Topic: Through a child's eyes: Kiema

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-05-20 23:48 EST
?He likes you,? Kiema sing-songed to her sister from behind a tree where she had hidden. The sun was high and warm in its blue hammock of sky. It was a good day for people to call upon neighbors and children to be outside playing. The Buie girls had each been doing one or the other near the road that crossed the front of their family?s property. It was a fine, small estate with a few fields tenanted by farmers. It made their home a modest, but comfortable one.

Marinia?s golden hair gleamed in echo of the sunshine as she turned, and she stuck her tongue out at her little sister. ?And what would you know of it, Kiema? You?re naught but seven.? Kiema pouted at her big sister as the hurt welled up. She did not know it, could not feel it, but her bright blue eyes began to darken. Marinia became alarmed and rushed over, grabbed her arm and drew her after as they ran up the lane to their home.

Scared and confused, Kiema stumbled and cried behind her sister, eyes dark and streaming tears, she screamed for her sister to stop. The noise brought their mother out from the house to meet them at the doorway. ?Great mother night, what are you doing to your sister, Marinia?? Mother opened her arms to hold the trembling Kiema close as she waited for her eldest daughter to explain.

?They changed, mother, just as you feared. I saw them. I saw them change. And she said something.? Marinia was barely capable of speaking; she was near out of breath. Her dove skin was a sickly pale except for splotches of red about her throat from the heat of the run up the lane.

?Shush,? Mother said sharply and hurried her children inside the house, closing the door behind them tight. ?Take Kiema into the kitchen, Mari, and get her a cool glass of water. I will find your father. Do not let Kiema out of the house.?

Marinia nodded and put her arms around Kiema, ?Come on, Kie, let?s get you some water.?

Kiema continued to tremble with fear, not only her own fear, but that of those around her like a chord struck and the nearby strings too begin to vibrate. She could feel their fear just as she could feel the young man, Matthias Saphan?s, affection for her sister. She knew it.

She did not want to know.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-05-23 12:49 EST
"I will have my daughter live a normal life," Mother cuddled Kiema close.

"What kind of normal life will she have if we are always on the move from them? If we have to hide her?" Father sighed as he paced.

"They will not love her and care for her. She will have that."

Kiema whimpered as Mother's arms tightened around her too fiercely. At the sound, her Mother whispered, softening her hold. She looked up at her Mother and saw the small, voiceless gasp in her parting lips. "Oh, Kie, your eyes are so dark. Come now...change them back."

"I do not know how," Kiema's bottom lip trembled. "Everyone is so scared or angry. I am washing in it, Mother. My stomach hurts. My throat hurts. I hurt...make it stop."

Father looked to Marinia, "Get the flute, Mar, and let us all have some music. That always makes our little Kie feel better."

Marinia flew fast through the house to where all the little instruments collected. She found the pan flute and snatched it free of its hanging place, toppling over some books as she brushed past them, but she did not wait. Her sister was so pale. "Here, Father, here is her flute."

Father took the flute from Marinia's trembling hand and moved to crouch before his youngest. "Come on, sweetling, give us a tune. Won't you feel better then? I know I will."

Kiema's little hands reached for the flute and she hugged it close to her first like armor against the waves of trepidation that kept tumbling over her. She felt the tops of the hollowed reeds and drew them close to her mouth. The first notes were whispers of sound in echo of a nature's call. In great need like an unquenchable thirst, she then began to play more, the calm rippled around her pushing down the fear.

Father returned to his pacing, but it was more like a dance with the beat of the improvised tune. He stopped and looked affectionatly upon his once again blue eyed little girl, then to his wife. "We will try to keep her home. This is where she belongs."

Kiema felt the relief as a strong spring breeze upon her mind, and with the feelings shared among the other three in the room, no one noticed the thread of charcoal grey weave its way through the irises of the little girl playing the pan flute.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-05-30 20:04 EST
Drip.

Drip, drop.

Kiema watched the tremulous drops of water dance on the lip of the water pump before dropping to the soaked ground below. She rocked back and forth on the window cushion of the inn at the back of the house. She had to stay back here today. Some of them were traveling through and had taken shelter from the rain in her parents inn.

