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[Zendella Smythe]

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The morning was beautiful, light streamed thru the windows, and though she had been feeling odd lately she was feeling better than ussual at the prospect of being outside. She longed for the feel of the wind rustling thru the tree's and the cool clear water as it rippled in the lakes.

Wisty missed her guardians, Shadow and Icefire. So even though she was a bit burdened down by the babe growing within her she set off to the market and the stables to check in on her pets and to buy a few things for the new babe.
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She had to cut her trip short she entered the home with her arms ladened with items and another squeezing pain hit her abdomen. She just needed to rest and lay down. She started stowing the packages away. Torens concern soon ringing in her ears as he shooed her off to bed to put them away himself.

Yet it was to late she was soon writhing in pain sobs, choking her breath away. Something was terribly wrong as he looked into her face, sweaty and pale stricken by pain. He summoned the doctor at once. Doctor White as Wisty had introduced him, strode into the room with his bag. It held all sorts of strange instruments.

He gave her pills and a liquid to drink. Yet it was to late as he checked her and saw the small head of a non fully grown child already leaving its mother's body. Wisteria became delirious ranting once more about blood and her mothers death as the baby dead upon birth was brought into this world. At last it registered in her pain stricken mind that she had lost Toren's son and her carelessness of this day she felt heavily weighed on this.

Misery sang in her heart and she could see the white haired ghost of herself grow just a bit stronger as it wandered the lands, another peice of herself lost...

Yet profound surprise was had by all when it was discovered that another babe was still in place within her, a hidden twin and with a kick it made itself known. It was alive, and well and for some reason, perhaps the drugs the doctor had given her, her labor ended leaving the babe in place. She would not move from this spot she vowed as she cradled her dead child in her arms and wrapped him softly in the blanket she had made.

She could see the pain on Torens face as he left to bury his son. Wisteria placing a hand upon her stomach began to sob. Doctor I will owe you so much and yet you have yet to say anything of price. Jonathan Strathmore, AKA Dr. White said not much except that once her second babe was born, she would know the price she had to pay.......

This thought scared her more than any other but again what choice did she have. This eve they mourned the loss of Gray Smythe and her heart ached with it.

[Jonathan Strathmore]

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Peace, Love, Compassion…
How easily Lost?


The scent of freshly turned soil filled his nostrils, strangling the moist ocean breeze, sending a shiver down his spine. A shiver, not of fear, nor chill, but of pure bliss. Bliss for his newborn child: Gray… Strathmore.

His walk home, the few miles, that evening, was particularly refreshing. The scent of fear in the creatures around him, the images of all to unfold ahead of him. Preternatural and yet so…. Fateful.

A grave censer hung domineering the lab room. Yet it was not now the dense perfume of death, the cloud of venom, which filled the nose of that brazen old man. The aroma of life is what encircled him. Hope intoxicated his senses and suffocated his already stilled lungs.

Blood flowed in time to a rhythm. Beat by beat the future brightened and lifted, with it, Jonathan’s spirit. Young Gray would be grown for the time, as so many others already followed him. Exclaimed, was this point, when his mind fell on the thought of Dethn. The thought of his grandson. A thought of his heir, his prince.

Nightshade had already given him much paired with Myrddin. He was a strong man; so would be his children, and so were they becoming. With so many obstacles comes all the more lust for victory. Truly Jonathan’s lust for finality, for his goal and victory is equitable only to his desires for knowledge, novelty and Perfection.

Jonathan will have what he wishes, and Nightshade will be, in finality, happy to oblige his every whim.