EpiphanyBlue

 "Do you like her, Steven? Isn't she lovely?" Pearl grinned proudly as the baby in Amethyst's lap swiped at the hologram. "Pearl..." "We loved her, Steven." *picks him up* "But we… we like you, too." *kisses his forehead* Amethyst lowered her eyelids. "/Like/ him. Be glad he's too little to understand your subtleties." "I'm trying, Amethyst.” Pearl sighed. “It's not like /you/ know what to do with a human baby." "Nuh-uh! I know what to do!" "May I remind you? You put him in that little- harness or whatever, and suspended it from a giant stone finger whilst /you/ went to-" "All I needed to do was run back for a few ext

  God on high, hear my prayer For my friend, he has shadows to spare Lead him safe through the strife Home to find peace of mind Bring him home, Bring him home, Bring him home. I’ve seen such fire within the soul I’ve come to treasure as my own And through the fight, does he fear That soon the light will disappear Or know I long to have him near Keep him safe, set him free By thy grace, please return him to me There’s so much still to do Be with him, see him through Light his path, fill his heart See him through Bring him home Bring him home Bring him home

     Valjean was alone. He could see—not a thing. But he could feel—oh, how he could feel.    His fesh seemed to radiate. The flare in his neck had subsided, but it left an aching stiffness as he reclined towards the floor. His raw shoulders and back touched the dust, and he cried aloud. His spine rebelled at his attempts to sit back up. He lay down carefully and quietly and decided that he would stay there, even in the utter blackness, on the shelf of rock that made up the floor, until his strength returned to him.     Then he heard a clatter.     A square stone flipped up out of the floor, revealing a soft yellow light and

    He was light and heat, spirit and passion. It had rained intermittently that morning, but nothing could quench him. He was marching beside me, grinning and laughing for excitement, having such fun and so overtly that I wondered if Enjolras would approve.    I approved.   He was brandishing his sword-cane in the air and singing these joyous and awful songs, making up slogans, and basically being joyous and awful Courfeyrac. I was watching him with an involuntary but welcome smile. I knew he would be prudent enough. He always had been the man who could be sober and jovial almost simultaneously. He was careful enough with his sword so as

    "There you have it. I can hardly believe they even let you down here."    The laughter belonged to an unfamiliar young man, tall and lithe, with golden hair, a sharp nose, abnormally long fingers, and a spectral pallor. “Those things they say about good men…” he said with a broad and crooked smile. “And souls saved. I thought the infinite wisdom would have kicked in by now. What do you think you're doing? Get back where you came from."    "I'm... no, I can't. Who are you? Why are you confronting me now?"    "Someone had to intervene. Here. Look. Door.”     Indeed, there was a large iron door in the wa

     The air split in two. Valjean found himself looking a few feet in front of him at a wide crevice a shade past black, beyond which, an absence. An absence from which came a deep but hollow roar and a swarm of restless clouds, clouds of a menacing black, grey, blue, violet, only flashes of white. The clouds arranged themselves into a flashing horizontal whirlpool. Valjean stepped inside. He was not surprised to feel his clothes and hair lifted and flying about him, or an icy wind lashing and caressing his limbs and winding about him like an otherworldly serpent. His eyes began to water. He closed them, and continued resolutely forward. He

        He was sure of everything. Everything that mattered in his life had been wound up in those moments of weakness and ecstasy, and then the pure light and profound calm that had and held him as he left his children for another realm. Even surrounded by light, he had relaxed and fallen into a dreamlike state, and thus unawares had been transported. He did not know how he had come to this room of soft light, or precisely what sort of room it was, but he was satisfied enough with how easily he had regained his feet.        And then, he was asked for his questions.        “All of humanity lives with questions. The immortal soul will