“But….that’s my name?” Moira said stunned.
Joraan was still lost in his memory.
A face stared back into his. It glistened with the rain and spray of The Falls of Moyreen. Mayra’s slightly slanted almond eyes seemed to shift colors depending on her mood and her mouth was a pink lushly sweet guava. Her ears were delightfully pointed. Her hair was strands of gold and amber and red. Her skin was that of the white lily or the petal of King Shoraan’s Rose. It embraced her pearlescent curving body; breasts, hips, buttocks, in a smooth silky hand. Her scent was that of a mix of gladiolus, jasmine and female love. Her thoughts were all of him as his thoughts were all of her. His soul was her soul and her soul was his. They were both fully Recognized to the point where their hearts beat the same beat.
They had finished making love upon the clover next to the Pool of Moyreen’s Mirror. With a pang of pain her long slender fingers touched a long scar on Joraan’s otherwise immaculate muscular back. She thought it was like a scratch on a perfect marble statue. A testament to the defacing cruelty of The Enemy. To mar such unmatchable purity and perfection was a crime beyond crimes. A crime made worse by the fact that it had brought such pain to her heart’s twin. She had begun to cry over it.
Joraan took her up into his arms and pressed her close kissing away the tears on her matchless cheekbones. Without words he told how proud he was of his scars for they spoke of his love for her and for that of his people. They even spoke for the men he vowed to protect.
His sympathy for Men caused Mayra to pull away and her white skin became flushed with pink. A discordant flood of anger and frustration hit Joraan in waves with such vehemence that it startled him.
Worse yet, their hearts fell out of synch as hers started to beat faster than his.
Joraan’s aspect existed in ‘why so, my love?’ Mayra’s aspect existed in ‘because, they are not worthy of your blood, my heart.’ The anger and resentment were rooted in terrible fear for her beloved one. She feared to lose that part of herself that she could never replace. Let the Fae have men to feast upon. It is better than being broken forever without the right half of one’s heart for it has been made dead for always!
A flood of feelings, conflicting and pained, entered into Mayra’s aspect. Joraan stood away from her to ponder the moon on the pool. His naked body shone like that of a Moon God. The moon seemed to love him as she caressed him with her cold light. Mayra’s body flushed for other reasons beyond fear and anger, she missed him suddenly…him being so close.
But Joraan’s mind spilled over with doubts and convictions. His Heart in Mayra’s was contrary to the Will that guided him in regards to the Human Plight. Men were living children of the Maker as were the Sídhe and it was not right that the more powerful Fae should seek extermination of fellow beings made by God. It was unholy! It was not the Way of things…not for the Soulbearers. The Three Races of the Divine Soul, the Fae, The Sídhe, The Men, they all worked together in what has been created to live and to shape and to love. Brothers and sisters all! The Twinning of the Three his father called it and Lord Ser's wisdom was so very ancient and great.
He felt soft arms encircle him and his hand reached to clasp the delicate hands on his breast. He felt her skin against his and their hearts were again in synch. She realized why King Ser felt the way he did and what strength of feeling Joraan had for the Men of the Vale. Her’s was a selfish fear and one that blinded her to the evil transpiring. The Fae were beyond the Way, now. They had taken things that they should not have and it was turning them. No more did she dance with her friends Sinx and Minx because their Queen had forbidden it. So enslaved had they become to her will that they could not even love the friends they had always had and their love of her had turned to hate! Shapers of the leaves had become the shapers of death and what they sought to preserve by means of culling man and ending his use of fire the Fae corrupted.
The woods where the Crown of the Fae had forever held its court, Sylvania, was now a place overrun with every mean thing of the earth. Wolves ate each other and spiders the size of cats prowled the dark. The order of Life was upset in a place that had once been a reflection of God’s Paradise. Storms continually howled over what had come to be known as the Darkwood! No Sídhe or Man dared go near the place and even the Fae themselves were often taken by the unconscious works of their own folly!
Joraan sighed and turned to his living love. He embraced her and he pressed her bosom to his. Their mouths took each other for a long kiss. A leg encircled him and they sank to the clover and continued their Life Dance under the smiling moon. ‘Joraan’ Mayra called repeatedly as their passions rose to flame.
“Joraan? Joraan!” A voice echoed in from what was to what is. A cool hand was on his and he found that he was trembling with chill….and other things.
“Are you ok. Are ya sick, man?” The voice insisted in a worried tone.
Joraan’s haunted blank stare suddenly focused on to wavering pinpricks of fire staring back at him. Reflexively he started at the sight but then his Night Vision opened up and he could see that it was the woman he had helped. Her name was…was…it was Moira, that’s what it was.
“I- - I’m alright. My apologies. I get…lost sometimes.” Joraan’s voice was stammering and weak.
“Och…I shouldn’ta made ya bring that all up. The song was beautiful and I understand things a little…but I didn’t know it’d affect ya so.” Moira said squeezing that hot hand.
He patted it back and pointed at the bed ”You should be resting yourself, Moira. I’ll be ok now. I can go on like this for hours, days even, so you need to ground me if I ‘tune out’ again.” Joraan chuckled in a jolly fashion in hopes of brushing it all off, but Moira knew he’d just put back some kind of mask.
But, Joraan was right, she was so tired. “You’ll be ok on the couch?” She asked, finding herself go to her ‘hostess with the mostest’ mask.
“Oh, never you mind me, Lass. I don’t sleep much. I’ll probably be outside a bit keeping watch as it were.” Joraan found that grounding himself with that familiar duty would help him ‘come back’ from the past.
Moira rather didn’t like the idea of him alone outside with such queer things about, but she suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion hit her and she could no longer care.
She was asleep before she hit the pillow.
Joraan removed her shoes and tucked her in, smiling at her as if he were caring for a child.
In many ways she was his child…all men were. As in the past, he would not fail them this time either.