Wishing to make it special, I have chosen to update 'The Three Sons of Cwendor' with this posting, and thank you all for being waaaaay too patient! (Not that you had any choice in the matter, I suppose . . .) I am now resettled in Hawaii, classes are in full swing, and I will be resuming my regular-ish blogging schedule.
I will almost certainly be rewriting this section of the story after the entire thing is finished, because I'm still not happy with it, but enough is enough, and after struggling through months of writer's block I've decided that it's good enough for now. And thus the plot thickens. Hopefully you enjoy it, and if you've forgotten all the characters and the plotline by now, I do not blame you in the slightest. Below are links to the previous installments, for you to ignore or refresh your memory with, whichever you please.
Comments and critiques are welcome as ever. I plan a follow-up post later today to fill you in concerning the future of this blog and changes I might be making (for change /is/ in the wind, dear ones), but for now just know I am BACK, that I am back to STAY, and that it feels great!
So came their second day in Faery, and all that day they travelled through a fair country, and yet saw no sign of any living thing, though at times there welled from hidden places afield the sweet-piercing songs of the wild birds of Faery, who sang unseen. When first he heard the song of the birds of Faery, Ichail stood enraptured, listening, and moved not until the voice of his brother urged him onward, and then he sighed, and passed his hand over his bound and blinded eyes strangely, as though he awoke from gazing at some far and beautiful thing. Ever Malbun watched the surrounding land with the eye of a hunter and the eye of a guard, and Neirenye went with her hair unbound, and that hair bright as the sun and light as the wind, and her face bright as a flame in the morning. It was her face that Eldreth saw first, as he returned from the long path he had run alone, and from the dark thoughts and fey thoughts which had pursued him through the night. And she smiled, for he had returned swift-footed and clear-eyed once more, and looked no longer like a man recently come near death, and he looked upon Neirenye Ebon’s daughter as though he looked upon the sun in heaven, but did not flinch away. And this Malbun saw.
Soon after they came to the very foot of the mountains, and the sun was midway across the sky, so that its radiance ran down the stone sides and peaks of those mountains like rivers of gold and rivers of white. And at the foot of those mountains, carved from the stone and yet not carved, smooth and cold and hard, was the gaping mouth of a tunnel. Bright was the noontime of Faery, yet no light entered that place. The darkness there was thick as a pit of blood, but gave no smell. They came to the very lip, and then stood looking into that window of the earth, and the words of the Captain rang in the mind of Neirenye like an echo. Ichail stood with his head lifted, as though listening, though there was no sound. And Malbun gave at first no sign of his thoughts.
But then he set foot upon the lip of stone, and would lead the way into the darkness.
Then Eldreth argued bitterly against going forward, for he had little reason indeed either to trust or to love the folk of Faery, and the darkness pooled at the feet of his brother like blood or black water.
Malbun answered him: “Yet thither goeth the path.” But his voice was sad and weary.
And Eldreth replied: “Why then follow the path? Wide is this world, and not all wish us well--Yea, in truth, no one.”
But Malbun steadfast only replied, “It is the only guide we have. There is no choice.” And he said, “Fear not the darkness. For in the darkness Ichail also might lead us for a time, for he has no need of eyes, and sees both in the dark and in the light. Is this not so?”
And Ichail answered only: “It is so.” But his face was somewhat troubled, as though something he heard touched him with unease, and he said, “What saith the daughter of Ebon? For what Neirenye says do I also say, and where she goes, so shall I go. If it be her will, I shall guide you.”
And Neirenye was loath to give reply, but at last she spoke and said: “Malbun speaks the truth of it. Perils indeed there may be. Yet shall we not find peril no matter where we go? Here at least do we know where we are going, for the dwelling of the Queen is at the ending of the path. That much I know to be true, for Faery does not lie.” Ichail bowed his head to her, but Eldreth looked at Neirenye the daughter of Ebon and that look came into his face again which she had seen when first their eyes had met in the darkness of the shepherd’s hut. But he said nothing.
And so it was that they descended into the mountain. But ere they left the sunlight, Malbun laid his hand upon Eldreth’s shoulder, and that was a strong hand and a firm comfort. And he, with thought of the woman and thought of the darkness, set his hand upon his brother’s shoulder and said: “Do not fear.”
