The sun seemed to take its time lowering beyond the dark green of the hills surrounding Trawsmar. Rhiannon moved out of the crypt just in time to see the last vestiges of light, like embers of a fire disappearing behind the high ridge. It hurt her eyes, but she was taking delight in the fading dusky twilight that she had missed for so long...

This was where it all began. From the crypt where she lay her head every morning, the very first crypt she ever had lain in as a Kindred, to the familiar footpaths she had walked 125 years ago as a scared 17 year old.

This self-imposed solitude was both exhilirating, and lonely as hell. The Toreador blood in her cried out for social activity, but she had to go back to the beginning...to figure it all out.

She made her way to the familiar family cemetary, surpisingly intact even after all this time. She looked down at the gravestone, her own, and settled herself down against it, as she had every night for the last two months. Running her fingers through her now short red hair (a gift from the garou attack, she now carried a blood deficiency that did not allow her hair to grow back) she paused to trace the scar on her neck. She was presumed dead, but Tromador managed to save her, and whip up some magic of his own to confuse the vile garou.

This was her home, where she lived her entire mortal life. It was here she needed to find the answers to the main question of her life...what the hell happened?

Perhaps she had been existing under a veil of Margrus' high expectations of her. She was a semi-educated country girl, who had been force fed the patina of high society by her sire.

It was all a whirlwind in her head, the turn of events in her unlife. First Cascadia, such a pleasant hamlet, until such time as whatever she DIDN'T know sought to undo her by way of the garou attack. Then York...she probably could have been happy in York, but the invitation of power at the bequest of the Justicars had been too powerful a drug. Margrus would be so proud of her. And so she left the city in the hands of the wrong person, she knew that now. Just another one of her weaknesses..a trust she couldn't shake.

She rested her cheek against the coolness of the gravestone, feeling every little imperfection in with her heightened senses. She knew she couldn't stay here forever, feeding was risky in a small rural area. But where could she go?

She slowly closed her eyes and began to reach out mentally, trying to find someone, anyone, to whom she had a connection....

Would she find anyone...and if so, friend...or foe?


[ This Message was edited by: Rhiannon on 2001-12-21 16:55 ]

((DAMN COOL :smile:

Thats really KICK ASS to see you back here :smile:

Im posting something right now :smile: ))

((This is really a honor for me to post on that thread :smile: here it is : ))

Valek was sitting against a tombstone in the Cappadocian cemetary .... rain falling heavily on him ... but still he didnt seem to care all that much .... Valek was looking at the dead corpse of the nun's that was hanging on the trees in the graveyard ... the ones he killed no so long ago .... he kept smiling evily as his eyes turned white looking at them .... Valek then laughed in a demonic way ... his voice turning to the one of one of the 27 demons he had in him ....

Suddenly Valek felt something he haven't felt in A LONG time .... Valek quickly stood up .... taking out the sword his sire "Angelica" gave him ... the "Cthulhu Dawn" .... Turning back quickly .... looking around .... Seeing that there was no one .... Valek sheeted his sword ....

-Few seconds after-

Valek felt the same thing again .... someone calling for help of some sort .... getting this message Valek could sense "loneliness , confusion and isolation" ....

Valek knew that he once felt that aura .... he was almost sure of who it could be ....

Valek answered this message sending back a telepathic message saying "Who .... are .... you .... " in a familiar voice ....

((Welcome back Rhiannon... sweetie, you rock!! Look out Cascadia, the woman who started it all is BACK!

WOOT!!!! :grin: :grin: :grin:

~batty~

(( and they say good things dont ever happen to those who wait:P

((hmmmm wow..it has been awhile hasnt it...damn welcome back

[ This Message was edited by: Lazarus on 2001-12-21 09:20 ]

During the lowering of the sun Karl's new limo, with blacked out windows, pulled across the streets near the cemetary. It was odd, He could feel a bright aura, the same aura from the mournful night in York, The night when he was in need of someone to free him from the Evil blood-strangle-hold of the one named Eveshka. It had to be her ... It had to be Rhiannon. No one else had an aura so thick in the sight of beauty. He reached down clutching the handles of the car door before he pulled it open with a light clicking sound before he propelled forward jumping out of the door. His hand slid up across the collar of his jacket he tugged it tight from the cold wind... arrogent wind ... an untamed wind. A storm was heading up his way and it began from a wind. The rain began to fall in sprinkles, a young ghoul man also exited the limo as he fiddled with a black umbrella. Karl turned away from the graveyard and hopped back into the limo, the ghoul not far behind him.

(( i can think of no logical reason to be int the graveyard. so i won't be there to introduce myself. But welcome bacl none theless

(( I never met you and I guess I wont yet b/c why would a Tremere be in a cemetary


((anyway...I've herd alot about you and cant wait to meet you

((Just to bring up a little annoying fact.... the gravyard that Rhiannon is in , Hit me if im wrong lol, is in Scotland lol ))

Mark was laying still and silent inside the wooden crate. A thin stream of moonlight entered through a small gap between the wooden planks as the whirling sounds of motors could be heard. The loading door at the back of the plane was opening slowly until it came to a full stop. Several voices could be heard talking in the back ground. These voices were growing louder as they moved closer to the crate concealing Mark.

The first voice belonged to that of the Pilot and captain. His accent was strong British while the second voice was clearly owned by a Scotsman. These were the two crew of the small cargo plane Hathway.

The two men were now above the crate as they reached down and tried to lift it. They raised it a few inches then droped it back down.

