From: Lady Elwen
Subject: [PW!] The Fallen
Date: Saturday, April 17, 1999 10:35 PM
OOC: I wrote this not as a "return" exactly, but to take care of what
happened to Quethiril's body and to possibly pave the way for my return,
should i choose to do so in the future.
It was cold, like a shroud of baleful ice that pentrated to
Quethiril's heart and left her frozen through. Like the tide of death,
it swept over her, washing away her self, her identity, leaving only her
mind and spirit bared to the elements. For a time, those left her as
well, traveling on journeys beyond imagination.
When they returned, she was imbued with new life, almost. She was
still too weak to rise. All she could do was lie beneath the shading
trees, gazing as the sun galloped and the stars swirled across the sky
between the leaves. Every day was like an age, a lifetime, to her, and
still she lay there.
She felt like part of the land as she sank into it, and it enveloped
her in warmth and understanding. She belonged. Her ambition was all
she remembered of her life, like a hazy dream. It stretched beyond what
she had seen, she now realized. The land spoke to her, telling her of
death and new life, of the ocean winds and the molten rumblings of the
How long she lay under the trees, Quethiril would never know. When
Gwaihir first felt the burst of psychic energy that was her death, he
was sent into a despair of his own. As he finally gathered his courage
and flew over the clearing again, he saw the pale white that was her
robes and the forest green of her cloak above the decomposing leaves.
Diving down, he could only mourn by her side. Quethiril could hear
his distress, summoning her langorous spirit from the euphoria the land
had cradled it in and bringing her back to a semblance of
consciousness. Closing her eyes as if she hadn't done so for years, she
reached out to him, her thoughts exuding calm and peace. And Gwaihir
Gwaihir gently lifted her body in his talons and flew off at a
funereal pace. Her body was like a feather, wasted away into nothing
but the silphine stuff from which souls are made. Her skin looked
almost transparent with an ethereal glow. Like a light bulb in a
primitive cave, the glow seemed to imply health while she looked more
like a fading ghost than anything else.
Not knowing where else to take her, Gwaihir flew into the forests,
the home of the plants. Deep in the shadows of normal trees, there were
colonies of Pokemon that dealt in the healing of wild Pokemon. Among
them were Chanseys, but most of the medicine came from the supposedly
poisonous plants that made their natural homes in the woods. Quethiril
was reluctantly accepted as a "patient" while Gwaihir kept anxious
OOC: No one is finding her now. Also, she might sound psychic, but that
will be explained further if i ever return. For now, it's sufficient to
say that Quethiril is presumed dead, no body found, but is really half-
alive and under the care of forest Pokemon.