IC: Time for a break
Alfred sat in that empty house, staring at the mirror for what seemed like eternity. This small house, his home for almost two years, felt as empty and lifeless to him as the gold shirt he wore on his chest. He used it now lie he used his tools, as a disguise and a sham. It served his lies well, and provided him shelter when he needed it. But it wasn't home, not anymore.
Not that it ever really was home to me.
He was nervous, Alfred hadn't taken a true vacation in nearly ten years. Sure, there were times when he took a few days off or relaxed for a week and took it easy...but he was always on the job. He used his Masks like a lifeline, hiding behind one or the other for most of his adult life. They were just as much a person as Alfred was at this point, and locking them away was not the easiest thing he'd ever done. But he needed the break, he needed the month off. Alfred had been stretched thin, spread over a muffin far too many times till the butter of his soul was barely tasted in each bite.
I've clearly gone mad, I'm making food metaphors.
Michael stood up, looking at himself in the four-way dressing mirror. Each section was 7 feet tall and two feet wide, enough to encompass a regular man and to allow him to see himself from all sides in each jointed reflection. For Alfred, they held a special meaning. This is where he went to unburden his soul, and to seek the answers in his mind. Today was not such a good day for that, however.
Directly in front of him Alfred saw Mike, the compassion-less solider. His eyes would remain locked with Alfreds for the barest of moments before scanning the others. Guns were in his hand, the flack jacket unkempt but functional, the jaw firm and unyielding. "Your making a tactical error Sir. You cannot afford to take shore leave from this mission." The voice was cold, compassion-less and stern.
To his left, Mikal slouched and leaned against the mirror frame. His clothing was old and forgin, the tips of his fingers stained black with ink and red form paper cuts. He adjusted his narrow glasses, giving Alfred a piercing stare that seemed to cut deep within his mind. Mikal gives a weazing cough, covering it with his hand, before spitting in disgust. "You show weakness when you should show strength. Your not thinking properly, not reading the prophecy and tomes. Come back into the study, we have so much research to do..." Mikal's voice was slimy and moist, like ooze slowly crawling over your skin.
To his right, the always professionally groomed George stood. He had a slight smile, as if knowledgeable on hidden secrets and inviting features. But there was a passion, an intensity in those cold eyes of his that burned into Alfred like lasers. His perfectly crisp shirt and properly seamed pants gave hint to his impatience and displeasure, but no matter how threatening he appeared Alfred had to admit that George had some kind of inner inspirational soul that made him yearn to listen and follow George's every whim like a parish member listens to their Priest. "You know this could potentially undo everything we've done. Everything I've done for you could crumble." His voice is warm, like a fire that threatens to start your own passions to serve him.
Behind him, stood the one man who'd had Alfreds back ever since the Galahad incident. He knew Sparkles intimately, Alfred knew what those pouty hazel eyes could accomplish and the distracting image of that shimmering chest hair. He also knew how Sparkles would appear now, still unearthly beautiful but with a profound sorrow. He knew if he looked in those eyes, he wouldn't be able to resist the draw to hide behind them again. "Come on sweetykins...you don't need to do this! You can stay all snuggly and safe in our arms, and you'll always be cared for darling. Don't be such a sour puss..." He could hear that feminine gay touch highlighting Sparkles voice, the strangled and held back sob swallowed in that throat.
"Listen...all of you. you know why I'm doing this. You know what's at stake. Everything we've all worked for could be undone, could be destroyed if I burn out. I could lose that core of my being, and then you'd all go with me." Alfred curls his fists tightly into a ball and he turns slowly, glaring at them all in turn (with his heart skipping a beat when he gazes at Sparkles). "I need to focus on what's important to me, to realign my soul. If I don't do this, I'll never be a Guardian again. I'll never accomplish my place in the progression of souls, I'll leave the diamond wheel unturned and worst yet...I'll fail my loved ones." His eyes mist up a bit, and his teeth bite down hard into his lip to resist the urge to tear up in frustration.
"Oh please...this is another fad. Like slap bracelets, or pogs. Call me when your ready to get back to work Alfred, this pathetic display is keeping me from my studies." Those mildew filled words drip from Mikal, as he pulls the curtain down hard covering his mirrored doorway. "Whom ever heard of a Guardian crying...hrmp."
"Now now Alfred, lets look at this rationally. The more time you take off, the harder it will be to get back into the swing of things. And your not even doing this for the right reasons, Sally was right about love..." George speaks softly, as if one used to bringing roaring flames from a long dead coal.
Alfred spins and snarls at him, pointing a finger in frustration. "That is the WRONG attitude to have with me George! Sally is dead wrong about Love, its real and its worth it. The entirety of my Order is based around the concept of love...if they choose not to see that fact then I simply can't help them. And your proof of why I need a break, lest I become you fully. Now begone!" Alfred pulls the curtain down himself quickly, much to a mildly surprised George.