This is how they entered the mountain: First Ichail, then Neirenye, then Malbun, and last of all Eldreth. And this is how they journeyed in that place within and under the earth: Ichail leading, and Eldreth close beside him, and Neirenye following close, and Malbun last. For Eldreth was ever the swiftest; that was his curse. Malbun followed like one heavyhearted though intent upon his purpose, watchful for those who went before him, listening to the darkness.
And now I shall tell of how the three sons of Cwendor and the fair daughter of Ebon came to the heart of the earth, and what befell them there in that darkest of places.
Ichail led them well and sure for a time, and though Neirenye bore with her still a tinderbox and a parcel of rushlights that she had taken with her when first she left the palace, they lit no light, trusting rather the youngest of the brethren to guide them, and saving the fire until it was needful. And though they saw nothing, there sang at first weird shrilling songs of the wind winding amongst the stones, and once they heard the rippling sound of water flowing. Yet deeper into the earth went the sons of Cwendor, and deeper the daughter of Ebon, and soon there was no sound at all, and no smell, and no light, but only the great, pitiless dark. A darkness beyond all nights and dreamings was this darkness.
For lo! this was the way to the heart of the earth, and in the heart of the earth is no light, no life; only a deep, old, crushing will, as ancient as Faery and as strong as Man. No love for any living thing hath the heart of the earth, nor of light, nor of any thing of loveliness, and there it fashions of its hatred from the slow-congealing blood of its heart the bright gems of the earth in mockery of the bright beauties of the world, for men to covet and murder and ruin kingdoms for.
Though they went for a time well-guided by Cwendor’s youngest son, yet the darkness grew steadily, a madness and a fear, a weight of malice and despair that dragged at their limbs and seeped into their thoughts and fed from the light it found there. And there came a time at last when Ichail halted, and this was the first time upon all that black road that his feet faltered. He held out his hands to halt also his brethren and the lady who followed him, and he said uncertainly, “I thought, a moment, that I knew not the way--” and the sweat was cold upon his brow. For so would the darkness of the heart of the earth strike against him first, the blind man who near all his days had read the darkness unafraid, and who never before had felt his senses dulled by lack of light. Soon enough the moment passed, and reading again the path in the darkness he guided the others onward, but a fear had entered into his voice that had not been there before.
So went they onward, yet slower than they had been before. And now the path ran like a river down a swift and steep incline of loose stone and treacherous footing, and down washed the darkness like a wave. And that incline was riddled too with many pits and chasms gaping, like worm-eaten holes in rotting cloth, and Ichail as he guided his brethren and the woman must needs feel in the shape of the air and the touch of the earth to find the safe way of the path which they followed. With both hands he tested the lightless air and the lightless ground, and the hand of Eldreth was upon his shoulder, and Neirenye held Eldreth’s other hand in her own, and her other hand held that of Malbun, who with his quiet strength guided her footing as best he might. So benumbed now were their fingers by the darkness that they could each scarce feel the touch of the others’ hands, and their voices fell dead from their lips.
Here Ichail halted a second time, and this time longer was the struggle for mastery. Eldreth bade Neirenye strike a light, yet even as she slipped her blind fingers from the hand of Malbun to seek the box in her girdle Ichail found again the path, and though he shook in every limb, as a man with a deathly fever, still he led on, though slower, seeking out the truth of the way in the darkness that sought to swath and slay all light.
Thus it was that they came at last to the very heart of the world.
And it was a great cavern which was the very pit and center of the earth, and darkness filled it and ran through it and from it, as blood flows through the body of a man. Yet here also was nothing, a vast abyss, a devouring darkness that swallowed a man from the inside out. And such a blindness and an emptiness was there welled that they staggered as though all struck at once with the same bitter sword, and the darkness leapt up in boiling wrath at their coming.
It seemed to Neirenye that she heard Ichail cry out, and then her stumbling foot struck against him where he had fallen bowed to his knees in the black pit. And he said only “I can lead you no more. There is nothing here; nothing; I know not where to go.” Dimly she felt his hands against her face, trembling and seeking like the hands of a blind man, and she recoiled, afraid, for never had he seemed blind before. Faintly she heard Eldreth’s voice in the dark, and he was speaking to her, and said, “Neirenye, light the brand.”
Now the tinderbox Neirenye carried wound in her girdle had been her mother’s, and was an heirloom of her mother’s house, and had been gifted from woman to child in that line for years beyond recall. Any flame struck from that box would burn white and fair, and give forth no smoke, and no fire from that box would burn the hand of the woman who lit it. Neirenye drew it out, and drew out too the little brand of rushes. Yet no light would come from her shaking hands.
