Consummation of Glass { Vaet }

[Xue Xui]

There was something strangely comforting in the atmosphere of a place that seldom appeared the same way twice. Even if it were spring, it felt like summer, with the blue rays of the sun glittering the very air, and the sky a vapid, endless ocean in all directions. Jacinth knew himself to be drowning in it, now on his third day.

It took only minutes for the desolation of the desert, however, to be awakened.

The dualities that were sky and earth were suddenly blurred by a twisting of sand, and the great horizons that were in all directions, suddenly seemed much closer. A wall of sand approached, and the Light Fey simply stood there, staring. Jacinth sighed, breathed in his last clean breath of air as he awaited his fate. Negotiation with nature seldom gave way to much, and while Jacinth could never really say he welcomed death, it was the final unknown he welcomed. Outstretching his arms, and standing tall, he closed his eyes as he felt the stoned pummel him, and then darkness fell upon the desert at high noon.

..

The Light Fey no longer questioned why he did things anymore, only mockingly trying to interpret such things as nature, he simply followed an urge. Now he knew that these memories were real, if only in dreams, and he knew he had been here, at this very spot, even if it dressed, felt, and smelled differently many hundreds of years later. Digging himself up from a mountain of sand, cuts caused him almost to give up all together, riding his muscles of proper strength.

Basic weaving knowledge, that which he learned in his recent Light Court education, helped him mend his superficial wounds just as they touched his body, the strange symbols smoking off his flesh like steam. He finally pulled his left leg from the sand prison and rolled over onto his back, staring at sky with exhaustion.

"Perhaps, I heard you wrong," he muttered to the skies, covering his face with his sweaty palm to block out the sun. He laughed a little, planning to lie there in the desert that changed it's face again, if only for a moment longer.

[Vaet Qou]

A foil ran across Vaet’s eyes, almost blinding him. The colors of the desert were always remarkable. However, the weather was bipolar in the wind area, causing him to be a little stifled whenever he left his home land. But to make a weapon beautiful, sometimes it required a sacrifice - whether a person enjoyed it or not. As though a blade of a knife, Vaet made his way to the bright contrast in the sand. There was a magnificent stone settled around the earth tones of the sand. On a day like this, a Fey would always be assumptions to think a desert would be deserted.

Yet, in the bland, flat area - after a wave of wind and sand, there was a movement. Vaet was not put off by the random gust of air, or by the pebbles of sand, because he was dressed for the occasion. A dark cloak was draped over his head, while a fabric covered his face, exposing only his eyes. His pupils flared against the light contrast of the desert, and even more so paired up to the dark dye of his attire. Upon his back was his sword, sheathed in a tight harness, aware that neutral grounds could bring anything.

While he was well aware that the wind had their own lands, he had never wanted to test what would happen if he killed upon their grounds. But he wasn’t stupid, there would be no chance he would come defenseless. Vaet had some faith in the area, knowing that the wind’s flightiness would be in par with the fire’s satiable measures. Not to mention he was born in these areas, and always felt a haunting chill when he stepped over his border, as though the wind called him.

The movement caught his eye again, and this time it had a sound. Vaet stood straight, dismissing the shine of the pebble to be only a distraction. With the air moving so violently and causing the fabric to make rapid noises against his ear, he could not make out what the sound was saying. The fire fey took small steps forward, cautiously, to find a figure sprawled out, as though left for vultures.

Which he may as well be. Vaet noticed the strange fey to be disheveled, dirty, and even hurt. Beneath the fabric on his face, there was a frown, causing his eyes to crease slightly in a glare. “Planning to die?” he asked the stranger, obviously annoyed to see someone else here. He hated to be put off from his goals.

[Xue Xui]

The blue ultra violet color of the sky pulsated against the dark silhouette of the figure looming close by and Jacinth lowered his hand. Two glaring cinders that Jacinth took for eyes stared down at him behind a veil, and he stared back lazily, completely unbothered by the idea of finding himself at the feet of a stranger.

As though the desert answered his words, here this man was before him, for even if there were travelers in the desert it was a curious thing to wonder why the stranger had bothered to approach him at all. Perhaps he thought him a corpse.

What colors Jacinth was wearing before the sand storm were unsure, as his many layers he wore were now the color of the crystals he lay upon and his cloak that once might have been chosen with the care of any disciplined dresser was tattered cloth around the fey's shoulders.

A scabbard hung at Jacinth waist, the only thing undamaged other than the fey himself, the handle wrapped in brown cotton and overall not looking very impressive.