Mike looks at what occurred with the other two, then simply gives a crisp salute. "You are in command here Sir, I have to obey. I am not pleased by this, but I know that your doing what you feel is best for the troops. Tactical retreats are often a wise maneuver against the Seers." Dropping his hand promptly, he heel spins and marches out of sight, the curtain covering the mirrored reflection properly.
Giving a small salute as Mike fades back, Alfred turns behind him to face Sparkles. The feminine gay man his pouting, hard. His arms crossed, his lip out, his eyes rimmed red and his body glittery like a mithral vein against the candlelight, Alfred pauses to admire the beauty of the individual. "Sparkles...it'll be OK. I like you, I still need you for protection. I just...need a break for a while. It's not you, it's me really. I mean, look at me! I'm talking to my own reflection and answering myself Sparkles, that's not a healthy sign!"
"I know...I just, wish this wasn't goodbye." Sparkles speaks, sad and dejected as if a kicked puppy.
"Sparkles, I could never get rid of you and you know that. You cover far too many sins. Its only for a month, and I'll still need you occasionally to keep up my good work. So chin up." Alfred raises Sparkles chin and gives him a soft kiss.
Sighing against Alfreds lips, Sparkles backs off. "Fine fine fine...but if you actually manage to sleep with Gambit while I'm gone I toootally want details!" Flipping his hair back (with a wave of glitter flying in the air as result), Sparkles shuts the curtain for this mirror.
Leaving Alfred alone in an empty house.
Slowly walking out of the center of the mirrors, Alfred just shakes his head. I need this vacation, I was just talking to myself. That ain't healthy.
Slowly, Alfred peels off the clothing he was confined to. Removing the fancy clothing, pulling off the flack jacket, taking off the narrow glasses and wiping the glitter off his chest. He turns, looking up to the ceiling and gives a roar. He stretches out his arms, letting the primal feeling of release flow out of his mouth and pores as Alfred does his best to release years of pent up frustrations. Releasing the floor on his emotions, Alfred yells till there's no air left in his body to yell with, letting his aura and emotions slip out of him.
Kneeling, Alfred pants and looks at himself and his changed Nimbus. he knew reforging his soul would ave an effect...but this was different than he ever thought possible. He retained the unisex look of beauty that the Fae were known for, and his long flowing golden hair swirled with a life of its own as per usual. Gone was the fairy glade, but the mist still clung to him. Gone were the glossily wings, instead a pair of steel wings had sprouted from his back and just flexing them he felt safer and more guarded than he ever had before.
Alfred smiled, letting the emotions swirl into the aether and diminish till he was simply himself. He went to his wardrobe and picked out clothing he wanted to wear, not what his masks required.
It was going to be a good month.
Not that it ever really was home to me.
He was nervous, Alfred hadn't taken a true vacation in nearly ten years. Sure, there were times when he took a few days off or relaxed for a week and took it easy...but he was always on the job. He used his Masks like a lifeline, hiding behind one or the other for most of his adult life. They were just as much a person as Alfred was at this point, and locking them away was not the easiest thing he'd ever done. But he needed the break, he needed the month off. Alfred had been stretched thin, spread over a muffin far too many times till the butter of his soul was barely tasted in each bite.
I've clearly gone mad, I'm making food metaphors.
Michael stood up, looking at himself in the four-way dressing mirror. Each section was 7 feet tall and two feet wide, enough to encompass a regular man and to allow him to see himself from all sides in each jointed reflection. For Alfred, they held a special meaning. This is where he went to unburden his soul, and to seek the answers in his mind. Today was not such a good day for that, however.
Directly in front of him Alfred saw Mike, the compassion-less solider. His eyes would remain locked with Alfreds for the barest of moments before scanning the others. Guns were in his hand, the flack jacket unkempt but functional, the jaw firm and unyielding. "Your making a tactical error Sir. You cannot afford to take shore leave from this mission." The voice was cold, compassion-less and stern.
To his left, Mikal slouched and leaned against the mirror frame. His clothing was old and forgin, the tips of his fingers stained black with ink and red form paper cuts. He adjusted his narrow glasses, giving Alfred a piercing stare that seemed to cut deep within his mind. Mikal gives a weazing cough, covering it with his hand, before spitting in disgust. "You show weakness when you should show strength. Your not thinking properly, not reading the prophecy and tomes. Come back into the study, we have so much research to do..." Mikal's voice was slimy and moist, like ooze slowly crawling over your skin.
To his right, the always professionally groomed George stood. He had a slight smile, as if knowledgeable on hidden secrets and inviting features. But there was a passion, an intensity in those cold eyes of his that burned into Alfred like lasers. His perfectly crisp shirt and properly seamed pants gave hint to his impatience and displeasure, but no matter how threatening he appeared Alfred had to admit that George had some kind of inner inspirational soul that made him yearn to listen and follow George's every whim like a parish member listens to their Priest. "You know this could potentially undo everything we've done. Everything I've done for you could crumble." His voice is warm, like a fire that threatens to start your own passions to serve him.