Ichail moaned like an animal, and Eldreth cried out to her: “Neirenye! The light! We are all dead, save only that you make the light!” She knew he was holding Ichail, seeking to comfort the blindness of the one who could not see, and as though from far away she wondered how long he had remained there, exerting his will, and remembered the hue of death in his face when the Captain of Faery had ordered him bound. And she felt his life, too, failing and draining away from her like a river.
Neirenye struck the flint until her hands bled. But this was the heart of the earth, and that black blood of darkness seeped into the brand and the flint, and no light could she make, though she struck with bleeding hands until rushes, flint and box all fell from her benumbed fingers and she knew not where they went, for the darkness pressed upon her eyes and her mouth and her mind, and she could not stand.
And there they would have died, but lo! Suddenly there sprang up a flame, white-hot, and it burned in a small, beautiful lantern like a silver cage, and this was held in the hand of Malbun, eldest of the brothers. And then was the first of the three signs broken, for fear danced in his eyes like firelight, and he gasped in agony.
The silver light grew and grew, and the shadows and nothingness recoiled away in terror of that Fay light, and Eldreth staggered up and sought to quash the flame with his hand, but Malbun gripped the lantern in his left hand and would not release it, nor let the flame go out, though it burned his life away.
Fiercer and wilder shone that Faery candleflame, and their minds cleared and strength returned to their limbs and wills. It was a light and an airy beauty and a clear, pure radiance, and it was everything which the earth desired and hated, and it was everything the earth could never have as its own. There was a sudden shaking and a wrenching in the darkness, so that all were flung to the ground, and yet lo! --There was Eldreth afoot again, and Neirenye heard his fierce voice clear above the clamor, and he supported with his arms and his body the body of Malbun. And in the light of silver and pearl-flame the way was made clear, and with a cry to follow Eldreth sprang forward, and behind him close-followed Neirenye and Ichail, hand-in-hand like children, across and beneath the shattered, twisting earth. And it seemed as though the very roof of the earth would fall crashing upon them, but Neirenye said, “Thou shalt pass through the earth,” over and over, in breathless litany, and struggled on, for as it had spoken, so she knew it would be, and Faery does not lie.
They fled from the heart of the earth as it broke, and all about them jewels lit afire by the Faery candle fell in liquid streams.
With each passing moment the darkness grew lighter. Neirenye, as she stumbled forward, smelled the salt of the sea. And sudden were they through, and the sun shone golden and red in a deepening sky, and cold as steel was the air upon their skin after the heavy darkness beneath the stones. And Eldreth bore the body of his brother as though he carried a child in his arms, but the eldest of the sons of Cwendor was the strongest, and the tallest, and Eldreth’s face was drawn and as white as the light of the candle, burning. Neirenye took hold of the body of Malbun by the arms, and helped lighten Eldreth’s load, and they bore him down to where the stone shale of the mountain’s feet met the smooth pale sand of the shore.
There they laid Malbun shuddering upon the sunlit stone, and Eldreth skimmed like a seabird over the white sand to fetch salt water, with which he cooled his brother’s brow. And Ichail held his one hand and was silent, and Neirenye knelt upon his left.
But a little wind caught the dying, guttering flame, and twisted it in the air, and he moaned and convulsed upon the ground. And then his eyes opened, and the curse light within them was gone, and his face flickered a little, and the candleflame went out, and then the eldest of the sons of Cwendor was dead. And the Fay candle was black in its silver cage.
Then Neirenye wept, and said “Now is my debt blacker than ever before, for lo! I have killed him.” And Ichail said nothing.
But Eldreth carved out a grave and would let neither the woman nor his living brother near him, and the bitter salt ran down his face, for he could not cease his work to kneel beside his brother’s body. And when he had done, he lifted the body of Malbun and bore it to the grave, and laid it gently down. And then hiding his face, he walked away.
Neirenye and Ichail then were the only two left to mourn the dead. And Neirenye would have gone to Eldreth and pled his forgiveness, but Ichail then spoke at last. And he said:
“I never in all my days beheld his face. And now he is gone.”