Blinking once, blinking twice, Jacinth sat up, his disheveled hair having a gravity of its own in the wind, peering at the man in the veils, the waves of crystal grain poured off his form like water. He didn't bother to dust himself off. He stood tall in front of this stranger, taking in the careful but capable atmosphere of the other fey, drinking in his features, his eyes never seemed to really blink after that.

"Everybody dies, I suppose it is always good to plan for the inevitable," he replied finally, his voice quiet in the loudness of the desert, he tilted his head. One of Jacinth's cloaked shoulders was close to Vaet than the other, standing in a line, it was an unusual stance.

Jacinth offered a slight tinge on his lips, a pleasant one as though hinting toward a smile. His eyes lightened a tone, he looked completely relaxed, as though finally understanding that this fey was not his enemy. If that was his conclusion, or why, it was not apparent on his face. "I see are well equipped for this place. Are you a fey of this place? I did not know anyone dwelled here."

[Vaet Qou]

There was no answer from Vaet, for he simply observed the fallen fey, as though he pitied the soul swimming in the strange fey’s body. The warrior or fire could not decipher whether this fey was simply stupid, or was insanely smart. To come into the wind area meant many consequences, and Vaet was aware what could happen: the trickery, the deceiving death, and all of the lies. For these were neutral lands, and while they had their laws, each fey that subjected himself to these areas would have to abide by them, or meet death with a hand-shake.

He didn’t move away from the light fey, nor really acknowledge what he was doing. Vaet merely glanced over the other male, taking in the tattered uniform (yes, he could tell the elaborate design, even under the speckled fabric). The frown on his face did not disappear, and for once he was glad he had covered his face - disliking the way he had worn his heart on his sleeve, made things uneasy for battles. There was something unreadable about this light fey, and it bothered Vaet immensely. The way the strange fey smiled didn’t seem very lively at all, as though the face was attached to strings, much like a puppet.

Perhaps he wanted to say something to the strange fey, about death. For Fey were immortal - out of the grasp of diseases, and death, it was war that caused death to be inevitable. What was even more frightening to Vaet was that Jacinth appeared to be completely unaware of his surroundings, or of the fact that he gave away that he was not a wind fey. They were both guests in this land. He had wanted to assume that Jacinth was of the opposite council, for it would be easier to be an enemy than an alliance.

Vaet could be honest, say he was not a fey of this land, but was familiar. Yet, somehow he could not find the thought process to be friendly. His crimson eyes shifted a little, seeing something awkward. Was it the heat getting to him? No, it couldn’t be, for he was well attached to high temperatures. He couldn’t find a reason to answer Jacinth, and instead, had hoped the fey would comply easier than what he was doing.

“Looking for something?”

[Xue Xui]

Words came to mind, strange symbols and letters that danced in Jacinth's memory, beckoning him to reach his finger tips into the air and spell them out. He bit down this urge, this need to some how react to this other man, and he did so with unheard of discipline. It was common for man to wish to destroy that which they did not understand.

What Jacinth did not understand as why he felt so at peace with this individual. He had never felt so calm before, not even with another Light Fey. It did not bother him the other was being possessive with his knowledge, all that was clear by the veil. Jacinth could not blame him, for deep within, he knew he had a veil of his own, though much more elaborate..

Jacinth did not let his eyes waver, alert to any change in the other's atmosphere, any sense of danger, fear, or friendliness, as though not wanting to miss a moment.

"Do you believe in past lives?" he asked curiously then, much more friendlier than his companion. He tilted his head back slightly. "I think I might have been a fey here once. I had a memory, a curious one, so very detailed, I can't think of it as a dream."

Jacinth had long given up reason to think why he did, for when did the sane need reasons? The truth was more cryptic than any lie.

"I was a woman, a caring woman perhaps, I helped bring a life into this world here. I helped a woman give birth. Me, who had no desire to help another live, wanted to help this woman that could have died otherwise. And this child.. of all children.. had the most peculiar Wings..like ink.. or black blood."

Jacinth trailed off, even his eyes faltering a bit, lost in the memory until finally drawing back home lazily to the target of the Fire Fey's eyes. As if an afterthought he added, "curious, isn't it?"

[Vaet Qou]

Vaet lent his ear out to the stranger, and found it to be unlike him. He had not been a very friendly person, to stay in one spot long and discuss things. Unless, of course, it came with a meaning - a job, or if it had pertained anything to his longest friend. It was unworldly for a warrior to think about life, emotions or even offer sympathy. There was a reason that a warrior had to with stand death; a reason that a warrior would have to make a decision without personal qualms getting in the way. Yet, he could not find himself to make a rational decision within this strange man’s presence.

