ParadiseLost[continued from The Face Behind the Skin] The silvery light flickered out and Gillian found herself in a land of blue skies and flower-painted fields. An apple orchard dominated a hill to her right – birds singing in their thick canopy of green. To her left, a slash of crystal-blue ocean ran across the horizon. Somehow, she’d returned to the Elysian Fields. Gillian drew in a startled breath, which turned into a delighted smile. She glanced down at her hands—were they still glowing blue? They’d lost their menacing glow, appearing completely innocent. <Foolish, foolish girl> Cybele said with surprising clarity. <Now there is no escape.> <BUT I ESCAPED THE DARK HOUR!> Gillian retorted triumphantly. <There are far greater dangers here, Gillian. As beautiful as it is, this place is a trap.> <Then why did you create a trump of it?> Cybele gave a wry chuckle <You still do not understand what the True Tarot is, do you my cherub? I did not create a trump of this place. This realm and its dark Reflection were spawned by my Art.> The chuckle faded and Gillian felt the Other’s presence retreat into the ether. “Have you completed your Journey?” a familiar voice said behind her. The World-Dancer – Shiva. “Have you come to enter a Pact? Or did the little lamb desire my company?” Silken fingers caressed Gillian’s neck and waist, naked warmth pressing into her back. The scent of musk and roses flooded her thoughts in an alluring perfume. She leaned against the Dancer, letting the sensations wash over her and floating along with them. It felt so...lovely...to be away from the Dark Hour. "I'm...visiting only. I haven't finished my journey," Gillian murmured. Coy fingers trailed over her belly, warm lips touching her neck. Gillian tensed, a small sound escaping her lips. “And yet you return to me,” Shiva purred. “Lost little lamb. So full of fear. Do you wish to lose yourself here with me? To join in the World-Dance?” "World-dance?" She remembered wondering last time she was here what it would be like to dance like Shiva, so immersed in the moment, so full of purpose, so beautiful. “The Dance Which Creates All Things,” Shiva whispered. Although she could feel hands on her stomach and back, two more hands slide around her wrists and pulled them up, as if inviting her into a waltz. “Join me, Gillian. Lose yourself for a moment. Let me show you the wonders of Paradise. Drink deep of the pleasures you've denied yourself for so long.” Its aromatic breath played across the side of her throat. "I...shouldn't. I don't think I should." Gillian found it increasingly hard to focus. "Ginger will worry. So will Seabhac and the others." Fingertips outlined her jaw, drew whorls of pleasure upon her temple. Other plucked at her uniform, seeking out the bare skin beneath. “Worries are imperfections and not welcome here. And you shall see your friends again, in time. Discharge your burdens and be with me in this moment. Let us Dance and Create. Share yourself with the World.” Shiva began to turn Gillian around, allowing her to view its sensual and protean form – hermaphroditic and perfect – unashamed of its arousal and readiness. Her head filled its intoxicating musk, numbing her senses with pleasure. Fears. Worries. Regrets. All these pointless things drifted into forgetfulness as the creature’s moist lips touched her brow and eyelids. “Dance with me.” Gillian breathed deeply and raised her face to gaze into Shiva's fathomless eyes. "Yes... Show me how to Dance like you," she pleaded. Shiva required no further incentives... and swallowed Gillian up in its warmth. The radiant caress of sunshine stirred Gillian from her blissful slumber. Birdsong welcomed her, accompanied by the rustling whisper of leaves. Her body still hummed with exquisite aches and tingles, the warm grass tickling her naked skin. A strange – yet sensual – fullness weighed her down, urging her to return to the memories and dreams of the previous night. She smiled to herself. But the sharp scent of woodsmoke and cooking meat pricked her nostrils – pulling toward the harshness of the waking world. An unsettling familiar hum soon trickled into her ears like ice water. “Cut the crap, Cherub. I know you’re awake,” Cybele snorted – very much outside Gillian’s mind. “I can smell it.” Smell it..? Cybele?! A very unladylike word came to Gillian's mind. She opened her eyes and sat up. Two peculiarities