thoughtformed | She was such a sweet girl...

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She was such a sweet girl...

[The fuzz of static on the screen resolves itself into a long shot of dark forest: black, sharp-edged trees back-lit by a strange, dark teal luminescence. The forest floor is a layer of sluggishly billowing mist, periodically highlighted by jarring bands of pale, greenish moonlight. It's strangely silent, devoid of any sound, living or non-living. Nothing moves but the low fog.

Abruptly, Aisling drops into the frame alarmingly close to the camera, a figure bleached almost too bright to look at. Her back is to the camera, crouched low in landing. The mist clings to her like children seeking comfort from their mother. She stays stock still, then flashes past, hair snapping like the crack of a dry branch at the change of motion. Suddenly there is nothing but tree shapes and eddying mist seeking to fill the hole left in her absence.

For several long moments, nothing happens. What the heck? Is it over? What was the point?

Somewhere off to the right, the underbrush crackles, and there's a muffled curse. A woman steps into the clearing, a hatchet in her hand, shading her eyes against a stab of moonlight, stirring the mist into agitated eddies. Straightening, the woman brushes her hair out of her face. She's no fictional. Or if she is, she doesn't ever use the Network. An average build, of average height, with a girl-next-door sort of beauty, dressed to go camping. Hunting, actually, given some of her gear.]

Hello? Is someone there?

[Her voice is strident with suppressed fear, painful on the ears and drastically out of place. She doesn't wait for an answer, dropping her voice to a mutter which can still be plainly heard in the tense silence.]

Please, who would be? Hearing things again... Creepy forest--

Of course there is.

[The woman yelps, stepping back and raising the hatchet in a two-handed grip as Aisling materializes across the clearing. Aisling has her arms folded across her chest, sharp little fingers drumming. She's frowning prodigiously at this new interloper. Her eyes glint with a strangely golden gleam in the weird light.

The woman releases a harsh sigh of relief and lowers her makeshift weapon, reverting to a falsely bright, cheery, motherly voice.]

Oh, honey, you frightened me! What are you doing in here?

[Aisling ignores the question. ]

You shouldn't be here.

[The woman walks forward, kicking her way through the mist, oblivious to the hostility radiating from the girl.]

Oh, no, it's all right. I was just looking for some smaller tree to make into firewood.

[The little fingers go still.]

I'm here with my family! Some of our friends go hunting every year, and they asked us to come along this time; me and Tom and our boys. They said the deer are getting scarcer, what with the wolves in here...

[She trails off and pauses, as if caught by the thought. Aisling swings stiffly away from her and the camera. Her trembling is visible, even at a distance.]

Come on, little one, you can come stay with us till morning. We'll find your family then, ok?

[The woman holds out a hand.

Something snaps, almost audible in its intensity.]

I am not a child!

[The words reverberate, heavy as an avalanche, and as fraught with danger.]

I have lived longer than any of you, seen wonders you can't even imagine, watched kingdoms rise and fall, and yet everyone thinks I know so little, that they're better than me.

[Aisling rounds with a snarl like a furious wolf, all sharp teeth and fingernails, somehow seeming taller than the faltering woman.]

You come here, unasked, as if this were your forest, taking, tearing, killing...! How dare you! Would you walk into someone else's home, kill their servants, and leave, butchering the innocents for meat?

N-no...

[The woman backs away a few steps. The fog is rising, cutting off even the trees, enclosing the pair in a roiling, seething wall of mist.]

N-no, no, of course not. Faugh!

[ Aisling wrings her hands in cruel mimicry, then whirls, almost whipping the woman with her hair, and paces toward the camera.]

Pathetic. Can't even evade the truth properly. Even if you did make a bargain, you would break it. Your kind always does. Always! You've forgotten us. Forgotten what it means, forgotten how to address us, how to act. You've forgotten everything we do!

[Aisling paces in quick, short bursts, jerking about to gesture sharply.]

You cut into the forest, pushing us back, continually taking with no giving in return. And you show no remorse. You make no effort to try to apologize. No, you clearly know best. You don't need the old stories. You know exactly what you're doing. And you call me a child?

[The woman tries to find her way out through the mist, but it's as unyielding as any wall, despite being able to sink her arm in up to the elbow. She turns at bay, staring at the girl who has turned to glare at her.]

Who... what are you?

[Aisling stops. That little, bright form curls in on itself a little, trembling. The quiver escalates to shaking as soft laughter begins to rise. Louder and wilder it grows, ringing and echoing in that enclosed space, bouncing from the shifting fog until it almost seems that there are a dozen mad children laughing.

It takes quite some time for it to die down, and when she does finally cut it off, it's with something much like a sob. Aisling turns and, slowly, the camera draws closer till it's focused on her face. She whispers, wind through the leaves, weary.]

I had hoped... I hoped I was wrong. That their deaths meant something. That his defeat would last longer, that the forgetfulness would mean fewer would be drawn to him. That we could live in peace.

[Unfortunately for her captive audience, the woman chooses this moment to gather her courage and speak up.]

Listen, I didn't mean to upset you, and I definitely don't mean you any harm. I just want to get some firewood and take it back to my family. I'll leave you alone.

[Aisling's face hardens, her eyes like chips of golden glass in a face of alabaster. The perfect picture of restrained fury.]

What am I? It's time to remind people. You are called to be witness. I will give you a glimpse of what you have done.

[Turning, she darts to the shifting wall, causing the woman to flinch back out of the frame. White arms make a sharp, double-handed downward sweep, and the mist parts, slowly swirling and diminishing.

