The Legend Carries On


delia2_icon.gif ryans4_icon.gif

Scene Title The Legend Carries On
Synopsis Things get right dramatic in the world of Marshal Ben Ryans when his daughter comes a'callin'.
Date April 22, 2011

In Dreams

The nervous nicker of the dark mare under him interrupts the silence of the dusky sunset ahead of them. Sparks of light refract off the jagged obsidian shard occupying the land of Might Be. A place the mare did not go, not anymore, not since being shot at with fragments of glass that she can still feel in her hindquarters. That biting cold that spread from a pinpoint to devour her soul, or at least try. But the mare isn't what they wanted, they let her go. The soul of a horse isn't a soul at all, more of a reflection like the shard they inhabit.

The cackle and jeering laughter of the half-men haunt the Marshall as he gazes out, searching for something that he can't remember. An idea, perhaps, a sense of something bigger than himself. It is something important, he knows that much. The moment comes every time he sees one of the bleached skulls pop into his field of vision, but it's like trying to catch water in the hand. The moment he thinks he has it, it filters through his fingers and disappears again.

There's something there, he knows it. Though the mare refuses to press forward, stopping at the border where the glass begins, he still makes the attempt to at least see what it is he is missing. Whatever ghosts that might live inside of him are given purchase within the shards themselves. Dark patterns of his past and present stare back at him, cast under the horrific light of the dying day.

Well worn leather creaks under him as he leans forward in his saddle to brush an hand over the stiff bristly hair of his mare neck. "Easy, darling." In truth, the mare isn't the only one happy to stay away from the land of Might Be. He prefers the comfort of the Borderlands, where he doesn't have to think about Might Be til it invades the lands under his protection.

The old Marshal prefers not to think about what might be… so his dislike the lands ahead of him are understandable. However, he isn't an animal ruled by instinct. The first sign of what he's searching for and he'll move into the lands to chase it if need be. Even if it means taking the jagged lands on foot.

In fact, a trio of shards catch his attention.

Flashes of brown, red and gold has him swinging a leg over and dropping to the ground with a thump of boots. He stands on the border for a long moment, eyes cast down to the shards littering the ground like debris of of an explosion. It only takes another glance at the shards, to get him to take that first step. The shards crunching like broken glass under foot. The sound sending his trusty mare dancing backwards, with an soft alarmed noise.

He inches forward, cautious of the dangers, six shooter in hand. Ahead of him each of the three shards holds the face of a woman. A blonde, a red head and a brunette. They tickle something in the back of his mind. Like they should be familiar. Maybe ladies from the saloons he's visited?

The howls of the half-men erupt as the Marshal focuses on the faces of the three women. One by one they split and crack, crumbling to powder that liquefies into a puddle and soaks into the dry soil. What remains is a hardened puddle, mirror-like in sheen and refraction. The wavering images within are a window, not to the Marshal's mind but from someplace else. Someone out here a freeman and prisoner all in one.

A near silent hiss is carried on the wind, tickling the man's ears as degenerates into a titter. Someone is mocking him. Close by, a shadow flits through one of the more translucent shards. Not made of obsidian but diamond, the iridescent blue that pulls through to visible is in the wavering shape of a woman. Perhaps another one of the ladies from the saloon, trapped now in an unbreakable glass.



His voice is rough from hard living, cracks with dryness. That word is enough to pull his frustrated gaze from the melted shards and the mocking howls. Blue eyes cast over the landscape, shaded from the dying harsh light by the brim of his cowboy hat, following the movement of the shadow with a catlike keenness.

As the shape forms, the marshal moves closer. Free hand reaching out to touch the surface. He seems like he's half expecting the diamond like shard to crumble away like the others. To keep him from remembering.

It's a cruel land that Might Be.

From the other side, a hand reaches out to touch his, meeting palm to palm. Spirals of violet colored hair wave within the gem just large enough to act as a cage to the young woman inside. Her face has no features, no eyes, no nose, or even a mouth to allow him a chance to recognize who it might be. The shift she is wearing barely long enough to come down mid thigh.


