June, 2003

Eveshka walked down the streets from Old Tours, across Rue Nationale and off along the remains of the old Roman amphitheater. She often wondered why the inhabitants of Tours called Old Tours Old Tours. The streets upon which she currently walked were truly the OLDEST of the city. They had remained unchanged in location or size from the Roman times. She walked beneath the shadows of the St. Marie Convent and to the park in front of the original Oppidum of Caesarodinum. It did feel quite interesting and safe to be completely unrecognizeable for the first time in her existence. She was truly nobody at the moment. She was merely a pretty French girl. Nothing more.

Eveshka, or Veronique as she was known at present, walked over to the breach in the wall made by the Normans when they attacked Tours early on in its history. She found it fascinating that the breach made by the Normans was in the very same wall used by the Romans hundreds of years before them. It was a fortress for the Romans, it was a fortress for the Francs, and it still retained its military bearing even now, over 1000 years later.

She saw a woman there, fumbling with a camera. At her feet were several books. Eveshka walked over towards her. A gust of wind blew up and scattered her papers. Eveshka heard her say, "Shit," in an American accent. She helped the woman retrieve her errant papers.

"Merci," said the woman in a very bad French accent.

"Not at all," replied Eveshka in a thick French accent to her. "What are you doing wiss ziss papers?" she asked. Eveshka looked down and saw that they were old maps of the city. This American woman seemed to be piecing together where things were on the maps with their locations and conditions in the present.

"Oh, you speak English? But how did you know?" asked the American woman.

"Well, I ovair'eard you say "Sheet" wiss a very American accent," replied Eveshka with a girlish giggle.

The American woman smirked and turned a bit red. "I wass joost abut to 'ave some cafe," said Eve. "Zere is a nahssa place near 'ere. Very quiet. Suitable for organizing sings I should sink."

The woman smiled. "I would love to have some coffee, thank you. I have been in this city for three days now and have not had a conversation of substance with anyone."

The two women started walking back towards Rue Nationale and then down Rue des Halles where Eveshka led them into l'Acrobat. "What is your name?" asked the American, with a smile.

"Veronique," answered Eveshka. "Yours?"

"Patricia, but all my friends call me Trish," answered the American shaking Eve's hand.

"Nice to 'ave meet you Triss," said Eveshka with a warm smile. With that the two went into the cafe and Eveshka began to ask about Trish's project.

[i:a19d4cbdad]Right... fuck it.[/i:a19d4cbdad] Thought Julius. [i:a19d4cbdad]I'll show that fucking fairy who's boss.[/i:a19d4cbdad]

[i:a19d4cbdad]"Herr Fallen, your soldiers handbook, if you please."[/i:a19d4cbdad] Requested Julius. Gerhardt opened a chest pocket and produced a well thumbed book, full of useful information, which Julius committed to memory. A few muttered words and the magus was clad in a similar uniform to Gerhardt, his rank insignia declaring him to be a Standartenfuhrer. Gerhardt nodded approvingly.

[i:a19d4cbdad]"We will now proceed to take Stalingrad."[/i:a19d4cbdad] Ordered Julius. Gerhardt started barking orders at the zombies, whilst Julius made some magical adjustments to the engine, armour and ammunition of the vehicle. [i:a19d4cbdad]"No Panzerkampfwagen was ever so well armed and armoured as this. "[/i:a19d4cbdad] He continued. [i:a19d4cbdad]"We are become the unstoppable force. Once we have levelled Stalingrad, we shall proceed to Moscow."[/i:a19d4cbdad]

[i:a19d4cbdad]"Jawohl, Mein Herr"[/i:a19d4cbdad] Enthused Gerhardt.

History records that in 1942, the Soviet 62nd army heriocally defended Stalingrad against a massive assault by Axis forces, until relieved by Operation Uranus, in which the Axis forces were surrounded. The battle of Stalingrad raged from the early months of 1942 and into 1943. Of course, in this history, no magically enhanced tanks were present...

[i:a19d4cbdad]"Fire"[/i:a19d4cbdad] Shouted Gerhardt to the zombie Obergefreiter who manned the main gun. Another of an apparently inexhaustible supply of high explosive shells launched from the tank and utterly flattened a circle of 300m radius about a Soviet gun emplacement. In fact, there were any number of 300m circles appearing in Stalingrad, so much so that it was rapidly becoming less of a city and more of a flat plain. The Red Army were abandoning their positions at high speed and in general retreat, their biggest guns simply bouncing off the impenetrable armour of Julius' very own Panzer-IV. War is hell, it is often said. In this case, there wasn't even time to realise the fact. In this timeline, Stalingrad would have fallen, quite literally and to the ground, by teatime.