Behind him, stood the one man who'd had Alfreds back ever since the Galahad incident. He knew Sparkles intimately, Alfred knew what those pouty hazel eyes could accomplish and the distracting image of that shimmering chest hair. He also knew how Sparkles would appear now, still unearthly beautiful but with a profound sorrow. He knew if he looked in those eyes, he wouldn't be able to resist the draw to hide behind them again. "Come on sweetykins...you don't need to do this! You can stay all snuggly and safe in our arms, and you'll always be cared for darling. Don't be such a sour puss..." He could hear that feminine gay touch highlighting Sparkles voice, the strangled and held back sob swallowed in that throat.
"Listen...all of you. you know why I'm doing this. You know what's at stake. Everything we've all worked for could be undone, could be destroyed if I burn out. I could lose that core of my being, and then you'd all go with me." Alfred curls his fists tightly into a ball and he turns slowly, glaring at them all in turn (with his heart skipping a beat when he gazes at Sparkles). "I need to focus on what's important to me, to realign my soul. If I don't do this, I'll never be a Guardian again. I'll never accomplish my place in the progression of souls, I'll leave the diamond wheel unturned and worst yet...I'll fail my loved ones." His eyes mist up a bit, and his teeth bite down hard into his lip to resist the urge to tear up in frustration.
"Oh please...this is another fad. Like slap bracelets, or pogs. Call me when your ready to get back to work Alfred, this pathetic display is keeping me from my studies." Those mildew filled words drip from Mikal, as he pulls the curtain down hard covering his mirrored doorway. "Whom ever heard of a Guardian crying...hrmp."
"Now now Alfred, lets look at this rationally. The more time you take off, the harder it will be to get back into the swing of things. And your not even doing this for the right reasons, Sally was right about love..." George speaks softly, as if one used to bringing roaring flames from a long dead coal.
Alfred spins and snarls at him, pointing a finger in frustration. "That is the WRONG attitude to have with me George! Sally is dead wrong about Love, its real and its worth it. The entirety of my Order is based around the concept of love...if they choose not to see that fact then I simply can't help them. And your proof of why I need a break, lest I become you fully. Now begone!" Alfred pulls the curtain down himself quickly, much to a mildly surprised George.
Mike looks at what occurred with the other two, then simply gives a crisp salute. "You are in command here Sir, I have to obey. I am not pleased by this, but I know that your doing what you feel is best for the troops. Tactical retreats are often a wise maneuver against the Seers." Dropping his hand promptly, he heel spins and marches out of sight, the curtain covering the mirrored reflection properly.
Giving a small salute as Mike fades back, Alfred turns behind him to face Sparkles. The feminine gay man his pouting, hard. His arms crossed, his lip out, his eyes rimmed red and his body glittery like a mithral vein against the candlelight, Alfred pauses to admire the beauty of the individual. "Sparkles...it'll be OK. I like you, I still need you for protection. I just...need a break for a while. It's not you, it's me really. I mean, look at me! I'm talking to my own reflection and answering myself Sparkles, that's not a healthy sign!"
"I know...I just, wish this wasn't goodbye." Sparkles speaks, sad and dejected as if a kicked puppy.
"Sparkles, I could never get rid of you and you know that. You cover far too many sins. Its only for a month, and I'll still need you occasionally to keep up my good work. So chin up." Alfred raises Sparkles chin and gives him a soft kiss.
Sighing against Alfreds lips, Sparkles backs off. "Fine fine fine...but if you actually manage to sleep with Gambit while I'm gone I toootally want details!" Flipping his hair back (with a wave of glitter flying in the air as result), Sparkles shuts the curtain for this mirror.
Leaving Alfred alone in an empty house.
Slowly walking out of the center of the mirrors, Alfred just shakes his head. I need this vacation, I was just talking to myself. That ain't healthy.
Slowly, Alfred peels off the clothing he was confined to. Removing the fancy clothing, pulling off the flack jacket, taking off the narrow glasses and wiping the glitter off his chest. He turns, looking up to the ceiling and gives a roar. He stretches out his arms, letting the primal feeling of release flow out of his mouth and pores as Alfred does his best to release years of pent up frustrations. Releasing the floor on his emotions, Alfred yells till there's no air left in his body to yell with, letting his aura and emotions slip out of him.
Kneeling, Alfred pants and looks at himself and his changed Nimbus. he knew reforging his soul would ave an effect...but this was different than he ever thought possible. He retained the unisex look of beauty that the Fae were known for, and his long flowing golden hair swirled with a life of its own as per usual. Gone was the fairy glade, but the mist still clung to him. Gone were the glossily wings, instead a pair of steel wings had sprouted from his back and just flexing them he felt safer and more guarded than he ever had before.
Alfred smiled, letting the emotions swirl into the aether and diminish till he was simply himself. He went to his wardrobe and picked out clothing he wanted to wear, not what his masks required.
It was going to be a good month.