synoin_arises sabbie synoin walked along the rows of veggies licking her sticky fingers. she felt alone, but strangely not lonely. her mail had disappeared apart from little bits left enmeshed in her wings but synion didn't mind so much. although it had been very beautiful it was heavy to wear and besides, her wings still occasionally made the same noise. her sword too had changed, it had shrunk to the size of her forearm and now had feather like markings on the blade. synion wandered past the beans, past the lettuces and rounded the beats to see a little old woman sitting at a table laid for two. she approached the table curiously. the little old woman wore a dress made from fresh blood.red geranium petals trimmed in dried black rose petals. around her thin shoulders was draped a lacy shawl made from jasmine flowers and the table wore a cloth woven from corn leaves that flowed gracefully to the ground. as synion watched, the old lady picked a watermelon off the table and tilted it. a thin stream of gloriously pink liquid poured out a small hole and splished into two hollowed out apples. when synoin got to the edge of the table the old woman gestured her to sit and partake of the party. synion cautiously sat on the offered tree stump and peered into her apple teacup. there, floating at the top like ice were three tiny cherry tomatoes. she looked up, startled, as the old lady began to speak. 'how can you find yourself if you don't know where you are going?' synion blinked. she wasn't sure what she expected from the old woman but she was pretty sure it wasn't that. she settled her dignity like a broad brimmed hat and said 'but i do know where i am going.' the old woman grinned and said 'and where might that be?' 'west virgina' the old woman breath wheezed and rasped in her chest and it took synion a moment to realise she was laughing. 'west virgina?' the old woman asked. 'west virgina? and how do you know that child?' synion thought hard. 'i... i don't know. i just ... know of it.' the old lady laughed harder. synion slumped down in her seat and raised her apple cup to her lips. the drink inside was sweet and the cherry tomatoes bumped her lips. she noticed a plate of grey cakes on the table and helped herself to one spitefully while waiting for the old woman to recover. which, eventually, after much wiping of eyes and shaking of heads, she did. 'chylde of lore, ye have indeed been given sommat, but ye truly dunna ken what?' she sighed and reverted to her less arctic tongue. 'you have been given some of the ingredients to a powerful spell, one that will let you succeed where others have only failed miserably. the truth to your 'west virgina' is a crest fur jar. i dare say it is somewhere to keep the spell.' synion felt tears line up like lemmings in her eyes, all ready for the suicidal leap. 'i feel i have come so far already, and yet i still have nothing.' 'nonsense!' snorted the old woman. 'look to yourself! see how far you have come already! you are far from the young princess who stood at a doorway awaiting a royal pair to notice you.' the old woman's face softened. 'child, you stand on a threshold and the sun shines brightly and the frogs yet sing by the river so i will help you in your quest..' the old woman placed one of the rock cakes on the table by itself and waved her hand over it. after a little magnesium flash there stood a palm sized jar of fur from a peacock's crest, all blue and green and turquoise. 'here is the crest fur jar you need to start you on your way.' the old woman stood and the table disappeared leaving synion standing and the jar floating in the air. as synion stretched her hand to take it the old woman reached out and traced the word 'solus' on synions forehead with her thumb as a blessing. 'go in peace my daughter' whispered the woman who was suddenly younger and then not there. synion grasped the jar. it was warm and friendly and she felt more ready to take on her fates. her wings chimed softly as she turned to leave. 020104 ... Grievance synoin was happy, truly happy, for the first in a long line of sorrows. time seem to syncopate to her joyous pulsations, and the fur jar felt like a million smiles )cradled( in her hand like silver. she took a deep breath and looked up at the blue weaving sky, it spun pictures at her, leaving her to float happily in her esoteric visions of grandeur. her wings chimed lovely laments at the beauty, and the sky spun a weaving picture of waltzing. synoin hummed, ONE two three, ONE two three, ONE two three... and closed her eyes and waltzed out among everything, arms and wings expanded, eminating and absorbing the total glory ambiance in the atmosphere enclosing her, and growing outwards. synoin's back hit a tree, and she sunk down it and layed there, here beautiful white wings curling backward embracing the tree, and she looked down at her clothes, they were all white. she gasped as she caught her reflection in the jar, her dreads were gone, only to leave flowing white hair in it's place, and her eyes were also a strange glowing gold. she sailed to the ground, releasing her grip on the tree, and laid on her back, staring at the leaves, as they shifted and rattled peace in the supporting breeze. the leaves would be supported, and then released, and mingle together in a pattern waving of shades of green, golden sunlight, and dark embering shadows. a guiding light broke through the cacaphony of leaves and struck her