Worlds: Heart Choice
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Heart Choice Soundtrack:
Straif’s Theme: Everglade Run by Yanni
Mitchella’s Theme: Heart of Spring by David Arkenstone
Other Themes (in no particular order):
Power of Celtic by Goa
Celtic Twilight by Loreena McKennitt
Ancient Memories by Derek Bell
Celtic Dream by Enigma
Epona by Enya
Celtic Harp Solo (The Last Feast) by Aeternus
Celtic Myst by Mark Knopfler
the FamCat, Cut bits.
Pinky Wants To Become A
HERE’S A SCENE I NEVER USED BETWEEN D’WILLOW (THE
MATCHMAKER SEEN IN HEART THIEF) AND STRAIF. I BELIEVE I DID USE SOME BITS AND
SENTIMENTS OF THE SCENE HERE AND THERE THROUGHOUT HEART CHOICE.
D'Willow slapped him across the face. "Do you deny your HeartMate? Do
you think that just because she does not suit your puny ideas, that she is wrong
His vision fogged with the pain, and she seemed to swell from her already
immense size to become the image of the MotherGoddess. "Do you think that
you know better than the Lady and the Lord? That They didn't know of your Family,
its history, of yourself when they fashioned this woman, this HeartMate for you?"
Her voice seemed to echo.
"She is sterile," he repeated dully, his mind still spinning. The
slap had made his teeth cut his tongue and he tasted blood. It was bitter.
"Accept that the line from your flesh must die. Accept the woman and
the child and the love they can give you."
He felt as if he were shrinking into himself, becoming smaller and smaller,
diminuating* into nothing, while she, with the power of great Flair and the Goddess,
towered above him, everything, all.
"Would you wish upon your descendants what, you, yourself, experienced
-- the recurrance of the virus and the wiping out of the entire line? Time and
again until finally T'Blackthorn truly died? How many of your blood do you want
to suffer in the future? How many of your true children do you want to weigh down
with the burden of knowledge that they carry a terrible gene. It is time you give
up this foolish dream of finding a cure. There is no cure. There will never be
a cure. Your Family cannot adapt to Celta, so it will die. Will you adapt your
ideas? Or will you die?"
He blinked, and blinked again. The tears of pain evaporated, and he saw the
huge woman before him, her face set in furious lines.
"The whole of the NobleCouncil knows of the Blackthorn curse. Which Family
do you think will marry a daughter to you? Who will want to perpetuate such a
doom, such pain?"
And pain was what he felt, physical, mental, spiritual -- soul deep pain.
He gripped his hands around his belt to keep his hands from trembling like his
guts. He hadn't realized until just now how stupid he was, how insignificant,
He carried tainted blood from a tainted line. Her question repeated again
and again in his mind until he could hear it down the ages to come. "Who
will marry their daughter to you?" He saw himself as an older man, with grown
children. Who would marry their daughters and sons to his get?
Something inside twisted excruciatingly until he could bear no more.
* * *
But he had already broken up with Mitchella and to come back would be very
difficult, especially when she realized why, if she thought he was forced by circumstances
to marry her, because no one else would have him. How would he be able to convince
A HeartGift. The only answer. There were no words he could use, no action
he could perform, that would ever convince her.
View of Back
T'Blackthorn Residence (Cliveden)
Plotting Workshop Notes
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