The first time the Circelus had tried to find them, the Buie family had fled their small estate with what money they had and the little their horses could carry. That had provided them enough to buy a small inn on a rarely used road far to the east of their old home. In the three months they had lived here, this was the first time the Circelus had shown up, and Father was convinced it was only the rain.

Mother watched her daughter, so often now curled up on a seat or cushion, eyes flashing in colors so that she had to be kept out of sight. A pang of guilt and sorrow cut the center of her; had she done the right thing?

"Do not hurt, Mother," Kiema turned dark eyes with swirls of violet around the iris rims. "Marinia hurts more. She's like the sky." The auburn head turned to look up through the top panes of glass. "Drip, drop. Anger, fear, hurt, sorrow...drip, drop."

Mother's fear flared, "Stop it, Kie. Stop talking nonsense."

Kiema turned sharply to the door that lead out to the common room, her eyes a crimson flash with dark hearts. "They come."

Mother turned fast and rushed to Kiema all the while she kept her eyes to the door. "Run, Kiema, run and hide."

Drip. Drop. The first tears of terror sang down her cheeks, but she shook her head, "Madness to run. Madness to stay. Go, go, go. No, no, no."

And then it stopped. A sunbeam of calm broke through the clouds and Kiema smiled softly. She looked up to her mother with calm blue eyes, and saw her own mother's fear turn to a note of question. Two men came through the door, both with gentle smiles. Kiema watched them move with such grace and strength. They bowed courteously to Mother, "Let us help your daughter, Mistress Buie."

Help. Crystal clear the sound of hope rang about Kiema's mind. One of the men turned to her and crouched down before her, "I am Master Pearen, little one."

Master Pearen or one of The Twelve, it mattered not, or was just the same. One a presence of the other in her mind, but Kiema took his offered hand and they smiled at each others seablue eyes.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-06-20 20:33 EST
?You cannot keep her locked in here forever!?

?I do not have her locked in here. She chooses to be in here.?

Kiema watched the Circelus apprentices argue, their tempers rising into a fevered pitch. And she fed them. She fed them her anger and her hate. Her blood red eyes locked upon the two oblivious to her now as she pushed them further into the escalating discord.

Dummies she called them in her mind. Dummies to let them take you away from your family. Let them take me away from my family. I am a dummy. We are all dummies. And her rage burned brighter.

?Matre Noctis, what is going on in here?? Master Pearen?s voice, though serene as a slow moving brook, was as a stream of light through a pure unstained window into the darkness of a sepulchre. He stepped from the doorway he had opened and approached the flushed apprentices. The two youths who stood with chests heaving and fists clenched began to relax. ?I think you two should go out and take a walk. I will handle our young Kiema.?

Kiema dared the Master with her eyes focusing her rage upon him. He who had tricked her those months ago. ?I am not your Kiema.? He had promised to help her. That she would not feel what everyone felt anymore. That he could make all the emotions go away.

She pressed and pushed against the calm she felt coming from him like two rams of the mountains banging and bashing at one another to seek dominance. But suddenly it was no longer calm she sensed forced at her but sorrow. Such unsullied sadness pure in its sincerity. It confused her and she welcomed it, sinking into its comforting heartache.

It was a moment before she realized she was being held by Master Pearen and consoled. ?You are so strong, Kiema, unlike we have encountered before.? There was something not right about his voice. It seemed weaker to her ears than she remembered. ?I am so sorry we have not been able to help you yet, but I will not give up. Let me please help you.?

There it was again. That strange pleading and unsure sound. She looked up to find dark brown eyes rimmed with tears. His was such a young face. Was he father?s age? She gave a nod and patted his cheek, which brought a smile and she felt his burden lift ever so slightly. A thought of hope she imagined as a thread like she had been taught and let it wisp away towards him. ?Ah,? he said, ?thank you, little one.?

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-11-07 17:27 EST
?Twist, twist,? Kiema sat on the floor of her room rocking back and forth. Her fingers gripped the bottom of her skirt twisting hard. ?Get it all out. No joy, no sorrow. Twist, twist, get it out.? Voices around her, more emotion; anger, fear, sorrow were all soaking inside her from outside. ?Twist, twist, squeeze it out. Don?t feel anything.?

