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Rain will fall and trees will grow
And we will be lovers again.
The end of the song was a repeat of the chorus, broken up and sung in
passionate roundels. Cory's voice soared over the chanted refrain of rain will
fall, trees will grow, aching with the promise of hope and the heartbreak of
loss as Green and Bracken called Corinna back to the land of the living. The
fey in the audience Green's fey, at least caught the chanted refrain and
repeated it, and Renny's voice warbled up with Cory's in harmony,
intertwining, echoing, repeating the pain and the joy of love lost and found.
The roundel built, and rose, and the emotion in the room crested, a giant wave
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of anguish, grief, and rebirth, and as their skin prickled with passion, their
power fed by anger and love and sex and emotion burgeoned, grew, lifted,
moved, heaved the pitch of the room to breathlessness, and everyone on stage
raised their wounded wrists and released their bindings, and everyone off
stage with a similar wound did the same, and Bracken finally, finally,
answered the call of all that freely offered blood.
The blood lifted into the air, hundreds of delicate fountains, bearing the
bindings aloft with it, and rode the power that Green, Cory, and all those who
followed them had raised of their free will and devotion. The blood and silk
flew in a whirlwind to the beat of the chanting (and rain will fall and trees
will grow and rain will fall and trees will grow) and Cory's voice flew over
the soaring, plummeting wall of sound (she will have lovers, you will have
lovers, I swear I will love you) tying it together in a lush climax of beauty
and power and pleasure and pain and blood and binding. The whirlwind of blood
and power intensified and blew, the power turning the blood white then clear
as the cleansing pain freed it of color (and rain will fall and trees will
grow) and Cory's call ascended the whirlwind of sound and power and glory,
until Green and Bracken clasped her hands, and the hands on either side of
them until everybody on stage was bound in her soaring, ascending, crescendo
of power (I'll love you forever)
In the midst of the crescendo there were shrieks, the rent ripping voices of
hawks deprived of their prey, as several huge Avians attempted to crash
through the wall of power and sound created by Green, by Cory, and by the
blood and force of all those who loved them. (I swear I'll have lovers) The
birds hurled themselves against the field of power, breaking claws and
bruising wings and not falling because the field itself bore them aloft until
the song rose to its culmination and Cory's voice shredded in crescendo, (We
will be lovers& )
Again!
At the crash of the finale, of the final wailed word, the whirlwind of blood
and binding flew out, transformed, blowing through the entire assembly, Mist's
elves, Green's people, like summer wind through a cotton dress, penetrating
their skin, their flesh, their bones, their hearts, their souls, and leaving
behind a mark, a sweet taint of Green's love, that began to force it's way
through their skin.
For those who didn't love Green already, that mark came at an excruciating
price. As the cries of pain began to issue from Mist's folk, the Avians, who
had been beating themselves against that wall of power ripped through it
abruptly, changing shape and falling, naked, bleeding from the tattoos that
covered their entire bodies and now rode their flesh instead of feathers.
Green was fairly certain these Avians would never change forms again unless he
willed it, but they were not his primary concern at the moment.
"Goddess!!!" Mist pleaded, and Morana began to shriek, and Green stood at the
forefront of his people and cried "Silence!" In the same great, carrying voice
he had used to keep the vampires from killing the were-folk, and he was very
greatly rewarded when their voices stopped immediately.
Mist tried to speak, coming from his group of fey, opening his mouth while he
watched in horror as Green's mark wound its way up the skin of his arm. He was
fighting it everybody in his group was fighting it, and blood was seeping
through his sleeve as the mark rent itself in his skin. But as horrified as he
was, his leader had commanded silence, and no noise would come from Mist's
mouth as he worked it in futility. Green watched, snarling in joy and anger
and triumph, savoring the moment in parts of him that had nothing to do with
sex and healing and everything to do with revenge.
"Wondering what's happening to you, are ye, Mist my darling?" he ground out,
trying and failing to keep his breathing in check.
Mist nodded, mutely, still not able to fight the compulsion of silence.
"It's my mark, dearest. My mark, which my people put on their bodies
willingly. Well, you're mine now. I've just seized your territory and your
power and my mark is riding your body, and the bodies of those who followed
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you." He pitched his voice so the assembly could hear. "If you want it to stop
hurting, my people, and to not monopolize your lovely flesh, you simply need
to accept me as your leader. Voila no pain, no blood, no rent flesh, and a
much smaller wound can we understand, yes?
And with that question, their tongues were loosened, but their voices when
they spoke to each other, were subdued. There were suddenly a number of sighs,
and for about half of Mist's number the mark worked a simple design on their
skin and the pain ceased to be. For others there were howls of pain as the
tattoo ripped its way up their bodies, rending their flesh and ripping their
blood from their skin.
"Why did you do this?" Mist asked, face taut with pain as he fought the
wreaths of leaves and roses battling across his skin.
"Do you see these people?" Green asked, gesturing to the performers behind
him, and to the others in the hall who had come there willingly, and his voice
shook, and he raised it to reach the assembly of those he now possessed. "Do
you see them!
There were several nods, and Mist met his flaming emerald eyes with eyes the
colors of shadows in fog. "Yes, old lover, I see them, he murmured. The flow
of blood from his hurts eased a little, as though acknowledging Green's place
in his past was enough to ease the struggle inside him.
"These people have shed their blood for me of their own free will." His voice
was hammer and razor intense, shaking with emotion. "These beautiful,
wonderful, amazing people have marked themselves for me, of their own free
will. You are older than me, and have been royalty when I've only been your
kept concubine, and this one lesson you have never learned. Blood and love
given with free will is far more powerful than anything stolen or constrained,
ever." He looked over his shoulder, and saw Cory, her eyes shining with freely
wept tears and pride for him. Arturo was so fierce looking he resembled one of
those fearsome paintings found on Aztec ruins, and Grace, maternal Grace, had
her fangs out in triumph. Bracken was covered in sweat, with smears of the
blood he had conjured on his face, and it made him look pagan and terrifying,
and so did they all.
"They love me," Green finished simply. "And I keep them safe. It's the world's
simplest and most profound promise, and you violated it in so many ways& " He
gave up the fight against his own tears, and allowed them to fall. "Adrian,
Mist. Why send Sezan to kill Adrian, when Adrian was doing you no harm in all
the world?
"He was trash!" Morana shrieked, rushing for Green in a burst of temper. Mist
backhanded her with a sudden, shocking brutality.
"So are you, he said quietly. "But you're one of mine, and I've tolerated
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