Ayda Elisantra
Angel of Mercy
Not even hearing her plea could death eschew...
Sight beyond the visible spectrum of light were as clear as day to her. This was death's dominion and wicked souls were to be reaped.
It were not what this specter of darkness willed to do. It were of a covenant made before the dawn of free will given to man. Antipathy for wickedness called her to harvest the wandering lost souls.
And it came to pass on Dagobah, the wailing cries heard in both darkness and daylight were not of creatures snared by predators, but of the souls crying out their last, for the angel of death had come for them.
The atoned however, and there were some still among the condemned, cowered under the shadow of death which flew over them. And they were knowing that the dark Angel of Death had passed them over. They enlightened in the knowledge of salvation by which atonement begotten through the eons of time passed, had granted them redemption.
And of the condemned who could not reach atonement for their sins; these were their wailing screams that were heard like cries in the night, (as well as in the light of day) when the shadow of Death Absolute came down upon them, consuming them all into nothingness. And this Reaper had many names.
Day, night, winter, summer...time had no dominion when death took flight. The Reaper of lost souls pounced upon them like a raptor on prey. It were absolute...no feelings, no contemplation... just the ending of a lost soul to be no more. Had these spirits a Dark Angel present on Dagobah upon their mortal demise, they would have been devoured upon their first realization of what they had truly done to deserve nothingness when their mortal temples collapsed.
Only that Dagobah had been without a Reaper for ages and these lost souls had wandered the earth aimlessly knowing that their end would come to pass one day. Since time was irrelevant to these souls, an eternity could have passed like a day.
The moment the dark winged angel came upon them, they cried for they knew... they were to be no more.
One soul... a hundred.... a thousand even... tens of thousands of such lost souls came to be harvested. Did it perhaps take hours... days... weeks...months... a thousand years to pass in the harvesting these decrepit souls?
No mortal could know or tell, for mortal time were not anything like eternal time... and the Reapers were eternal.
A thousand souls...maybe more, much more were consumed, extinguished forevermore in what could be said of a fortnight.
And when all were said to be harvested...the hunger of death satisfied... all that which remained were the atoned whom had been passed over. Like sheep passed over by wolf, they remained cowering under the Dark Angel's silhouette, whom sat perched high atop the largest of the dead and oldest of swamp oak tree. These atoned souls had not become decrepit. Rather, they had become enlightened through atonement. Still, with the reaper about, even the purest of spirits could feel what stains speckled their soul. It were these stains that made them fear this angel still, despite the hunger sustained.
Dark unmoving orbs, like two endless voids in space, turned to the setting of Dagobah's star. Her eyes dark as pitch were like two black holes which no star light could be reflected.
She turned to the faintest cry coming from across the great swamps, past the misty bogs. But it were not of a wailing soul crying for the coming of nothingness. This were a mortal soul crying of a broken heart.
Ayda in the form of Death's Reaper were preening her dark razor tipped wings whilt she rested atop the oldest oak, when she took to sampling the air. It were a sweet scent quite a distant away, same as the cry tugging at her center. She could taste it in the air, even come to feel the cry sounding along with the wind, even within her darkened heart. And she then felt the pang of mortal hunger growing within her. But this hunger were different, as it were the longing of a soul she once knew before eternal darkness came calling her to feast.
The dark winged angel took to the air...through the forest swamps, through thickets and fog, through rain and snow. It could have been hours, days even her flight? It could have been, were she of mortal flesh. But it were nothing more than a thought, a desire for her to be at the source, that instantaneously got her to the adobe in just a few flaps of her wings to the little stone hut in the middle of the forest swamp. It suddenly all came back to her as it were a place she once lived for in mortal form. Yes, it had been where her heart lived for...her mortal heart.
The flicker of firelight which broke through a tiny slit from makeshift curtains in one of the portholes... yes, their portholes she remembered as her blackened heart started to come alive again..one beat, then two...
She peered inside.
