And inside you're burning
with some secret yearning
She has never before known death. Not truly. Of course, her mother had died birthing her. But she does not remember that. She has never known her mother, and so her death had never truly registered.
But this. This is different. She hadn’t seen him die, but she knows that he is dead. How could he have possibly survived against those wolves? And she had never suspected what effect such an experience might have on her. Had never understood just how truly final death is until this very moment.
And she does not even have the time to grieve.
Instead, she is called to action once again, pulled away from blank shock into the violence of reality. ”Miss Lirren.” Mr. Thimbles voice echoes faintly in her ear, reminding her of everything that still is. One might have been lost, but there are others. Others who are not lost.
Glancing around, she realizes suddenly that they are not alone. Other groups of elves and humans have arrived with them. And the demons are there too.
Scrambling to her feet (and nearly falling again when she trips in her boots) she blinks her watery eyes rapidly. A drop of moisture trickling down her cheek causes her to swipe reflexively at her face, only to wince when her fingers scrape against the still bleeding gashes in her cheek. She can feel the blood freezing on her skin, the dull throb of a fresh wound.
For a moment, she wishes she could simply crawl into a hole and hide. She had not signed up for this, had not asked to join this rescue party. If anything, she had simply been taken along for the ride. She is not even certain she has contributed anything useful to the fight.
But then the anger comes. The terrible fury at what has been taken from her. At what those horrible demons, that godawful Grinch, had done. They have to pay. For everything.
It seems that whatever had brought them here is going down inside the workshop, so that is where she needs to be. She is still not entirely sure what she will do when she gets there, but she is damn well going to do something. Even if she has to bodily tackle the Grinch to do it.
Of course, the thought of a short, slight woman tackling a massive beast like the Grinch is rather laughable. Still, she won’t be denied. Not in this.
The elves are already gone, sprinting for the building to join their brethren in the fight. Lirren follows, albeit more slowly. There are others like her. Humans apparently selected to fight (though how she had ever been selected, she’s not entirely certain). Some appear to be fighting on the side of Saint Nick, others on the side of the Grinch.
Regardless, they all seem to be headed for the same place. This has resulted in a traffic jam at the door, bodies pressing and elbowing as they try to fight their way inside. Lirren halts abruptly, unwilling to join that particular melee. She has never been overly fond of crowds.
Scanning the building for an alternate entrance, she pauses when she sees a man and a - good lord, is that a tortoise? – break off from the frenzied mob to move around the side. The pair of them steamroll a demon before taking off, deflecting and dodging what appear to be energy balls as they go.
Deciding that her options are rather limited, she follows them. As focused as she is on her plan, she doesn’t notice the green ball soaring towards her until it is too late. She barely has time to raise her hands, erecting an unconscious and rather flimsy shield in response to the missile before it slams into her, knocking her slight frame backwards. She lands on her bottom in the snow with a solid thump that nearly knocks the breath out of her. Hissing in surprise, she struggles to regain her breath as well as her bearings.
She doesn’t have time though, as the demon that had flung the projectile at her is running in her direction, preparing a second energy ball. And just that quickly the fury is back. An anger that burns in her throat, causing her to lash out violently at the creature. She doesn’t even have to touch the beast. It flies through the air, barely catching itself with magic of its own before it slams into the building.
Lirren does not hang around to see how quickly it recovers. She is back on her feet in a flash, kicking the cumbersome boots for her legs before sprinting towards the side of the building where the man and tortoise had disappeared to.
There she finds a massive hole in the building, the gap displaying a wide portion of the workshop inside. She has not even made it two steps into the space when she skids to a halt, jaw dropping in amazement. Her shocked eyes fall on several huge machines, metal gleaming in the bright light. Piles of discarded toys are heaped alongside them, clearly abandoned in favor of the fight.
As her eyes travel the unexpectedly modern space, she sees Santa and the Grinch upon the balcony, battling each other fervently. They each hold one half of something. A thing that seems to be the center of their battle. The red haired man she had seen before is there with them, having been unfortunately caught in the middle of their personal fight.
Glancing around wildly, Lirren’s throat tightens as she realizes she has no clue what she could possibly do in the face of all of this madness. She is not cut out for fighting. She is nothing more than those pretty ornaments that the Grinch’s demons had so delighted in smashing, meant to add only beauty and whimsy to the world. She has nothing to offer.
As if to emphasize the point, several demons take advantage of her temporary hesitation, sending tendrils of dark magic to snake around her to hold her immobile. Lirren sucks in a startled breath, a small squeak escaping her lips as she does so. She can hear their triumphant cackling, can feel the burn of humiliation at the ridiculous ease of her capture.
And then the anger is back, the understanding and knowledge that whatever else she may be, she is not weak. She never has been. She had only forgotten it for a moment. A burst of furious, righteous energy frees her from her bonds. She pushes back against them, her arms outstretched before her. She can feel the tug and pull of the magic, the light and dark far too evenly matched.
Unfortunately, in a contest of strength, she would lose every time. But a contest of wits, now that is something she could win. She needs to fight smarter, not harder. And if she is fighting smarter, well, she shouldn’t be fighting at all. It is not one of her strengths.
But talking is. She can talk with the best of them.
So she does the only thing that she can do. She runs. But not away. No, she runs towards them. Towards the Grinch and Santa. She runs right into the fray, a wall shield thrown hastily around herself deflect any attacks. She races up the stairs – the last remaining set – throwing her hands wide as she reaches the top, a brilliant burst of bright white light shooting from her, framing her in its magnificence. The light is purely visual, a stunt meant to attract attention, to draw the eye.
”STOP!” she hollers in an authoritative voice she hadn’t even known she possessed. ”Stop it now! Is this really what you want?” Her eyes fix on the Grinch, even as he fixes his own toxic green gaze upon her, a sneer curling his lips. She can only pray that he will actually heed her words.
”Is it, really? Do you dream of being a ruler of nothing? Because that is what you will have if this continues. Nothing.” She emphasizes the word, trying to make him understand. ”You are destroying this place. And even if you win, all you will win is a land devoid of whatever magic it might have once possessed.” Actually, she’s not entirely sure that’s true. But at this point, she would say anything to make him stop and listen. To give Santa a fighting chance to make this all right again. After all, it is the only thing she has to give.
”So tell me, is that really what you want? Is that your dream?”
Lirren
starlit daughter of joythief and carnage