ForsakenProphetess

You reach out with an open hand And I can't fill it You reach out to lift me up, saint-like But I haven't got an offering You're left empty handed in more ways than one I'm just a fool, but I know I haven't got a damn thing to give you I know there's a price, see No matter how freely you give And I can't have you paying my debts I can't put the cost to you It's my own; it belongs to me Like my sins and past and dreams I've got no trinket to put into your waiting palm Or into the debtor's purse, whoever the hell it is who collects on these things You see, I've got nothing to offer at all You keep waiting for my hand to touch y

I But what was shattered is yet unbroken The sun in shards but still in her eyes Nothing gave birth to Everything And now Nothing kills all lies To hear she must be deaf To see she must be blind Severance gives her freedom When all the senses bind When the world fragments into splinters When silence brings her world to a broken dole They see only pieces and can never comprehend That being broken has made her whole II She discerns what they do not see She knows the shifting tide When Truth walks to meet her Her eyes she cannot cannot hide Everything is a slippery thing As shifting as the desert sands But Nothing shows her w

Turn Her Eyes All kinetic tenacity She's protective and world-sensitive Stubborn as her heart that's beating She can't turn her eyes, No she can't turn her eyes Even though it's her faith that's bleeding As suddenly she blinks awake, Into unfolding dark perceptions Into a kind of deep-felt duty She can't turn her eyes, No she can't turn her eyes Even though it's her faith that's bleeding What to do when the World is on her shoulders And the ground is nowhere in sight? And she can't just look away, 'Cause she's not that kind of Angel So she breaks as she stands to fight. She can't turn her eyes, No she can't turn her eyes

It was raining the day I first saw her, the Heretic of Anas-Kai. The bards, or at least, our bards, would have it that the Heavens themselves wept the day she came. If that is so, then they must have had much to weep for, for it had been raining the last few weeks besides. The mud squelched thick beneath our feet and splattered our legs as we were marched out beneath that drizzling sky. Little Natia was shivering beside me, for all her fine clothes. It was not, I think, strictly from the cold. The little Lady glanced back behind her, to where her mother and brother marched some paces behind us, prodded and poked by as many guards as we. She

A/N: Another bit of DarEtain fluff, although there's a bit of angst just near the end for anyone who's read Order 66. I just love this stuff too much. ------------------ Tonight By thesummerstorms/h6> Darman was at peace. It was rare, but he was completely and utterly at peace. For once, there were no mongrel officers waiting to sneer at him, no locals to watch wearily on some dust-bowl Outer Rim planet, no hidden enemies waiting until he was asleep to cut off his gett'se and haul him in for interrogation. Not tonight. Darman closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stretching leisurely across the double mattress as he listened for the dis

Darman had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Okay, so maybe he couldn't actually see her, given she was so bundled up. It was more like he was looking at a spontaneously animated bundle of cloth and thermal suit and snow gear. But the leaping in his heart still told him she was beautiful, and he was going with it. Jedi General Etain Tur-Mukan – if she was indeed buried somewhere under the many layers of clothing- was approaching slowly, fighting against a harsh winter wind. Omega squad, looking as out of place as ever in their matte black, was waiting to take her back the base. It felt strange to be on Fest again, Darman