The question was another weird one. And he wondered where he had heard of that. It was much like their beliefs in the fire kingdom, where one would be reborn into something greater or worse - depending on which path they took. Vaet was irked by how closely related to him.

To make matters worse, the very woman he had spoke of, could have very well been his mother. Not to mention that the description of the wings, were of something of his own. But he had not exposed himself out in these lands, nor even implied what continent he had come from. He felt as though Jacinth knew more than what he was willing to let on. Vaet’s eyes narrowed now, the red slits staring accusingly at the male. While the words were just as good as pebbles being thrown at him, he could not measure the other male’s actions to be hostile.

A dilemma was present. This is where he had to make a choice.

He lifted his left hand to crane his index finger into the mask area of his attire, pulled it down, allowing the hood of the cloth to fall to his shoulders. His hair, disheveled from the outfit, stood out like ink. And it was his face that finally gave away the displeased look, his pale lips slanted.

It was like a flickering candle, but then his wings appeared, displaying the set of wings. The wings that Jacinth had described. The warrior moved an arm over his back, his hand grabbing the handle of the blade that was still sheathed.

“Not so much, as I already know.”

Vaet waited politely, a person with honor, for Jacinth to react. Whether his choice be fleeing or equipping himself with a weapon.

[Xue Xui]

Why he had been this creature so intensely was clear now, he watched the unveiling as though it were expected. Yes, this was the one from his memory, he could not forget those eyes, smoldering as though alive, he had seen them in the child of his memory, the reason why he had come to this place. The comment he had said to the man was a mere curiosity, to test if his madness were indeed true. The little thing he had held in his arms was this fey now, so intent to decide whether a duel of life and death was indeed needed.
So like a warrior to want to find the answers so quickly.

The forbidden nature of truths was something Jacinth was all but aware of. He was not supposed to know this sacred thing, this sense of fear and intrigue that seemed to drive this man to unleash the monster of his blade that he kept so securely on his back. The vigor was electrifying, as though a heat could be felt off the fey, Jacinth, seemingly immune to it. He was a Fire Fey, yes, this man, though his name escaped him. Something about the nature of the boy’s face reminded him strangely of looking into a mirror. Why he thought this, he had no idea, for Jacinth felt worlds apart, maybe even lifetimes.

Something about the Light Fey’s education willed him to keep the sword sheathed at his belt, as though any kind of fighting on Neutral ground was unbefitting to any fey of the venerable Light Courts. But something else itched at him, another philosophy, that instead of nagging at him (like his sense of Neutrality did), commanded the Light Fey, telling him that fighting, sometimes, was the only means of communication. Jac knew that there was no chance that the other man – a Fire Fey, no doubt, would draw his sword without Jacinth doing it first. Honor. Jacinth, knew of this word. Again, a question of why? floated there.

I know he has every intention to kill me.

Jacinth, touched his hand to his cotton hilt, the hip farthest away, he bent his knees, staring.

“But perhaps, this is the only way we’ll know,” he spoke to himself, eyebrows furrowing. The curiosity, that itch that clawed at his brain, that suppressed monster deep within, ached to know. For all Jacinth knew, he was going to die against this warrior Fire Fey, for he had never even used a sword except in basic training in the Light Kingdom.

The monster knew he was a liar.

The silver of his blade was unleashed from the hilt with a quiet grace, Jacinth bending his knees further, the sword was not even out of the saya all the way before he launched forward from his back foot, intending to slice the other in a half with a precision he knew not of.

[Vaet Qou]

Words could only do so little now. They were not meant to converse, not when the light fey had called him out so sincerely. It was as if this fey knew what he was, or how Vaet had a way of being damaged by the area he was born in. Like a wound reopening all over again. Yet, there was a floating emotion of envy in the air. Vaet would never be able to touch simple methods, he knew only the methods on which he practiced on. Standing tall in these moments. He was not aware of the male’s powers, and by reaching for a weapon, he had already displayed his choice of fighting: weaponry.

Like a match was lit, Vaet had immediately reacted to the sudden movement from the stranger. Instead of dodging precisely like most would expect, he had merely dropped the idea of drawing his sword. As the dagger aimed for a direction that was neither torso or face, Vaet moved his arm to knock the arm away, deterring any path that the light fey had meant to take with his weapon.