There, beyond, where before there had been only stark tree trunks, a path leads toward what are clearly buildings. Tall spires and rounded huts, broken and burnt and desolate, eerie in the silent moonlight.

Slowly, regally, Aisling turns back to the camera.]

The ruins of a great people. Due to your influence. And filth like this will no longer be tolerated.

[She makes a swift movement, vanishing out of the shot. There is a brief shriek from the woman off-screen before the fog closes over and fades into the snow-static of a television on a dead channel.]

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[She takes a deep breath at the title of respect, a slight smile quirking her lips. But it's not the cheerful, carefree smile he had seen before. It was grim, harsh, and quickly flattened to an unforgiving line.]

Centuries of other tactics. Wasted.

[Repaying violence with violence? Not what he would have expected from her, but.. the mindset is one he can understand]

... What is that place? Where are you?

[She laughs cruelly, spreading crimson-tipped hands.]

I am home.

I suppose it's too much to hope for something a little more specific...

[He still looks concerned, and even more so when he sees what he can only assume to be blood on her hands]

Bloody hell..

My lady Aisling.. I can understand the reasons for your.. frustrations but is this truly the way you wish to solve them? Will it not bring further destruction to your forest if you continue down this path?

Ah, but that would be telling. No, it won't be that easy. Ask the Captain. He knows.

[Sometime between the last exchange and this one, she's run a hand through her hair, leaving vivid red streaks through it. She bares teeth grown as sharply pointed as any steel trap.]

Let them try. I won't stand for it any. More.

You surely cannot do this forever..

[A small line appears between his eyebrows as he frowns]

What happens to the forest if it's left without you? Who would protect it then?

[She becomes very still. Even through the video, one can almost feel the aura of fury.]

You question my ability.

Certainly not. You've made your ability quite plain and I'd be a bloody fool to doubt it.

[Arthur shifts where he's seated. He can indeed feel that aura]

Nature is a vengeful mistress, I know that well enough, but.. this.. This destruction, this anger. How long can it be sustained? Every storm has its end.

[She flicks her head, looking off to the side and crossing her arms.]

My people have long memories. And longer lifespans than those who try to prey on us. I will not fail again. I will not.

[That last is spoken in a harsh whisper, almost to herself.]

... Again? What do you mean by that?

[Her lips curl up, like a cat tasting something it dislikes, and a hiss escapes her. The mist creeps up around her, roiling.]

It doesn't matter. It won't happen again.

This has happened before..?

[He's half talking to himself as he says that, thoughtful, though he's keeping one eye on what she's doing..]

No!

[She whirls, fingers clawing, as though she could actually reach him and shake him till his neck snapped.]

It hasn't happened before! Not like this. And it won't happen again. I will. Not. Let it.

[Though he knows she can't reach him, he flinches back, eyes slightly wide]

... What are you going to do?

[She stares into the camera, growling through clenched teeth, every line of her body rigid with emotion.]

Whatever I have to. My forest will not be forfeit. My people will not die. I will not let Crom gain a foothold in my domain.

There's nothing to be done to sway you from this? Please, Aisling.. There must be another way.

[He hesitates, and thinks over what she said]

Who - or what - is 'Crom'?

[She draws back sharply, as though he's hit her, eyes wide and bright. Of all people, she would have thought he would remember. He isn't Ireland, but if he is who he claims, he was close enough and had some of the same beings reside within him. How could he not remember something so vital? She looks suddenly much younger, betrayed and hurt. There is a long moment of silence.]

...The Dark One does not bear describing. Don't name him more than necessary, or you'll draw attention to yourself.

[Arthur looks at her, long and intent. He'd been so small back then, forgive him for not immediately recalling, but the longer he thinks on the name the more it seems familiar and he glances away, a frown twitching at his brow, lips forming silent, hesitating syllables, like a child trying to read an unfamiliar word.

'Crom Dubh'. He doesn't say it, but the moment he shapes the words in a way that's half questioning, his gaze flashes upwards. Aisling isn't the only one who looks younger now]

... I don't understand. What would he be doing here?

[A slow, grave nod.]

The Dark One is everywhere. Feeding on the worship of his followers. Even if they don't know they are following him, if they follow his tenants, it is the same.

Surely.. Surely those unaware can be shown a different path.

And when you have tried gentler ways for decades, and still you watch the knowledge fade and be replaced by ignorance, and yet feed your enemies, you will come to the conclusion that there is no gentler way.

[He closes his eyes for a moment. It's true, he's always been a nation of war, and peace has never really been an option for him, even in modern times, but..]

Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding.

[The man shakes his head]

Humans have such short lives. They forget, but that's why they need you, Aisling. They need you to have the patience and the kindness to teach them over and over so that innocent children don't suffer for the mistakes that their parents make.

[A flash of anger animates her face and she crosses her arms, growling.]

I am trying to give them understanding. I am no bard! I teach the lessons with the tools available to me. I have tried with no success at all.

[This seems to particularly agitate her, as it causes her to jerk her chin sideways. She seizes a lock of her hair and runs her hands through it, smearing it more thoroughly with darkening blood.]

So I will try something new, as all teachers do with thick students. All they have to do is learn and teach their children, as all parents do!

But what lessons will they learn? You'll only breed fear into them, and it won't be the kind of fear that will make them leave you be.

[Arthur looks away, briefly, then back to her, shifting forwards]

They won't revere you, they'll come after you with more force, in greater numbers, they will destroy everything you've tried to teach them to protect if you do this. Please, Aisling..

[She bares her teeth - suddenly there seem to be more of them, in a wider mouth than ought to really be possible - and leans in.]

Let them try. I am no weakling, despite popular opinion.

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She was such a sweet girl...

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