The voice that answers is nothing louder than a whisper, soft and frightened, like she's afraid of drawing attention. The palm remains pressed to the inside of the rock, a pale blue that's almost invisible save for the shadow on the underside of her arm. When the second comes to rest next to the first, it slides up and in an arc over the area masking the woman's face. The daughter that was marooned by her own action.

There is confusion at the woman within the diamond shard. He looks where their hands are separated and yet seem to touch. His daughter? The one he went seeking for? The familiarity of voice strikes a cord, brows furrow slightly. Then…


Something about the dream seems to sharpen into clarity. The lens flare effect gone, like someone flipped the light switch of a film production. His hands fall away, though he is still dressed as the marshal — maybe cause he's always loved the old westerns — his eyes seem very aware.

He looks over the crystal with a slight frown, lips pressed tightly into mild disapproval. "A little over dramatic isn't it?" hands brush aside duster on each side so that he can rest hands on his hips. Though one hand takes a moment to wave her out into the open. His tone is much like she'd remember when she'd or even Lucille would over react to things.

With clarity and lucidity comes the danger of waking and as such, the entire shape of the world distorts and wavers. The sky begins to crumble, allowing the stained plaster of the terminal ceiling to peek through. It also visibly pains the woman, shown plain by the grimace on her face as she attempts to keep stability where it falters. "This is your dream, Daddy, you make it as dramatic as you want it to be."

She's been learning quite a bit from the Russian Bear.

Though more visible now, she's still trapped inside of the small mountain. Ryans is unable to wave some things away and the imposed prison seems to be one of them. "I wanted to tell you…" she begins, stopping just at the point where she might give a real explanation for her behavior. "… wanted to but sometimes I think you care more about other people than you do about me and Lu. Did you know she's homeless?"

What she says, doesn't show on Ryans face, but the world around them darkens and there is a soft broken growling that echos off the crystals.

"You think I care more about other people then you, just because they are taking precautions?" He steps closer to the crystal, his eyes finally starting to show some of the anger that's brewing under the surface. "You are in a dangerous situation, sitting right there on the door step of Heller. He's watching you, I guarantee it. You both keep insisting you are capable adults when I do try to help, you go off and do your own thing anyhow.

"And no… I don't know your sister is homeless. Last time we talked, she was safe and sound at Jaiden's place. So it must have been recently." Eyes narrow slightly at Delia, his words soft and measured. "What do you want me to do, Delia? For you… for her? She doesn't want to be with the Ferry. I have no place to put her outside of Pollepel. The place is there for her if she would only just take it." There is so much frustration starting to cloud Benjamin's features.

Where there was no wind to move the hot and stale air, there is suddenly gusts carrying debris. Tiny shards of obsidian hit the heavy canvas of the duster, bouncing off it harmlessly and tumbling to the ground at his booted feet. In the distance, a black cloud with the beginnings of a funnel can be seen.

"I took precautions," Delia retorts, the crystal of her cage echoing and making her voice boom louder than it normally would. "You were the one that exposed me by talking about who you were and what your position is over a cell phone. I didn't say anything on purpose because there might have been someone listening. You have to be so official all the time, ignoring us for your stupid duty." One fist pounds against the inside of the shard, making a tiny spiderweb at the point of impact.

"Jaiden's garage got raided or something, he's on the run. Lucille is living on the streets." Information for him to work with when he's in a more conscious state. The dream walker's eyes spark bright blue for a brief moment as she attempts to regain control of her temper. Out side of the shard, the wind dies down just a little. Still, there's enough to whip the Marshal's coat around his legs, the slap of the fabric against fabric sounding enough like a whip to cause his horse to shy.

"I did it for you," she says finally. "You owed Mister Logan a favor. I needed a place to live anyway, I couldn't stay with Nick anymore, so I took your favor. I made an offer to Mister Logan and he took it."

