BrinNa!

Who I'd like to meet:

Soulseer

Brinna Blaine

There was no sun. There were only streetlights that mocked the moon in shape and brightness. They cast their light on concrete and glass and the smooth grey stones of streets that were still damp from a late night rain. Soon, the sun would rise, warming the earth and taking back the rain, but that was hours away yet. It was still early, still dark, and the rainwater rested, beaded on the storefront glass and tranquil in cold black puddles. The shallow pools glistened, reflecting another world where streetlights really were little moons and magic came as easily as air.

The real moon shone above, hazy in a sea of clouds that swept steadily by as though they felt the energy of the night. The goddess Neith had stirred. It was no time for stillness.

Beneath moon and streetlights, an outsider wandered, walking shadow quiet through the streets of Bright. She had the symbol of Neith at her throat and the blood of the goddess Ishtar in her veins. Sedva blood. Vampire blood. She drew neither attention nor suspicion from the humans she passed. As far as they were concerned, she was one of them; nothing different, dangerous or scary. She looked human enough for the purpose. Her skin was pale but not too pale and her hair was plain chocolate brown; long straight and unremarkable. Only her fangs and the unusual brightness of her eyes marked her for anything other than human, but her fangs were blessedly small and eyes are easy to shield. If she was careful, she could walk through a crowd without turning the head or catching the eye of anyone. If she was really careful, she could be invisible.

She was invisible enough now, keeping to the darkness and pulling its weight around her like a cloak. It was a subtle magic, a wielding of shadow and shifting of light. It was the only magic she had any control over, and it even that was slight.

Some priestess she would turn out to be. She could slip into the shadows and become nothing or close to nothing. It seemed a joke of the gods that her greatest skill was in being overlooked. She tugged the hood of her sweater low to shield her face and took her time, watching, waiting. The morning felt different in a way she couldn’t place. There was an energy in the air; a sense of restlessness that betrayed the calm of the empty streets. It spoke of change and carried whispers of magic that brushed her cheeks even beneath the shield of her hood. It was a subtle magic and nothing compared to the more direct magic of the valley and so she ignored it and kept walking.

She had been called, not by the strange energy of the morning, but by the half shadow of magic she called her gift. This was her real magic; her god gift. It was Neith’s Heart, and it was a bold thing, always pulling at her like some separate thing with a will of its own and more power than she could ever conjure on her own. Often, it was more of an annoyance than anything else but this morning she was glad of it. It provided escape and a welcome one at that. She let it guide her, making her way down nameless streets and passing homes and shops of people she did not know. Though there were no crowds, the streets were not quite empty either. A few shops had opened their doors early giving those of Bright who could not or did not wish to sleep a reason to venture into the open air of the streets. Some made their way to the shops. Other simply roamed the streets, enjoying the cool morning air and the sweet fresh scent of rain. Any of these would have suited, had she simply wished to use her gift, but she wanted someone interesting; someone colorful or different. Maybe someone a little more like herself.

She passed a dozen faces with barely a glance and just as many with less than that. When she finally found him, she knew instantly that he was the one her gift was pulling her towards. He was sitting outside the Cocoa Café, a little place that sold coffee and cinnamon rolls and was always filled with the dark sweet chocolaty scent of hot cocoa. She knew the place. She liked the way it smelled and the crowed it drew. Students, artists and musicians would linger while other, more harried looking people took their orders and rushed away.

The boy she found didn’t seem to fit into either of these groups. He was quieter, darker, and there was a stillness to him that seemed to separate him from the world. There was something sad about the way he sat so still and alone. He seemed almost broken, as though he had lost something and ached for it terribly. It was this that drew her. It tugged at something in her soul that she neither recognized nor understood.

She stopped close enough to hear the tinkling of the little bell at the café’s register but still far enough away that she wouldn’t be noticed. She took a moment to study him as much for curiosity as for the fact that he was simply nice to look at. His smooth golden skin was the color of coffee heavy with milk. He seemed to glow despite the faded quality of his clothes. He had dark, shining hair, black curls against a black t-shirt. He was leaning against the wall of the building with headphones over his ears and some sort of music player in his hand. He was relaxed, knees drawn up, head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. He moved his lips silently to the music in his headphones. He didn’t see her. He didn’t see anyone.

She crept closer and reached out with her gift. She was cautious. There was always the chance that he would be one of the few humans who could sense such minor magic. He didn’t seem to be. There was no flinch of awareness, no pulling away, so she pressed forward, feeling, listening. This was what she had come for, this feeling of connection.

She felt for the link, closed her eyes and waited. There was only music. It wasn’t even much as far as music was concerned, but through the boy’s mind, it was changed. It was made stronger, wilder, more real. It was more than a collection of notes and lyrics strung together. It was something beautiful, magical even, and it took her breath away.

It swept her up, carried her into the center of it. A beat, a rhythm, and emotion swirled perfectly throughout. There was a pattern here that she never would have found on her own. It traced the lines of the music, blending with the sounds and then separating itself so that it was a thing of its own. It was a link, like her own, but to the music rather than to another soul. She didn’t just hear it. She felt it in her hands and in her chest. Her jaw ached with it. The music seeped into the very core of her soul. She wanted to devour it, change it, make it her own. She wanted to sing. She wanted to move. She stood, frozen, swaying slightly on her feet.

This was something new. It tugged her down into a darkness, blacking out the light that fell over her closed eyes. She fell into it, unaware if she still stood upright or had fallen to her knees. It didn’t matter. The music pulled at her. It was in her hair, across her skin and in her bones. It was her sight and it was sight. She saw in the blackness a swirling of violet and blues. And stopped. She dropped the link, coming back to herself with a fierceness that knocked the breath from her. This time it really did bring her to her knees. Colors. Goddess, had she really seen colors? She had tapped a hundred people, maybe more, but never had she caught a glimpse of anything beyond her own eyelids. She felt things, heard things, even thought things but she had never seen anything.

The world rushed back, filling up her ears with the sound of voices. Emotions surrounded her, passing through her like spirits. She backed away, still close to the ground, and scrambled to her feet. People had begun to fill the streets but there were too many voices, too many feelings, sounds and thoughts. It was dizzying, deafening, terrifying. She shouldn’t be experiencing any of this. She had dropped the link, but had formed no others. Her thoughts should be hers alone.

She turned and ran, feet silent against the pavement, moving too quickly but too afraid to care. She made her way out of the city and into the green darkness of the forest beyond. She was shadow animal in the body of a woman. She was fear and breath; panic. Her hood fell back but she kept running, afraid to stop or even slow as though the voices and feelings could reach her so far away.