* Calimiel, in mist form, pondered. She twisted vaguely as a moth with tattered wings, a venemous vapor struggling against an ill wind. Kenelm ... what if he went to Father to ask about the prisoners? No, that must not happen, not now! Calimiel would shadow her brother's every move. Though blind, Calimiel could sense the location of the living and the dead according to the strength of the pull she felt from the direction of the particular being on her mind. *
* At the first sign that Kenelm's presence was moving in a direction dangerous to her plans, at the first plaintive-stringed note or piteous voice moving towards Father, she would pounce. Distract him. And oh, Calimiel knew how. The harp. Take his harp, and Brother would be hers to command. Destroy his harp, place it beyond his reach, throw it outside the boundaries of the Castle grounds, so that it would be forever banished from his touch ... But could she take such a step? *
* Anna and Celumëomaryu could battle through song for the weaker of the two women left alive. Calimiel had first pick, and had chosen the stronger female. The Butler would take the remaining male. Mothlike, Calimiel was drawn towards the light. Wanting to see ... *
[ December 25, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
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