Still As Water

The first thing I noticed when I see him is how beautiful he is; far more than when I met him as a child. He stands like a porcelain doll. It's been so long since we've met, Kuval.


I peered nervously up at my father but he doesn't spare a glance down at me instead he is focused intently on a young teenage male near the fireplace. The teenager rises from his seat as we approach, and the teenager gives a bow towards my father in recognition. "Kuval, this is my daughter."

Kuval straightens before shifting his gaze towards me and gives a very gentle, bright smile. I couldn't help but gaze at him in dumbfounded wonder. He was incredibly beautiful but what drew more of my attention were his clothes. They were strange, unusual, and foreign. His attire consisted of multiple layers of clothing that was long, and flowed along with his movements. Vibrant hues of blues, purples, and pinks dyed the clothing along with elaborate embroidery covered the pieces of cloth with decorations of a different style that I have ever seen; none of my family members ever had something like he wore. Pitch black locks covered the top of his head and fell down to his shoulders like silk contrasted against his pale, alabaster skin. "Please to meet you," he holds out his hand, waiting patiently.

Slowly I raise my hand and allow his to take it. His touch is gentle and even gentler when his lips brush against the top of my knuckles. I meet his dark azure eyes; they shine like jewels and are deep as the sea. 


"It's been awhile," he speaks addressing me with my very first name. If possible he grew even more beautiful than I remembered from our first meeting in our youth. His silk hair grew out longer cascading down his back as a black waterfall only half pulled up. His style of clothing didn't change over the centuries, merely bigger to fit his larger form. But now I can recognize the origin of his clothing, Asian specifically Korean related. "I wondered why you hadn't greeted me when you took up your position, but," he tilts his head slightly entirely focusing his gaze on me with such intensity it begins to balance on the line of uncomfortable. "It would make sense if you don't remember anything let alone myself."

I nod unconsciously at his statement. "Yes, I can only recall little." I can only confirm his statements. In my chest I can feel a small hole as if something is missing. And I know that the missing piece is Kuval's friendship that had grown over the years.

Cautiously I begin to address a topic knowing it will be sensitive. I'm always amazed at how much bolder and forth coming I am when present in this scape. "I hope... that we can rebuild that friendship we use to have." Instantly I can see his eyes harden with a steely appearance when then sentence processes.

Silence fills the space in between us before with a elegant sweeping motion, his back is turned towards me and leaves without another word.

I knew this was not going to end well, I know he's upset. He has every right to be upset with me and I can not blame him for anything. I broke his heart when I choose Taran and turned down the arranged marriage. In his eyes, I'm sure he sees this as a betrayal. I want to fix things between us after all these centuries but I will never regret my choice.

I fell in love. It just so happens that it wasn't with you, my friend.

The Sky Was Red

The blades of grass are tall brushing against my shins and a line of trees are seen in the background. The sky is bright with intense hue of reds, pinks, and a hint of purple mixing with the clouds present and coloring the world beneath such as the trees, the grass, everywhere it could touch. This type of sunset reminds me of the desert setting that I'm so familiar with. It's a bit strange though, when I enter this scape the moon is always out with the stars not the sun.

He's here, beginning to walk circles around me. I'm starting to get the point wondering if all supernatural entities have a thing about walking around in circles when first meeting someone. My first task to complete is to see what he looks like and as per usual the his appearance comes rather smoothy but it's the attire that gives me trouble. He stands tall, a few feet above me, with broad shoulders and muscular stature. Wave of light red short locks, however, there was a small bundle of hair wrapped into a pony tail at the nape of his neck. Spots of freckles covered the tops of his cheeks and a few on the bridge of his nose. His eyes are stilled, and in focus; the colors changed from green to blue before settling to a vivid apple green. A red band wrapped around his forehead underneath his bangs, something that the Disney's Hercules wore. In his right ear are two gold earrings, tiny hoops and a matching gold torc around his neck. Around one of his arms is a black tattoo spiraling around his arm until it reached near his elbow.  His attire that I settled on was sleeveless, red-orange shirt and dark jeans, which threw me off. I wasn't expecting jeans. He seemed to approve with what I saw, finally stopping his circling.