"Ho Tam! This crates awfy heavy, itweighs a fuckin' ton. Yoo wahnt te brek it oapin an see whit's in it?"

English man looked at him oddly. " Jim. You know the regulations. By opening that crate we would of made a breach of our contract and we could lose our license and …"

Before the captain could finish his sentence Jim had already used a crowbar to pry of the lid of the crate off revealing the cold pale body of Mark Archer.

Mark was dressed in pretty much his normal way. His slip on leather Ben Sherman Rosy and Jim’s were placed over a pair of black socks. His casual black trousers were slightly dirty from the long flight from Cascadia to Scotland. A creamy white polo neck jumper was worn over his tight fitting CK T-shirt. The neck of his jumper was covering up most of his mouth.

"Oh my god" Thomas sounded exasperated and suddenly looked pale himself. Jim quickly moved his fingers down the side of the polo neck and onto Mark’s neck trying to find a pulse.

"Is he? Is he…he..?" Thomas stuttered to get the question out.
"Hes fuckin’ deid" Jim almost shouted out.

The corner of Mark’s mouth could be seen escaping the neck and forming a smile. "Guess again" Mark let out a little chuckle as he grabbed hold of Jim’s wrist. With a quick jolt Jim’s body came moving towards Mark only to be stopped as Mark’s other fist struck him across the face causing him to land on the floor hard and unconscious.

Mark slowly sat up in his crate and yawned before looking in the direction of Thomas who’s eyes quickly rolled back in his head before fainting, falling backwards. Mark stood and stepped out of the crate . Looming over the body of Thomas he took the man ID badge.

‘Captain Carter, Thomas. Commercial Airline. 09786342’

In an instant Mark changed his appearance. He was now stood the perfect match of Thomas. Dressed in Pilot suit he attached the badge to his own clothes and began to walk in the direction of the exit,


[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2001-12-21 16:14 ]

The black cab door opened slowly and Mark stood out onto the path that led towards the cemetery. Leaning into the open drivers window he smiled at the driver.
" That’ll be twen’ey please mate"
Mark reached into his pocket and handed the driver twenty dollars.
"Oi pal. I ain’t taking yer funny shit money."

Mark reached back into his pockets and handed over all his remaining cash that totaled to roughly $400. The driver seeming quite happy with this arrangement drove of leaving Mark in the cold harsh darkness.

Mark dropped his disguies and was now appearing as his normal self. He unattached the ID from his jumper and discarded it into the side if the path. He then began his walk into the cemetery.

Rhiannon opened her eyes with a startled gasp. As plain as anything, she heard a low menacing "Who..is...there?" in a voice with a familiar timbre. She looked around and found no one and tried to remember what she could from her meditation. The voice was haunting her......she knew it..she knew that she did. Looking up at the pink vermillion sky, she realised she had been deeply gone for most of the night. She was lucky she wasn't happened upon by another person or creature. With a shrug of frustration, she stood up, and slowly trodded off to her lonely crypt.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Next Night...Dusk

Rhiannon stepped through the heavy doors of the crypt just in time to see the last flash of light fade behind the hills. Damn..she slept too soundly, missing the most enjoyable part of her nights. She hadn't slept that well though, feeling tired and sluggish rather than refreshed. Her dreams were swirls of memories....she saw Valek before her, the haunted eyes, the demons waiting for their chance to overtake. It was not a pleasant sight, for she remembered the torment of Tromador at the hands of Mendaline...and even more closely she recalled her frightful evening in the catacombs with Valek, when the demons had sought to kill her and take his mind completely.

She had also dreamt of Mark..her erstwhile lover, and best friend. He seemed to be darker as well, with a streak of maliciousness she didn't remember. Did that mean that he hated her for what she did? It was all so confusing. Brief sntaches of others came through as her mind snapped to focus. Images of Batgirl....alive and well, her tinkling laughter, and her happy dances. All so confusing. There seemed to be pieces of other auras,,,those she knew well, and those she did not. For a brief moment, she became so fatigued, she swayed on her feet. Shaking her head, and squaring her shoulders in that signature way, she made her way to the cemetary, to continue her lonely pursuits.

(And yes Im in Scotland...)

_________________
Breathe,breathe in the air
Dont be afraid to care
Leave but dont leave me
Look around and chose your own ground
For long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
is all your life will ever be

[ This Message was edited by: Rhiannon on 2001-12-21 17:00 ]

The calm of dusk was a welcome sight for Mark. The chilling Scottish night brought memories back of the long cold winter nights he used to spend as a mortal in the cold streets of England. The wind was brushing past him making a soft whistling noise in his ears. Sliding his hands into his trousers pockets he tensed his body up and continued walking.

As he approached her he could feel the unforgettable presence. A presence that he had not felt for many nights but it was unmistakable. The subtle fuse of power and compassion was enrapturing. He walked slowly in a stealthily manner.

His eyes set upon the familiar head of auburn hair that glimmered in the distance. He smiled to himself as he continued to approach her, not wanting to startle her. Thoughts of the past ran through his mind. As if his entire life history played through like a old video recording. The women before him distressed, hurt and maybe even scared. Scared of the unknown.

Rhiannon. They had shared good times and plenty of bad times. But through it all they had remained friends. ‘Best Friends’. Maybe this time he could truly save her from the darkness . He continued walking until he was within only several meters away from her

Leaning his left side against a nearby tree he cocked his head to the side and smiled while speaking in a soft , calm and reassuring tone.

"Hey my little grape"

A wide smile shot across his face as thoughts of how much had changed filled his head. He ran his hand through his jet black hair remembering how he used to keep it bleached blonde.