[img]http://i1082.photobucket.com/albums/j362/LillianThorne/Gypsy_zps986e5bd2.png[/img]

There is a moment before the storm when the quality of light changes, seems to almost brighten just a second before the clouds swallow it up. Sometimes, that moment is lost, never noted, other times it is seen and wondered at. Bess stood, her arms around her mother, staring into the ruin of the home she’d ever known and watched as the light changed. She felt her skin prickle and her tummy do little flip-flops like when she knew the fairies were nearby. The light lied, it told her things were bright when it was exactly the opposite. She struggled against her Mama, wanting to pull away, to see where the fairies were but her mother held her tight, needing comfort more than giving it. The tall man was there, her fiddle player only he had no fiddle now. He was holding her mother and though her Mama’s golden head was leaning on his shoulder she still needed to feel her daughter. 

It was maddening and Bess continued to squirm, certain that she needed to get loose, she needed to see and witness the arrival of the Fairies. She couldn’t say this though, her Mama made her promise she wouldn’t tell people about the fairies, for her own sake her Mama said. Finally with a great big yank she pulled free and she heard her Mama’s cries increase, her now free arms slipping around the fiddler. Bess ignored the small bit of jealousy that flashed inside her. It was stupid, she liked the fiddler, but still it was too easy for her Mama to fill her arms with someone else even though Bess had been wanting to be free. She didn’t have to make sense after all. 

She stumbled past the ring of Travelers and looked around, her eyes narrowed squinting which sometimes helped her see the Fairies as they danced from Shadow to shadow, slipping in and out of people. They didn’t often linger in people which was good, that made her skin crawl when they squatted inside people like they did in Myra or her new bestest friend Luca who wasn’t creepy any longer. They were there and she felt her heartbeat double when she tried to count them. She could count really high, almost too all the stars in the sky. So what if she always grew bored or sleepy before she finished, that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it! There seemed to be more of the shadows than she’d ever seen before. Some of them seemed a little ragged, like that well used cloth Mama cleaned the flue with, black and tattered. For now they seemed to be teeming around the people who were moving towards the show area pausing to watch as the Innkeeper wept and then moving on. The Fairies seemed content to grin at her and touch the people passing. People shivered and snapped at each other, the jostling increased a little and the fairies smacked their lips and danced. Bess shivered and looked around for help. 

Before she could find it a commotion came, a knot moved through the crowd and the villagers parted before it until she could see the face of the Sheriff a dour man who smelled to often of whiskey, a man who had once wondered if her Mama might like a new husband. A man who hadn’t been happy about her decision but who had occasionally crept out of her Mama’s Inn really early some mornings still wearing the same clothing. He hadn’t done it for a while but Bess never forgot and had been meaning to ask about that. It would have to wait. She didn’t like the look that crossed Jonah Pike’s face when he looked at Drust the wonderful as he held her Mama. It was tight, it was angry and it only got worse when one of the fairies climbed up his back, jumped into the air and dove into him like the village boys did to the pond in the summer. 

He wasn’t alone, the man or the fairies. Bess recognized the men, his sometimes deputies which was a title that meant only that they occasionally got to feel like they were important, or so her Mama had said when one tried to bully her once. Each one of them was being ridden by a fairy. Bess felt her blood run cold and she turned and ran back towards her Mama, towards the Fiddle man. She tugged at her Mama’s sleeve and at the wrist of Drust. 

“Run!” she hissed. “Run, the Fairies are here!” 

But she was too late, she knew it even as she said it. A dull murmuring had followed the men and it only grew as they passed through the milling crowd as word spread. Finally Bess could hear what they said. The priest was dead, one of the village girls was dead and the fiddler man had done it. 

They pushed through the crowd and those that fought were pulled away, pinned and held if needed. 

