Time Throws Fire | Volume Two | Chapter Twenty-Three
volume two of the second story in The Foundry series
Time Throws Fire | Volume Two
By Ophelia Everfall
Part One - Cosmonaut | ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE
Part Two - Holy Fire Priestess | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE | TEN
Part Three - Get the Guts | ELEVEN | TWELVE | THIRTEEN |
Part Four - Demon | FOURTEEN |
Part Five - Synecdoche’s Synapse | FIFTEEN | SIXTEEN |
Part Six - Viscera Rising | SEVENTEEN |
Part Seven - Exile | EIGHTEEN | NINETEEN | TWENTY |
Part Eight - Semblance | TWENTY-ONE | TWENTY-TWO |
Part Nine - Threnody of Lojack
Part Ten - Time Throws Fire
PART EIGHT | SEMBLANCE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Timelines stilled to one. Everything was collapsing upon some coming moment. People of The Foundry were pulling together.
Exile was chaos incarnate — infernos raging — word spreading of The Empress’s death had caused need. Those inside were to know their new leader by forces unkempt of boundaries, maliciousness of their own culture wielded against them. Rory had taken their minds. She was a remaker, that one who might control destinies towards glory of rebirthed heavens, for every planet she was borne, each lifetime lived through least, there would be another matched-up so closely. They were the echo of her sledge’s honor. The only who might understand their suffering through feeling enough to work herself towards grasping that truth of what they really were in time.
Rory suffered worst and always, unseen to her companioned echo through such lengths, it would bore into them with by her hatred. They never saw how close it had been. Rory hadn’t understood the lightly weighted differences that could make their actions most cruel. Rory Tyrell was never who Echo thought, no matter that coolness bought for their presence. She was better, and worse too, some strangest ways of Rheinmasst’s feeling were found, some sweetest sweetness of heart, misunderstood as what hurt, love the way she’d wanted for proving of her faith.
Animals were the sign of Rory’s soul when borne to planets. Respect for nature’s strangely conscious life her call to protect. Lifetimes in space were of quite difficult sorts, even when she’d never know one. Rory had upon her home planet Moniath. Its forest were of heights unseen, except in sparsest reaches of the galaxy surrounding.
Her companions were never the people. Rory’s soul loved their countless selves most.
Echo’s mate of soul had been a liar most conscious — a friend and sibling of spirit — boundaries lost — an opposite of herself in many ways — preferred, at last, when realized how it was. They’d made the choice to become that deceiver, something each Echo would find they’d known all along. They were that one who deserved a brightest love most. It was them alone who she’d come to save in the end. Everyone else coming along was a positive biproduct.
Echo of Ecatosh honored one thing most, that way Olmec would always forgive her in their time, to return for holding some space beside how they might. Points of nexus converging through lifetimes would have each echoed visage realize why it was she’d failed to see who her heart spoke of loudest. Others stained them, as one just alike had her. People would always seem to ruin their love from being what it was meant to be, and through their lifetimes before they’d meet, some challenge to see passed night unimaginable. Their own challenge by choice was a good one.
It would only be great realizations of purest magic that would bring them home to know what was always theirs.
Everyone at The Foundry would find themself, through time, being most related to two, in the ways they’d change and grow, how efforts made no-matter the intent would refocus thier battles towards the glory most righteous.
Illith had seen it done. Messages were delivered clearly for time within such haze of Horus’ presence. Now they would be crystal. They’d wait and hold with patience of deference to those moments which would make for all the taking of splendor back. Just like a one to come had done for such time.
Poe knew she had to do it. The way Vikki was looking of late, when she’d been around, had been sad. She’d seemed of sorrow unspoken and Poe would endeavor to give her that chance for speaking. Vikki wouldn’t have the chance to take it.
Words found flow of cleanest purpose at last for Poe. Marks narrowed to one. The reason for their coming deliverance was known completely. That need to act most differently had been made abundantly clear. Everything was spoken in tides of time gone to past. Poe’s heart was iron gold, still somehow silver to Vikki, and it hurt most despite how much she’d been earnest in intentions of friendship to feel her true value unseen. She’d once thought of Echo as more, they shared kisses most sweetly, and a precious finding had been within their hearts both, as if it always would be. Knowing Rory was there, and every chance lost because of it, had borne the stain which saw them as friends who’d hold back from such things.
It was right and wrong at once to both. Things were as they had been. That was it and had been writ. Nothing untrue within their blue, each sharing of moment was a boon. Every glorious breath a gift. Ecatosh smiled upon them always in those moments. Presence was found in friends-beyond refound the most.
“I just want you to know, Vikki. I’m always going to remember you here.”
Poe had taken their hand and placed it upon her heart.
That would be enough for how she spoke. The weight of such simplicity was an art in minimalism that Poe would know alone, while about places of such nearness to hedonism as maintained by Foundry peoples.
She could tell the Echo inside Vikki was thinking about it, but that way she’d held back did beg Poe to go just a touch beyond, and for their hearts.
Poe Halroth had given Vikki Blieth a kiss on the cheek.
