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Post by Elvira on Jul 6, 2011 7:55:29 GMT -5
Elvira Long it has been said that the soul of the unjustly murdered can roam the earth until their death has been justified or answered. The young maiden, Elvira, is one who needs to find a voice and a picture for an untimely death at the hands of one she called Husband, but will she ever find these answers?
The eldest daughter of a Noble family the petite and lovely maiden was the jewel in her father’s crown. Dark locks fell in ripples over her forehead and shoulders giving her heart shaped face an outline and glow. Clear crystal blue eyes would peer at the world with excitement and curiosity eager to embrace all that was around her. Her delicate chiseled features of fine ivory enveloped her full rose red lips like a fancy party favor giving her the air of impish exuberance. She was graceful and talented; learned to sing, dance, play a harp and do needlework. She was training to become the perfect bride to a wealthy Noble.
The perfect life that once was spread before her took a horrible and sinister turn the night of her grand ball. Her father was to announce her as available to the community of men as eligible for courting. The flurry of suitors that normally would have ensued was limited to merely one man. The tall elegant looking stranger from another land had come specifically for her. He had struck a friendship with her father and had immediately asked his permission to wed her. Courtship was never in his plan, he wished to make her his bride immediately and sail away with her to his home by the end of the following week.
The whirlwind of activity preparing for the nuptials was almost more than Elvira could comprehend. So quickly her father had agreed and set in motion the requests of her new husband, she barely got to know his name. When the wedding was completed and barely a moment to change she was ushered aboard his ship to set sail for another land. This was the last time she would ever see her father, friends, or country.
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Post by Elvira on Jul 6, 2011 7:56:26 GMT -5
Spirit Musing It has been a long while since I have been able to put thought to word. Only recently have I been able to find a “voice” again. The centuries pass as a shadow and I am left as a single entity neither here nor there. One man destroyed me, and now One man has found me.
He seems a holy man of some sort, he is kind and his heart is open to those things around him. I do not believe I intended to attract his attentions, yet somehow I have been discovered none the less. Now that he is aware of me, he tries to know of me. We have devised a way of communication, but I know it is frustrating to him as much as to me. I cannot speak in his realm, and he cannot hear in mine.
I know there is a co joining of minds in this place. I have seen a visitor that is familiar to me. I sense no malice only pity, I do not know which is more disturbing. The woman I have spoken through before, but the ones who were present chose not to hear. Perhaps this time will be different. I wonder if the words of my history will ever be made known to the ears that would hear. I sit at the foot of his bed and watch as he slumbers. The images he sees in his dreaming are causing him restless nights. It is hoped I am not the cause of this disturbance. But I think I may be part of it. In the deep darkness he has discovered the secret to the Vision, perhaps it is a thing for him that would have been best left unknown. It pains me to know I have caused such discomfort in one so kind and gentle.
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Post by Elvira on Jul 14, 2011 23:57:47 GMT -5
Swirling little dust clouds across the wood floor were the only evidence of a presence inside the small room. A flickering candle on a table kept time with the dance as the blithe spirit continued her dance. She was happy in life, and though lost between worlds was happy in death as well. Her greatest pleasure was making the Monk smile or laugh. He had such lovely eyes and the lines that betrayed his age made him all the more endearing.
A gentle knock at the front door broke her reverie and paused the dance. She could hear the voices from the floor below. She recognized the voices of her Monk and the Medium that had been called to assist in bridging the gap between the veiled world of the spirit and the living. Elvira knew that when the conversation was completed he would come up to ponder those things that were said. He did that same thing every time he spoke to Izznet. Apparently her words were helpful but always heavy, and they weighed on his heart and mind as he pondered all the possibilities and consequences.
Elvira could barely contain her curiosity waiting for the Monk to arrive. It must have been a very deep conversation indeed! When he did finally enter the small room he immediately went to the candle and extinguished its flame so as to better see the ethereal form of his companion.
The words he spoke were thrilling yet disturbing and back to thrilling. There was a way to be able to speak to him from an earthly body. Yet the process was dangerous and temporary. Twirling and kicking up tiny dust swirls she considered his words carefully as he explained all that would transpire along with the responsibility she would have in the whole scheme.
She knew from the start it was what she needed to do, to assist in his quest. Even if the final outcome was for her to return to her ghostly form, she knew that even for a moment to speak to him without the aid of a Medium or gems moved across the floor would be the highlight of her lonely existence. She would do whatever it was he asked her at whatever the cost to herself.
Her steps stilled as she turned to face her Monk. The gaze that she gave him was one of deep sorrow yet hope and determination. She nodded once when he was finished explaining all that would transpire. His confusion was brief as the realization settled in his mind and heart her devotion to him and the desire she had to help in whatever endeavor he had planned. He was relieved, yet unsettled knowing that what he was about to do would not be received well by the Brothers.