Julius sat at his command post inside the tank, pulled a pack of Delta's from his pocket and lit up. This chaos would continue until that Fairy came to deal with it. He would [b:a19d4cbdad]not[/b:a19d4cbdad] go gently...

Dressed in black and midnight blue armoured motorcycle leathers, Morathi had returned to her old Chantry in Orleans briefly, it was a good location to keep in touch with her duties and still be close to Eveshka...

As far as she could tell it was still one of House Tremere's lost secrets but there was no sense in tempting fate, she entered with her full enhanced and magical senses alert for anything that did not belong, nothing drew her attention...

It had been a while since she had access to a decent House hardcopy archive and she took the opportunity to chase information regarding the rebirth that had had happened to Eveshka, sadly the archives offered little that could expand upon what she already knew...

Closing down the chantry again she paused to attend to one of her rose bushes Willow had been nurturing for her before she had moved to London. The plant had survived its solitude well thanks to the Ravenant's thoughtful preparations for it in her absence and Morathi left with an almost flawless black rose that she intended as a gift for Eveshka as she walked into the underground carpark the access to the Chantry was hidden in to collect her motorcycle for her return to Tours...

Abram toyed with the fastening around the portfolio that rested on the adjacent seat. He twitched, shifting almost nervously in his seat before finally sipping at the glass of water he’d had brought to him. He’d specified it be chilled to precisely 4°, and as always the waiters at the Augustus hadn’t disappointed.

Suddenly his eyes brightened, his face positively beaming as a vision stepped through the atmospherically lit restaurant.

He suddenly felt under-dressed. HIs simple black suit, tie, and white shirt looking drab as Serai came into view.

The maitre d’ smiled with a pronounced familiarity a his elderly patron.

[i:cc3c94e913]“Monsieur Kaniel? Mademoiselle Serai. Please, on behalf of the Augustus. Enjoy your evening.”[/i:cc3c94e913]

Quite enough crawling, Kaniel thought. His fingers twitching nervously under the table. He tightened them as he stood, taking Serai’s hands in hers before he bent to kiss them.

[i:cc3c94e913]“So glad you could make it. You look exceptional.”[/i:cc3c94e913] He smiled with an almost schoolboyish giddiness.

Julius sat atop the cupola of the tank. His tank commander's hat sat at a rackish angle on his head as he directed his zombies. The turret of the Panzer IV traversed 85 degrees to point at a Soviet tank. He held his fire for a moment. What he saw gave him a bit of a guilty feeling. It was an American M4A1 tank; better known to the world as a "Sherman," with Soviet markings. OOOOooh yeah, he remembered from his days at University. That whole silly lend-lease thing and the Murmansk convoys. Hmm, he thought to himself. That tank was made in Dearborn, Michigan, not far from his home. He wondered what it would be like to blow up a piece of American machinery. The 75mm gun spoke beneath him as he watched the turret of the tank blow sky high. That was pretty cool he thought, as a mischivious smirk crossed his features.

All around him the German Army was in full advance. Stalingrad had fallen in about 24 hours. Twenty-four hours? It had been night for twenty-four hours? He had been venting his spleen and having such a wonderful time at it that he'd completely lost track of time. Why had there been no dawn? Not that he was complaining, the coming of dawn would have been slightly awkward given his position out in the middle of a battlefield. Something was keeping it night time. Again he felt a pang of panic, as if he realized his proximity to something vastly larger than himself. Then he saw it.

He brought his powerful Zeiss binoculars up to survey the wreckage around him and saw a peculiar sight. At first he thought it was a tank moving out of the line of buildings. Then he saw two pairs of feet beneath the mammoth object. The thing scuttled like a crab among the burned out hulks of vehicles and piles of corpses. He took the binoculars away from his eyes and blinked. He brought them back up and clearly saw a large, but crudely built, Russian peasant hut atop four chicken legs complete with clawed feet. Gerhardt was looking through the periscope and spoke into the intercom system, "Baba Yaga approaches Mein Herr." He did not sound particularly thrilled at the situation. "Might I suggest a High Explosive shell and then displacing from this location, Mein Herr?"