greeted Gillian as she sat up. The first was a very corporeal-looking Cybele stirring the embers of a campfire nearby. She’d built a makeshift spit, upon which roasted something avian in shape. A large leaf sat to her right, where a collection of ripe berries had been gathered. The Amberite regarded her with a dispassionate gaze. The second – and slightly more disturbing – was the body in which she now discovered herself. The long limbs and womanly perfections she’d ‘imagined’ during her World-Dance still remained – the short, lanky waif erased beneath. Her pleasantly rounded belly, however, was new – an undeniable indication that she’d just begun the second trimester of pregnancy. "Hunh," Gillian remarked, with the same detached surprise as her brother Jonathan when he blearily remembered details from his previous night's debauchery. “You’re positively glowing,” Cybele chimed with wry amusement. ''And positively naked. And positively alarmed—especially if things continue to progress at the current rate," Gillian added as she looked around the campsite for anything she could possibly use to cover up—she couldn't carry on a conversation with her Other au naturel. "Why aren't you in my head?" Cybele gestured broadly, “You created all of this, Sparrow. Myself along with it. From what I gather, you pictured me outside your mind, so you could have some privacy with Shiva.” She popped a berry in her mouth, staining her teeth bloody. “I suppose that means I should call you ‘mom.’ The girl ran a hand over her face. “You’ll find some cloths hanging over there,” she pointed at the nearby tree line with her stick. “Breakfast will be ready shortly.” Standing up proved more difficult than usual and required several tries before she succeeded. Gillian turned in the direction Cybele had pointed, covering her breasts with one arm and draping her long hair across herself with her other, looking for all the world like Venus emerging from the sea—only considerably larger in the belly. She lowered her chin and waddled over to the tree. And as she’d predicted, a lovely dress hung over a low branch – fashioned perfectly in every way to highlight Gillian’s motherly beauty. Gillian pulled the dress on slowly, giving herself a moment to think. <You in my head! Are you there too, or two? Are there two of you now?> she inquired. “I’m over here, Venus on a Halfwit,” Cybele said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She bit into another berry, but her expression soured slightly. Gillian scowled back as she finished buttoning her bodice. “This development may be to our mutual benefit, though. Or our mutual demise. Now waddle your butt over to the fire and have a seat. We need to talk.” Cybele regarded her strangely – Gillian realized what the odd expression was. Concern and empathy. “You do realize what you’ve unleashed, yes? And the consequences thereof." The girl did as she was bid and sat down uncomfortably on the edge of a log near the fire. Her face fell. "Unleashed? Um...no. I...I guess I was caught up in the moment." Suddenly Gillian's face brightened. "But I Danced a world into creation and lost my virginity to a demigod! The experience was...glorious." Cybele nodded, a softness warming her cheeks. “It certainly is…” she said in a half whisper. Then it fell again. "I didn't expected to wake up six months pregnant. Do you know what I'll give birth to? A little Shiva?" Cybele handed her the makeshift plate of berries. “Not quite,” she said, returning to the fire and the cooking bird. “This is a spiritual manifestation of the world itself and your connection to it. Or rather, its connection to you. It is still forming as we speak, drawing nourishment from your soul. What you see around you is not the physical. This is the Wake. Or – better put – Undershadow. The girl's eyebrows rose. She popped a berry into her mouth. “The problem is this – you are a Shadow-Dweller, Cherub. And that mortality will doom us both. When your world is truly born, it will feed off your soul in order to connect to the Middle Realm. As you lack a connection to the Pattern, you’ll be drained dry in the process. Unless we do something, you’ll likely end up little more than a Venus of Willendorf that your ‘children’ will worship throughout time.” Her voice lacks any hint of mockery. "There is no telling what will happen to me, trapped as I am in this half-state." Gillian