A flash of lightening strikes out, hitting the ground in the distance, shards breaking and sizzling. "You had no right." He points an accusing finger at his daughter. "No Right!" The words thunder through the area, echoing off the landscape. It startles him, forcing him calm again. "I have been in this business for twice as many years as you've been on this Earth, young lady. I am your father, I'm suppose to take these risks for you. These are dangerous people.

"And you really think that those precautions are enough? You forget who I was and who I worked for and what I did." Ryans doesn't yell now, he doesn't have to… but there is that tone to his voice. "You really dont think that Heller won't see your name… Delia Ryans and not be interested? They know who you are and that you are my daughter and they know I am part of the Ferry."

Even as the diamond splinters, he presses hands on the prison, curled into tight fists, knuckles white. "Lia… just being in that place you are a target and under surveillance. For once, I'm not sure if I can protect you." He looks worried. "Just like I couldn't when you were lost.

"And it might not have been the best place, but you had a place. I even put my neck on the line to make sure you guys received vaccines to keep you safe." His voice rumbles much like the growl of thunder rolls across the scenery.

Fingers tighten around the crystal, the anger and mask melts away to one of hurt and pain. "You do not —" his voice breaks and there are literally tears threatening in her father's eyes. His voice is gruff and soft as he says quietly "You do not have the right to say I don't care about you girls." His lips press into a firm line and he looks away from her, pushing away from the shard.

"I'm with Mister Logan, he's been taking good care of me. I have Brian and Sable, they're there too… and Mister Gataullin, the bogeyman. You were almost dead when I came back, you couldn't have paid back the favor and I don't think Mister Logan would understand if he never got payment." Delia's voice mimics her father's in volume and intensity, pitch for pitch. When Ben's eyes glisten, hers drop to the ground at his feet. Her hand plays against the inside of the diamond as her lips stretch into a sad frown. "I won't say anything about you guys, I promise."

The hand slides down along the surface until it falls away completely, swinging limply to her side to join the other. "I came to talk to you about the dreams, Daddy. They're not dreams, they're memories that we haven't had yet. I had two… one when I'm back with the Ferry. I'm a lot older. The other one is after my daughter dies. Did Lynette give you the copy?"

For a time, Delia only gets the view of her father's back, shoulders rolled forward into a slouch. A defensive pose. Only when the storms fall to distant rumbling, does his head turn towards her, even if his body doesn't. Daddy is listening. But the storms never completely fade, a warning to his volatile mood.

His head turns back, even if he doesn't really. Daddy is listening. "I got it." The copy of the rubbing stays with him, but he doesn't tell her that. Maybe a little petty, but… "I know. About the dreams. What they could be. There are those within the Ferry working to figure out what's going on and what it's telling us."

Hands flex, muscles aching from holding them so tight. Finally, Ryans turns back slowly to face his daughter. "And if the dreams are right… I might have another daughter in the future." Another daughter for him to fail also doesn't get said. "Possibly married to your brother's fiance." Which still floors him just to think of.

"I know, I have a picture of her," Delia's voice is a quieter, hardly above a whisper as she stares at her father. The judgment passed is all his own, she doesn't seem concerned with the fact that he might produce what she earlier would have considered her replacement. "Daddy, I have some things to tell you… but I can't because I'm scared you'll tell the council and they can't know yet." A pause, to give him time to consider a promise or not. She doesn't offer the option but being her father, it's possible that she simply assumes he'll take it.

"Daddy, I need help. I don't want to have Beth, I was told she was very important to me…. but…" She swallows and looks down at the slivers of glass at Ryans' feet, studying their sparkle under the light of a moon as pale as she is. "Daddy, if I died and you had the chance to do it all over again… Would you and mom have me? Even if it hurt to lose me?"

The question throws him off, leaves Ryans stunned. He stares at her. "Of course, I would." There isn't even a need to think about it. "You kids are my greatest achievement and a testament of the love Mary and I had for each other." Brows fall low, head shaking slowly. "For all that you frustrate me — you and your sister — I would not change having you in my world."