Whoever this fey was, he had no sense of real charisma. Vaet was born here, he would never in his right mind draw a weapon. But there was no law on self-defense. To assume someone would kill, or even start a battle, was all upon this light fey’s shoulders. His priorities were set now. Instead of simply knocking the light fey back from him, he had reached for the male’s arm, his fingers chastening Jacinth from going further with that dangerous inaccurate hand.

Vaet’s eyes were on the other male, peering at him harshly. The warrior’s other hand was set open, ready to use any means to confuse the boy. He did not want to lose the wind kingdom’s natural standing. Not to mention his mother and father came here often, almost calling it a place to vacation. He could not lose his temper; he would not lose his honor.

Even if Jacinth was processing all of this, it only took a split second and Vaet used his free-hand to throw a punch toward the light fey’s face.

[Xue Xui]

It was very unrefined, he knew that much, almost half expecting to miss the first blow anyway. He wasn't trained, he had never been, and any idea of a fight, seemed out of his reach, ludicrous, really. The monster laughed at Jacinth, finding him hilarious, being thwarted by such a basic movement.

Jacinth almost lost his balance, being shoved and grabbed his sword could not make a turn and slice at the boy that was now in such close proximity. A second, and he was being held down - a punch coming for his face - his eyes widened slightly, his eyes turning black.

With the momentum of the Fire Fey's grip holding his arm, and the force of the punch, Jacinth ducked beneath the Fire Fey's waist, he hoisted - quarter back style - Vaet's waist over his shoulder, meaning to throw him over his back and to the ground.

[Vaet Qou]

When Vaet’s fist met air, he almost hesitated. He felt his grip on Jacinth’s arm loosen slightly, for his body was being lifted and in all of the chaos - confusion - Vaet had reached his hand over to grab for the loose fabric of the light fey’s cloak. Vaet was sent almost tumbling, but because he had grasped for the other male’s cloak, there was no doubt that Jacinth would be affected by the weight pulling him down. The fire fey’s feet met the sand and he sank forward, grounded at his ankles, but still holding onto the other boy’s clothing tightly.

He had not been dense, and saw the change in Jacinth’s eyes. They were dark, much like the fey he had seen in his land. Vaet felt uncomfortable with this knowledge.

With their backs now facing each other, he turned, staggering in the heavy weight of the sand holding him there. There in a brink of his anger, from the actual reaction from the fey (something he did not expect), a flame was started. The hold that he had onto the boy’s clothing started to go into flames, and he shifted to try and elbow Jacinth in the side.

Not to mention, these gestures were foreboding. He had seen them else where.

[Xue Xui]

The monster was laughing harder now, every movement Jacinth made was feeble, only carefully guided by the whispers of the beast, he stumbled through the conflict of Light Court guidance and other instruction. If this were any other fey, Jacinth knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, it would be simply basic to kill the man. As though killing and murder was an easy fix, a quick bandage to such nuisances as things of the past, but this somehow was different.

The laughing ceased in his head, and no longer could Jacinth tell it existed at all. The thought of the dream gripped him instead, a strange feeling of wanting to protect, and to taunt, mixed within the kind nature of the Light Fey, causing something else to emerge. Bringing life into the world, the infant in his dream, was an unusual and fantastic thing, but Jacinth did so with a forced apathy. He took action to help this woman give birth for some reason, unsure why, she was no love of his, no family of his, no friend, or relative or anything important at all. No, she was not important... but the child.

Oh how his father looked at that child. Loving him, as though he had never loved before. Jacinth could only hope the best, could only wish..

His clothes were set aflame, back to back, they circled the other like a dance, just out of reach, he felt the wind feed the flames, and then, he felt elbow meet rib, and Jacinth let a growl escape him. He stepped quicker, to make up the lost step in their dance and then took the initiative to turn around.

Reaching forward, he dropped his sword, letting it clatter to the ground and freed his other hand, wrapping it around Vaet's eyes from behind like a blindfold, his shirt was immediately extinguished. Jacinth wrapped his other hand around the hilt of the fire fey's sword and drew the magnificent blade with a loud 'hummm'! and backed away.

The wind tossed up a sheet of sand as he stepped away, steadying the blade between his two hands. No longer did he stand there as Jacinth. The wind no longer whipping a tattered cloak, but was now commanding a whole one, black and thick, meant for the weather of the Crystal Desert. No longer did the face of a serene Light Fey look back at Vaet, but a mirror of his own, with the expression of thoughtfulness, as the familiar steam wafted off his form. Smoldering eyes, and black hair, Jacinth stood as the fire fey himself, peering at him, as though curious.