He wants me to follow him, and he's off in a sprint before I say anything.

My muscles tense wanting to run after, but my mind fights the natural urge. I can hear his voice in my head with an order. Run. Every fiber of my being screams for me to run, to listen, but I still resist. "I am not running. Last time I ran after Azrael I fell and hurt myself," I informed walking through the tall grass until I'm back at my starting point of my trail. I see the willow tree standing next to the dirt trail that leads into the thick forest and he standing at the beginning of the trail. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest; his expression is not pleased but he is also not angry.

"What do you know?" He asks bluntly, wanting to know where I stand with the situation.

"I know that I'm suppose to remember my memories before the summer is over," I answer recalling my realization when I was with Azrael. "I've only remembered about four or five memories, short glimpses for the most part."

Uriel remains quiet for a moment before reaching a hand out and touches my forehead. I feel like I'm suppose to fall back, recall something. My mind goes blank in order to receive, however, there is nothing but darkness. Nothing stirs, nothing rises from the darkness. I'm not sure how long I'm in the darkness but I finally open my eyes when I feel Uriel withdraw his hand from my forehead. His eyes are narrowed, concentrated, and he cocks his head to the side ever so slightly. He's not curious but interested. Something's not right, I don't know what's going on, but we're done talking for tonight.





That doesn't mean the night is over. I'm unsure of how many times I've stirred awake before slipping back unconscious. Every time I stir I can hear male voices trying to talk to me, majority of the time the voices are not the same when I wake up. I feel like they're trying to tell me something important but I can't hear them clearly. I do hear Raphael's name a few times, making me think that he's present when I stir but that doesn't make sense. Uriel is here, not Raphael.

My dreams are random, some have slipped away into oblivion unable to recall. Some of the images I can remember are disturbing, unrealistic, and not logical. One moment shopping in California with my friends, then another seeing a watery grave of young children staring up through the water's surface all killed by one man.

Finally I wake up for the final time.

The Reality of Things

I'm not even sure what had happened; suddenly my eyes were open to the darkness of the early morning and my heart racing as if I had been running a marathon. My stomach is twisting and turning, heavy, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. The room is empty. I don't feel his presence that is always next to me when I sleep, or anyone else's for that matter making my heart skip a beat of panic. Something is not right, something hasn't been right since my last text to her.

Immediately I stick my hand underneath the fort of pillows, searching for my phone. Once found, there still is no response but I sent another one checking if she is all right. Focusing on typing my message calms the anxiety only for a moment.

I reach out, calling for Taran. Where is he, why isn't here by my side that he so rarely leaves? I feel his reach in return but something is off. It feels distracted and rushed, he's busy with something and I don't know what. Automatically I reach out to the next individual to speak to when Taran is busy, however, I get the same result with Carwyn. My stomach twists some more, this never happens.

My ringtone goes off, and I feel relief that she is still awake. A relief to hear the she's doing better but despite my want to not tell her what's going on, I do. I could hear the words I always give to her; words of encouragement to contact me if something's wrong no matter how late at night. I'm scared, anxious, and something is going on. The only reason Taran and Carwyn would be busy is if someone was here, that's how it usually is. I need find something to hold onto, keep me steady while this is happening and she's always provided the feeling of comfort and safe.

Not wanting to be alone I call for Pedran hoping he would hear my calls despite being away. For a moment I'm just lying in the dark; images of tall, lanky creatures with to many joints reaching out for me with sharp, talon hands shredding the bed covers in the process pressing into my mind. Then the images stop when I feel Pedran arrive, I could sense confusion from him from the moment he entered and he is not alone. Gwilyn followed.

