Together they flew, heedless of the world they left behind, their entire beings consumed by the moment. He whispered to her, words of love and need using her true name, the name she thought forgotten.
As they danced the shadows receded, little by little revealing her partner, the other half of her soul. His long, muscular, leather-clad legs came into view, followed by a perfectly formed torso in a tight black t-shirt under a black leather jacket that stretched across his broad shoulders. Slowly the illumination traveled upwards over his masculine neck, over a square, clean shaven jaw, soft, determined lips and a nose she refused to recognize, to eyes of dark chocolate mystery and mischief. She stared into those eyes, ignoring the rest of the unveiling. Everything in her thrilled in revelation until she heard a distant sobbing.
It came from the darkness that still lingered in the corners of the ballroom. Slowly she disentangled from his arms, looking once more into dark eyes that had taken on a soul deep sadness. The sobbing continued, escalating into heart broken shrieks of terror and rage. As she moved towards the sounds the light faded, leaving her soul-mate again in darkness. Slowly the form of a woman became visible, curled into a fetal ball in a perfectly pressed skirt suit and high, high heals. As though aware of the others approach, the woman turned her emotion ravaged face towards her. Tessa looked down into the shattered makeup mask that was Miss Parker. * No! Oh god no! * Behind her something moved, pushing her off balance. She had a brief impression of absolute evil, then she was falling, falling into the huddled form. On impact they merged, Tessa felt herself disappearing into the miserable, broken woman. She was trapped in that body, that role she could not escape. She struggled in panic, becoming more constrained with each movement. An insistent ringing noise pierced her consciousness, bringing her up from the abyss that was her subconscious. Untangling one arm from her blanket shrouded self-mummification, she flipped open her still ringing cell phone.
“What!” She snapped with what she hoped was her usual degree of irritation. Noting the time on her alarm clock, 3 AM, she knew who it would be, even though she hadn’t heard from him in over a year.
“Its nice to see that some things never change. Did I wake you Miss Parker?”
Even expecting it that voice gave her shivers. She sought refuge in her usual ill tempered manner.
“Jarod I swear to god next time I find you your dead, Centre be damned.”
“Well aren’t we in a particularly good mood tonight, did I interrupt a good dream?”
His innocent question caused her to shudder. Her own shrieks still echoed in her mind.
“My dreams are none of your damn business. If that’s all your calling about I’m hanging up now.”
“No wait!”
“What?”
“Did you check your mail today?”
“Check my…?” Somehow she wasn’t surprised to hear dial tone. Some things really did never change.
Struggling into her bathrobe, Miss Parker stumbled through her darkened home, tripping on a misplaced ottoman. As she sat on the hardwood floor rubbing her injured shin, she entertained thoughts of Jarod’s mortality. She hadn’t heard from him in over a year and now this. If anyone at the Centre found out he called…while the hunt for him had gone inactive with his long silence, he was still numero uno on their most wanted list. Imagining the look on Lyle’s face improved her mood greatly. Too bad she couldn't bring herself to tell him. With a slightly cheerier countenance she made her way to the moonlit coffee table. The mail was still splayed across it as though dropped by a careless hand (which it had been). She sifted through it quickly finding immediately a thick, expensive feeling envelope that had most certainly not been there when she went to bed. Blindly she groped behind her for the lamp. Soft yellow light revealed a cream coloured envelope sealed with wax in the shape of a calla lily. The front read simply “Miss Parker” in an unrecognized hand. Experiencing a disturbing premonition, she sat back on the couch and slowly opened it. Yep, a wedding invitation. Absently she admired the lovely calligraphy. Blackness slowly encroached on the edges of her vision as she forgot to breathe. A word jumped out of the page saving her from an embarrassing faint.
“Ethan” she breathed. The world came sharply into focus again. Ethan was getting married. Consciously deciding not to think about her near unconscious experience (or the reasons behind it), she instead concentrated on the invitation before her. The wedding was in just over a month. Not a ton of notice but, what with her main job coming up empty lately, it shouldn’t be too much trouble getting a few days off work. The bride's name was Grace McKenna...hmm...the name didn’t set off any warning bells. In fact her inner sense conveyed a warm, fuzzy kind of feeling. Good enough. Her mother still didn’t talk to her like she did Ethan, but with some practice she had gotten in touch with the intuitive aspects of her gift. It had kept her alive on a number of occasions over the past year.