eye, it gleamed all around, and she let out a content, small, laugh. the tree and earth vibrated in sympathy, loving spread everywhere. synoin stood in all her wondrous emotions, and child like, spread her arms as mock wings, chided a smile to herself, and took her real wings and flew in a blinding laugh to the weaving pictures of the sky above. up close they tingled her skin, and perpetuated her mind. "a spell" synoin said. and her wings moved as if to make white noise, but what came out instead was a beautiful song full of hope, trepidation, and epiphany. synoin felt that if there was no earth, she would've just let rapture entangle itself upon her, her own control kept her from becoming only an energy powerless to manipulate the physical realm any longer. synoin didn't know that... that control is what kept her from her greatest danger of failing her quest, as she was almost completely swallowed by the presentiment that can lie just as easily as please. synoin had just escaped the greatest danger she had ever faced before. 020104 ... sabbie synoin laughed and spun, her simple white shift billowing out around her, her joy making her feel slightly dizzy. she ran across green meadows and feilds of daffodils. she entered emerald forests and passed through azure beaches until, tired but laughingly, she sat down on a gently sloping hill in the most beautiful feild she had ever seen. she heard joyful sounds behind her and she turned. there, comming across the hill behind her, was a whole horde of people she recognised. here came ranbodom, the old and bent gardener with whom she would spend hours in the rich dark soil tending plants of all dscriptions. ranbodom never said much but he winked at her, like he always did, and synoin felt her heart sing home. behind ranbodom came gwarn and travis, carring a pavillion of bright yellow silk. gwarn was synoins childhood friend and one of her cloests confedants; travis the mischeif maker, oh he of the wicked grin. behind them came a horde of people. friends and retainers famliler and joyous, all singing songs and holding hands. the pavillion was put up quickly and the feast they had brought was shared around. every time she turned around there was someone eager to talk to her. synoin sat in the middle, deleriously happy and very full. as she sipped her cab sav in a crystal goblet she saw her parents, king mal and queen mauvis, comming towards her, both smiling warmly and with open arms. synoin was enfolded in a hug that included both her parents. her father ruffled her white hair and her mother whispered 'oh blossom, we were so worried about you.' synoin felt a twinge of something, like there was someone behind her whispering something to quietly to hear. but the king complimented her on her wings and her mother gave her a big kiss and synoin forgot it in a whirl of happiness. her parents cared for her and loved her and everything was fine. then there was music and dancing and gwarn and travis both spun her in their arms til she laughed and sang. the sun was high in the sky when they returned to eat. synoin, although she felt like it had only been moments since she ate before, found herself ravenous. as she tucked into her second bowl of butterscotch icecream she turned to her side to see perroid siting beside her eating a peach. perroid! her first friend around the castle! they hugged excitedly, and spoke of olden times. 'remember when we snuck around the guard tower and stole ale? that was so harsh the next morning!' 'remember when princess kran was visiting and she was so mean we cut off her hair? and then we tried to blame it on her brother?' 'remember the strawberry.eating comptition! we didnt half catch it for that...' 'remember the time we tried to dye meeterskeeter bright green? i still have the scars on my arm from that...' 'remember the time we we out on that ride and we escaped away from my nurse and pretended to be highway theives? and my horse bolted and you came riding after me...' synoin faltered. 'but your horse reared, didnt it? and you fell off... and when it backed up... it trampled you... you were such a broken and bloodied mess... and i held you in my arms, but you died no matter how hard i held on...' synoin had gone pale, the blood draining from her face with memories of that screen and a dawning comprehension of what was going on... perroid turned to synoin 'no, it wasnt like that, remember? the horse reared and i fell off but it bolted, remember? and we rode back on your horse. remember? there was something odd about perroids eyes. synoin backed away, bowl forgotten and icecream melting into the grass. she stared around wildly. queen mauvis came forward with a golden torque. 'here darling, we made this for you, in case we ever found you again. put it on sweetie, it matches your eyes beautifully.' the queen advanced, the golden creasent outstretched before her. synoin clasped her hands to her head and felt the thick slightly scratchy roundness of her dreads. she pulled her hair forward but no, it still looked like straight white hair. her parents still advanced toward her, her friends still advanced toward her and synoin was truly frightened. she whirled, but they advanced from all sides. synoin desperatly tried to think of something, anything that she could... bockenbeas whistle! synoin opened her no.space, a black crack in the air beside her but in her effort to grab the whislte she leaned too far in and, like a mecanic under a bonnet without an engine, synoin fell right in, head first. 