“No!” Bess yelled as the people she’d known all her life, driven by the fairies she’d always feared began to push and jostle the people she’d come to love. Her Mama was shouting, demanding an explanation and Jonah was giving it. People dead, fiddle strings, blood and talk of hangings. Her Mama was fierce but not more so than the friendly Ogre who let loose a roar that made everyone step back. He charged forward and Bess watched with fascinated horror, certain she was going to see something interesting, but he never made it. The shadow ridden people surged in between him and the Sheriff and though he struggled his face turned grey and she watched as he clutched at his chest and stumbled to the ground, dropping from view. 

“No!!!! Father!!!” yelled the tiny cake maker and though Bess couldn’t see her she watched as people between where she’d last seen the tiny woman and where the Ogre had fallen were jostled and shoved aside. 

It got confusing after that, very confusing. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as Bess would have thought, it was terrifying and in the end Drust was dragged off in chains surrounded by so many of the villagers the only reason Bess could see him was because he stood a head taller than them. But worst of all, her Mama was taken too. She wouldn’t let go of Drust and had cursed so loudly, so long that they had taken her too. Bess had heard pain in her Mama’s cries but hadn’t been able to see what happened to her. She only knew when the cries cut off and stopped. 

Then it was over, all over and she stood before her ruined home with the remains of the circus standing around her, some furious, some in shock and at least one of the weeping. But not louder than Bess.

“Mama!!!!” she screamed, her small fists tight her heart breaking as all around her the fairies laughed and visibly grew fat.

[b]Vandilo[/b]

Flashes of memory passed before Vandilo’s eyes like staccato bursts of lightning. The images of his father being dragged away to the gallows, and the mob that was now spiriting his best friend to a similar fate, melded together to produce a singular flow of dismay unlike any Vandilo had yet known.

Still dressed in his performance costume, V rushed the mob, trying desperately to reach Drust. Several of the Sheriff’s deputized thugs fought against him, and blows were exchanged. With his practiced agility, V managed to land several ferocious strikes, and likewise was able to avoid some of the sloppier ripostes from the so called “law” men. In his fists was a quaking ferocity borne upon the wings of desperation, but even with the collective might of his other Traveler brethren, the townspeople were simply too numerous to battle through.

For Vandilo, the fight truly ended when he saw the mighty form of Abe stumble and fall, clutching at his chest in pain. He cried out to him, yelling the patriarchs name through the gathering swarm of the gloom spirits. In that moment, distracted, Vandilo felt a heavy fist strike his face, just below his left eye. Stars burst within his vision and he stumbled, trying to twist to his assailant, before at last falling into the mire of the street. The cacophony of screams and yells merged into a distant, nauseating buzz, and V fought back the bile that threatened to spew from his throat.

Eventually, his vision began to sharpen into focus, and the fog of his senses lifted. Vandilo was able to push himself from up from the mud, and as he looked through the shuffling chaos, he tried to take stock of his surroundings. He saw Abe, still lying on the ground, several yards from him. To his eyes he seemed alive and conscious, but Vandilo could not say for certain. His head swept left and right as he made a shaky move to stand. A new wave of nausea found him, and he stumbled once again, bumping into a villager as he did. The woman shoved back at him in fright, and somehow Vandilo managed to keep his feet.

With his head pounding, V willed himself to move towards Abe, and he began shoving through the crowd towards him when a distinct cry found his ears. He recognized it instantly, and he turned to his left to see Bess wailing for her mother. She was mere feet from him, and Vandilo bent down to sweep the child into his arms. He pressed her tightly to him, and the feeling of her pounding heart against his chest sent a new surge of adrenaline into his veins.

Vandilo held a protective hand on the back of her head, before he spoke into the girl’s ear. “Bess, we’ll get her back. We’ll get your mother back, I promise. We’ve got to get somewhere safe. I need you to be brave for me Bess, can you do that? Be brave for your magician?” As he spoke the words, he did not know if he was saying them for her benefit, or to buoy his own sinking heart.

