maybe we should have let you stay with us.

I don't think anyone blames you, Ron...and if they do, they don't have any right to.

I'm just glad you used a bladed weapon in that situation instead of a gun... It is far easier to reverse the killing stroke of a blade or a club than it is to stop the path of a bullet once it has left the chamber. That sort of situation has been the cause of more accidental deaths, and is one of the reasons I really don't like having guns around my family. (Don't worry; I do recognize the safety issues on all sides.)

You were understandably stressed that night, but Eilonwy is alright. If things were any different, we'd have the right to blame you. I think I speak for all of us when I say we're just glad she's fine.

Ei, in the future, try to make a habit of turning on the lights at night. I'm not saying it's your fault; I'm merely trying to make a suggestion in the hopes that future incidents can be avoided.

I am glad everyone is ok. Miss Solstice, Mr. KonThaak's advice dose have merit especially since Mr Caliburn can't see in the dark.

KonThaak wrote:I don't think anyone blames you, Ron...

Ei, in the future, try to make a habit of turning on the lights at night. I'm not saying it's your fault; I'm merely trying to make a suggestion in the hopes that future incidents can be avoided.

Blame Ron? Hardly; I apologize if it sounded that way. And . . . I’ll try to remember that, Josh.


I swept through my hair with the hairbrush in short, agitated motions. My meditations had been disturbed with all of the angled emotions pulling through the air like weighted cords. Normally up by five and meditating until six, the taloned feelings sweeping the atmosphere kept dragging me back toward consciousness. At 5:47 in the morning, the bathroom’s air was warm and damp with fresh use. I decided I might as well soak in a bath; heated water had never failed yet to relax my tense muscles.

Now it was 7 a.m. I held back my squeak when a frantic knocking clattered at the door.
I was as high strung as a piano wire. “Come in,” I said breathlessly.

The door opened. “Wie!”

It was Hannah.

“Pa came back! But he won’t talk ta me! Can you please try?”

I nodded, dropped the brush by the sink, tightened my belt and made sure I was completely covered in my bathrobe, and followed her. Ron hadn’t come home on the 21st, and now I heard him rummaging in his room. It was locked. We pressed our ears to the door and listened and pleaded as he rearmed himself stoically.

There was no reasoning with the man. Hannah pleaded with him. I pleaded with him. We pleaded with him. But Ron wouldn’t listen. He ate some energy bars and left before 7:30 without saying a word the entire time.

That's not the first time sitting alone in the dark has gotten you in trouble Ei.

Bert_the_Turtle wrote:That's not the first time sitting alone in the dark has gotten you in trouble Ei.

No . . . no, it’s not. Do you want me to apologize again for hitting you for it?


Ron didn’t come home that night on the 21st after his frosty exit. He didn’t come home in the morning of the 22nd, either. I thought myself prepared to confront him when he finally did return. And he did just that, sweeping in with that grace that few men can attain. “Eat without me,” the Ghost Hunter said shortly and went straight to the pantry to stock up on energy bars again before bee-lining for his room once more.

Ignoring the mood he strode in with, a mood so foul it rivaled tar, I grabbed my staff from the hall closet and followed him quickly, catching the door on the wooden shaft. “Ron, will you please just tell us what the heck is going on?” I levered the door open and strode in persistently. “You haven’t been yourself ever since you posted—posted, not talked—about that incident with Karl, you haven’t spoken with me or Hannah. You’re so angry and quiet. What is wrong?”

“Wie, I’m getting undressed,” he warned me, sidestepping my question. “Go outside and shut the door.”

“Don’t think for a second that that trick will work on me, Ron Caliburn.” I slammed his room door shut. With hands on my hips, I stepped forward to reprimand him even more, but stopped. My face colored as he started disrobing anyway. Pursing my lips in embarrassment, I nevertheless held my ground, folding my arms rebelliously. I was poking a lion with a stick by facing his rage with my own, but it was a risk I was willing to take.
My face was surely scarlet as I briefly wondered what he might be exposing to my sightless view. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he wasn’t interested in a heartfelt discussion, arming himself for his nightly foray in the Blight for the next several minutes. I swiped my staff through the air when he tried to move past me and toward the door. I raised my chin defiantly. “Tell us,” I begged. “Please.”

He paused. For a moment I thought I had gotten through to him. But then he took my staff away, lifted me under my arms, moved me gently out of the way, and opened the door. I took that opportunity of his handling me to get a feel for just how he was armed.

“Ronald Oswald Caliburn!” I demanded furiously. “What on earth do you think you’ll be fighting out there? The national guard?”

He didn’t answer. I think I finally got him to stare at me in amazement. It wasn’t like me to barge into his room without an invitation; it wasn’t like me to add to his pseudonym; it wasn’t like me to demand anything from him; and it certainly wasn’t like me to defy him.

Of course, it wasn’t like him to send out such waves of hatred and anger it bordered upon insanity. I took this opportunity of silence to take his two bandolier shoulder straps in my hands, as best as I could anyway; they had been specially fitted into his armor to keep from being torn loose.