I can only explain that something's wrong before I feel the immediate shift of mood. Pedran moves to sit next to me, and instinctively I curl up next to him, head in his lap while clutching my phone in hand waiting for the next message to arrive. The room doesn't feel empty any more. Pedran's fingers run through my locks, murmuring comforting words that everything will be fine. "When you wake up, he'll be beside you again," he smooths. Gwilyn silently shifts to reside the unoccupied space next to me, letting Pedran to do the comforting.

I finally feel myself drifting, sleep reaching for me once again.

I end my conversation with her for the night, slipping my phone back underneath the pillows. I don't feel so anxious after talking to her and with Pedran's comfort. The image of jade green dragon curled around me, snarling protectively at anything that got close was the last thing I saw.

*

The first sight I was greeted by when the morning came was indeed Taran, however, that did not stop the sudden horror of realizing he had gone through a fight. His hair and clothes disheveled with cuts a bruises on his face and arms. As if he ignored my reaction, he gave a small smile. He wasn't the only one in this state, Carwyn looked similar as did a few others.

I was right. Something was wrong and out of place. However, I was more upset at the fact that I didn't know what had happened, what was going on, and worried about the condition my family, friends, and love were in.

Fifteen entities had decided to attack in the early morning with the intent to harm. Why? I can only get that someone was not happy with the alliance made only the night before. Who ordered it? That's still being questioned with angry individuals determined to find out who did this.

"Taran."

Taran pauses from his stride peering down at the top of my head. He makes a sound of acknowledgment and I glance at him. His entire attire is cleaned up; deep, dark forest green tunic with gold embroidery with matching gold hoops hugging close to his ears. White pants covered his bottom half with dark boots to cover his feet and calves. He's been having to wear formal clothing more and more recently with all events and meetings that required such attire.

I had to ask. "What happened to the fifteen individuals?" I had asked the why, the who, but what was the end result of the morning?

Without a second of hesitation, he answered. "Dead."

I widen my eyes. "Dead?" 

I could see his shoulder sag down alittle. Taran turned his heel to face me completely, gold eyes focused on mine with an unwavering gaze. "Yes, dead. Every single one." 

The information was logical. If someone tried taking over a town sometimes death was an outcome in protecting the town. You kill those who threaten your life and those who you love. It is the reality of things. That hasn't changed throughout the years; in modern times its only harder to get away with murdering without being punished yourself. But despite the logical reasoning, fifteen entities were still dead.

Taran sighs heavily, taking a step forward and pull me into a tight embrace. Slowly, I reached my arms up and wrapped them around his torso, fingers curling in the fabric of his tunic. I couldn't help myself, the question slips out as soon as the thought of it was processed in my mind. "How many did you kill...?" 

He's quiet for a moment, shifting his positioning so that his chin rested on top of my head. "Five, I killed the most out of all who was there last night." My fingers tighten on the fabric. He sighs again noting my stiffening muscles.

"You have to understand that I am from the Hunt. I'm a hunter. It's what I was before meeting you, before becoming your guardian and what I still am to this day. Killing is something natural for me to do," he explains not holding back any information. "Last night is something I had to do."

I can feel him pulling my from closer, pressing it against his. "I'm not going to allow anything to hurt you, not if I can help it even if it means killing. I won't regret it one second." I could hear the protective growl coming out at the edge of his words.

He pulls away slightly in order to look down at me. I crane my neck to met his gaze. My mind says I should be afraid of him. Like he said he's a hunter, he won't hesitate to kill. But even so I don't feel afraid but worry that he'll get hurt. "But what if one day you get hurt, what if one day... You don't come back?" I murmur watching as he lowers his face closer to mine. My eyes are just filled with the gold hue, my face stilled with the touch of his hands on each side of my checks. His lips are warm against mine.

He pulls away a little, still leaving barely any space. "It's a risk that I'll have to take every single time," he mumbled, barely comprehensible with the low tone of his voice. "But I'm will to take it every time if that means you are safe." There's no space between us again. My arms move to around his neck and hold onto him as if he was going to disappear. I want him to always come back; bloodied or not, I want him to always come back. 