And before she could stay him, he reached up and tore from his eyes the blinding cloth, and looked down to his dead brother’s face, and wept, and his eyes were as bright as his brother’s had been. But Neirenye was afraid. For first of all, he had seen the Sea.
And this was their third day in Faery.
Soon after they came to the very foot of the mountains, and the sun was midway across the sky, so that its radiance ran down the stone sides and peaks of those mountains like rivers of gold and rivers of white. And at the foot of those mountains, carved from the stone and yet not carved, smooth and cold and hard, was the gaping mouth of a tunnel. Bright was the noontime of Faery, yet no light entered that place. The darkness there was thick as a pit of blood, but gave no smell. They came to the very lip, and then stood looking into that window of the earth, and the words of the Captain rang in the mind of Neirenye like an echo. Ichail stood with his head lifted, as though listening, though there was no sound. And Malbun gave at first no sign of his thoughts.
But then he set foot upon the lip of stone, and would lead the way into the darkness.
Then Eldreth argued bitterly against going forward, for he had little reason indeed either to trust or to love the folk of Faery, and the darkness pooled at the feet of his brother like blood or black water.
Malbun answered him: “Yet thither goeth the path.” But his voice was sad and weary.
And Eldreth replied: “Why then follow the path? Wide is this world, and not all wish us well--Yea, in truth, no one.”
But Malbun steadfast only replied, “It is the only guide we have. There is no choice.” And he said, “Fear not the darkness. For in the darkness Ichail also might lead us for a time, for he has no need of eyes, and sees both in the dark and in the light. Is this not so?”
And Ichail answered only: “It is so.” But his face was somewhat troubled, as though something he heard touched him with unease, and he said, “What saith the daughter of Ebon? For what Neirenye says do I also say, and where she goes, so shall I go. If it be her will, I shall guide you.”
And Neirenye was loath to give reply, but at last she spoke and said: “Malbun speaks the truth of it. Perils indeed there may be. Yet shall we not find peril no matter where we go? Here at least do we know where we are going, for the dwelling of the Queen is at the ending of the path. That much I know to be true, for Faery does not lie.” Ichail bowed his head to her, but Eldreth looked at Neirenye the daughter of Ebon and that look came into his face again which she had seen when first their eyes had met in the darkness of the shepherd’s hut. But he said nothing.
And so it was that they descended into the mountain. But ere they left the sunlight, Malbun laid his hand upon Eldreth’s shoulder, and that was a strong hand and a firm comfort. And he, with thought of the woman and thought of the darkness, set his hand upon his brother’s shoulder and said: “Do not fear.”
This is how they entered the mountain: First Ichail, then Neirenye, then Malbun, and last of all Eldreth. And this is how they journeyed in that place within and under the earth: Ichail leading, and Eldreth close beside him, and Neirenye following close, and Malbun last. For Eldreth was ever the swiftest; that was his curse. Malbun followed like one heavyhearted though intent upon his purpose, watchful for those who went before him, listening to the darkness.
And now I shall tell of how the three sons of Cwendor and the fair daughter of Ebon came to the heart of the earth, and what befell them there in that darkest of places.
Ichail led them well and sure for a time, and though Neirenye bore with her still a tinderbox and a parcel of rushlights that she had taken with her when first she left the palace, they lit no light, trusting rather the youngest of the brethren to guide them, and saving the fire until it was needful. And though they saw nothing, there sang at first weird shrilling songs of the wind winding amongst the stones, and once they heard the rippling sound of water flowing. Yet deeper into the earth went the sons of Cwendor, and deeper the daughter of Ebon, and soon there was no sound at all, and no smell, and no light, but only the great, pitiless dark. A darkness beyond all nights and dreamings was this darkness.
For lo! this was the way to the heart of the earth, and in the heart of the earth is no light, no life; only a deep, old, crushing will, as ancient as Faery and as strong as Man. No love for any living thing hath the heart of the earth, nor of light, nor of any thing of loveliness, and there it fashions of its hatred from the slow-congealing blood of its heart the bright gems of the earth in mockery of the bright beauties of the world, for men to covet and murder and ruin kingdoms for.
