This particular post is in no way related to the previous post about Ailyssa. Her life is varied and vast. ::grins:: Not to mention her many incaranations of life. Different place, different story. Since she IS my favorite character to play, having her 're-created' to play somewhere is good for me.
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It was the same dream, night after night. Well, almost night after night. Some nights, she was spared from the dreams. But it was a rare night that it happened. Which made her dread going to bed at all. She often laid awake at nights, curled around John, just staring into the darkness. She knew she needed to let go, but it still bothered her.

That night at the plant. Watching everyone die. It killed her a little every night to watch it. No matter what she did - everyone still died. While no one was actually dead, the experience haunted her. She had done her best and it hadn't been good enough. Eric had been lost. Raven and her children had succumbed. Even John, fighting his hardest, had been overwhelmed. And her actions had meant nothing. Nothing at all.

She would pace, many nights, brooding over the events, trying to find some way to change things. She was trying to let go. At least, she thought she was. She tired. So very tired of it all. What else could she do? Sleep was necessary.

But then came the dreams - of watching those nearest to her die a horrible death . . .

The history between this petite enchantress and the very large shifter had begun many years ago, when both were cursed to wander the night exclusively. While they were not enemies, neither were they the best of friends. Passing aquaintances, if you like.

But it seems that a good deed done has created some form of bond that has grown. Friendship, yes. More? Who is to say? No one can foresee the future. Seers and visionaries see what the future might bring. But the mere telling of that future usually alters what was seen in some way, shape or form. Such is the way of the fragile future.

The current adventure had brought many surprises to her. She had thought she had been surprised to the last already with the large man's last visit to her home - with his gift of the sun. And yet, it seems, that large man had more surprises in store for her.

This latest one - his silent declaration of his interest - had taken her by storm - and by shock. She was not yet sure what to think of it. It was unexpected and sent her mind whirling into places she had never thought to tred. But now she did. And she was finding it difficult to navigate these places and paths.

Emotions are heady and unpredictable things. Hard to fathom, hard to express, hard to decipher.

For many years, I had watched her. Young, beautiful and seemingly lost in a world she had travelled for many years. She delved in deep thoughts and while small in stature, the elements bowed to her. I wove my web deep around her and all the others in the place I had chosen to experiment on. She deigned not to notice while remaining genteel and aloof at the same time. At the time, I had my sights on another for the heart of my scheme, but she came of great use to me during my battle with Ancient One. Without her and one other, I would be long dead. I offered her whatever her heart desired and she wanted nothing more than thanks. What type of woman does this, yet walks in the dark? A Warlock, too? No. There must be something more to her. I watched.
Years came and went in the blink of an eye and my travels took me to all manner of places, but I finally made up my mind to seek her out once more. A...change....had happened to me that I wished to share with her.
I proposed my offer to her and she accepted. It was a success and she was given a second lease on life, just as I had been with her aid. That was not why I had done it, not in the least. I have admitted being attracted to her and let her have her time to respond.
Even now, while we seek to aid my own son, who has suffered his own change. She stands by my side without question, and I think that she would stand there always when she made up her mind.
Should you find this Lady Ailyssa, know there is nothing I hide.

So, let's dance . . .
We can do a little two-step . . . .
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Pendragon was her name. Singing was her game. At least, singing where no one could see her. Lucy Pendragon - at the young age of 24 - was living the life of a recluse. But she felt she had good reason. Her childhood, nay, her very life, had been stolen from her when she was quite young. And it had given her a rather skewed opinion on life.

Her life had begun as a good chunk of humanity's do. She was born to a pair of loving parents in Cleveland. Her father - a Joshua Pendragon - was a pediatrician. Her mother - Maria Lewis Pendragon - was painted in her spare time. Maria was reasonably talented, but mainly painted to make herself happy. Once she gave birth to Lucy, she had a new purpose in life. Lucy was adored and indulged.

The first ten years of Lucy's life proceeded in the expected manner of somone growing up in 1980's Cleveland. But, in 1991, Her life was changed forever. A young man, lost to crazed hallucinations, took matters into his own hands. His name was Christopher Stillson. He had served Maria as a grocery store cashier for a period of three months. He apparently had become convinced she was a higher life form trapped in the body of a mere human. On February 14, 1991, he invaded the home of the Pendragons, intent upon releasing Maria's essence so it might ascend to that higher plane.

It was about 8 pm in the evening. Josh and Maria had decided to spend this particular Valentine's Day with their young daughter. They had just finished dinner. Lucy was opening a Valentine's gift - the last of her life - when the back patio door was broken. Christopher came in, screaming about setting Maria free. Josh picked up Lucy and gave her to Maria, telling them to get out and to call the police.

Lucy's memories of that night are very skewed from that moment on. She remembers her father falling to the floor of their living room, clutching at the side of his throat. She remembers the knife coming at her - and she remembers the pain of falling from her mother's arms. Everything else is a blur until later in the hospital. She had woken up to see her grandmother - Mabel Lewis - standing over her, a sadness in her gaze. Mabel tucked the Valentine gift from her parents - a red teddy bear with a white bow - into the bed with Lucy and told her, gently of course, that both of her parents were dead.