As she went to place the no longer threatening paper back on the coffee table for later inspection, she noticed a note hanging out of its envelope. Unfolding it carefully she instantly recognized her half brother’s penmanship.
Dear Miss Parker,
The prodigal brother returns! And with happy news at that! Everyone is gathering here for the upcoming festivities, the only one missing is you. Please come up and stay with us for a couple weeks before the wedding. It’s been forever since we’ve spent any time together and I really want you to get to know Grace. I know you’ll love her almost as much as I do! She is such a wonderful person. Please say you’ll come. You might have noticed that there is no location on the invitation. Since I’m still a fugitive and Grace prefers anonymity, we are sending out our merry minions to collect the guests. Your guide will be in touch. Grace can’t wait to meet you!
Your favorite brother,
Ethan
Miss Parker sighed and pressed between her eyes. Most people would be stressed out by this sudden development. With only two weeks notice she needed to get significant time off work, reschedule any social obligations she might have (self delusion is a beautiful thing), and find a dress fabulous enough to maintain her super fashionable reputation. Oddly enough, none of these things really worried her very much. Her headache came from those last few lines in the letter. In fact, just one one word. Guide. Well, the term “merry minions” wasn't doing wonders for her either. No matter how much she might like to deny it, she knew exactly who her guide was. Damn her brother's “voices” and his twisted sense of humour! She sighed again, not really mad. He just didn't understand. Resigned to the inevitable, she decided to go back to bed. She didn’t need her inner sense to foresee many sleepless nights in her near future.
__________________________________________________
TBC
A Night Like Many Others
She waltzed across the deserted ballroom in the arms of a man cloaked in shadows. He led her powerfully, gracefully, pulling her closer as they spun. She melted into him, their every move in prefect synchronization. Her shimmering ice colored gown flowed around his darkly clad legs. For hours it seemed they danced to an unending melody. Though his face was shadowed, she felt no fear, no hesitation. He was as mysterious as a moonlit lake yet as familiar as her square ring. Together they flew, heedless of the world they left behind, their entire beings consumed by the moment. He whispered to her, words of love and need using her true name, the name she thought forgotten.
As they danced the shadows receded, little by little revealing her partner, the other half of her soul. His long, muscular, leather-clad legs came into view, followed by a perfectly formed torso in a tight black t-shirt under a black leather jacket that stretched across his broad shoulders. Slowly the illumination traveled upwards over his masculine neck, over a square, clean shaven jaw, soft, determined lips and a nose she refused to recognize, to eyes of dark chocolate mystery and mischief. She stared into those eyes, ignoring the rest of the unveiling. Everything in her thrilled in revelation until she heard a distant sobbing.
It came from the darkness that still lingered in the corners of the ballroom. Slowly she disentangled from his arms, looking once more into dark eyes that had taken on a soul deep sadness. The sobbing continued, escalating into heart broken shrieks of terror and rage. As she moved towards the sounds the light faded, leaving her soul-mate again in darkness. Slowly the form of a woman became visible, curled into a fetal ball in a perfectly pressed skirt suit and high, high heals. As though aware of the others approach, the woman turned her emotion ravaged face towards her. Tessa looked down into the shattered makeup mask that was Miss Parker. * No! Oh god no! * Behind her something moved, pushing her off balance. She had a brief impression of absolute evil, then she was falling, falling into the huddled form. On impact they merged, Tessa felt herself disappearing into the miserable, broken woman. She was trapped in that body, that role she could not escape. She struggled in panic, becoming more constrained with each movement. An insistent ringing noise pierced her consciousness, bringing her up from the abyss that was her subconscious. Untangling one arm from her blanket shrouded self-mummification, she flipped open her still ringing cell phone.
“What!” She snapped with what she hoped was her usual degree of irritation. Noting the time on her alarm clock, 3 AM, she knew who it would be, even though she hadn’t heard from him in over a year.
