The Keeper

Continuation from The Shadow about One of the Five called Paige.

Once upon a time there lived a lady named Paige. She was every inch a lady, though that could only be physically correct. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, she was only one thing - truth. She breathed and ate and drank and lived truth - it was all she professed to need.

While truth is absolute, her delivery was not. Paige ranged from charmingly ingenuous to murderously tactless, and too often she wavered to the latter. Truth is by nature offensive, she liked to quote with ice-cold hautré - and she was duty-bound to tell the truth no matter how much it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

She would be, by normal standards, the who-need-enemies-when-you-have-her-as-friend type. Ask her if your yellow sweater makes you look fat, and she will respond with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes.

<i>"I wouldn't call it fat, mon cherié. You look like a whale with jaundice, and this angle is reminiscent of a jaundiced orca. Now this side, yes, preen like that, makes you look like a jaundiced baleen."</i>

And she will ignore the tears streaming down your cheeks as she goes on. <i>"Now if you want to look like an adorable jaundiced plankton, here's what you ought to do..."</i>

Because Paige, critical as she was, would always have a solution. She despised criticism without resolutions, and if one had nothing to suggest after ruthlessly ravishing a beautiful hypothesis, one must prepare to grovel to be killed.

In truthfulness, she and Audrey agreed - but that was getting ahead of the story.



Paige lived her life the way she wanted to - her way. In between constant missions and random leisure, she spent her extra hours mingling with others or with herself. She was an ambivert, though for everyone's sake it would have been better had she been firmly introverted. She wasn't, however, which proved the timeless platitude that life is not fair.

She had a favorite haunt, one favored by her few remaining kinsfolk. They knew better, however, that when an impossibly long leg was propped above a slate, Paige should never be bothered. And while the meadow with its vibrant colors unknown to man was public property, it became private property when she was in one of those times.

This, however, was unknown to certain guests that had entered their land.

Paige stiffened with half-annoyance and half-killing intent when she felt a soft hand brush against her appendage. She took her time turning around, each motion increasing the flame burning within her eyes, eyes that landed on a brat. Brat whose eyes rounded, eyeing pristinely white wings, "Are you an angel?" the brat asked in a hushed voice.

Paige's aggravation only increased. The spitfire snorted. "Are you an idiot? Whoever said that only angels have wings? Cite it to me and maybe I'd give an excuse for your stupidity."

Before she realized what had happened, a dark-haired lady standing behind the insufferable brat had punched the winged vixen at the back of her head. Her amber eyes widened in shock. No one had ever laid a finger on her before!

"Answer a question properly," the brunette said in a bored voice, strangely as musical and soothing as the waterfall dying on the rocks.

She whirled around to fully glare at the witch, her teeth grounding her words. "What. The. Fu - Hell," she hissed, faltering only at her last word as she remembered the presence of the idiot girl-child.

"Uncouth witch," sniffed said idiot girl-child haughtily. Paige smirked. She knew what she was and didn't find any reason to find offense. But them - them! - they had breached into her sanctuary, daring even to touch her sacrosanct wings!

"Insipid chit," Paige mouthed blandly. Her wings folded soundlessly behind her.

"Obviously a harridan cannot be an angel," the infuriating gamine worded daintily. "So what are you?"

She folded her arms across her chest and tossed chin-length auburn hair arrogantly. "Why must I answer you, pray tell?"

A golden eyebrow raised up dangerously. "Be grateful that I show interest, worthless cretin," the girl hissed. "You are not worth my time, and the least you can do is answer to show your appreciation." From behind her, the girl can sense an aura of amusement from her companions. She would probably regret this later, but this winged crone before her was just too vexing!

Paige's lips curled into a sneer. "I can destroy your remaining time, corn-haired wench. I'll even raise a finger for ya."

"A Keeper, then?" the brunette finally spoke up again. The girl glanced at her. "What I meant was what kind of creature she is, Halle."

"It doesn't matter, does it?" the man finally spoke up. "Impressive for someone so young."

Paige raised up her chin, "I haven't been young for 800 years."

With every reaction she was expecting, she did not expect mirth.

"You're still the oldest, Anita," the brunette laughed lightly. Beside her, the man, it seemed, was chuckling.

The girl-child - Anita - blushed angrily. "Stop rubbing it in, Halle. And you're laughing too, Audrey!"

"I was clearing my throat."

"Don't lie to me!" This was punctuated with a stomp of an indignant foot. Paige smirked at the mature display. Round eyes narrowed and glared at her.

"Now that you have your answer," Paige drawled, flicking a lazy hand. "Leave me be. I am feeling quite generous today and I won't punish any of you for this transgression."

"You're insane!"

"And you're a banshee. Stop shrieking, midget."

"What is your name, then?" the man asked, interrupting the restarting flames of argument. Paige's eyes narrowed, and he slightly raised a broad right shoulder - his closest to a shrug. "You already have ours."

"Fair enough," she pressed her lips. "I'm Paige."

"You probably know who we are, then." the brunette said. Paige nodded. She had heard snippets about a motley band of travelers from the North, and she deduced from the descriptions that these people were those she had heard about.

"You probably know what we are after, Paige," Halle continued in a deceptively mild tone.

The auburn-haired lady sighed loudly, "You are so troublesome." She stood up, rolling red-flecked amber eyes. After a swift display of hand movements, red threads appeared hovering around the meadow. With a final hand seal, the threads snapped and vanished forever.

Paige was free.

"And why is your name Audrey, anyway? Are you aware that it's a female name?"

The former trio, now a quartet, proceeded with their journey as if they had been traveling together all their lives.



They had been traveling endlessly, and finally their fifth member appeared. They had always been aware of his presence, however - like the wisps of color and texture and shape and form between dream and reality, constant but fading and molding into something else entirely. He never talked, to which Paige was grateful for. That he had decided to manifest physically was unnerving enough, and she, ever honest with herself, admitted that she was initially terrified. She just got used to him, as did her fellow sojourners - his presence lingered like a festering wound, and only through sheer will that they learned to live with it.

However different they were, Paige was used to them. She even got along with her airness when Paige was in the mood to be tolerant sometimes.

And so it was a rude awakening when she opened murderously fiery amber eyes after a thousand-year slumber.

"What. The. <i>HELL</i>."

And so Paige didn't sleep happily ever after, after all.