[Vaet Qou]

Darkness shrouded Vaet’s view, and it caused him to panic. He had not shown his fret from the outside, knowing that he must remain poised when it was his life on the line. The hand over his face caused a sudden shift in his form, as though all of his abilities were turned off. No matter what he did, he could not manage the flames he had once sparked. There was no life from him, as if the coldest of water was washed through his veins. Vaet moved forward now, but as he did, he heard a noise that was far too familiar.

It was his weapon leaving the sheath. The warrior moved forward, digging himself out of the barrier of sand to turn and peer upon the light fey. However, it was not Jacinth’s face that he saw. Instead, it was a mirror or himself. Same eyes, same hair, same clothing. Trickery was an ability for wind fey, and he was doubtful of his own judgments. Just who was this person? There was nothing familiar about him to Vaet. The warrior’s wings shifted slightly, moving slowly to stand.

The look of confusion appeared distraught, and his lids flickered wide. Vaet suddenly appeared worried. He reached a right hand forward to the image of himself, his lips parting to say something.

“Wait --” he called, the sound of his own voice rough.

However, his meaning to warn his so called enemy had backfired before he could do much of anything. The poise of the fey before him, was a stance he had seen from his trainer. Vaet’s eyes darkened and shifted downward, refusing to see the result. The weapon itself had been weaved out of a weapon smith’s perfection, the element of fire pulsing. While the light fey had been a carbon copy of Vaet, the weapon would be able to detect the trickery, the unnatural feel.

The blade, as though wax, started to melt beyond unreasonable temperatures. The gold structures of the blade appeared to bleed thoroughly, melting its way downward, as though to devour Jacinth’s hands. The dissolving weapon would work enough as a distraction, but Vaet reacted out of worry that the boy might die. Quickly, Vaet kicked his foot up to create a wall of sand. It was aimed high, hoping to splash into the other male’s face.

[Xue Xui]

Jac had simply wanted to disarm the other, end the fight, even planned to offer the weapon back to him, if he complied. This was something he had done before, the stealing of another form, he hoped to trick the other into submission. It was strange how some, before their own image, reacted. Either in anger or in submission, Jacinth, in his own way, had hoped to just end this.

Jacinth had been unsure whether he would win, after all, or if this was a fight at all. Every step was revealing another piece of the puzzle. The one revealed just then, however, told him that stealing one's sword, especially with such familiar symbols as Fire Weaving hovering on the hilt, was not a good idea. If he had known it to be a paradigm of perfected weaponry, even worser still.

No, he did not quite remember that far.

And then, taking a step back, as the Fire Fey charged him, he readied another stance, recognizing it from the other earlier, he had made a point to memories such movements, and they came easily.. as though practiced before..

As quickly as the nerve endings of his palms burnt away, it was a delayed reaction to notice his hands were holding molted metal. The symbols were whirring, Jacinth recognizing them instantly, he let go of the blade, grunting in Vaet's voice, he had no time to react to the sand thrown into his face, the sharp rocks going into his eyes and he was blinded. Jacinth stumbled back.

He cursed, fisting his hands painfully, the flesh blooming like a flower along the creases where he flexed his palm. "Cowardly," he growled, the doppelganger speaking to the original. He forced himself to open his lids, the whites of the doppelganger's eyes were webbed with busted blood vessels, the smoldering color of his irises flickering from black to a deep topaz.

He knew, then, he might possibly lose, the idea impossible to him, Xue Xui, who never lost. There was something he did not want to remember, something deep within, through the layers that told him losing this battle would be a bad idea. For if he lost, he would be taken back, back home, where all the rest of him lay, ready to reopen the wound that threatened to tear him apart to begin with.

The sword lay between them, completely solid once more, sizzling in the glittering sand.

Jacinth circled the other, reaching up to his face, again, he thought of a different option. And then his form changed, like a shimmer in the light, the doppelganger became took on the form of a woman, red lips, and long, pulled back hair. A younger version of the fire fey's mother, one that resonated in his memory. Her left eye was bleeding from one corner, hands in front of her. She muttered a kind of weaving, the flesh trying to weave itself together on her elegant palms, but it did not work.

"...I see," she muttered, the blood trickling down her chin, "..you come here, to fight your mother, do you?"

