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Old 08-27-2006, 11:50 AM   #1
Alyssia Kanath
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Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Vancouver B.C.
Posts: 1,009
Default Goodnight My Son

Alyssia Kanath walked tiredly into the small cottage she now shared with Katryn in the fields of Skara Brae. The night had been long and one of concern and worry in it's beginning. The look upon her nephew's face as he waited for his late bride to show upon their wedding day enough to tear at the Thunderlord's heartstrings. She loved Faris dearly, the young Eshu reminding her so much of Ruden when he was young. Headstrong and independant, courageous and true to his heart. He had made a fine guardian...and he would make an even finer Ranger.

She had, on this night, passed down to him a sword. Long she had used the weapon, for many years during her stint as Captain of the Queen's Guardians. It was a masterfully crafted no-dachi blade...and would suit him well. She did not use it any longer, instead it had sat collecting dust and on display within her home. But now it had a new home, and a new master. Faris' eyes had lit up as she had drawn the blade and presented it to him...for she knew he had been eyeing that blade for many years. And then she had escorted the beautiful young bride to the chapel...walking her to where Faris and Beleg waited, passing Belle into Faris' capable hands.

And now the blade was his...

Wandering up to the bedroom she spied Katryn sleeping quietly within the bed they shared. Her hair splayed over the young woman's beautiful features, softened and calm in slumber. Alyssia smiled gently and began to remove her armor, a bit of happiness beginning to burn within her heart. Katryn had returned that day, and the reunion had been a sweet one...

The Thunderlord sighed, now clad in only her clothing...the entrapment of armor no longer an issue...she wandered over to the fireplace within the room and sat down. Her emerald eyes reflected the light of dying embers as they swept about the room, studying it quietly. Those eyes fell to rest upon the beautiful urn of sky blue that sat upon her armoire.

Alyssia sighed, staring at the piece of pottery. Within it's confines lay in final rest the last mortal remains of Marcus Kanath...her son. Faris, in a way...reminded Alyssia of Marcus. At times, the Eshu would get a look...or say something that would spark the warrior's memory of the tall young man with jet black hair and sky blue eyes that always radiated a sense of gentle thoughtfullness. Marcus had been much like his father in that way, always thinking...calculating. But unlike Jamison "Jackal" Telwyn, the rakish pirate and thief that Alyssia had entertained a brief whirlwind affair with during that crazy time in her life, Marcus was a gentle and caring young man. Jamie, as Alyssia had called his father, never had anything to do with his son. And that was just as well with Alyssia. They had parted ways before Alyssia had found out that she had become pregnant, and it was not her first child so she was wise in the way of such. She had gone through it alone, and given birth to a beautiful son...her second son...and she raised him as she had her firstborn, Connor. As Marcus grew, he watched his mother come into her own right in this setting that seemed so alien to her. The Katara, after stealing her body as it lay in state with her people, had rejuvinated her youth. Silverstorm's selfish want to keep forever Alyssia Kanath, causing the Katara to go forward in time and do such a thing to the warrior without even asking her permission. And so Alyssia Kanath...when she had awoken in the Katara sickbay, spent the next thirty years relearning how to exist within this alien landscape so unlike that of Sosaria or Barsaive. And so by the time Marcus was twenty five years of age, Alyssia Kanath had bartered - bought - scammed - seduced - stolen - and taken by force enough funds to furnish herself a vessel capable of carrying out her new only means of survival...skills taught to her by Marcus' father.

Alyssia Kanath, new Captain of the vessel "Tempest"...would pirate her way to a comfortable life for herself, her son, and the grandson who she had just been introduced to. Her daughter Loryn did not stay around often, but the Katara's son Aiden had chosen to stay with his grandmother. But Alyssia was not cruel in her endevor, and often times though the authorities called her outlaw, and those who sought and kept power hated the Stormwolf and cursed her name whenever another of their vessels would limp back to dock lighter their cargo and requiring costly repair...Those who had less cheered the mysterious woman's name. Often times precious cargos of medicine and food would find their way to people who needed them. Entire cargos of slaves suddenly found themselves free from their shackles and weapon caches would mysteriously make their way to various rebel groups who needed such supplies to continue their struggle against domination. Large sums of money would be donated to various charities and children....who were without parents who loved them...would be clothed, fed, and taught...all by the merciful generosity of the enigmatic woman who captained one of the most elusive and hunted vessels ever to travel between worlds.