was silent for a moment. She ate the berries automatically, her thoughts elsewhere. "Where is the world you created?" she finally asked Cybelle. "That was why you drew the trump of the World, wasn't it? So you could create your own?" Cybele raised a brow in amusement, “Oh, I’ve created more than one Shadow in my day. They are scattered through the Multiverse. But Shadow Creation is a mere parlor trick for many of the Family. No, I drew the True Trumps in order to create Manifestations. To bring the esoteric into Reality. Shiva is the very essence of Creation. Just as her brother is essence of Destruction. Had you reversed the Trump, you would be in a far more dangerous situation. He is a thoroughly unpleasant fellow, Cherub.” "I didn't know reversing the trump would take you someplace else," Gillian replied, looking at Cybele askance. "So how exactly did I get to Shiva? I remember picturing the card as I looked down at my glowing blue hands and wishing I could leave before you used me to blow everything to kingdom come again. Did you use the image in my head as an actual trump?" “Dworkin taught me that little trick when I was about your age,” Cybele preened. “The skilled Artist can memorize any Trump they’ve created. This process requires time and study, of course. And I assure you, I have not memorized every Trump I’ve draw. Only the True Tarot and the Family. “And I wasn’t about to blow up the room with us in it. That would have been foolish. I simply intended to transform your companions into useful spell components.” She shrugged nonchalantly. "Yep, still a good thing I left," Gillian mumbled. She carefully removed the cooked bird from the fire. Gingerly, she tore it apart and offered Gillian the meatiest pieces. She sucked the flavorful grease from her fingers, “Did you enjoy yourself with her?” Gillian stared at the drumstick, then back at Cybele. "I think I liked it better when you were patronizing and commanding. It was less creepy." Cybele tore some flesh from her portion, talking with her mouth full. “My apologies, Cherub. I become the paragon of benevolence when some randy little minx dooms me to extinction. I do have a predetermined listing of insults I can draw upon, if it will make you feel better.” She sucked the last morsels from the leg bone and smacked her lips contentedly. "I don't know about insults helping me feel better, but they would at least be more familiar. Any ideas on how we connect this world to the Middle Realm without me being sucked dry? And then how I get back to Amber? I have an assignment due tomorrow." Cybele choked on her meal, blinking incredulously. “You truly must reassess your priorities, girl.” She shakes her head, “By the Unicorn’s Balls, you remind me more and more of my sister. And that, Cherub, is not a positive association. At least if you kill me, it will be by your stupidity rather than malice. “Not that this distinction comforts me.” Gillian stared at Cybele, nonplussed. "Isn't the Unicorn female?" Cybele returned a discerning glance, “Didn’t you ever wonder why it is forever wooing virgins? I’m sure the Unicorn would just adore you… ah wait. Nope. Too late.” She tossed the bones into the fire. “We must establish your connection to the Pattern. This shall resolve both your current dilemmas, as well as mine. If I must live a half-life – bound to some swotting milquetoast – in order to live, then so be it. So, we must partake in this ‘Joining’ your associates mentioned.” "No frickin' way!" Gillian shouted, standing up and upsetting the plate of berries. "I am not joining with you and I am not a swotting milquetoast, you...you...you bitch," she finished, not managing to bring to mind a more satisfyingly scathing epithet. Cybele offered a greasy smile, “Hoo-hoo! There’s that fire again. But are you sure you want to be getting so excited? You know. Considering your delicate state.” Gillian’s belly actually felt heavier now. Even with her altered appearance, the medicine ball of flesh tented the front of her dress. She put a hand under her belly, supporting it, and glared at her Other. Cybele stood up, “What choice do you have, Cherub? In a few hours, you’ll be drained dry and that will definitely put a crimp in your assignment schedule. And me? I’ve been dead once and do not relish the thought of returning to that state.” "There has to be another way!" Gillian insisted. She started