Lucy did not want to believe it, but as the days passed - and she saw herself in the mirror - she grew to realize that it was true. Christopher's blade had left it's mark upon Lucy. The blade had sliced across her left cheek - from ear to jaw - and across her throat. She had been lucky that the throat wound had not cut deeper - she would have lost her voice. But those wounds were more than skin deep. They sent Lucy into withdrawl from the world around her. She hated people staring. She was a natural red-head, so her skin was ivory pale. The angry red of the healing wounds - and then the pale pink of the scars - were a stark contrast.

Mabel took in her only grandchild. Joshua's parents had passed many years ago. His sister, Oliva Pendragon Marks, wanted nothing to do with a child. She had married into money. She had no wish to curtail her activities for a child who couldn't be shown in public. His brother, Michael Pendragon, bless his heart, was in the navy and could hardly care for a ten year old - especially a ten year old reeling not only from the death of her parents, but from the trauma of permanent scars. Maria herself was an only child. So that left only Mabel to take in poor Lucy.

To her credit, Mabel did her best by Lucy. Maria was still working as a nurse, even in her advanced age. It was something she did well. Joshua had invested his money well and had provided for Lucy in his will. Most of that money was tied up in trusts until Lucy turned certain ages - 18, 25, and 30. Lucy would never have need of money. Which was a blessing for Mabel - who had little of it. She and Lucy got by on what Mabel made - plus the allowance from the trusts.

Mabel sold the house that had seen the deaths of Lucy's parents and bought an older brownstone in a good part of Cleveland proper. The house was in good condition. With Mabel's loving hand - and Michael's when he was on leave - the house soon became restored to its original state when it had been built - in 1915. Lucy, when she was old enough, helped as well.

Lucy went to a public school because Mabel could not afford a private one, nor could she afford to homeschool the girl. Lucy soon became one of the loners, ashamed of her scarred face. Children are the very best at finding the perfect words to poke at the most tender of wounds. Lucy did have a small circle of friends, so she was not an utter recluse through her school years. She had joined the chorus in middle school and her talent was recognized. She turned down the music teacher's invitation to try out for the musical, however. She refused to be put on display like that.

In addition to giving Lucy a loving home, Mabel also taught the girl her native language - Gaelic. Mabel was an Irishwoman at heart and it thrilled her they way the young girl soaked up the language. Lucy and Mabel soon took to having conversations in Gaelic at home. Lucy enjoyed the langauge, often using the words at school, much to the delight and amusement of her friends and classmates. Lucy seemed to have an innate gift for languages, picking up Italian on her own. She had started learning it for her voice work in her sophomore year in high school and investigated the rest of it on her own, loving the language so very much.

By the time Lucy had reached her junior year in high school, she had outgrown what the public school music teacher's abilities in instruction. Mabel scraped together some money and sent her to music lessons. Lucy enjoyed these immensely, coming out of her shell when she sang. But she still refused to perform in front of a crowd - much to Mabel's dismay. She did not want the girl to stop living.

Lucy did not find her life completely unsatisfying. Yes, she wanted a boyfriend like everyone else in school, but she knew she'd never have such a thing. She would cry late at night over it. She was a normal teenager, after all. And looks are everything in today's society, are they not?

On a school trip, Lucy became fascinated with old-fashioned tapestries. She checked books out of the library and studied them. It became her second passion. The art teacher at the high school pointed her in the correct direction to purchase supplies to make her own. This gave her something to do at night. And she was entranced. Music blaring, she would weave the tapestries into the wee hours of the night. To anyone, it had to seem a very strange mix of genres. NIN, The Cure, and various other current bands blasting while she did such an old-fashioned art.

She carried this passion into college. She decided to go away to college - attending Julliard for her music. She earned a double degree - one as in musical performance and one for her crafting of tapestries. She studied hard because she wanted something else to do - when she wasn't singing. And she wasn't sure she could make a living singing.

But it turned out that she was skilled in both. She became quite well known for doing voice work for cartoons, full length animated movies, and commercials. She also did work for soundtracks for movies. But never anything where she had to show her face. Many people told her that her looks were not as bad as she thought - but she never believed them. The insults hurled at her as a child were hurting her to this day.

Her tapestry work was also becoming well-known. Many people were fascinated by the emotion she could put into the work and evoke in others. She was not to the point where she was being commisioned for them, but any that she created sold rather quickly.

And so it was, at the age of 24, she really did not need to work a normal, 9-5 job. And she thanked her parents, her grandmother, and the powers that be for that. She could not stand having to face people on a day to day basis. With her voice work, she really only needed to be in a studio for a few months at a time - if that. Her tapestry work could be done in the privacy of her own home. Her home in Cleveland. Unlike others, she had kept Cleveland as her homebase. Despite the heartache of her childhood, she still had roots in Cleveland - and her grandmother had been wonderful to her, leaving her the brownstone.