<strong>Maggie Foss</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>: The dark realm, open field of the barrens<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: All<br/><hr/>Remembering the agony of Cern's moments on this plane, Maggie can't shake the chill of death-- the one certainty for a mere mortal, whatever gift or shared aspect Cern has given over to her-- is that there is certainly an end.  There was never an alternative... but Maggie feels that, what choice she makes now will carry through, in service to these beings that cheat death and reality to exist in these strange realms of dark and light.  Now, she must 'freely' swear to the only hope she has of survival in this realm... but is also the thing that brought her here?<br/><br/>The godmother's figure of light that looms over them, thrusting up her powers in their defense, like an angelic totem of all that is pure... the fae cradled in Maggie's pocket, strange and pure in their delicateness and simplistic devotion, adored this woman and rejoiced at her presence.  That kinship that she felt to Cern and to the little spirits with him-- it's like the woman is already in her blood, creeping her way into her life like the dawn-light over frozen fields, only now breaching the horizon though her light was known long before.<br/><br/>Yet, somehow, Maggie looks once more at the dark woman, bent only on consuming, on spreading... a cancer of twisting horrors that finds glee in torment.<br/><br/>Maggie, suddenly, hates them both with a certainty deep and violent, for yes, the gods are at play with their mortal toys, and Maggie- by fate or error- has become the lingering, bleeding mouse of two cruel and amused cats.  "Fine," she says, cold and steady in her stare at the godmother.  "I swear."