"No, Fallen, this is who I've come to see," said Julius. He'd been hoping that the stupid fairy would come and finally give him answers after blowing up enough of, what he thought to be, her world. He'd not calculated on dealing with an ante-deluvian. "Well, why not," he muttered to himself. "Driver," Standartenfuhrer Darrant ordered. "Turn to 245 degrees, 3000 rpms. Let's see what she's made of." The German Panzer swung around and headed off at about 10 miles per hour to meet the notorious and elusive Nosferatu antedeluvian. Behind his tank, the tank platoon, of which he was the commander, followed suit.

Mortal ears would never have detected the subtle thud from the structure that lay almost one hundred meters from Gabriel’s position. But as he had been blessed, or cursed, with Caine’s gifts, the weighted fall rang out like a gunshot, instantly drawing the Ventrue’s attention from the dilapidated pillar he had been examining. For an assassin, his Tzimisce counter-part was certainly a noisy one. As he strode quickly across the ruins his eyes darted from his destination to the guardhouse, vaguely confident that no one else had heard the muffled clamor.

The condition of the sarcophagus itself had held up against the elements fairly well, better than some Kindred of nearly the same age he knew of. As Cyrilynn had already remarked, the engravings were long since rubbed off, only the crude graffitti of youth present in it's place. Gabriel approached the sarcophagus, making note that he was particularly visable as the moon shed an inauspicious light over the ruins. In the blue light, the limp lifeless figure of the Tzimisce, slumped over against the wall of the simple box, appeared almost to be in a gentle slumber.

Cyrilynn had retained her guise even in unconsciousness, the homely face of the scientist staring blankly at the dirt floor. He approached and knelt down beside her, unsure of what to do. How does one check for life in the undead. Breathing and pulse were somewhat moot. All attempts at reading her aura failed, as the assassin emitted nothing and after receiving no response when trying to awaken her, the exasperated Ventrue finally stood up.

Somehow the Tzimisce seemed to have thrust herself into Torpor rather early in on their adventure. Standing over her, he marveled at his good luck! He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t wondered whether the opportunity to off the Scorpion, as Julius had referred to her, would arise. Any world with one less fiend was certainly a better one. But he hadn’t truly considered going through with the task, as Julius’ blood flowed through the Tzimisce’s veins and the Tremere use of blood magic was a formidable thing. Any harm inflicted upon Cyrilynn could surely be read by Julius like an airliner’s black box. Their alliance might be considerably weakened if Julius received some type of image of Gabriel heaving his newly acquired thrall over the side of some chasm.

But now it seems, fate had stepped in and done the job for him, resolving him of any responsibility. But there was still the matter of the scientist’s corpse laying about. Surely the night watchman would make his rounds sooner or later, and Gabriel doubted that dead staff was a normal occurrence at the Oracle, at least not since ancient times. As his key search faded away to this new more immediate conundrum, Gabriel considered his options.

At last, he hefted the body over his shoulder and stepped back towards the long path leading downward. He walked quickly towards the site’s main entrance, wondering if the artifacts in Athens would reveal any clues. He banished such thoughts, focusing in on the present. The guardhouse loomed ahead, militaristic and sharp. As he approached it, a portly figure emerged from the tiny structure, armed with a flashlight.

As the guard’s features became a bit more discernable, Gabriel recognized he was the not the same one they had encountered upon their arrival. Apparently there had been a shift change, a fact that was confirmed when the man started spouting off questions in Greek, flashing the torches beam from the Ventrue’s face to his shoulder.

Perhaps the gifts’ lent to him from Caine weren’t as flashy as those of other clans. He couldn’t call forth tremendous fireballs like Julius, or mold his face to his desire like Cyrilynn. Six inch claws like Porters’ were out of the question, as were hordes of rats and vermin. No, the powers granted to Gabriel were a bit more practical, but no less useful. The Ventrue never broke stride, in fact he never even paid the guard so much as a glance.

But the guard was certainly taken by him, so much so that he forgot the task of holding in the half pot of coffee he had already consumed that evening. As the urine spread across the crotch of his pants, his mind began to erase itself of the event and was replaced with one of the scientist and her associate saying their goodnight’s before heading back down the path towards town. Implanted as well was the urge to return to his particularly comfortable chair and portable television. He couldn’t know it, but the moment he sunk into the chair he would doze off, only to awaken to the horrifying realization that the dark patch across his crotch was not coffee.