How Can I Put Down How I Feel Into Words

You know that feeling when you've worked hard for something and your efforts are paid off? The glorious rush of excitement at being recognized for hours upon hours of perfecting and triple checking to make sure there is no loose ends. I have.

My latest achievement is being accepted into University of Wales Trinity Saint David's for postgraduate study. I had my worries. When it came to being accepted into a university for undergraduate I was literally mailed a sheet of paper requesting to fill it out to apply for the university. No essay, no requirements. Just fill in the information. Accepted. No hard work needed except for my studies during the last four years.

This time however I was applying to graduate school, one that was overseas with different requirements than what the states use. Months of checking through applications to make sure every single piece of information was accurate, perfecting statement of purposes, e-mailing the professors from the university, and mental breakdowns when something went wrong. Then the e-mail came with confirmation that the program accepted me. I've never been happier to receive such news, more so then when I was accepted to study in Japan. However, I knew I was qualified to go to Japan and enter the exchanged university.

Wales. I was returning to a country that I had fallen in love with after only being there for one day. I remember everything; the friendly people, the towns the bus drove through and stopped at, the castles explored, the luscious green life the covered the landscape. And I was returning to this beautiful place.

It was until recently that I began to realize after unable to find a job for the summer, that I may not be able to go back to Wales due to fiances. I can continue with the program as a postgraduate, all my classes are online and I don't have to be in the country. The earth-shattering realization that though I am attending a Wales' University, I might not receive the chance to go abroad because of money. Money of all things. Not because of lack of qualifications, but because of money.

It's so incredibly frustrating, and upsetting that this is the only reason. Our world today is so focused on money that it doesn't even matter that students are going into exponential debt and can barely find jobs to pay for living expenses. There are scholarships, however, I've never been able to receive the essential scholarships that could help with money because I'm average. Yes average. I have no exceptional skills in essay-writing, planning, leadership, creativity, knowledge in political backgrounds or anything that scholarships are looking for. I'm not of a certain ethnicity or descendant of people who made an impact on our country. I am not apart of certain organizations or a specific religion.

I'm a white, middle-class female. Average.

The closest skill I could possibly achieve in getting a scholarship for is art; but even still, my art is average. There is no technique that makes my work unique or stand out nor do I have the fancy computer programs that wows today's artists.

This just builds up upon my frustration. Because despite all these other efforts to find grants, scholarships, a part time job just end up in failure of what I truly wish to do. I only got half of what I've been driving for. It's hard to take in. I don't want to hear the "I'm sorrys" because those "I'm sorrys" won't change a damn thing and only irritates me further. I know it's not pity. I just can't help but take it as that. What really irritates me the most are the people who say "I'm sorry" and try to sympathize with me when they don't understand how hard I worked because they've never worked that hard for something like this. They just ask for money from their parents or they just have to sell something for a lot of money to get what they want. How would you know what this feels like?

All those here try and sooth my raging emotions. I feel their comforting touches and whispers of that this will happen because it's part of my path. I appreciate them for trying to calm my worries and frustrations, but this is something that I can not sit back and wait to see what will happen. I want this tangible to me, something I control because this is something I really want. I've tried not asking for to many things when growing up, I knew my mom had a hard time with money, I didn't want to burden them and if there was something I did want, I would try and figure out how to get it without involving my mother or father. But this, this is something I can't give up on. This is something I want to happen this time around not years later. This has to happen, there is no other choice for me because if I can't do this how can I do something like this in the future?

Sword Training

Azrael is standing before me again inside the veil of the willow leaves; his presence always feels warm and timeless. "It's been awhile," he greets with a gentle smile. I agreed, my nearly two weeks of memory lock down prevented me from traveling down this trail with Azrael.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes." He steps backwards passing through the waterfall of leaves and I follow.

I'm slammed back hard into a slab of rock with a cry. Pain in my left shoulder flares up instantly on impact, and I grit my teeth to prevent anymore sounds from escaping. I lifted my head and stared up at Tieve still standing unscathe from my onslaught.