Though they went for a time well-guided by Cwendor’s youngest son, yet the darkness grew steadily, a madness and a fear, a weight of malice and despair that dragged at their limbs and seeped into their thoughts and fed from the light it found there. And there came a time at last when Ichail halted, and this was the first time upon all that black road that his feet faltered. He held out his hands to halt also his brethren and the lady who followed him, and he said uncertainly, “I thought, a moment, that I knew not the way--” and the sweat was cold upon his brow. For so would the darkness of the heart of the earth strike against him first, the blind man who near all his days had read the darkness unafraid, and who never before had felt his senses dulled by lack of light. Soon enough the moment passed, and reading again the path in the darkness he guided the others onward, but a fear had entered into his voice that had not been there before.
So went they onward, yet slower than they had been before. And now the path ran like a river down a swift and steep incline of loose stone and treacherous footing, and down washed the darkness like a wave. And that incline was riddled too with many pits and chasms gaping, like worm-eaten holes in rotting cloth, and Ichail as he guided his brethren and the woman must needs feel in the shape of the air and the touch of the earth to find the safe way of the path which they followed. With both hands he tested the lightless air and the lightless ground, and the hand of Eldreth was upon his shoulder, and Neirenye held Eldreth’s other hand in her own, and her other hand held that of Malbun, who with his quiet strength guided her footing as best he might. So benumbed now were their fingers by the darkness that they could each scarce feel the touch of the others’ hands, and their voices fell dead from their lips.
Here Ichail halted a second time, and this time longer was the struggle for mastery. Eldreth bade Neirenye strike a light, yet even as she slipped her blind fingers from the hand of Malbun to seek the box in her girdle Ichail found again the path, and though he shook in every limb, as a man with a deathly fever, still he led on, though slower, seeking out the truth of the way in the darkness that sought to swath and slay all light.
Thus it was that they came at last to the very heart of the world.
And it was a great cavern which was the very pit and center of the earth, and darkness filled it and ran through it and from it, as blood flows through the body of a man. Yet here also was nothing, a vast abyss, a devouring darkness that swallowed a man from the inside out. And such a blindness and an emptiness was there welled that they staggered as though all struck at once with the same bitter sword, and the darkness leapt up in boiling wrath at their coming.
It seemed to Neirenye that she heard Ichail cry out, and then her stumbling foot struck against him where he had fallen bowed to his knees in the black pit. And he said only “I can lead you no more. There is nothing here; nothing; I know not where to go.” Dimly she felt his hands against her face, trembling and seeking like the hands of a blind man, and she recoiled, afraid, for never had he seemed blind before. Faintly she heard Eldreth’s voice in the dark, and he was speaking to her, and said, “Neirenye, light the brand.”
Now the tinderbox Neirenye carried wound in her girdle had been her mother’s, and was an heirloom of her mother’s house, and had been gifted from woman to child in that line for years beyond recall. Any flame struck from that box would burn white and fair, and give forth no smoke, and no fire from that box would burn the hand of the woman who lit it. Neirenye drew it out, and drew out too the little brand of rushes. Yet no light would come from her shaking hands.
Ichail moaned like an animal, and Eldreth cried out to her: “Neirenye! The light! We are all dead, save only that you make the light!” She knew he was holding Ichail, seeking to comfort the blindness of the one who could not see, and as though from far away she wondered how long he had remained there, exerting his will, and remembered the hue of death in his face when the Captain of Faery had ordered him bound. And she felt his life, too, failing and draining away from her like a river.
Neirenye struck the flint until her hands bled. But this was the heart of the earth, and that black blood of darkness seeped into the brand and the flint, and no light could she make, though she struck with bleeding hands until rushes, flint and box all fell from her benumbed fingers and she knew not where they went, for the darkness pressed upon her eyes and her mouth and her mind, and she could not stand.
And there they would have died, but lo! Suddenly there sprang up a flame, white-hot, and it burned in a small, beautiful lantern like a silver cage, and this was held in the hand of Malbun, eldest of the brothers. And then was the first of the three signs broken, for fear danced in his eyes like firelight, and he gasped in agony.
The silver light grew and grew, and the shadows and nothingness recoiled away in terror of that Fay light, and Eldreth staggered up and sought to quash the flame with his hand, but Malbun gripped the lantern in his left hand and would not release it, nor let the flame go out, though it burned his life away.