Her spectral vision drew past the curtains like a veil lifting before her recognizing the mortal soul huddled under their fur comforter. Yes, their comforter...
Oh how she so longed to be under the same comforter. But she could not. Not in this form or state without grace. Her wings, her skin were not soft, but coarse...sharp, and deadly. It could be said to be her armor, as it were of a kind of sharp black shards in the form of feathers. They were made to rip, slice, cut through anything. Not that she needed to, for she could be like the wind, a tempest a cyclone.
And she could enter through the tiniest sliver, through the smallest crack, between the tightest seams undisturbed.
And as such, there she now stood over the sleeping and broken hearted mortal who were crying in her dream.
The firelight flickered her shadow about and around the walls of the hut, like it were a dancing demon. But this night, the fire did not extinguish as it had once done when she first took form. Her dark orbs that were once that of the reaper took to loosing their pitch... warming to once again to reflect light...fire light. The light from the warm crackling flames of the fire besides the sleeping form. Ayda's raven like black hair and shards of raptor wing like feathers morphed back to supple flesh and auburn soft hair, taking the warm glow of the fire.
Her once ice cold breath which rivaled that of hell's icy inferno, warmed to that of moist tender lips, and sweet breath.
Ayda had returned to her mortal form, just as she were before her transformation. And she found herself tired... oh so tiredly exhausted beyond even the point as when Skye pushed her beyond her mortal limits in the labyrinth. So tired and longing to sleep now, that she had little thought of the repercussions as to how Skye would react to her presence again, as Ayda herself didn't know how long she were gone for.
All she knew was that she needed to be close to Skye again, lest her own mortal heart break in two. She needed to hold Skye if only until she awakened. Even a moment would be good...an hour even better...an entire night... yawn... she closed her eyes as her body drew close, wrapping herself around sleeping Skye.
And as she drifted off to sleep, no longer was her Skye whimpering in her dream, but rather seemed to give...relax, like a warm feeling suddenly came over her sleeping form.
Ayda had slipped into Skye's dream...
Sight beyond the visible spectrum of light were as clear as day to her. This was death's dominion and wicked souls were to be reaped.
It were not what this specter of darkness willed to do. It were of a covenant made before the dawn of free will given to man. Antipathy for wickedness called her to harvest the wandering lost souls.
And it came to pass on Dagobah, the wailing cries heard in both darkness and daylight were not of creatures snared by predators, but of the souls crying out their last, for the angel of death had come for them.
The atoned however, and there were some still among the condemned, cowered under the shadow of death which flew over them. And they were knowing that the dark Angel of Death had passed them over. They enlightened in the knowledge of salvation by which atonement begotten through the eons of time passed, had granted them redemption.
And of the condemned who could not reach atonement for their sins; these were their wailing screams that were heard like cries in the night, (as well as in the light of day) when the shadow of Death Absolute came down upon them, consuming them all into nothingness. And this Reaper had many names.
Day, night, winter, summer...time had no dominion when death took flight. The Reaper of lost souls pounced upon them like a raptor on prey. It were absolute...no feelings, no contemplation... just the ending of a lost soul to be no more. Had these spirits a Dark Angel present on Dagobah upon their mortal demise, they would have been devoured upon their first realization of what they had truly done to deserve nothingness when their mortal temples collapsed.
Only that Dagobah had been without a Reaper for ages and these lost souls had wandered the earth aimlessly knowing that their end would come to pass one day. Since time was irrelevant to these souls, an eternity could have passed like a day.
The moment the dark winged angel came upon them, they cried for they knew... they were to be no more.
One soul... a hundred.... a thousand even... tens of thousands of such lost souls came to be harvested. Did it perhaps take hours... days... weeks...months... a thousand years to pass in the harvesting these decrepit souls?
No mortal could know or tell, for mortal time were not anything like eternal time... and the Reapers were eternal.
A thousand souls...maybe more, much more were consumed, extinguished forevermore in what could be said of a fortnight.
