[Mage-Avalon] SERE Mage
The locals in Phoenix think I'm nice and sane. They see me as a less extreme version of Jimmy, and they don't understand what the Guardians understand when I tell them who my mentor into the Order was. They see a sweet girl, little spacey, who is too earnest sometimes, a bit squeamish sometimes maybe. That's what the eyes of the local Arrow seem to tell me, and what they say to and of me in other timelines and streams of fate.
They do not know the constant endless falling, the eternal sensation of slipping in and out of time and fate and space. They do not see how hard it is to keep it all straight around people who cannot follow the shifting tenses of my perceptions. They will not seem to understand that I am a Guardian of the Veil, with all that entails and do not understand the sacrifice of Wisdom I bring to the table that they may be safe and sound and secret and have the peace to work on their own wisdom and understanding.
I smile while I field strip my gun, checking all the parts and putting it together again in swift and sure motions. They will/would see this moment, this expertise around military hardware as incongruous to the barely out of teenager girl they've met a few times. Around my own Order, as they do/have/will have done/ look a bit startled
Perhaps some of the Arrow, if they thought about it, would understand why it is now, in this moment, I do not have to struggle to keep it all straight. Another oracle would understand where even the Guardians as a whole do not seem to understand. I don't even know if Jimmy understands which hurts sometimes when I see the worry that it will be that moment that I come apart and lose myself again to the streams of time and fate.
I am more than a computer geek. I am more than Jimmy James' little sister. I am more than Abbadon's student. I am a Guardian of the Veil and sometimes I serve as their sniper, turning my old college biathlon sport into a profession that ensures only one person dies so many may live on oblivious.
And I am good enough that there is no struggle because in all times and fates but the most extreme, twisted, and distant there is no end for someone in my scope but death.
Inhale then exhale and hold the lungs still and empty. Sight. Squeeze the trigger with the ball of the finger pad evenly, without jerking, just in the moment between heart beats when the body is at it's stillest.
The Seers come by the dozens. Magic and nimbus and paradox flash around all sides of this bedamned Brigadoon of a house. Around me a bare half dozen other snipers, none as good and all edging away from me during lulls. Even my own Order finds me uncomfortable and for a moment I miss terribly the odd acceptance of my mentorship. Hard to imagine they find Abbadon a distasteful man.
Inside the Acamoth rages and the Arrow flings themselves at it while all those with an ounce of Spirit work to twist its true name - seared into my mind still - to limit its power. Outside the Guardian's continue our bloody work, the work the Arrow should do but always seems to fall to us to try to do right.
And for once, there is no endless falling or confusion. I am Now.
They do not know the constant endless falling, the eternal sensation of slipping in and out of time and fate and space. They do not see how hard it is to keep it all straight around people who cannot follow the shifting tenses of my perceptions. They will not seem to understand that I am a Guardian of the Veil, with all that entails and do not understand the sacrifice of Wisdom I bring to the table that they may be safe and sound and secret and have the peace to work on their own wisdom and understanding.
I smile while I field strip my gun, checking all the parts and putting it together again in swift and sure motions. They will/would see this moment, this expertise around military hardware as incongruous to the barely out of teenager girl they've met a few times. Around my own Order, as they do/have/will have done/ look a bit startled
Perhaps some of the Arrow, if they thought about it, would understand why it is now, in this moment, I do not have to struggle to keep it all straight. Another oracle would understand where even the Guardians as a whole do not seem to understand. I don't even know if Jimmy understands which hurts sometimes when I see the worry that it will be that moment that I come apart and lose myself again to the streams of time and fate.
I am more than a computer geek. I am more than Jimmy James' little sister. I am more than Abbadon's student. I am a Guardian of the Veil and sometimes I serve as their sniper, turning my old college biathlon sport into a profession that ensures only one person dies so many may live on oblivious.
And I am good enough that there is no struggle because in all times and fates but the most extreme, twisted, and distant there is no end for someone in my scope but death.
Inhale then exhale and hold the lungs still and empty. Sight. Squeeze the trigger with the ball of the finger pad evenly, without jerking, just in the moment between heart beats when the body is at it's stillest.
The Seers come by the dozens. Magic and nimbus and paradox flash around all sides of this bedamned Brigadoon of a house. Around me a bare half dozen other snipers, none as good and all edging away from me during lulls. Even my own Order finds me uncomfortable and for a moment I miss terribly the odd acceptance of my mentorship. Hard to imagine they find Abbadon a distasteful man.
Inside the Acamoth rages and the Arrow flings themselves at it while all those with an ounce of Spirit work to twist its true name - seared into my mind still - to limit its power. Outside the Guardian's continue our bloody work, the work the Arrow should do but always seems to fall to us to try to do right.
And for once, there is no endless falling or confusion. I am Now.