A coppery odor filled Gabriel's nostrils as blood was burned to fuel his undead powers. No sooner had he passed beyond the bend, cutting him off from the guard's view, then did he shoot off like some living rocket. Previously slow and deliberate steps were now no more than blurs of movement, jetting the duo over the craggy and dusty trail.

The Tzimisce awoke with a jolt, breaking into a barrage of convulsions and strikes.

Serai gave him a gracious smile and then, folding her hands together atop the gold handbag she carried, gave him a small geisha-like bow from the waist, back ramrod-straight, eyes demurely lowered. [i:6597498888]"You do me much honor sir. I am delighted to make your acquaintance."[/i:6597498888] And she then raised her calf-soft brown eyes, giving him a pleased blush. Lowering herself skillfully, as the waiter held her chair and then seated her before giving her a menu, she ordered, [i:6597498888]"Just water, please."[/i:6597498888] then turned to her host. [i:6597498888]"Have you eaten, yet?"[/i:6597498888]

[i:6597498888]"Yes, yes!"[/i:6597498888] He waved to her impatiently, [i:6597498888]"I eat several times a day as my appetite isn't what it used to be."[/i:6597498888] He gave her an apologetic quirk of the lips, then turned to the still hovering Geoffrey. [i:6597498888]"I'll take a handful of those afterdinner mints you always serve later, my boy, and a glass of your best white wine."[/i:6597498888] He caught Serai with ain indulgent look on her face. [i:6597498888]"My sweet tooth, you know."[/i:6597498888]

They remarked on the weather until their steward returned, rather swifty, with their meager choices. Where upon, Serai ordered a chicken salad with a basil and herb dressing. For several minutes they discoursed on various landmarks in London as well as the health of the economy, the ghoul steering any attempts at business away until she could give him her entire regard. He was tolerant enough to allow her to have her way for the moment, sipping now and again from his goblet.

She was captivated by the cadence and accent of his speech as their conversation progressed and could have spent the entire time listening to him talk but, with a reluctant sigh, she finally acceeded to the purpose of their meeting and brought the discussion around to why they were here as soon as their attendant had cleared the table and served Serai with a glass of Merlot that she had asked for, as an aperitif for the coming discussion.

"Angelique", as she was known to Kaniel, gave a small cough of satisfaction and sagged back a little in contentment, at the company and the equally comfortable talk. However.....[i:6597498888]"I think, Mr. Kaniel, that although I am loathe to do so, it is time to switch to business."[/i:6597498888] She gave a saddened smile. Her rotund companion's face brightened perceptably and his eyes took on a shrewd speculation behind his wire-rimmed glasses as he reached down and picked up a portfolio and pushed it across to her.

The woman drew several photos from the packet and spread them before her. Her expression intent, she sorted the wheat from the chaff and settled on three that caught her attention. One was a ratty, crumbled-appearing nunchaku, the second a finely engraved dagger, but the third one surprised her. It was a simple bronze sword, greened with tarnish and age, the tang missing it's traditional hilt or wrappings.

She turned her sights to the velvety darkness outside, but the weight of her attentions were within her mind. Her gold glazed nails tapped absently on the picture of the antique sword. She turned back to Mr. Abram and made a small moue' of disappointment. [i:6597498888]"Whilst I am eager to inspect these, I assume this is but a small sample?"[/i:6597498888] With a steady, considering gaze, she waited to see what else he would offer.

Julius' Panzer-IV came to a halt. So too did the strange hut. The front door opened and out came... something. Julius could not ascertain just WHAT precisely this thing was. It crawled out of the hut rather like an over sized bug. "This is Baba Yaga?" asked Julius rhetorically. The freakish thing had a disfigured head with grotesque slits for eyes, two mishapen and off centered holes for nostrils. Beneath it all was a gaping mouth with razor sharp teeth sticking out at odd angles. A ridge of what appeared to be armored plates stuck up along its spine. Julius looked aghast at the thing as it scuttled towards him faster than he'd have liked it to had he anything to say about the matter. If Khemintiri and Eveshka were the brightest and best of feminine form, surely this .. THING.. was the basest and most vile example of femininity. It reared up onto its hind legs and roared. The sound was deafening. Even above the mighty roar of his Panzer column's diesel engines, Baba Yaga's greeting rang in Julius' ears. "Oh fuck," he muttered. All seemed to dissapate around him until the only thing that was left his lone tank, its crew, and Julius sitting atop the cupola feeling a bit naked and defenseless.