The voices heard if she focused hard on them. They might be shouting. They might be whispering. ?She is insane, Pearen. We must end this!?

?I want to end this, can?t you see? That is what I am trying to do. Let her go through the ritual.?

?She?s but a child. She cannot control her emotions as it is.?

?Maybe our way of teaching doesn?t work for her. Maybe we need to go backwards. What harm is there in trying? She dies now without the chance or she dies later with the chance.?

?You?re experimenting with her life!?

?And you?re determined to take her life away without risking anything.?

?I wash my hands of it, Pearen, as does the Circelus. They want her dealt with, and if you are not willing to cast the blow yet, then you deal with the consequences when she over powers you as she did Jorthen.?

?Twist, twist, get it out. No hate, no love,? Kiema?s hands were red with the harsh turning of the cloth. Eyes mixed and blended an uncontrolled miasma of red, brown, and grey.

?Kiema,? Master Pearen was suddenly there and she flew into his arms.

?Twist, twist, Master, get me out.?

Kiema Buie

Date: 2008-03-04 19:02 EST
?What is it, Master Pearen?? Kiema peered around her master?s body at the strange being on the road whimpering at their feet.

For days of their travel, the shadow had lurked just off the road path, but at its stealing of some of their supplies, Pearen had taken the matter in hand. Seeking out the culprit, he lead the guards to the being, dirty and mad rocking to its pitiful tune from parched lips. They had lead it out to the road for sentencing.

?Wildling, little Kiema. One who has not taken instruction with the Circelus and learned to use its gifts and talents properly.?

?High rank sniffling priests. Pikes and pokes and all disgusts in cesspool. Get away!? The Wildling shrieked at Pearen.

Kiema looked up with wide dark eyes, her lower lip pouting out. ?Me, that?s me.?

?No, no,? Pearen rested a hand on her shoulder, ?not anymore. You have learned to control your gift. You are stronger, wiser than this one here.?

Kiema looked pity on the being whose eyes changed as swift as a swallow on a spring breeze. How they flashed red and brown, grey and green, all around in flooding turns, but never blue. She stepped towards him.

?Stop, Kiema,? Pearen?s hand tried to keep her back with pressure to her shoulder.

Confused by the emotions she felt from the Wildling, so familiar to her not so many months ago when she raged at feeling everything around her with no way to stop it. ?We should help him, Master.?

Pearen sighed and shook his head. ?He is too far gone, little songbird. Pity him and he will stab you for the effort.? But he did withdraw his hand from her shoulder.

She heard the same pity in Pearen?s voice. Its feeling seeped out of him and bled into her consciousness. Like the notes of a song, she took that feeling and twined it with her own, altering it, refining it, until it became sorrow filled hope in a calm cocoon. As one caresses the nose of a new born lamb, she reached out with this gift towards the Wildling.

The feverish, frantic twitchings stopped. The murmurs displaced with slower breaths, and he looked up to Kiema with blue eyes revealed within the craggy dirt stained face. Delicately she coaxed the feeling to bloom in mirrored fashion inside the man.

?Kiema, what are you doing?? Pearen asked in awed dismay.

?Healing, Master Pearen. Getting him out, like you got me out.? She fed more of the feeling into the man, but of a sudden the thread tautened. It twanged as a rope stretched too tight, and the Wildling flashed out its confused despair and hatred in return along that line.

In a rush of alarm, Kiema fought back, pushing hard against the torturous feelings. Pushing too hard. Master Pearen?s hands clamped hard on her shoulders. ?Break away, Kiema before-?

It was too late, the Wildling lay still on the ground, eyes unfocused in a ruddy hue of reddish brown. His tongue lolled out of his drooling mouth. The chest rose and fell. There was nothing that came from him.

Kiema shook with terror. ?What happened, Master?? she whispered.

Pearen sighed and drew the little girl close. The little girl with too much power and too much kindness. Kindness that could kill. ?Come away, little songbird. You did only what I would have had to do. And you tried to help him.?