[Vaet Qou]

The world felt slow to Vaet. Why had he even bothered to save this fey’s life. If the strange fey had held onto the blade longer, it would’ve been too late. The weaving within the weapon work would’ve fired back, most likely consume the user in fire. Yet, if Jacinth died, fried up and burnt out - the wind fey would pick upon the cue that a fire fey had been in the area, killing other feys. While he had not considered these consequences earlier, he felt reassured and hardly reacted when he was called cowardly.

Finally, a release was set from the slow motion. Vaet’s weapon laid between him and his copy, and his eyes stared curiously upon his enemy.

Vaet was not exhausted from the fight, but he was a little put off, to watch himself. While he had caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he had never seen his image such a wreck - not since the war. For now, Vaet was working on concentrating on what was: Jacinth had been a fey to steal images, but it did not come with the same abilities or even the same conformity; even his weapon proved that. The fey he had seen earlier could very as well not be the original.

For now, the warrior kept his distance. Merely observing and considering the routes he could take. Honor and pride were two different sections of him. He had honor in his battles, and could easily admit defeat, and the pride continued to allow him to stay here; to fight, despite his honor telling him to withdraw for political measures.

Like a mirage, the male before him started to change again. This time, it was an image far too familiar. That woman’s face flickered into Vaet’s view, but it was awkward seeing his mother’s bleeding face - her wounded hands. The only thing was that this female was youthful, a different hair style than what she adorned now. For now, he subjected himself to this image, but did not act upon the care of a child. Instead, there was a sort of sick smile about Vaet.

While Jacinth might have been waiting for Vaet to delay over the female’s form, there was no hesitation. It took a few seconds for Vaet to slide further into the sand, his right hand reaching down for the discarded weapon. His knees were bent, using this is as a pivot point to apply pressure into a sort of leap. Vaet moved gracefully, quickly, as he moved the blade to the side so that the handle of the sword was facing the image of his mother. Knocking the blade forward, he had attempted to hit the woman in the head with the metal of the handle, hard.

The other fey would have no idea how much Vaet had resented the woman, and had wanted to hit her several times before. This would only suffice for the time being. After all, he had nothing to say to the identity thief.

[Xue Xui]

Perpetual amusement was what the voice in his head was feeling, as though watching a show, he refused to completely merge with Jacinth. The voice found it ironic that Vaet hated his mother so, a bad judgment on Jacinth's part, to think he could manipulate the other.

Two forced conflicted, one that wanted not to fight, for Jacinth to escape, and the other that wanted to beat down the other, ensure his victory, ensure his never-return to the Fire Kingdom, or to Infra, or to wherever he was destined. You are weak, the voice muttered, the very one that called Vaet a coward, Jacinth now growing irate with his situation.

He was going to run, he planned on it, going to escape this man he had inadvertently been looking for, this fey that he possibly wanted to save once, long ago. The voice inside his head finally told Jacinth to stop, curling the fey's emotions to in fact think clearly - to instead try to to escape, to run.

There was no more to learn here.

Perhaps it was inevitable in the woman's eyes, as they fell upon Vaet as he crouched to reclaim his blade. Jacinth watched Vaet again, studying his features, and finally narrowing his blurry vision in a half-glare as he was pounced upon. He didn't retaliate.

Jacinth, not the voice, was going to make Xue face his fears. Sick of this, this not-knowing. No!

"..If this is how it is going to be.." growled the woman, not to Vaet, not to anyone, she watched the blade come toward her, there being little dignity to be knocked out cold, she simply kept her bleeding eyes opened, waiting.

As if last second, Xue took over, fear gripping the woman, she had hoped to side step the movement, but it was too late. The voice lost, the monster lost, even in its last moments of control, the image of the fey flickered. Xue had been in control of himself, and while doing so, lost that very grip he had. The woman crumbled to the floor, scattering sand.

And something flickered again, like a candle going out - this time, the change was not so great. The mother's hair did not shorten much, but changed styles, now simply a curtain of hair that fanned the crystal sand. Her jaw line became more defined, and for a moment, it looked as though Jacinth was to turn into Vaet again- but not quite. His neck was slightly longer, cheek bones a different shape, he looked off, like a false-image of Vaet wearing the Light Fey's tattered cloak and robes, not caring for appearance in years.

The wings looked neither like Vaet's or his mother's, but instead were worn and broken. One wing half missing - the other had many holes, looking to have once perhaps being magnificent, they had long lost their glory.

And there lay Xue Xui, on the sand, as himself for the first time in over a hundred years, as the mercy of his brother's feet.