"Julius," came a very feminine voice nearly whispering inside his head. Was this the voice of Baba Yaga, Julius wondered. He did not recognize the voice. Julius muttered a few words in Hermetic Latin and a magical shield surrounded him and his tank. He got the impression that Baba Yaga was smiling. He got the impression that she was grudgingly impressed with Julius' power.

The two women drifted toward the tables that hosted a window or two which overlooked the busy boulevard and selected one at random, seatting themselves. "What would you like?" Veronique asked politely. "Hot chocolate," Trish immediately replied, "If I've rememberred correctly, you Europeans still use Swiss cocoa here, it makes for a superior chocolate drink. Far better than what the Americas have." She smiled at the verbal swat she took at her own homeland.

When the beverage came, she took a long swallow and hummed delightedly. "OH, that was good! It's been so long since I've had decent confections." A profound sadness crossed her face as old memories lingered there. "Not since I was a young girl." She sighed wistfully and turned to watch out the glass at the passersby for a moment.

Eve felt a bit uncomfortable at the older looking woman's forlorn musings and took to studying her more fully over the rim of her coffee cup as she sipped the hot brew. She saw a woman of short stature and a bit on the overweight side. Her hair was sporting more silver threads then her fading dark brown ones, and was short, in a comb-and-go style. She was dressed casually for the weather and wore sensible walking tennis shoes. She carried a jacket amongst the books, maps and other paraphenalia, that tourists often cart around, in a large carryall bag. She wore bi-focal glasses with a gold framework and looked to be about 53 or 54 yrs. old.

"So tell me," Veronique interrupted Trish's reverie, "what brings you to Tours?" The American's head swiveled back with a blooming smile on her face. "Well, I once visited France, Italy, Switzerland, Austria and Germany, when I was a child and my father was stationed in England between 1959 and 1963. My mother, rather than stay in the United States and raise four young children by herself, decided to accompany him when he was handed a four year tour of duty there. So all 5 of us came with him to live in a place called Woodbridge, there." Her eyes danced with good reminiscences.

"Those were some of the best years of my life, back then, and now that my husbands are gone, and the children all grown up and with families of their own, I thought I'd come back and revisit all those places. Sort of see how they've all changed and how they differ from what I remember. My second spouse's death left me a bit of money and I used a bit of it to indulge a wish I've held onto all this time." She beamed at Veronique like a child with a promised trip to the candy shop.

She leaned over conspiritoriously, "You know what I've longed to do, while I'm here in France?" Eve's eyes grew round and she whispered back, "No, what?" "I want to try Escargot!" Trish murmured with glee and then sat back, a cat-that-ate-the-canary look on her face. Veronique laughed in undisguised amusement. "Trouble is," the woman continue, "I'm alone here in this country and, with MY bad accent, I've not the faintest clue how to order it in a restuarant, let alone HOW to eat it. I hear there's an art to it."

Veronique smiled . "Vraiment, it depend on 'ow ze Escargot iss served. Ze haute cuisine style zat ze world know as Escargot iss, in my opinion, not ze best way to enjoy it."

"Well, what is the best way to enjoy it?" asked Trish.

Veronique/Eve motioned to the waiter. In rapid fire French she ordered something. The waiter nodded with a smile, his eyes taking in the still inhuman beauty of Eveshka.

"Tell me of yourself then, Veronique," said Trish with a smile.

"What is zere to say?" she said with an evasive smile.

"Oh come now, surely there must be SOMEthing interesting about you," said Trish. "You can't just be all stunning beauty with no substance."


Veronique shrugged. "Some sings are better left in ze past I sink.

There was a bit of a pause as the two women looked at each other.

Trish broke the silence with, "Want to know what I've found out in my travels so far?"

"I would be delighted," said Eveshka with a smile.

The older looking woman leaned in as if confiding a world shaking secret. "It is that often it is easiest to tell a complete stranger the things that we would never tell anyone else. After all, when you part, you will probably never see each other again. Now, come and tell me what puts that sad, haunted look in your eyes." She smiled a motherly grin.

Eveshka thought for a moment and figured, what the heck. She opened her mouth and began to tell a tale.