“Its nice to see that some things never change. Did I wake you Miss Parker?”
Even expecting it that voice gave her shivers. She sought refuge in her usual ill tempered manner.
“Jarod I swear to god next time I find you your dead, Centre be damned.”
“Well aren’t we in a particularly good mood tonight, did I interrupt a good dream?”
His innocent question caused her to shudder. Her own shrieks still echoed in her mind.
“My dreams are none of your damn business. If that’s all your calling about I’m hanging up now.”
“No wait!”
“What?”
“Did you check your mail today?”
“Check my…?” Somehow she wasn’t surprised to hear dial tone. Some things really did never change.
Struggling into her bathrobe, Miss Parker stumbled through her darkened home, tripping on a misplaced ottoman. As she sat on the hardwood floor rubbing her injured shin, she entertained thoughts of Jarod’s mortality. She hadn’t heard from him in over a year and now this. If anyone at the Centre found out he called…while the hunt for him had gone inactive with his long silence, he was still numero uno on their most wanted list. Imagining the look on Lyle’s face improved her mood greatly. Too bad she couldn't bring herself to tell him. With a slightly cheerier countenance she made her way to the moonlit coffee table. The mail was still splayed across it as though dropped by a careless hand (which it had been). She sifted through it quickly finding immediately a thick, expensive feeling envelope that had most certainly not been there when she went to bed. Blindly she groped behind her for the lamp. Soft yellow light revealed a cream coloured envelope sealed with wax in the shape of a calla lily. The front read simply “Miss Parker” in an unrecognized hand. Experiencing a disturbing premonition, she sat back on the couch and slowly opened it. Yep, a wedding invitation. Absently she admired the lovely calligraphy. Blackness slowly encroached on the edges of her vision as she forgot to breathe. A word jumped out of the page saving her from an embarrassing faint.
“Ethan” she breathed. The world came sharply into focus again. Ethan was getting married. Consciously deciding not to think about her near unconscious experience (or the reasons behind it), she instead concentrated on the invitation before her. The wedding was in just over a month. Not a ton of notice but, what with her main job coming up empty lately, it shouldn’t be too much trouble getting a few days off work. The bride's name was Grace McKenna...hmm...the name didn’t set off any warning bells. In fact her inner sense conveyed a warm, fuzzy kind of feeling. Good enough. Her mother still didn’t talk to her like she did Ethan, but with some practice she had gotten in touch with the intuitive aspects of her gift. It had kept her alive on a number of occasions over the past year.
As she went to place the no longer threatening paper back on the coffee table for later inspection, she noticed a note hanging out of its envelope. Unfolding it carefully she instantly recognized her half brother’s penmanship.
Dear Miss Parker,
The prodigal brother returns! And with happy news at that! Everyone is gathering here for the upcoming festivities, the only one missing is you. Please come up and stay with us for a couple weeks before the wedding. It’s been forever since we’ve spent any time together and I really want you to get to know Grace. I know you’ll love her almost as much as I do! She is such a wonderful person. Please say you’ll come. You might have noticed that there is no location on the invitation. Since I’m still a fugitive and Grace prefers anonymity, we are sending out our merry minions to collect the guests. Your guide will be in touch. Grace can’t wait to meet you!
Your favorite brother,
Ethan
Miss Parker sighed and pressed between her eyes. Most people would be stressed out by this sudden development. With only two weeks notice she needed to get significant time off work, reschedule any social obligations she might have (self delusion is a beautiful thing), and find a dress fabulous enough to maintain her super fashionable reputation. Oddly enough, none of these things really worried her very much. Her headache came from those last few lines in the letter. In fact, just one one word. Guide. Well, the term “merry minions” wasn't doing wonders for her either. No matter how much she might like to deny it, she knew exactly who her guide was. Damn her brother's “voices” and his twisted sense of humour! She sighed again, not really mad. He just didn't understand. Resigned to the inevitable, she decided to go back to bed. She didn’t need her inner sense to foresee many sleepless nights in her near future.
__________________________________________________
TBC