“Tell me what’s going on,” I begged, my anger draining and wishing his would as well. “Please. I’m so scared. We’re so scared . . . for you. You haven’t been this heavily armed since . . . you haven’t been this angry since . . . .” I couldn’t finish, my emotions wouldn’t allow it. I’d break down and cry or blow up in anger if I tried to voice my feelings.
Ron took my shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze as though to brace me for some terrible news. The imprints of the crosses on his palms pressed against my skin. I released his bandoliers and slid my hands up his chest and to his neck, holding them there. The crosses sewn all along his neck reminded me of a collar, and yet they still comforted me. He took a deep breath. “Eilonwy . . .” he began slowly, trying to dethread the anger from his voice. But his abrupt words ruined the gentle effect.

“I’ll tell you everything when I get back,” he promised, closing my fingers over my staff.

And the door shut.

We didn’t hear from him until he came back after the Equinox.

Still wish he had called someone to back him up on that, but you have confirmed what I had already suspected Eilonwy. He was running on rage there at the time. You can't exactly blame him considering.

Eilonwy Solstice wrote:

Bert_the_Turtle wrote:That's not the first time sitting alone in the dark has gotten you in trouble Ei.

No . . . no, it’s not. Do you want me to apologize again for hitting you for it?

No, but if you keep doing it we may have to sneak a light onto your person so we can keep track of you

Shadowstalker wrote:Still wish he had called someone to back him up on that, but you have confirmed what I had already suspected Eilonwy. He was running on rage there at the time. You can't exactly blame him considering.

Ron knew what he was doing. He calls for help when he needs it, Shadow. Besides, I don’t blame him, considering what he had gone through.

Bert_the_Turtle wrote:No, but if you keep doing it we may have to sneak a light onto your person so we can keep track of you

Why can’t I get the image out of my head of someone trying to sneak into my room at night and planting a small light on one of my pairs of sunglasses or at the end of my staff? Well, anyway, the weekend was over . . . .


Any worry I had about Ron’s odd behavior the previous week dissolved upon his return with Gabrielle. She had such a sweet, innocent aura about her . . . I couldn’t imagine any guile being hidden inside her; I understood completely his actions that weekend. I would have been the same way as Celeste.

The minute Ron entered through the hall door he started coaxing someone to enter. I knew something was up when Mr. Fluffers ran in, swatted me on the leg with his tail, and went straight back to Ron, mewling plaintively . . . to the lady he brought in.

“Ron?” I swiveled my chair around, focusing my face toward the new arrival and stood. The Ghost Hunter sounded exuberant . . . especially considering his previous mood.

“Eilonwy, I’d like you to meet Gabrielle. Gabrielle meet . . .?” His tone changed rose in surprise as she scurried forward. She took my hands shyly and placed them over her face. Gabrielle’s lips moved with the words that came from her throat and mind.

“You are forgiven.”

I smiled, imagining Ron’s look of astonishment and softly feeling her features as she bid, tears pricking my sockets. Then I hugged Gabrielle close and replied with gratitude, “I know, Gabrielle. I know.”

She embraced me right back, but didn’t speak after that, her lucid period lasting just that long. She spent the rest of the time sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth, Mr. Fluffers’ purring next to her. When Rose came for her, she said goodbye to us. “Ba bye, Mistah Fwuffahs. Ba bye, Wonnie. Ba bye, Hannah.” She became cognizant for a moment. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Eilonwy.”

I smiled and waved, the others staring at her, at the perfect pronunciation.

Goodbye, Gabrielle.

And then she shuffled out with Ron, Hannah, and Rose helping her down the steps and into the vehicle waiting for her.

Take care of her, Rose.

I'm stunned. I'd love to know the specifics about that.

Eilonwy Solstice wrote:I wasn’t used to being roughly handled anymore, and his display of strength and prowess made me dizzy.... It was a while before it beat normally again.

As you say, you just need more practice. Ron's a great fighter, and I'm sure this aspect of Hannah's education wasn't neglected by her step-father.

(It might be a good idea for Ron to spar wearing a blindfold -- his posts often mention poor visibility.)

Ron Caliburn wrote:I get home and someone is moving around in my house and the lights are out.

What about adding a motion sensor to the hallway light?

Willie Long wrote: What about adding a motion sensor to the hallway light?

I have to say that's brilliant. Saves energy while Ron isn't around, saves Kei from having to remember it, and it saves Ron from a heart attack.

Excuse me?

Logos wrote:

Willie Long wrote: What about adding a motion sensor to the hallway light?

I have to say that's brilliant. Saves energy while Ron isn't around, saves ***EILONWY*** from having to remember it, and it saves Ron from a heart attack.

Fixed it for you. ^^

Lex also suggests wearing a bell on her ankle. That way, when she's moving around, he can hear the bell, and know it's her.

Cheap alternative to the motion sensor, and just a suggestion for in case she ever forgets to turn the light on in the room he's in at night.

Most of the time, the motion sensors can be disabled pretty easily. I know a lot of businesses have motion sensors hooked up to their alarm systems, and those are usually either on timers or connected to a keypad of some sort.

Shouldn't be hard to jury-rig it to a light switch.

Hannah wrote:I wish I could go see what he does.

Not if you had you wouldn't.

It involves doing horrible things to horrible beings. Beings we have to stop, no matter what it might cost us.

I can put a light in the shodding for a cane, run on a capacitor attatched a dyno, led light, activated by a switch that only triggers when a particular tap, turn, tap turn pattern is followed, if that would be desired, added weight would only be about 2 oz with a 3 hour burntime per charge, charging off of movment being made with the cane.