A hand comes up, a clear sign her father isn't done. "But every situation is unique, honey. If you don't feel it's right, then… there is no judgment." It's honest. "Just knowing the future changes it, this isn't that future any longer. You haven't held her yet, you haven't experienced that feeling that comes with holding your first child and knowing it's a piece of you. The connection isn't there." Meaning, she doesn't have to be a part of this future.

He could go into what he know about time lines and multiple futures, but… "What do you mean, have a picture?" Yeah. He just came back around to that.

There's a helpless look in Delia's eyes as she listens, seeming to wilt with every word. "But— I held my son." The words are whispered when the dreamwalker lowers herself to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. "I held my son and I think I need to have her for him to exist."

There's a light spattering of rain that falls, the already dark clouds taking on a bleak grey color, covering up the silvery moon. With every drop that hits the diamond, it sizzles and a bit of it melts away like ice. It isn't long before the casing that contained Ben's youngest daughter has worn through enough to allow him to step inside as well.

"Daddy, he said he wasn't disappointed in me. I met my nephew, he said I was a good mother and a good aunt…" There's no names to go along with the flimsy little words that disappear on the air as soon as they reach Ryans' ears. "And— and I think I met your daughter once too. She's beautiful and so… precious." It's the only word she could use to describe the young woman. "Daddy, they're real and I think I'm already in love with my son's father… but Beth… I'm— It doesn't feel right. I'm not in love with Jaiden, she'd just be a means to an end."

He doesn't go to her, yet. He watches her quietly. It's a tough subject, just like the battle of wills that happened only moments ago. He looks around the bleak surroundings and gives a heavy sigh. Stepping into her prison, Ben comes to crouch in front of her. The dusters spread out around him, as he rests his arms on his knees. She can't see his eyes for a moment, brim of his hat in the way.

He's considering his next words.

"You know," his head tips put enough to see those bright blue eyes looking back at her own, "that since your mother died I haven't been the most religious of men." A hand slides off his leg and reaches to take one of her smaller ones. "But I think I have to go with… If it's God's will, then he'll come into your life no matter what. But don't have a child out of love, baby." His words rumble, but at gentle. Like it would be when she hurt herself when little.

"You won't be doing that baby any service… because you won't be having you, because you want her. You'll be having her because you want this other child." He watches her face, watches her reaction. "Think of how you would have felt if I had you, JUST so I could have some other child? And there is no guarantee you'll have either of them.

"The future is different now."

"Jaiden wants her," Delia's voice has a deadened quality to it as she stares up into Ben's eyes. The same blue as hers and Bradley's, a few shades from Lucille's. "He thinks— He said that we don't know if she'll die, he's probably trying to make plans to prevent it already." Though Delia's prevention method is the one already touted by ads and articles. Abstinence.

There's a brief smile that touches her lips as she glances away, angling her head toward the ground. "I thought at first she was Mister Logan's… because I'm living with him, you know?" Her eyes flare open to wide circles and she holds up her hand in a halt motion, "Not that we— we don't— he's just the only— just the only one there." There's a slight pause when the redhead looks up at her father again, trying to gauge his reaction. "We don't."

She rests her chin on top of her knees, a forlorn expression coming over her face as the wind carries some of the dry soil away, exposing dark brown and cream tile. "Don't tell the council they're here, please Daddy. They're going to do it on their own…" There's a certainty in her voice when she speaks, even though it wavers a little before it dies.

"It's your body and it's unfair of him to put you in that position," Benjamin points out. "Don't let him force it on you, especially if you don't love him. If he wants children, well…" He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Then there will be other children. Children that he'll love just as much as this girl that hasn't even been conceived yet."

At the mention of Logan, his hand tightens on hers briefly, before he remembers himself. Forcing himself to relax again. "I won't tell council, if you can assure me that they are not here to hurt the Ferry." Being family, they probably already know about the Ferry, but he has a duty.