Tieve's thick accent rung out. "Sword really isn't your strong point. You might want to stick with archery." Her smirk irked me, but she had a point. Sword work was not really working with me and I have been working with a bow for much longer.

Wincing, I lifted myself up from the ground feeling my shoulder throb underneath the leather armor. I sheathed the sword and flicked my single braid back over my shoulder. I knew I had to stop today, the injury would only become worse if I continued and I had lost all drive to continue with these sword exercises that Tieve nagged me about.

Tieve was a lean brute and considered to be a bad influence to certain individuals. Blessed with dark beauty she was still one not to mess with, after all, she made several attempts to assassinate her current husband simply because she didn't want an arranged marriage. At least she finally fell in love with him and quite all the assassinations. 

"I'm done for today," I announced returning the sheathed sword to Tieve. 

Tieve gave a questioning glance shifting between the sword and myself. "Are you all right?" I gave a nod and gave a small smile. Slowly Tieve took the sword from my grip still giving me questioning looks. With a flick of her wrist, Tieve flipped the sword around and caught the hilt. "If you say so..."

Giving one more nod of my head, I walked past her, ignoring the glances.

*

Despite the hot water, the pain still sunk its claws into my shoulder. The armor must have not been fastened properly and when I got injured I must have sustained more damage then needed. I winced, hissing, feeling a rag being pressed on the injury. I dug my nails into my shins, trying not cry out when she pressed harder on the injured spot. "I'm sorry my lady," my hand maiden apologized.

"It's all right... you're helping."

There was a gentle knock giving a moment relief when she took the rag off. I peered up to see another one of the girls that stayed with me. "My lady, Taran's here."

I closed my eyes with a soft sigh. Not that I didn't enjoy seeing him, he was away to often with the Wild Hunt, but tonight was a night I just wished for myself. To relax and recover. However, he wouldn't leave even if I told him to go away. "Tell him I'll be there soon."

Two Dreams

It's been awhile since I recorded any dreams. I had two dreams that I could recall, however, I can only remember pieces of each dream.

I.

The ocean is clear turquoise revealing the white sand that lies at the bottom. There are no fish to be seen, just a young pre-teen standing on a small island of white sand. A single palm tree stands next to her, covering her partially with shade. Curly blond locks are released from their ribbon bond with the next gust of wind, but she doesn't even react. Her eyes are locked on in the distance, watching.

I don't know who she is, I just watch her from a distance. I do know that she is an important person in her community. I do know she is standing guard to allow her family and friends continue their retreat from who ever is tracking them down. Being caught was not an option, and I knew that this girl was going to make sure of it.

Finally she moves. She wades into deeper water before diving down into the depths. I see her figure underneath the clear water, heading in the direction of her enemy without hesitation.

How could someone so young hold so much responsibility? Someone this young willing to toss away her life in order to let everyone else live? How can people make these choices, let alone someone who has barely experienced life?

II.

  The setting is like a huge water amusement part all connected in one pooling area. The surrounding walls are tall, book shelves that reach the ceiling that towers feet above and are filled with countless old books. Also, parts of the pool's were packed with ice, creating walls to make rooms of ice.

I knew the people around me but at the same time didn't. They looked so familiar and treated me as if I was one of them, however, it didn't feel right. After they slipped into a deep conversation, I glided away swimming towards the blocks, and walls of ice. Eventually I hoisted myself out of the water onto a solid floor of ice.

Despite being bare feet, the cold surface didn't phase me. I slowly walked into one of the icy rooms and found myself staring at a certain wall in the back. It had carvings sculptured and scratched out of the surface creating icons; specifically Christian icons. Instantly I found a scratched images of Mother Mary that I often see worn on necklaces. I reached out and touched the surface of the image before shifting my eyes to the 3-dimensional works. All of them were cherubs, sculpted into the wall without effort and looked unbelievably realistic. It felt like their eyes were on me, watching me. However there were no smiles on their faces, just watching with indifference.