"'ave you evair feeled like you 'ave seened more zan you should 'ave been allowed to?" asked Eveshka with a far away look in her eyes. "It is as if I 'ave been around for too long, and zat I am of no use anymore."

At Eve's question about "old", she gave a gut laugh. "Honey!! Every time my children drove me up the wall, I felt like I was 102!! At other times, I have felt like a 2 yr. old, a giddy girl in love and an abolsute fool! Life is a parade of experiences, you simple have to take it one day at a time."

"As to being useful, I think that depends on what you want to do with your life, really. Me, I wanted a husband and two children and to make myself a home. I've done that, now I have a goal of seeing the world through new eyes and comparing it to what I once new. Which should take me about another 4 weeks. After which, I will go home and find something new to focus on. I'm a person who can't stand to sit idle and twiddle my thumbs for long! Tell me what is it you MOST would like to do to make your mark on the world?"

The waiter came and served two plates of onions, mushrooms, snails. Eveshka smiles and says, "Merci," to the waiter giving him a bit of a wink. The waiter seems to be beside himself with excitement that this creature has actually noticed him.

"Bon," said Eve. "Zis is Cassoulet d'Escargots. It is ze Provincial way of eating it. None of zat silly little cups wiss butter."

Trish looked amused. "I was aware they were eaten like lobster is, with a butter dip." She suddenly grins gleefully. "Well, this should be fun! You first!!"

"Alors," said Eve, looking back at Trish. "Triss." She looked down at her plate of food and pushed some of its contents around almost suspisciously. After a moment she looked back up at Trish. "Triss, I 'ave already maded my mark. "

Trish looked sympathetic. "Was it a bad mark? You look so lost, dear."

Eve shrugged. "I don't know. Zere are some who sink zat I was somesing special. Uzzers," Eve shrugged again. "Who can say."

"Ah," said Trish. "But what do YOU think? That's the real question and the most important."

"What do I sink," repeated Eveshka slowly. "I do not know. I used to sink zat if I could make a difference in someone's existance, zat everysing would be worsewhile."

"And what changed that would make you think you weren't making that difference any longer?" asked Trish with eyes full of compassion.

"Betrayal." said Eve and she looked down into her escargots thinking of Julius.

Trish's eyes expressed compassion. "Was it you who betrayed, dear?"

Eveshka looked up at her with tear rimmed eyes and nodded, "Yes."

Trish leaned over and patted Veronique's hand. "Sweetheart, we are NOT perfect people. Often in our lives we do things we are not proud of. I can honestly say, that I have had done my own bit of betrayal to those I loved and admired." She took a deep breath and then continued. "I can only advise that if you know you were wrong, all you can do is spend the rest of your life trying to set it right. Succeed or fail, you will, at least, have tried."

Trish looked away for a moment and then looked back, "You know, I can't tell you that I've managed to achiever that goal, Only my god can tell me when the time comes. But I CAN tell you that I feel good for having made the effort."

"God?" asked Eveshka. "I do not think I believe he cares anymore."

Trish blinked as she noticed a slight loss in "Veronique's" accent. "It is when we think he is not with us that he's truly there, dear! God did not put us here to abandon us, no matter what we do. It is when we refuse to acknowledge that we have done wrong and fail to try to correct our errors, that we are likely to find he is busy elsewhere. When we are ready to listen again, he will be there."

Trish cocked her head slightly and brushed Eve's hair with her hand. "You are a very special and beautiful young lady. Not just anyone would have stopped to make my stay her such an agreeable one, let alone be such a delightful companion. You could have just walked away and wallowed in your own problems. It takes compassion to take the first step in caring about another person. Please don't cut yourself down, because you have so much ahead of you and so much you can still do." She took Eve's hand and gives it a tight squeeze.

"Still do?" Eve asked. "Given how much I have DONE, I am not sure I wish to do any more. I only want to rest. To live out my life and attempt to enjoy things without interruption."

Eve looked at Trish to see how she would react to this.

Trish laughed aloud and said, "It sounds like YOU'RE overdue for a vacation, dear. One where you give your spirit time to breath again."

"That is the problem," interrupted Eve again. "I have no place to go that I have not been."

"Everywhere I go, I see the faces of the past. Some happy, some leering, most just peeking to see which way the wind will blow as to how they should respond to my passing. She looked across the table at the older looking American who merely rubbed her chin with her fingers.