020104 ... Grievance the no.space ate the light, it just didn't seem to exist. around here was pitch black, and behind her, through a blurred filter, all she could see was a mirage of colors. then a terrible feeling swept over her, in panic she closed herself in no.space just as a gleaming red hue passed into her vision, then... nothing. then, she remembered: "yes synoin" "what happens if a person gets put in no.space?" the towering figure at the front of the classroom tilted their glasses at her in a way that glared pity, and spoke: "no.space is not a place for the living, it is a place between everything, a nothing, a black emptyness that preserves everything in it's exact state. it has no life, it is a stone slate that preserves everything in it's current state. the no.space makes a connection to the one who calls it, to a location in time, and place. without someone to make an outside connection to anchor it, if you tried to get out, you have no idea where you would emerge, and no way to tell before you stepped out as you can't send any perceptions out of no.space. You could end up in the middle of a sun, a strange planet, or most likely into one of the folds of space, and die with no air. There is a theory however, that, the person trying to escape would end up wherever their heart was most placed, as that's where that person's most permanent connection eminates from. The place they desire to be more than anywhere else..." synoins palms sweated and she could feel her own pulse as she clasped them, she felt around for the whistle, ripped part of her dress, and tied it around her neck, she clasped her shrunken winged sword, and hoped it could penetrate the engulfing darkness of no.space. her sword spoke to her, again in latin: "metus." synoin almost dropped herself, as her mind screamed the translation: "FEAR". and the world was engulfed in a sickening purple and sense of death, creatures hung just behind the curtains of her own impusles. synoin held back her own instinct and concentrated... she lost track of time, having to fight off the demons of her fear the whole time. they attacked wildly, tearing at her wings, biting at her face, tearing with all the ferocity she could imagine. piece by piece she began to stand down her instincts, until she fainted from exaustion, and went unconcious. her fears faded with not so strong an emotion to feed it, and the sickening purple receded to a dull glow. hours later, she awoke, ripe with fear again, her wings torn, face and body a wreathe of damage. the sword began again to glow, and the synoin's_manifestations tore into her again, this time she was too weakened to fight back, and immediately lost concsiousness. time ceased meaning. she would awake, and her fears would change, again and again. each new one ripping into her. each day, bleeding her unconcsious, each day her worst fear cringing. perroid hung there lifeless, manifested by her own worst fear. she grasped at it and cried, her bloody torn hands grafted with unrecognizable pain, reopened again in each waking moment, and slid through her illusion... and she remembered then, how kind perroid was, how healing, and lightful. and as her fingers slipped through the last of perroids fear ghost, she realized that this apocalypse of herself was not real beyond her own control. she realized the fear that was killing her. she grasped the sword and fought all impulses, and concentrated on healing, on fond memories, times that made her weep with joy... finally, the sword spoke again:"light". and the world opened before her. she then concentrated on healing, the sword again spoke: "healing" and she relaxed as she felt her wings being relifed, her scars and all the markings left by her fears subceded, and synoin was again whole, with only one trace left of her suffering: one of her eyes was now permanently stained purple, synoin looked at it from the reflection of her sword, it's depths changed and magnified, but, she didn't fear it, and gasped at it's changing beauty. she also saw, that her dreads were returned to her, that her clothes were again black, and she looked down, and sure enough, her boots of confidence were there as well, though they were still pseudo-tennis shoes, she knew that soon they would be back to their full bootness. synoin wondered, though she should have died by her fear, she didn't. pondering this as synoin arose, she felt the gift of knowledge collapse from the light around her, and it told her worst fear was never death. she nodded in agreement, and looked in the no.space around her. below her were the things she had stored in no-space, solid and real. around her, in the millions of darkness, there were millions of things. she knew though, that they were solid only to the owner, or to a person who had a sympathetic enough connection with the person that put it there, to claim in into solid state. synoin shook her head at what some of the wondrous things about her. she picked up her sword, while it spoke:"curiousity" now the world around her was still open to her in brightness, but now it was also dangerous. "just as well" she thought as synoin went to gaze amongst the bracken in no space, a sight she didn't know if anyone had ever seen. 020104 ... andru235 the hungry ogress sleeps a little longer she's sleeparoopo, yawnarific. bizzility. 051220 what's it to you? who go blather from