Those you've known and lost still walk behind you
Characters: Everyone
Time: ????
Location: ????
Content: Resolutions, explanations, and farewells
Warnings: None
You don't know when it happens. One moment, everything is chaos around you, bright lights and explosions and desperation. But then it's gone, the light and the pain and the confusion and the knowing that you have done everything you possibly could bleed away into the blackness of oblivion.
You’re falling, drifting. It is soothing here, and quiet - no battles, no blood, no heartache. The physical and mental pains of the world wash away in the cool darkness, sweet-smelling and safe.
You’re safe.
You’re home.
The voices that break the silence are hushed and very close, as if afraid to shatter the darkness.
“Should we wake them?” A young woman’s lovely voice, wrapped in an accent that was nearly impossible to place.
There is more of that beautiful, calming silence.
“They’ll wake on their own.” A man this time, who, by this voice, paints the image of someone used to authority and leadership. “They’ve done a difficult thing.”
Everything continues to drift, but the darkness is getting grayer, pierced with pale sunlight, and the softness is fading away into a plush carpet of warm, dark grass. You’re not falling anymore - you’re waking up from a dream and they’re waiting for you.
In the hazy light of dawn, the sun is barely over the horizon, a white ghost in the gold and lavender sky. The last remnants of fog and dew slowly disappear into the unusually warm April morning. Far away, water gently laps against an unseen shore and birds brightly chirp and greet the dawn. This is not a morning of darkness or battles or black magic. The magic that exists here is kinder, gentler.
There are three people nearby - one of them, a pretty redhaired woman with a smile made for mischief, is sitting on the ground with her legs tucked beneath her long, flowing skirt. The other two, both men, are standing. The blond man with the deep red cloak is watching them closely, but in his eyes there is a stern kindness and he is smiling, holding back secrets. He does, however, keep his hand on the hilt of the sword resting against his hip. Old habits.
The other man walks towards them, bending down on one knee. He is dressed in far more modern clothes than the first two, and his smile is one that is meant to lie, to charm.
The only thing missing is his signature hat.
“I’d offer you all coffee,” Neal Caffrey says with a wink, “but I think a pillow and a blanket might be more in order.”
Time: ????
Location: ????
Content: Resolutions, explanations, and farewells
Warnings: None
You don't know when it happens. One moment, everything is chaos around you, bright lights and explosions and desperation. But then it's gone, the light and the pain and the confusion and the knowing that you have done everything you possibly could bleed away into the blackness of oblivion.
You’re falling, drifting. It is soothing here, and quiet - no battles, no blood, no heartache. The physical and mental pains of the world wash away in the cool darkness, sweet-smelling and safe.
You’re safe.
You’re home.
The voices that break the silence are hushed and very close, as if afraid to shatter the darkness.
“Should we wake them?” A young woman’s lovely voice, wrapped in an accent that was nearly impossible to place.
There is more of that beautiful, calming silence.
“They’ll wake on their own.” A man this time, who, by this voice, paints the image of someone used to authority and leadership. “They’ve done a difficult thing.”
Everything continues to drift, but the darkness is getting grayer, pierced with pale sunlight, and the softness is fading away into a plush carpet of warm, dark grass. You’re not falling anymore - you’re waking up from a dream and they’re waiting for you.
In the hazy light of dawn, the sun is barely over the horizon, a white ghost in the gold and lavender sky. The last remnants of fog and dew slowly disappear into the unusually warm April morning. Far away, water gently laps against an unseen shore and birds brightly chirp and greet the dawn. This is not a morning of darkness or battles or black magic. The magic that exists here is kinder, gentler.
There are three people nearby - one of them, a pretty redhaired woman with a smile made for mischief, is sitting on the ground with her legs tucked beneath her long, flowing skirt. The other two, both men, are standing. The blond man with the deep red cloak is watching them closely, but in his eyes there is a stern kindness and he is smiling, holding back secrets. He does, however, keep his hand on the hilt of the sword resting against his hip. Old habits.
The other man walks towards them, bending down on one knee. He is dressed in far more modern clothes than the first two, and his smile is one that is meant to lie, to charm.
The only thing missing is his signature hat.
“I’d offer you all coffee,” Neal Caffrey says with a wink, “but I think a pillow and a blanket might be more in order.”