to pace awkwardly. "This whole world-feeding-off-my-soul-to-connect-to-the-Middle-Realm thing is just a temporary situation, right? Joining with you is, like, permanent. I don't need to join with you. What I need is just a temporary connection to the Pattern--or perhaps some other high power would work, like high sorcery." Cybele stood up and spat into the fire, “Very well. Good luck with that, kid. I’m sure there’s a Pattern somewhere nearby you can Walk. Or waddle, as the case may be. That’d be the expedient answer, as not even you could complete a millennium’s education in the few hours you’ve left.” She gave a wry laugh. “Maybe I’ll come back and pay my respects to whatever you end up as. If it’s even human.” She waggled her fingers and started toward the treeline. "You're bluffing," Gillian declared, chin lowered and fists balled. "You don't want to die again over this, so compromise and help me—us—find an alternative solution." “I do not bluff, Cherub,” Cybele said as soft as razors. “If I must remain bound to Undershadow, then so be it. A half-life in the Wake is better than none. “Because when you forced me from your mind, you dissolved our link as well. You cannot access my mental connection to the Pattern and I cannot physical access your connection to the Middle Realm. Apart, we are trapped in limbo. Only together can we be whole.” Gillian covered her face with her hands, distraught. She stepped toward Gillian, “I know you hate me, Gillian. And I know why – even though you’d never admit it. You desire what I have. The power. The knowledge. The magic. But you know you could become like me. This scares you. But I also saw your wildness last night. And how much you relished that power flowing through you. Stripping away your resolve and allowing the Wyld to consume you. You took pleasure in that abandon. And I dare say you would leap at the opportunity again.” The girl spread her fingers and regarded Cybele through them. "And that is what I'm afraid of," she whispered. "The knowledge and power are enticing, but I'm afraid I won't be able to control them. Or myself." Cybele nodded, “And I certainly have not helped to allay your fears.” The ancient witch knelt down and plucked a long blade of grass – idly running it over her knuckles. “I shall make you this oath, Gillian. I shall provide you with a suitable instructor in High Sorcery and taper my destructive impulses, so that your development will be unfettered by my cruder desires. And should you slip, I shall catch you. Together we shall be the woman I should have become.” She looked up at Gillian, “In you, I see great potential. With my knowledge and blood, you could become even greater than my sister.” Gillian dropped her hands and met Cybele's gaze. After a moment she replied, "Your words are sweet and your terms are agreeable. And I apparently have no choice, if I want to live. I accept your oath." [Gillian] held out her hand to her Other. Cybele smiled and enveloped Gillian’s hand, “Well then, let us begin this new stage in our lives.” The smile withered suddenly and a hungry – predatory – look stirred behind the woman’s wild eyes. Her fingers became an inescapable band. “There may be some initial discomfort,” she said in a frank – almost motherly tone. Her other hand tore open Gillian’s robe and then thrust into her chest. Flesh, blood, and bone gave way as the hand invaded the girl’s body, snaking upward until it cupped her beating heart. There was no pain, only a stinging tightness – as if she’d eaten too much of Cook’s Onion Surprise. The fingers squeezed her heart, the thumb piercing the muscular organ. Gillian looked down at the arm, repulsed surprise on her face. "Wh--?" Only an ugly pink welt marked where Cybele’s arm entered Gillian’s body. No blood. Just seamless flesh. Joined and indivisible. Cybele released Gillian’s hand and cupped her chin. “Hush Cherub. Let it happen.” Cybele’s arm pulsed and rippled like meat passing through a sausage skin. Gillian’s body became tighter and tighter, filling up with the invading presence. Repulsion turned quickly into revulsion. Gillian cried out. As Gillian’s body expanded, Cybele’s body appeared to deflate. Her flesh sloughed loosely on her bones until even her skeleton became rubbery and sagging. A hollow sigh escaped her hanging mouth as her eyes fell back into her head. Inch by inch, she sank into Gillian’s body, adding to the girl’s bulk at a frightening rate. And then with a slurping smack, the last vestiges of Cybele’s body flowed up into space beneath Gillian’s breast, leaving nothing but smooth skin behind. Gillian took several steps backward, gulping air. Her hand shot to her chest, as if to reassure herself that there was no wound, and she swallowed audibly. She felt the sudden urge to vomit. <Cybele?