"They won't be.. My son is Ferry and— I know he wouldn't do anything to hurt his family." Delia hunches her shoulders forward and looks up at her dad, a posture she's been getting more and more practice at. Meek and worn down, not proud and tall like her sister and father. "When he goes to the council, if you're there— Can you please support him? You might know him already— I saw him once at a meeting when we first got to Pollepel, before I got lost."

Her knees are let loose by her free arm as she clasps his between hand both of hers. "His name is Benji," she whispers the name, like it's an important secret for him to keep. Much like many of the others she's told him. "Short for Benjamin Ryans, junior… I named him after you. Please do it for me?"

The look on his face says it all. He knows Benji.

There is some shock that that revelation. "Sooo…" He starts after a moment as if trying to understand this future grandson. "You do have a child with Logan?" It's asked with all the care of someone who fears the answer to come after. Cause the rather…. overwhelming man would account for what he's seen in Benji.

But he quickly waves away the question. "Don't answer that." Cause he suddenly realizes he doesn't want to know.

"We had Benji confined for a time, after finding out he worked for Evolved Affairs. So I know him… him and his friends." Because where there is one… Nora and Howard flit through his mind. Reynard and Hannah as well come to mind an few moments after. A tight knit group.

It all made sense.

"Ingrid was the name Nicole mentioned. She doesn't know if the Ben mentioned in her dream was me, she didn't know any last name, but… he's Ferry. Who's the nephew?" She started it and Ryans can't help but ask.

"No, Dad, he's not Mister Logan's…" Delia's voice is quiet and clear with a bit of bristle behind it, perhaps in defense of her son, the father in question, and the questionable father. Lowering her hands from Ben's she places the on the dirt to push herself up to a stand. Her shift is still a stark brilliant white, even though she's been sitting in the dirt. "It's Nick, Nick York." Another name she's not sure if he knows or not.

"My nephew, your grandson, is Brad's son. He works at Studio K with Brad… he got in touch with you after Brad manifested." There's enough there to lead him straight to Kincaid without actually saying the name but she continues anyway. "Brad's been having trouble dealing with it, Caid wanted me to talk to him… I think you should too. I know— I know that you guys don't really get along but he needs you Dad. He needs to learn how to control his ability."

After she's on her feet, Benjamin slowly stands. There is a grace to it and a power that is something like you'd find in a predator. "Nick." He knows that man as well, respects him really. "I haven't seen him in awhile." He's not really sure what to think of that bit of news either.

When it comes to the other surprise future grandson… Kincaid. Some of what has happened, suddenly shifts in his mind, making the mans actions seem so much clearer. Of course, there is a much more pressing issue at hand.

"As for your brother…." There is not an obvious commitment. Not right away. Ben isn't even sure, his son would want to talk to him. "I'll think about." That's all he can promise at this point. But the fact that his son is having control issues with his ability worries him. Chances are he will, but he's not making a promise.

The fabric of the dream begins to erode at a much quicker pace than the manipulator is able to keep up with. What used to be the border between Might Be and Nothing is quickly falling into reality, something that has the young redhead in something of a panic. "Daddy, don't tell anyone. I'm trusting you… it's important, just be there for Benji because I can't. Please?"

Her body begins to fade, going translucent and disappearing except for the two blue irises that remain hanging in the air for some time after she's gone. They blink once, twice, and then finally wink out of existence, allowing the morning sun to peek through the curtain of the dream and crumble the scenery completely.

"I'll do my best." Ryans does promises as the dream starts to fade away, along with his daughter. And even though they yelled and fought, parents are ever forgiving of their offspring… for the most part. Storms may still rumble in the distance, but he still reaches out to try and touch her cheek in farewell before it completely fades from view.

"Be careful." He whispers to the empty space, but he closes his eyes and waits for the awakening. When his eyes open again he's greeted with the cracked ceiling of Grand Central Terminal.

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