Still holding Bess tightly, Vandilo made his way towards Abe, and as he did, he caught sight of Edimér and Chavi. He called out to Eri. “We’ve got to get out of here!” As he spoke his eyes went wide with a thought, and he looked frantically about as at last he made it to where Abe lay. “Has anyone seen Floure? Where’s Floure?” Vandilo cried out as he knelt beside their fallen father.

[b]Floure[/b]

Floure danced and twirled taking children by the hand until they grew dizzy. She giggled as they laughed. Her feet tapping the ground and her body moved in the familiar sway of the Traveler dance. To the observer the dance seemed to have no structure and none of the moves were repeated more than once. To the dancer it was an intricate performance of memory and grace. But then amidst all of the townspeople Floure was overcome by a sudden dizziness. It was not of her dancing as she had practiced it many times before. A nauseating feeling was spreading through her and her stomach turned and twisted as it always did when.........

Oh no....

She looked around for her family, panic staring to well inside her. The children were tugging at her and asked why they stopped dancing. The feeling got worse and after a while she struggled to stay standing. She lowered herself to the ground to sit. The hot panic was making her feel like she had a fever, her skin running hot and cold at the same time. She tried to concentrate on her breathing to try and will the pain to go away. They were behind this, the misery spirits. These were the feelings they brought upon her. They disoriented her senses and never failed to make her feel sick, but their weapon became hers and she could use it against them. She would always know when they were coming and they were getting closer still.

Only what the young fortune teller had not foreseen was the man approaching her from behind. She didn't have the chance to react and he pinned her do the ground forcefully, knocking the air from her lungs. It left her breatheless and she idly hoped he had just pushed her down by accident because she didn't want to face what would surely follow, but when he grabbed her arms he neglected to cover her mouth and she screamed. She kept screaming terrified of what he was going to do. It was too late to put on a mask of fearlessness, he'd already seen her weakness. Still something stirred within her and obliged her to fight back.

She spat at him and pushed letting out a grunt. He went for her throat and she could see it in his eyes. He was no longer a man. Floure kept struggling and did the only thing she could, pray.
I beg you my Ancestors and Gods, please see me through this. My family needs me and I need them.

[b]Bess[/b]

Bess fought and kicked in Vandilo’s arms for a minutes, hysterical and terrified that the strong arms that had snatched her up were the same sort that had snatched up her Mama and dragged her away. But his word, his kindness broke through the panic and stilled her scrawny limbs. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck with surprising strength.

“I can’t!” she wailed in response to his request for bravery. “I can’t be brave without her, Mama was my strength and they took her from me!” and then suddenly her whole little body went rigid and she pointed off to a seemingly empty bit of street.

“They took her! They did, the fairies did. They squat inside people like toads but I can see them and I saw them take her and I’m going to get her back! Her and my Wizard and then we are going to leave them all behind!” The raw rage in her voice was painful to hear and she began to struggle and wriggle and slip from Vandilo’s arms, slippery as a greased ferret. 

[b]Chavi[/b]

She didn’t remember getting through the crowd yet somehow, inexplicably she had. One moment she was standing near her brother and the woman she didn’t want to like and the next there was a mob and she was pushed back. Her tiny size making her easy to buffet around. She was helpless as her brother was taken from her, to tiny to fight back like the Innkeeper had. Whose ferocity on her brother’s behalf despite the concussion made Chavi reconsider her dislike. Still Chavi tried to stop the mob, for all the good it did her. She shouted, clutched at clothing and pounded with her little fists, all to no avail. It was only when her father bellowed and stumbled that something inside her snapped. 

“Papa!!!” she screamed with as much despair as Bess’s similar cry. Nothing mattered, nothing registered to the tiny woman until she was by his side, lifting his giant head from the ground and resting it on her lap as she called to him. She paid no mind to the more than half dozen people she had somehow knocked over on her rush, her whole world focused on the gray face of her father. 

“Please Papa, please….” She whispered as she pressed two fingers to his pulse, held her breath and prayed. His pulse was thin, thready and made her own heart twist painfully in her chest. He was alive, she reminded herself even if she knew it was still dicey whether he would stay that way or not. 