> she thought, hand still protectively over her heart. <Damn you, THAT WAS THE MOST DISGUSTING THING I'VE EVER EXPERIENCED> <Oh, I’m sure you’ll experience worse.> Cybele gave a wry retort. <After all, I have seen your disturbing selection of negligee.> <Not funny> Gillian growled back. <Just because I'm not a slut like—> She cut the thought off before she could finish it, not really knowing what Cybele was like when she was alive, but if Ginger's personality was any indication... <And before you point to my current situation and call me a hypocrite,> Gillian continued, <I'll just point out that I was the one seduced, not the other way around.> <Oh yes. You certainly did put up a noble fight to protect your chastity.> Cybele snorted. The wry tone disappeared beneath a warm – almost approving – laugh. Gillian felt her other hand move over the rounded belly and a wistful purr echoed in her head. <I’d forgotten how pleasing this felt. Other than the incessant need to pee.> The hand returned to Gillian’s control. That was disturbing, her hand moving without her telling it to. What had she gotten herself into? <Now, shall we prepare for your birthing?> Gillian bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on the here and now--there would be time to reflect and lament upon the error of her ways later, after she was safely back in Amber. <What do I need to do?> She felt a gentle nudge from within her mind. <Enough with the doubts and worries, Cherub. It is unbecoming of a Goddess.> Gillian raised a mental eyebrow at the title, but didn't push the issue. <First, stir the fire back to life. Then I want you to enter the forest. I noticed a stand of birch trees a few yards just beyond the tree line. From these, gather several strands of bark and bring them back here. I’ll tell you what is required once we return.> The girl sighed and did as she was bid. After poking at the fire briefly and wrestling another log onto it, she hitched up her skirts in one hand and waddled past the tree line. Cybele waited for Gillian to begin before adding <Now, the realm within you. Have you a name for it?> "Well, no," Gillian replied distractedly as she looked around for the birches. "I'm not even sure what it will be like. I...I think it will be a comforting place, maybe full of books, but I don't really know." As Cybele had mentioned, Gillian discovered a small circle of birch trees a few yards from the tree line. They were old growth and thick strands of white bark were peeling from their trunks. It would take her little effort to fulfill her Other’s request. Cybele laughed softly. <I ask one thing. Have a small tower with a large telescope. I miss observing the celestial tapestry. Although, I doubt any night sky you create shall compare to those of Chaos. But one can hope.> Gillian gave Cybele a small smile. "I'll see what I can do." She pulled strips of the papery bark off the trees and gathered them in her skirt, her thoughts fluttering wildly in her head like birds in flight. One figure hovered in the forefront though, demanding attention, and eventually Gillian relented and faced it: Seabhac. "Crap, what am I going to tell him? 'Sorry for ditching you in the Dark Hour, but I ran away and lost my virginity and got knocked up by a demigod. You're not mad, are you?' "He's going to hate me." Cybele mentally shrugged. <He’ll get over it, Cherub. I once had to inform my lover that I’d murdered her father and used his ashes in a magical binding ritual. Diddling a representation of Creation’s fertility energies is nothing in comparison, I assure you.> Gillian made a you've-got-to-be-kidding face. "Eewww." <Besides, do you seriously believe that you would be his first? Then again, why tell him at all? Honesty in a relationship is like poison.> The girl paused--clearly neither of these lines of thought had occurred to her. "No, you're wrong," she told Cybele as she finished pulling the strip in her hand. "Deceit will poison a relationship long before honesty will." <Fine,> Cybele replied, unconvinced. <Go with the ‘I diddled a hermaphroditic demigod’ thing then. I’m sure that will be a lovely conversation opener on your first date.