Glimmerglass

Slowly, she turns to face you, the long delicate fingers absently raking back the long shining fall of dark hair. Her gaze impales you, the deep gold eyes effortlessly plumbing the debts of your essence in swift appraisal. Shaken, a sudden disconcerting suspicion nags that not only have all the dark corners of your psyche been exposed, but found vaguely humorous.

A subtle smile warms her features and the illusion...if illusion is what it truly was...shatters. In its stead is the slender, rather frail grace of the elven woman indicating with an economical gesture permission for you to take your ease on the garden bench beside her.

She turns her attention from you momentarily, her deft hands carefully nestling the crystal flute home in the velvet of the case before gazing contemplatively into the distance of her own visions. When she finally speaks, her low soft tones seem musing, the inflection and cadence pleasantly exotic to the ear.

My past? I wonder that anyone could find such of interest beside myself, but so be it.... Shall I chant the lines of my heritage to you, or would you not have the patience to hear my words? We are but the culmination of the blood that flows within us, with the mark of the star's fate stamped upon our soul at the moment of the first breath of the nativity. You may struggle as is your wont, but eventually all must reconcile our desires with the designs cast upon us when we were cast within this web of time.

You think me evasive? Tis just the way of my race to ponder such paradoxes. Some say we have naught better to do than perplex ourselves over each intricate detail of life and worry it until we are well satisfied with the answers that we derive from the study. To us, it seem other races do not have a proper contemplation of such important matters. You ask a question and race away before more than the bare bones are sketched in, never knowing how to unfold each word of the elders, each single gem holding within itself yet more vistas revealed to the discerning eye.... Instead, your lives are that of impatient creatures, racing wildly from one sensation to the next while never comprehending or even digesting that which you have already gorged upon. Such bright candles you are, so brightly shining until you gutter out into sudden darkness....

But I digress.

I was born first daughter of my line, my fate and future seemingly secure beacons before me. The mark of my bloodline is surely upon me, naught stronger than the discipline the unformed child receives at the hands of her elders. Carefully nurtured and sculpted indeed by my clan, I was firmly warped to the mold of my expected destiny from the moment I could hold conscious thought. 'Twas a necessary thing, for too brief was the preparation time before I would be expected to join the circle of elders.

I have oft said the gods have a malicious sense of humor, most particularly in dealing with the arrogance of mortals. Such pride we had, such a tempting prize for Chaos to wrack havoc upon and sunder, destroying with glee generations upon generations of careful crafting. And so my blood expired in a wanton slaughter, crowding the path of Stars with their unavenged souls...

The tempest quelled, the carnage complete except for one frail bit of flotsam on the waves of fate. The sacrifice of the brother to ensure that the line continued in the flesh of the girl-child, the last of the line. Of those years of passage I am silent, for the renderings on my soul are my own to bear and the terrors that still bedevil my rest should not be spoken of in the brilliance of day. 'Tis enough to know circumstance forged me, tempering me like a fine weapon, layer upon layer with betrayals and deceits, as well as those unexpected gifts that shine of loyalty and friendship truly given.

And so I came to this place, an unlikely refugee smuggled by dark passage. A chance act of kindness long shrouded in the mists of time repaid a thousand fold by a benefactor who risked much through his loyalty. Many turnings of the sun in the wheel of the seasons have passed since I began to forge my place here.

Ah, what place is that, you ask?

Mayhaps you should inquire of those who have chosen to weave their fates into the tapestry of my own. Each has their own tale and own expectations of me. They call me Seer, they call me Bard, and some call me caustic for my unfortunate tendency to strip them of their illusions and speak the truth despite their disinclination to hear such. But all the answers are within the songs that I sing, if you have the wit to hear...

No longer am I that waif cast up by the storm, but a woman well content with her treasure. Surrounded by companions who circle me with warm regard and count me of value, there is within myself a wonder I had never thought to know. For I am well loved indeed in these times, for now I face the future with my soul mate Stormhand Aetheron, taking in stride whatever the fates may see to cast within my path.

I am Glimmerglass and no longer do I walk alone.