Sitting on the edge of his small cot deep in thought the Monk was pensive. All she could do was to sit in her place at the foot of the bed and watch. She knew that if the proposal failed not just her existence would be terminated, but that of a young child as well. There was indeed a great deal to consider.
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Post by Elvira on Jul 26, 2011 10:08:34 GMT -5
The morning sun rose over the horizon ushered in by the tide and soft sea breezes, the Monk rose and performed his morning routine with little fan fare and lost deep in thought. Each piece of his “uniform” he donned with a silent blessing out of rote rather than the usual devotion and care. Pulling the heavy robe over his head he stood in place in the middle of the bare room finally seeing the soft image of the shadowy figure along the wall. “Today is the day, Elvira.” He said in a hushed tone.
As he turned to leave the room he made sure to place the simple candle on the vanity. He knew nothing would happen to her so long as the candle was safe. He glanced back to the shadow once more, but the look in his eye was deep concern and almost excitement.
She knew he would need to prepare himself for what would certainly be a long and dangerous evening. Her choice of preparation was limited at best; she would sit and ponder over her own responsibility in the rite. Oh how she hoped it would work! For her to have the ability to speak to her Monk openly and freely was a joy she could not express. The price she would have to pay would be well worth those moments, no matter how brief.
Evening finally crept in, and as the last rays of sun dipped below the horizon a soft whisper of a breeze echoed through the house. There was no knock on the door to announce her presence, merely the name on the breeze that compelled the Monk to answer. She was shrouded in darkness where only her emerald eyes shown under the hood of the dark cloak. Many had called her evil or wicked, yet in some warped way it was this wickedness that would act as the conduit for a rescue.
A full moon was rising as the Monk and the Ghost made their way to the Abbey. The irony of such “dark magic” being performed in a “holy place” was not lost on the Monk. The wry smile that crept across his lips helped to ease his nerves.
He carried the candle with great care, as a child with a delicate piece of porcelain. Once again they met the shrouded figure of Izznet and reluctantly he handed over the precious candle to her. The long graceful fingers that wrapped around the base of the candle seemed as concerned and careful as he.
The Monk left to retrieve the young girl who was heavily sedated for her protection as well as that of those around her. Entering the corner room and laying the child on a low cot he took a moment to examine the room. He tried not to think too hard on the ritual that was about to occur but his curiosity was almost over powering. Leaving the child to the care of Izznet and making sure Elvira’s candle was lit Dagonet retreated to stand at the door as a sentry, ensuring nothing would distract from the events in the room.
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Post by Elvira on Aug 25, 2011 22:16:31 GMT -5
The door was shut securely and ceremonial candles were lit as the Dark Shrouded figure began the incantations that would stir the violent force abiding in the young girl. The soft glow of the candles hid the diabolical menace that would soon be summoned. A large bull had been chained to the corner wall in preparation for the event that would rid the child and capture a horror. As each light glowed the chant grew in voice and strength. The soft beauty that entered grew in age and weathered appearance revealing her true nature. Disregarding the change in her own body she focused on the girl drawing the Power of the Ancients to aid in the release of a young innocent. With a raging echo the Bane tore from the girl and attacked the Medium. Her age and strength along with the lightning fast motion the Bull became the new host for the vengeful spirit.
“Now!” Izznet commanded to Elvira.
As the Bane tried to free itself from the animal and return to the girl it found that its previous host was already inhabited. There was no more room for it. In a fury of vulnerable rage the Bane was trapped between hosts knowing it would be destroyed it attacked the only one left to pester. The force it met was formidable and dominated it quickly, returning the Bane back to the Bull and commanding fire to engulf the pathetic beast.
The fire that came mixed with brimstone and sulfur filling the room with a horrible stench and turning the Bull into nothing more than a sooty stain and vapor. The Bane had been destroyed and the child released of its grip on her young life. The task at hand now was to allow her to grow in her strength and return her to her family. Elvira, now inhabiting a young child, was finally able to use her voice. The voice, her Father had called angelic and intoxicating, now mingled with that of the young girl. Her presence was allowed to manifest only to remind herself that the agreement was temporary, she would not be allowed to remain. The soft whisper of the name she so enjoyed was a mix of both entities. The mere breath of his name on the breeze caused him to rush in for her, for them both. The strong hands that held the girl’s face, Elvira could feel also. His touch was a healing balm to her restless soul. She did not fully know the extent of spirit exhaustion until that moment when his touch overwhelmed her. Even if she never lived again, she would now understand the feel of one who deeply cares for another. The peace that washed over her and flooded both her and the child made her speechless. The first time in centuries she was unable to say anything, merely rest in the moment of a gentle hand.
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