“He’s alive.” She said aloud just to hear the words, to send them up to the Ancestors to give them weight that would make them stick. It wasn’t her Papa’s time. 

“Papa you stay with me, you just stay with me. You need to talk to Edimér, you need to stand there at the Runestone with us. Please.” 

She looked up at Vandilo arrived with the screaming child and looked up at him with a face pale and tear-streaked just as the girl began to twist and wriggle away.

[b]Edimér[/b]

For one unnerving, never-to-be-forgotten horrific moment, Edimér was paralyzed with indecision as the grounds exploded into a cacophony of shouts and screams, anger and accusations. His brother Drust went one way, chained and dragged - and then almost as horrific, the shadow-born villagers grabbed Maggie as well when she fought them as valiantly as a wildcat. Murder? Drust!? It was simply insane, unimaginable, The chaos was as palpable as his dogs' desire to throw themselves into the fray, even little Opal, and it was only by a towering force of will that Eri kept them from turning a mob into the start of a bloodbath.

When Abe's bellow cut through the air, a bellow every bit as terrifying in its fury, unmanning grown men all around him; as his great playful roar had sent little boys giggling and screeching with joy so many years ago - and no more than an hour earlier. But when the man who'd become the only father he'd ever known, the father of his dear brother and his beloved Fae, collapsed to the ground? Chavi had disappeared, her tiny form swallowed by the crowd, and Edimér damn near panicked, his eyes wide as his heart was suddenly torn in two...

In the end, it was Vandilo's choice that freed him to make his own. And as his fiery friend took on the whole damned mob if he could, Edimér sprinted toward the spot where Abe had fallen. He fell to his knees beside the man, opposite his pretty Fae with her tear-streaked cheeks and wide, wet eyes that just raked his heart. Abe's skin was pale, bloodless, and for a moment he despaired until Chavi said he lived. If she said this was a true thing, then Edimér could not hold a doubt that it was. And perhaps it was his own overwhelming grief that kept him from ever considering the idea that her words may have been every bit as much desperate wishful thinking than a real stab at truth.

"No, no V I haven't seen Floure yet," Eri said as he lay the tips of his fingers against the side of Abe's neck, fingers falling to his wrist to feel what he might for the beat of that mighty heart - though worried eyes scanned the crowd futily even as he worked.

But Bess' struggles brought him back, and the young man shook his head swiftly. "Bess, please - we're going to go get them!" He'd dropped all pretense of addressing her as the Queen of the Rabbits, and only spoke to her now for the willful, terrified child she truly was. "We leave none of our people behind, or let them go - not ever! And your mother too Bess, your mother too. I swear it. But for now please... Luca? Luca!"

Eri called to the boy, beckoning him over, addressing him with all the solemnity of another adult. He could only pray that Luca's demeanor might reach where the admonitions of adults could not, and give the girl a measure of peace just long enough to see to Abesoloma. "Please, over here," he still managed with a small, tight smile. "Sit with Bess just a moment so we can see to Abe."

In the next instant, his attentions turned to Jasper who, along with his small 'pack' of canine performers, made a protective ring about the remaining Travelers. "Go... Navid! HAI!" Hurt or no, beside Chavi there was no single better healer nor herbalist to be found, he knew. Pearl had managed to insinuate herself beside her beloved Chavi, great mahogany eyes looking up to the young woman, her bulk pressed reassuringly against the young woman's legs. Beryl stood beside Vandilo, and Bess, his wide bully head trying to insinuate itself against Bess, his preternatural calm against her young, terrified emotions.

And little Opal curled against Abe's side, whining softly as she raised her head to lay against his belly. Edimér looked to Chavi, meeting her doe-eyed gaze with a grim smile that tried for reassurance before he turned toward the fallen giant. One hand slipping gently behind Abe's thick neck now, he bent toward the man's face, looking over that much loved visage for any sign that he was still conscious, somehow.