Scene Title Beacon
Synopsis Colette reflects on what has gone on the last few months while practicing with her ability.
Date March 9, 2009

The Lighthouse, Tower Beacon

Sunlight burns a brilliant yellow-gold on the western horizon, casting long and deep shadows across Staten Island's crumbling infrastructure. From this high up, the horizon looks like a patchwork quilt of concrete, grass, and neon all spattered together like an impressionist painting.

Leaning against the corroded iron railing, Colette Nichols lets the cold wind blows through her dark hair, eyes closed to let the warm light of the setting sun brush over her cheeks. Her bare fingers slide along the bubbled and peeling black paint that covers the railing, unconsciously feeling the difference in the reflection of light on the surface, feeling with her hands the shifts in color from black to rusty brown and back to black again. Her lips curve into a smile, one of accomplishment and for the first time in a long time, pride.

Letting her eyes slowly open, Colette sees out of her one unblinded eye the beauty of purplish hues meeting with reds, blues and orange in the sunset. Her smile grows, and the young woman raises a single hand, two fingers outstretched as she begins to use the sky itself as a canvas. Her fingers brush over empty air, tracing shades of color and light as the world around her becomes her virtual canvas. She closes her eyes again, feeling the rippling waves of light reflecting off of her skin like some people would feel air.

Her hand moves, feeling the colors under her fingertips; feeling the texture of light, dark and all of the hues in between. As Colette's fingers stroke colors into the air, she begins to sway from side to side, a second hand joining the painting, the side of her palm smoothing across an unseen surface angled in the air, sweeping a streak of smudged purple, her thumb moving out to trace a circle of yellow ringed with orange.

Letting out a soft sound in the back of her throat, Colette tilts her head to the side, beginning to make vertical strokes of blue and red, followed by hints of sun-tinted peach and rich caramel brown. When her eyes open again, Colette is again staring at the sunset, but not as she saw it before. Instead, it is a watercolor-reminiscent painting hanging in mid-air, done in blurred hues of rich, vibrant color that shed a soft light all their own. However, unlike the sunset she is staring at now, there is someone else sharing it. Painted from behind, is a long-haired brunette with rich caramel-brown hair, her brick-red sweater nearly blending in to the fiery sunset hues.

Colette stares at the image, closing her eyes as she reaches out towards the image of the woman, her fingers passing through the colors with a rippling distortion, but all she feels is the air on the other side. The corners of her mouth downturn, and what was once a fulfilled smile turns into something longing, something reminiscent.

"I miss you…" she murmurs, letting her hand drag through the illusion, smearing the colors as they fade and contort, blurring into reality as she no longer focuses on it, "…so much." She slouches forward, laying her forearms on the railing, staring down to the ground so far below, as the last rays of sunlight reflect off of the glass behind here, where the lantern of the lighthouse will burn once day has fully turned to night.

Colette, like all ships lost at sea, cannot find their way without a beacon to guide them…

…and her's is so far away.

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