Fiercer and wilder shone that Faery candleflame, and their minds cleared and strength returned to their limbs and wills. It was a light and an airy beauty and a clear, pure radiance, and it was everything which the earth desired and hated, and it was everything the earth could never have as its own. There was a sudden shaking and a wrenching in the darkness, so that all were flung to the ground, and yet lo! --There was Eldreth afoot again, and Neirenye heard his fierce voice clear above the clamor, and he supported with his arms and his body the body of Malbun. And in the light of silver and pearl-flame the way was made clear, and with a cry to follow Eldreth sprang forward, and behind him close-followed Neirenye and Ichail, hand-in-hand like children, across and beneath the shattered, twisting earth. And it seemed as though the very roof of the earth would fall crashing upon them, but Neirenye said, “Thou shalt pass through the earth,” over and over, in breathless litany, and struggled on, for as it had spoken, so she knew it would be, and Faery does not lie.
They fled from the heart of the earth as it broke, and all about them jewels lit afire by the Faery candle fell in liquid streams.
With each passing moment the darkness grew lighter. Neirenye, as she stumbled forward, smelled the salt of the sea. And sudden were they through, and the sun shone golden and red in a deepening sky, and cold as steel was the air upon their skin after the heavy darkness beneath the stones. And Eldreth bore the body of his brother as though he carried a child in his arms, but the eldest of the sons of Cwendor was the strongest, and the tallest, and Eldreth’s face was drawn and as white as the light of the candle, burning. Neirenye took hold of the body of Malbun by the arms, and helped lighten Eldreth’s load, and they bore him down to where the stone shale of the mountain’s feet met the smooth pale sand of the shore.
There they laid Malbun shuddering upon the sunlit stone, and Eldreth skimmed like a seabird over the white sand to fetch salt water, with which he cooled his brother’s brow. And Ichail held his one hand and was silent, and Neirenye knelt upon his left.
But a little wind caught the dying, guttering flame, and twisted it in the air, and he moaned and convulsed upon the ground. And then his eyes opened, and the curse light within them was gone, and his face flickered a little, and the candleflame went out, and then the eldest of the sons of Cwendor was dead. And the Fay candle was black in its silver cage.
Then Neirenye wept, and said “Now is my debt blacker than ever before, for lo! I have killed him.” And Ichail said nothing.
But Eldreth carved out a grave and would let neither the woman nor his living brother near him, and the bitter salt ran down his face, for he could not cease his work to kneel beside his brother’s body. And when he had done, he lifted the body of Malbun and bore it to the grave, and laid it gently down. And then hiding his face, he walked away.
Neirenye and Ichail then were the only two left to mourn the dead. And Neirenye would have gone to Eldreth and pled his forgiveness, but Ichail then spoke at last. And he said:
“I never in all my days beheld his face. And now he is gone.”
And before she could stay him, he reached up and tore from his eyes the blinding cloth, and looked down to his dead brother’s face, and wept, and his eyes were as bright as his brother’s had been. But Neirenye was afraid. For first of all, he had seen the Sea.
And this was their third day in Faery.
It's good to have your blog back! I've been missing it. :) I think your story is wonderful. I'm sad though, that you killed Malbun! And now I'm worried about Ichail, who has always been my favorite. :(
ReplyDeleteI hope you put up the rest of it soon!
Hey, that was fast! It's nice to be back, and I'll be inundating the internet with my postings soon, I promise.
ReplyDeleteIt was rough killing him off, but a necessary part of the story. I swear I did promise Linden a happy ending, though. *Is hush-hush about other plotty details*
Mmm. I hope I'll have the courage to kill characters I like, when the time comes....I was about to say that it's several novels off, but there is a death planned for book one, but for some reason I don't love her as much as I should. I never have...even though she's awfully important. :( I better make an emotional tie with her, quick.....:D
ReplyDeleteThe Plot Thickens! ^.^ Eep, that penultimate paragraph has me feeling bad about Ichail, though. I suspect the worst may be yet to come.
ReplyDeleteThis is awful, but if I were utterly coldhearted, I would be tempted to take a guy like Ichail and have the first thing he saw be a kitten or something, just to see how it would manage to kill him. . . . *koff*
Oh, I'm sure I could find a way . . . . *snerk* Or maybe it's best that I don't think about that. Ha.
ReplyDeleteI was going to include the next scene with this posting, a scene that deals a bit more with Ichail in the aftermath of this new development, but I wasn't happy with it, so I decided to save it as the opening to the next posting.
'. . . the worst may be yet to come.'
*innocent author eyes*
Please don't kill Ichail Mythopoeia!!!! **tearful reader eyes**
ReplyDelete(like, don't let me sway you or anything... :D)