And when all were said to be harvested...the hunger of death satisfied... all that which remained were the atoned whom had been passed over. Like sheep passed over by wolf, they remained cowering under the Dark Angel's silhouette, whom sat perched high atop the largest of the dead and oldest of swamp oak tree. These atoned souls had not become decrepit. Rather, they had become enlightened through atonement. Still, with the reaper about, even the purest of spirits could feel what stains speckled their soul. It were these stains that made them fear this angel still, despite the hunger sustained.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dark unmoving orbs, like two endless voids in space, turned to the setting of Dagobah's star. Her eyes dark as pitch were like two black holes which no star light could be reflected.
She turned to the faintest cry coming from across the great swamps, past the misty bogs. But it were not of a wailing soul crying for the coming of nothingness. This were a mortal soul crying of a broken heart.
Ayda in the form of Death's Reaper were preening her dark razor tipped wings whilt she rested atop the oldest oak, when she took to sampling the air. It were a sweet scent quite a distant away, same as the cry tugging at her center. She could taste it in the air, even come to feel the cry sounding along with the wind, even within her darkened heart. And she then felt the pang of mortal hunger growing within her. But this hunger were different, as it were the longing of a soul she once knew before eternal darkness came calling her to feast.
The dark winged angel took to the air...through the forest swamps, through thickets and fog, through rain and snow. It could have been hours, days even her flight? It could have been, were she of mortal flesh. But it were nothing more than a thought, a desire for her to be at the source, that instantaneously got her to the adobe in just a few flaps of her wings to the little stone hut in the middle of the forest swamp. It suddenly all came back to her as it were a place she once lived for in mortal form. Yes, it had been where her heart lived for...her mortal heart.
The flicker of firelight which broke through a tiny slit from makeshift curtains in one of the portholes... yes, their portholes she remembered as her blackened heart started to come alive again..one beat, then two...
She peered inside.
Her spectral vision drew past the curtains like a veil lifting before her recognizing the mortal soul huddled under their fur comforter. Yes, their comforter...
Oh how she so longed to be under the same comforter. But she could not. Not in this form or state without grace. Her wings, her skin were not soft, but coarse...sharp, and deadly. It could be said to be her armor, as it were of a kind of sharp black shards in the form of feathers. They were made to rip, slice, cut through anything. Not that she needed to, for she could be like the wind, a tempest a cyclone.
And she could enter through the tiniest sliver, through the smallest crack, between the tightest seams undisturbed.
And as such, there she now stood over the sleeping and broken hearted mortal who were crying in her dream.
The firelight flickered her shadow about and around the walls of the hut, like it were a dancing demon. But this night, the fire did not extinguish as it had once done when she first took form. Her dark orbs that were once that of the reaper took to loosing their pitch... warming to once again to reflect light...fire light. The light from the warm crackling flames of the fire besides the sleeping form. Ayda's raven like black hair and shards of raptor wing like feathers morphed back to supple flesh and auburn soft hair, taking the warm glow of the fire.
Her once ice cold breath which rivaled that of hell's icy inferno, warmed to that of moist tender lips, and sweet breath.
Ayda had returned to her mortal form, just as she were before her transformation. And she found herself tired... oh so tiredly exhausted beyond even the point as when Skye pushed her beyond her mortal limits in the labyrinth. So tired and longing to sleep now, that she had little thought of the repercussions as to how Skye would react to her presence again, as Ayda herself didn't know how long she were gone for.
All she knew was that she needed to be close to Skye again, lest her own mortal heart break in two. She needed to hold Skye if only until she awakened. Even a moment would be good...an hour even better...an entire night... yawn... she closed her eyes as her body drew close, wrapping herself around sleeping Skye.
And as she drifted off to sleep, no longer was her Skye whimpering in her dream, but rather seemed to give...relax, like a warm feeling suddenly came over her sleeping form.
Ayda had slipped into Skye's dream...
