Prologue to Caged Heart / FWCs
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|Mon, 08-29-2005 - 1:42am|
Okay--- Here's goes!
This represents about two-thirds of what I see as the finished piece. I trust that I show 'some' progression in writing technique and development.
All input welcome!
Word Count: approx. 1340
The Last Heartbound
The Forbidden World Chronicles
by L.L. Abbott
The Traverse compound buzzed with activity. Members of the band’s road crew were in and out of the main house carrying equipment, instruments, and luggage to the caravan of trucks and busses parked out front. The band’s long-awaited Caged Heart compilation hit the stores only last week and they are readying to set out on their West Sector tour; ending a lengthy hiatus shrouded in mystery and controversy.
Upstairs in her apartment, Perrie Stevens packed the last of her own travel needs. Two of her personal roadies entered the outer room as she folded a couple of camisoles and placed them in a carryall.
They picked up the steamer trunk and heavier luggage. “Anything else?” one called into the bedroom.
“One more trip.” Perrie replied.
“Bus, or truck?”
“Bus.” She called back.
Perrie cringed as she heard the trunk being knocked against the door frame as they made their way out into the hall. She carried a garment bag and carryall over and set them down just outside her bedroom door. On ther way back to the dressing table, Perrie looked around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
She stopped at the bed when the brownish tiger-stripped cat—lying upon an ivory brocade comforter, folded-down at the foot of the bed—called out for attention. Perrie took a moment to rub Queenie’s cheeks; but, when she stopped, all too soon, the petite feline trilled melodically. As Perrie bent to sit on her heels, Queenie stretched her lithe neck—her long black whiskers lurched forward—and each met the other nose to nose. Perrie couldn’t help but smile as Queenie’s equally long and swoopy eyelashes tickled at her face.
Having been one of Perrie’s protectors and constant companions during her sojourn here, Queenie’s task had now come to an end. “I will miss you little one.” Perrie whispered. The purring grew more audible as Perrie cupped her hand over Queenie’s delicate face, ran it down her back and along her silky, plume of a tail. Reluctantly, Perrie rose to resume her packing and with whiskers drawn back to the sides of her face, Queenie laid her head down between her forepaws in a solemn resolve.
Perrie gathered and deposited the last of her hand baggage out by the others. As she turned one last time, Perrie surveyed the room’s lush surroundings. After her release from the hospital, band members moved her into this suite to convalesce, Perrie would miss the comfort and security this place had afforded her. Joining Traverse on tour meant the loss of the most precious to her, of all gifts, privacy.
Prior to her arrival, Traverse’s Frontman had kept the suite in a constant state of waiting and had it furnished specifically to known Perrie’s taste and interests. In the premeditated anticipation of her needs, the entire apartment—which included a design studio and the White Room where she wrote the forthcoming novel, The Last Heartbound—had been decorated in period antiques. The walls were papered in a rich ivory and muted floral print that gave warmth to the room. The bedroom was dressed with the most ornate of walnut and burl wood furniture, along with the most lavish battenburg lace, silk and crochet bedclothes, he could find. And, the verdant bedroom garden had been fashioned to bring the outdoors in until she was well enough to walk those of the courtyard below.
Distracted by the warm breeze wafting in thru the French doors, Perrie made her way across the room. The tonal ivory and silk embroidered drapery billowed softly and brushed at Perrie’s leg as she walked out onto the balcony. She walked past the wicker chaise and stopped to rest her hands upon the balustrade. Swirls of fog lingered in the shadows of the grounds and a hint of salt rose up from the bay. The terra-cotta tile felt cool underfoot as Perrie stood and let the warmth of a new day caress her. Loose wisps of auburn hair fluttered about her face.
As she stared across a cloudless autumn sky, Perrie drew her right hand drew across her breastbone. Her fingertips traced languorously at the circular indentation and scar left by a would-be assailant. Nearly a year to the day since the shooting, a scar left by the surgical removal of the projectile, and fragmented bone, was all but hid by the couture bustier of linen and fine lace. Up until this morning, she’d kept them hidden. Today, Perrie chose to wear her scars.
Taken aback by a sudden pang to her chest, Perris let out a soft grunt. As she closed her eyes and drew a now clenched hand, fisted to her heart, Perrie inhaled deep and released a long, hard-drawn breath. There were three other Heartbounds engaged in the day’s goings-on, somewhere throughout the compound and all were feeling exceedingly anxious. What a Heartbound suffers is increased upon the others ten-fold and on this day, it grew in intensity the closer it got to actually hitting the road.
In an attempt to refocus on the moment, Perrie exercised her breathing to a slower pace and concentrated on disconnecting from the others; but, given the gravity of their circumstance, her heart remained unsettled. Truth be known, she didn’t really want to and, having been caught up in her own private thoughts, Perrie couldn’t ignore how much of her own angst factored in to the emotions this particular day fostered.
Remembering the warmth upon her face, Perrie opened and fixed her eyes—long marked by its fire—to the mid-morning sun. Feeling the heat envelope them, she watched as the sky began to change to its truer affect. Something that went unnoticed by the masses, unless they baulked at their societal conditioning and looked, eyes wide, upon the sun. Perrie watched the yellow-orange orb radiate into a rosy-pink that spread vast into the outermost atmosphere of brilliant blue. A color combination utilized by the Allied Bands—primarily as cover art and a key piece of the puzzle during her Awakening.
‘Good morning, Our Daughter. My Daughter...’ The most ancient of the FirstOnes greeted.
Of all that could have VoiceThought a greeting, Perrie had not expected his. Waited for— always; but, not expected. As she closed her eyes once more, a slow-forming smile broadened across her face. Perrie welcomed his Touch with the greatest of affections.
‘You have done well Dellasseea N’Syis.’
Tears welled behind her eyelids and Perrie lowered her head out of a residual of orchestrated shame. To remind her that none of what she survived was of her doing, Perrie felt his ethereal hand under her chin; lifting her eyes back upon him.
As the instigator the search and rescue of her true self, the Old One had exacted an extraordinary coming together of The Ancients. The FirstOnes. The Primal Elements of all that is. Unfortunately, the ground rules set down by The Gathering denied him direct contact with any of the Awakened. Accepted upon one condition--- though any of the FirstOnes could, the Old One would not allow the re-bonding of those bound to the heart of Dellasseea N’Syis. He would not allow those in control of her current circumstance to sully the purest of intentions by their darker precepts.
Perrie’s first experience with the Old One’s limited role in her Awakening, was the re-bonding of her true-self’s heart, to that of her Protectoriot’s. Followed, in time, by her being re-bound to the three Heartbounds known by their adoring fans as Traverse.
The intervals between his sole responsibilities were intolerably long. When Perrie stood and held the point of her origin in sight, the Old One could not help but speak. And today of all days, as she launched her book signing tour in conjunction with the Caged Heart tour, she cherished the wisdom of his consult.
Still have to weed through the material for a 'brief' flashback -- followed by their departure from the compound.
"Create your own myth." ~Rumi
Pearls of Wisdom http://members.tripod.com/heartsong2000-ivil/
The Forbidden World Chronicles~~~~
The Website: http://members.tripod.com/heartsong2000-ivil/theforbiddenworldchronicles/
The Blog: http://theforbiddenworldchronicles.blogspot.com
"We are each other's harvest...we are each other's magnitude and bond." -Gwendolyn Brooks