Twisted Returns

There are people everywhere.

They come and go, speaking words I can't comprehend.  I don't know what's going on.  However, they all seem to be smiling.

Eventually there's less talking and more doing.  People are rushing around.  They take apart my hospital room, filling it with pretty things instead.

They bring me flowers and candy and bottles of sweet fragrances.  A rack of dresses comes rolling in all by itself, followed by a heavy looking ornate box.  I don't know what to make of it.

The gifts are soon followed by people.  They are all female and look to be about a few years older than me.  They sort through the rack of dresses and look through the box.  I wonder what's in store for me.  It doesn't seem too dangerous.

Some time later one of the girls comes and asks me something, but I don't understand her.  I wonder if my hearing is messed up, like the rest of me.  When I don't answer, she just gives me a confused smile and goes back to the dresses.

More girls come in.  I wonder who they are and why they're here.  One thing I notice is that they all look similar.  Black hair, blue eyes, tall, slender frame.  They all talk cheerfully, their voices high and clear.  I can't make sense of their words.

Then I put it all together.  Their looks, their language.  They're true Crystallarians.  They have the physical qualities and they're speaking the ancient language.  I remember Marigold telling me about the Crystallarian language and its magical properties.  It can't really me learned.  So I guess my native language has been lost to me.

The girls pick out different outfits, hovering them in the air.  It turns out that box contains shoes and accessories.  It is now that I realize that they're going to dress me up.

I try to figure out what's going on today.  There seems to be nothing different than usual (other than this situation of course).  I flick my eyes over to the clock.  Noon.

Dean hasn't visited me yet.

At first the paranoia comes again.  Is he hurt?  Is he dead?  Then I tell myself no, of course no, and try to calm myself down a bit.  Someone would have told me already.  But the feeling returns when I remember that might not be true.  They might think I'm not stable enough to handle it.  The worst part is that they'd be right.

I try to use logic to calm myself again.  Of course there's nothing wrong.  They wouldn't be dressing me up if there was.  This must be good.  I should be happy.

Unless they're dressing me up for a funeral.

But we're in no condition to even have a funeral,  Are we?  No one tells me anymore.  These facts keep coming back to  haunt me.

I'm still trying to make sense of my fuzzy thoughts when a girl comes and helps me up off of the bed.  She leads me to the bathroom, which no longer smells unnaturally sterile.  Instead, there's a faint fragrance that smells like roses and something spicy.

It seems nearly all of these ladies are in here, waiting.  Now that I think of it, they all look vaguely familiar.  Though I have a memory of someone else helping me dress... I can't remember her name.  Veronica? Vivian? I don't know.

The girls strip my of my ugly hospital gown.  They motion for me to step into the shower and I do so.  I feel a bit uneasy, being exposed like this.  My body still looks the same to me, but how am I supposed to know if I'm still perfect?

Nevertheless, they don't seem to feel the awkwardness here.  They chatter and smile and laugh as they scrub me down with the magic as the warm water splashes on me.  It feels nice, I admit, to be completely clean for once.

When they're all done, they bring in the outfits.  There seems to be a minor disagreement between them, and I figure it's about what dress to put be in.  In the end they choose a floor-length halter dress.  When they put it on my, I find that it's fitted but not constricting.  Maybe a little annoying.  The heels they put me in aren't exactly comfortable either. 

They twist my hair up and away from my face.  A few strands come loose and fall at my cheeks.  I don't know why it's taking them so long, but it kind of hurts.

After that, I'm led back into the room.  The two youngest-looking girls snap their fingers and a full size mirror comes floating in.  It's wobbling a bit, but it lands gently on the ground.  They motion for me to look.

When I stare into the cold glass, I hate what I see.

----

There are people everywhere.

Way more than in my room. I look down at them and I can tell that they are weak.  Their faces show worry and their bodies show exhaustion.  None of them are dressed as extravagantly as I am.  They all sit in chairs on the brittle grass.

As for me, I'm on a balcony.  There are three right in a row, with the middle protruding further than the overs.  I happen to be on the left balcony with the rest of my the royal family and the girls who helped me this morning.  The right balcony holds the Council.  The middle is empty.  Each one is covered by a shiny transparently shield, like glass.

"It's time," Christopher says from the seat beside me.  Marigold nods in agreement and waves her hand.  A large ding sounds through the gardens and a hush falls over everyone.  They all seem to focus their attention on the center balcony.  I watch, waiting.

Dean walks out alone.  He seems to have been dressed up for this too.  Looking down at the crowd, I see some girls actually swoon.  (Seriously, who does that?)

He clears his throat.  "Good afternoon, everyone." His voice is magically magnified.  "We've been through a lot, haven't we?"

A low murmur ripples through the crowd.  Christopher leans over and tells me, "He wrote this all himself.  No one knows what he's going to say, so listen carefully."

I do listen.  Dean talks about everything.  He speaks of the disaster.  He tells the story of our human lives and our return, weaving his words together in a breathtaking way.  He is like a storyteller, talking about our triumphs and tragedies.  Then it truly hits me - this is my story.  I've been there, lived through that.  His story isn't just words... it's real.

Some parts hit me hard.  Especially the way he talks about me.  He leaves out the part about Connor, and I'm grateful.  He doesn't speak of our "marriage" and only touches upon our past romance.  But it's still clear by his tone, his words, and his expression, that he loves me in a way I cannot return.

"So, Crystallarians.  I may not be one of you, but now I'm asking you to come together.  I have a feeling some of our enemies are in the crowd today.  No, don't panic.  This is good.  We can be together in peace." He walks to the edge, pressing his fingers against the shield and watching melt away.  "The fighting ends here."

He stands there as the crowd silently processes this information.  And the smile is just starting to form on his face when the arrow hits him.