But, as in all such things, her time had one day come to an end. She and her crew had been cornered by the enemy and all resources, amunition and maneuver had been exhausted. Marcus, who by this time had become her second in command...had been terribly wounded in an explosion as the survivors of the Tempest made a mad break for the escape vessels. Only twelve of her crew had survived, and as they sped away...the lights from her exploding vessel in hindsight...Alyssia Kanath sat upon the deck cradling the broken and burned body of her second son...tears streaming down her face and fingers lightly trailing over the young man's once handsome features...now burnt almost beyond recognition. It was in this moment, that she realized....nothing was worth it...nothing was worth this... It would be this even that would cause her to return to Sosaria.

Alyssia closed her eyes, there in the fading light of her and Katryn's bedroom, tears beginning to flow. She could remember so vividly those moments, and heard in her mind the hoarse whisper of her son as he lay in her lap dying...

"Ma..." Marcus choked, blood flowing past cracked lips and blue eyes rimmed with tears. His voice was weak and fading quickly, "Ma' I'm sorry...I tried..."

Alyssia whispered to him, voice choked and strained as she caressed his face softly. "Shh my son... I am so....so very proud of you... It's alrigh'...everythin's gonna be alrigh'... We'll get you all fixed up an' then..."

The young man cut her off, weakly reaching up to touch his mother's face. "It's ok ma...I know... You can't fix me, not this time..."

"Marcus..." The woman's chest felt as if it were being crushed, her worst nightmare flaring to life before her eyes.

"Sing to me...? You used to sing to me when I was a boy...I loved that... Remember ma'..? Remember when you would tuck me in and sing to me, and it would make all the shadows go away..."

Alyssia's tears steadily fell like rain upon the face of her dying son, she nodded mutely...steadying herself. After a few failed starts she whispered, "I remember...sometimes it was the only way I could get ya to sleep..."

He looked up to her and smiled slightly, his fading eyes radiating love and devotion for his mother. Standing off to the side was young Aiden MacKenzie, the teenage boy shaking in grief and his own tears flowing unheeded. He watched as his uncle and grandmother had this final moment, the only one of those left brave enough to do so. The others, shocked and grief ridden in their own right...giving the Captain they loved this moment...

"Permission....to disembark....Captain..." Marcus' body shuddered as one last wave of agony rippled through him, eyes staring up at the only parent he had ever known.

The Captain whispered in grief, "Permission....granted..."

Marcus smiled softly, his fingers still brushing over his mother's cheek.

And Alyssia Kanath began to sing...softly to her son for the last time. Her voice husky and ethereal, radiating grief and a hollow sense of loss. But to Marcus, it was sweet as that of any angel...

"Over in Killarney,
Many years ago,
Me mither sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And I'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
Hush, now don't you cry!
That's an Irish lullaby."

Marcus' hand slowly fell from his mother's face and sky hued eyes closed for the last time....he gave one last shuddering breath, lips curling into a soft smile. Aiden watched before having to turn from the scene...he lay his head against the wall and closed his eyes, shoulders shaking in grief and grimacing as he fought the tears. Alyssia continued her song, leaning down and resting her head against her son's and rocking him gently....voice tight now and body shaking violently with pent up sobs...wanting only to howl in grief, but she would not deny him this last wish...

Oft, in dreams I wander
To that cot again,
I feel her arms a huggin' me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a humin'
To me as in days or yore,
When she used to rock me fast asleep
Outside the cabin door.
Hush, now don't you cry...

Katryn quietly sat up in bed and looked to where the sound was coming from...there before the dying fire was Alyssia, tears streaming down her face as she sang quietly to herself. The young woman crawled from her bed and wrapped her arms around the warrior from behind tightly, beginning to rock Alyssia gently... The song stopped...and Alyssia turned and lifted her gaze to Katryn....before breaking down into ragged sobs. She buried her head against the young woman's chest as gentle hands caressed her hair and soothing words met her ears....

But still the sound carried upon the wind through the Brae and the Spiritwood. A soft whisper gliding along, flying upon wings of love gilded with a dizzying sense of loss...

That's an Irish lullaby.

"There are no unknown roads in life...only forgotten ones. ~Alyssia Kanath"
"Thunderlord history is that mexican hot sauce with the chicken on the label that is writen in spanish but there is no definition in spanish for how spicy it actually is."~ Korthos Du'Vallon
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