DIVA/WISP: Time Enough For Tea #5

[deucexm]

Although 5 is a delightful number, I couldn't quite stop here.  One more to go, at 
least.  Maybe two?  But I'd like to actually finish a series (and start a new one 
that picks up immediately after, most likely).

TIME ENOUGH FOR TEA: A DiVerse Alpha Chronicle
by Colin Stokes

05

The white-clad figure pushed their chair back and rose from the table, stretching 
their arms high before dropping them.  "Now then, we've not a moment to waste!"

Critical Eye stood as well, pushing her chair back in.  "Are we in a hurry?"

"Well, you did seem quite determined," Laurel replied with a smile, "and it is my 
duty - and pleasure - to support that!"  They pressed their gloved hands together 
and then pulled them apart again, revealing another glowing purple sigil; this one 
shuddered and twisted in upon itself after a moment, a black dot appearing in its 
center and expanding until Laurel held a large black circle bordered by a thin 
ring of purple light.

And as Critical Eye watched, a familiar dull red jewel emerged from its depths.

Laurel heard her quick intake of breath, and saw her start to shake.  "Go ahead," 
they encouraged her, as delicately as ever.  "Remember, Celia, this is /yours/.  
It always has been."

Critical Eye took another deep breath and pushed away all the other thoughts, and 
reached out and grasped - not the jewel, but underneath it, in the darkness, the 
metal rod she couldn't see but knew without a doubt was there.  And she pulled -

- so easily.  How could it have been this easy all along?  To take it all back?

She felt the tears running down her face as she pulled the staff all the way out 
of its shadowy confinement.  It was a plain thing, really: a tall, silvery rod 
with a red, vaguely heart-shaped jewel at the top, a metallic red spike on the 
bottom, and a matte red handgrip just above the center where the point of balance 
was.  And, of course, the neatly formed inscription just above the handgrip, 
illuminated by the warm carmine glow now shining from the jewel: 'Celia Ermine'.

It was plain, yes, but it was /hers/.

Critical Eye shifted her hand down to the handgrip and rested the spiked haft on 
the floor, taking another deep breath and letting it out.  For the first time in a 
long time, everything felt /right/.  This time, she swore, she wouldn't let it go.
She closed her eyes - and shuttered all twenty-one of her satellites - and focused 
her power on her staff, the one thing that was forbidden to her.  But even having 
it was forbidden, so she was past the point of following those rules by now.

Laurel just watched and smiled as the jewel's warm glow turned to searing crimson, 
enveloping the staff and its wielder alike in a field of all-consuming brightness 
where not even a single shadow could hide.  Which is most fortunate, they mused, 
for there are shadows aplenty on the paths we must tread.  But that need not 
concern us, now or then; we shall walk together.

The inferno faded.  Critical Eye was no more; only Celia Pureheart remained.

Her brunette hair had gained a series of bright, flame-red streaks (and lost the 
ponytail), and a circlet of silver rested on her brow.  An equally silver brooch, 
shaped like a heart with detailed wings, took the place of the Vanguard insignia; 
the black body-sleeve underneath it now bore a bold red starburst in the center.  
Elbow-length gloves and armor-like winged boots, all of a luminous metallic red, 
completed the transformation.  And Celia opened her eyes, and smiled.

"You are beautiful and wonderful," Laurel said reverently, and beamed.