> It was going to be a difficult discussion no matter how she approached it, and Cybele sitting in the back of her head mocking everything that happened was just going to be the icing on the cake. Gillian frowned. Skirt full of strips, she started back for the fire. "How could you be so expedient with your lover's father? That's terrible." Cybele yawned, <He leered at me once. And he possessed the anatomical parts that I required. I doubt he wished to live after their removal. Shapeshifting only heals so much, you realize.> "I've read that," Gillian replied, refusing to be shocked. She'd had a lot of experience at this having lived with Ginger the past year or so. Her inflection turned emotionless. "Did your lover forgive you?" <No,> Cybele smirked. <But the break-up sex was amazing.> When they reached the dying fire, Cybele directed Gillian to divide and arrange the strips until she had created the Sefirot – leaving the Malkhut position empty. "The Tree of Life? Fascinating..." the girl replied, perking back up. "I've read about it, of course, but haven't delved any deeper than that." The eagerness to delve deeper was apparent on her face. <Now, using the ashes from the fire, I need you to draw a symbol representing the various emanations of your Shadow at each position. Keter the ‘Crown.’ Chochmah, ‘Wisdom.’ Binah, ‘Understanding.’ Chesed, ‘Kindness.’ Gevurah, ‘Severity.’ Tiferet, ‘Beauty.’ Netzach, ‘Victory.’ Hod, ‘Splendor.’ And Yesod, the ‘Foundation.’ As you are the Vessel, you shall represent Malkhut.> "I can only draw symbols that have meaning to me, since I don't know what this world—shadow—will be like, exactly. I hope that will suffice," she stated as she scooped up cooler ash from the edges of the fire into her skirt. At the Keter position Gillian drew an arcane symbol for magic, and at Chochmah an old woman cowled in a robe; at Binah she drew letters and numbers. Chesed was a crude image of her mother, as Gevurah was an image of her father. Tiferet was a unicorn. "Female, not male..." she muttered. Netzach was an "A+"; Hod was a star; and Yesod was three books. Gillian dusted off her hands and surveyed her work. "Now what?" she asked Cybelle. Cybele sounded pleased. <This will do. Now we wait. It shouldn’t be much longer. Look.> Gillian felt her head turning to the south. A distant line of white blocked out the horizon – a swirling fog that inched closer. Her belly rippled and expanded beneath her hands, pressing down on her legs. The ‘child’ within grew increasingly restless, fluttering around within her like a swarm of butterflies. Her Other gave a soothing purr, <Just breath, Cherub. Utilize whatever mediation ritual you like to focus your mind on this task - the birth of your new world.> "What...exactly...is inside of me?" she asked in a small, awed voice. As the wall of fog descended upon the, foxfire began to spark and dance between the ritual symbols. The blue-white glow began increase in luminosity; a warm, soothing light that pulsed in time with Gillian’s heartbeat. Eyes wide, Gillian took her place at the Malkhut position. Cybele continued to offer comforting words, mentally stroking her companion’s hair and shoulders with spectral fingers. Gillian mentally said goodbye to herself and surrendered to the ritual. She had no choice but to wholly trust Cybele in this matter. What would happen, would happen. She breathed in...and she breathed out. The boiling fog consumed the landscape, erasing Gillian’s view. She could smell old parchment and sandalwood on the wind. Distant music and whispers echoed from beyond the grey wall, as well as the splash of a fountain and the calls of exotic birds. And when the fog touched her skin, it felt as silken as her lover’s lips and talented fingertips, wrapping her up in comforting pleasure. The ground beneath her disappeared and she found herself falling without moving. Her skin and muscles and bones faded into insubstantiality, becoming one with the fog, allowing her inner light to empty into the ether, emptying Gillian of everything she’d been until nothing was left. Somewhere in Creation, a shadow was born. And the girl known as Gillian Talbot ceased to be. [continued in Repercussions and Consequences] |
