And in dreams... prolouge part I

part 1 of prolouge, more following soon. Must connquer writers block. check out first chapter of prequel!
And In Dreams



The sun was warm on her face as she lay in the meadow, the brook babbling quietly close by, combining with the buzz of insects, the song of birds in the trees, and the gentle whisper of the wind to create a natural melody. Aislynn smiled in her sleep. Just hidden in the song, carried on the breeze, she could hear her mother calling to her, the same way she had called to her every morning. “Aislynn, wake up! It’s time for school!”
Always the same; a comforting, monotonous, morning ritual. As always, it was hard to kick her feet over the edge of her bed onto the worn hard wood floor of her bedroom, to stumble her way to the bathroom, to get dressed, and to go downstairs, still half asleep and conscious only by necessity. Aislynn stifled a groan as she moved, her back still aching from moving boxes ad naseum for the past several days in a row, and now came the part she hated most: school. Aislynn's grandmother Morgana had once joked that as much as Aislynn and her mother, Raelin, moved around, they could have probably applied to honorary admittance into Gypsy-hood, and that they probably kept the boxes in a corner of the basement for convenience's sake. Her mother had been furious for days. Aislynn sighed as she passed the photo that sat in state on top of the credenza, placing a kiss on the tips of her middle and pointer fingers and passing gently onto the picture's surface on her way into the kitchen.
Her mother as always was there, making her breakfast, another constant in their morning ritual that ever seemed to change. Her mother seemed to revel in the normalcy, craving it like a smoker craves nicotine. Anything out of the normal routine drove her mother crazy. It was all because of her father. He had always preached to her mother about being spontaneous, about living life to the fullest.
“Every day should be an adventure!” he’d cry. And her mother would always go along to please her father.
That was before he had left, before the normalcy. His work had simply taken too much of his time, he’d explained to a sobbing little five-year-old. It was too dangerous to have him around anymore, he’d said, imploring to her that she understand. He had died in a car crash a few months later. Aislynn had been devestated Asking questions about what her father used to do for a living had always been out of the question; it was almost a carnal sin.
Aislynn Maharette O’Shiannon’s mother was a partner in a prestigious law firm that had been established soon after Aislynn’s father had left, and a job that her mother took very seriously, but one that also meant moving around a lot as new offices were opened across the nation. Aislynn thought that her mother took everything seriously. Her eyes seemed to radiate to word “SERIOUS” in all capital letters, eyes that had used to instead sparkle with life, the deep blue-green of the sea, vivid against dark red hair. Aislynn looked nothing like her mother. She had long blonde hair that came to her waist and past when let down unfettered, constantly falling into her deep sapphire blue eyes like a veil. Pale as a porcelain doll, and just as delicate, Aislynn’s features were softer and gentler than her mother's, almost childlike in innocence and grace; though more often than not, her smile could rival Puck's in mischievousness, hinting that though she looked like an idealized angel made of painted glass, she was anything but innocent.
The only thing that seemed to change was the landscape and the weather that accompanied it. Aislynn longed for Ireland, where she and her mother had lived with her grandma Morgana and grandda Angus; the land there was beautiful, in peaceful, patient way, as if it had long ago accepted the state of the world and had decided to ignore it and carry on as it always had. The air there one breathed held music and rain, the smell of the sea, folk stories and superstition. There, the blood in Aislynn's veins sparkled as she traipsed over the rain sprinkled ground, keeping an eye out for ancient stone walls marking territories long since forgotten so she didn't fall on her face. Here, in the upscale, snobby suburbs of New York, the air was stifling, heavy, and dead.
The normalcy had been bearable there, in a place that left magick sparkling in the veins of those who knew how to feel it. Morgana, Angus, Raelin, and Aislynn all knew magick in it's purest form, their ancestry dating back before the fist Celtic kings fought over the ancient stone walls and petty territories. It coursed through her veins alongside her blood, heightening her senses and accelerating her reflexes. The magick in her heritage was what had kept her family alive for centuries, enabling them to endure times of war, persecution, famine, and plague. Yet with the good came the bad; their ancient lineage had also caused their family to be hunted down by human and inhuman alike, often times nearly fatal to either or both parties. In fact, this was how Aislynn's parents had met.