"Hmmm...sounds like what you need is a change of venue, as the lawyers like to say," Trish said with a motherly smile. Eveshka laughed so loudly that some of the patrons turned to look. "This IS the change of venue." She closed her eyes a moment and then looked at Trish. "Do you want to take a little trip?"

Trish looked intrigued, "Well, I was going to suggest that you travel with me for a while but I think I'd like to hear where you'd want to take me." She looked back at Veronique.

"Have you ever been to Chenonceau?" asked Eveshka knowing full well what this could potentially mean.

"NO! Where or what is Chenonceau?" asked Trish with an eager look on her face.

"It is a chateau south east of Tours along the Cher river," said Eve. "It has a special meaning to me." she said. "It is not far. Only 40 minutes by train and then a little walk through the country." Eve carelessly tossed a few Euros onto the table and walks out. The went down to the Gare de Vinci and bought two tickets to Chenonceau.

The two women arrived in Chenonceau nearly an hour later. Eveshka walked them down a country lane. She kept up a steady commentary about the history of the place. The paid the admission to the chateau and Eve led her around the place as if she had lived there before, which she had. She led them through to the kitchen where she opened a door with a key and then down a flight of stairs to where Eveshka opened a secret door. They descended down into one of the pillars upon which the chateau was built over the river.

Veronique's companion was silent with awe and wonder during the first part of the tour but it soon changed to wary trepidation, even when Eve begins to unlock the door. She waited for her comrade to enlighten her but nothing was, as yet, forth coming, so she held off her myriad questions that swarmed her mind. Content, for the moment, to let things happen.

Eveshka walked into a room that was dimly lit by a slightly unnatural light. There were no windows and it should have been completely dark, yet it was not. She reached around for a candle and lit it. The inside of the room was more ornate than anything in the chateau proper. On the wall opposite a sumptuous full tester bed was a portrait. Eveshka walked up to it and let her magical glamour fall. Trish would surely recognize that the subject of the portrait and the woman standing before her were one and the same.

Trish let out a gasp and stared from Veronique to the canvas and back again. In a small voice, she asked, "I take it we're not in Kansas any more, are we Toto?" There is a very inquizative look to her countenance and she worked her mouth trying to figure out which of her burning queries she wanted to speak first. But nothing came out.


"Looking for a word to describe the moment?" asked Eveshka, now with no pretense of a full french accent. She still sounded European, but there was no definite accent to her speech now.

"I think surprised would be too weak a word, my dear. I take it you're NOT Veronique?" asked Trish in a fearful tone.

"Oh, I was," said Eveshka offhandedly. "About 300 years ago." She walked over to the bed in a sultry stride that seemed to be more comfortable for her.

Trish's eyes got huge and wide. She cleared her throat, "I take it you've found the fountain of youth then? You don't look a day over 25, my dear. Either that or you have one hell of a cosmetition!!"

Eve smiled slightly.

"So, just exactly WHO are you?"

Eve smiled slightly again.

"I don't know at the moment," she said. "I know who I WAS, but who i am at present is still a mystery to me. Suffice it to say, i am hiding." She shrugged and rummaged about in an armoire filled with renaissance era clothing in perfect condition.

Trish stared at Eve. "Ok, so you've lost an identity. What do you want to do about it? Go back to it, change it, become someone else? And just whom are you hiding from? The person you betrayed?"

"Do you believe in Ghosts?" askes Eve nonchallantly.

Just as nonchalantly, Trish responded, "Yes, and lots of other things besides. This world has things that can't be explained or ignored."

"Such as?" Eveshka asked, still not quite sure she wished to go ahead.

"Well, that question could take all night. I take it you own this place? You're very free with it. And do you think you might have a costume in that closet of yours that might fit me? I've always wanted to wear one!!" Trish smiled shyly.

Eve laughed. "I own it through an offshore account. And I do not think i do I am afraid, though I could get one made I suppose."

"No, no, don't bother. It was a shot in the dark anyway," sighed Trish wistfully with a sad look at the armoire.

"I am not sure why I brought you here. I don't honestly know what it is I wish to accomplish. I just feel lost and naked. Perhaps i just wished to impress someone again," said Eve.

Trish laughed, "I'd say you did a hell of a job impressing ME!"
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe you just needed someone to talk with, a sounding board as it were, to help you organize your thoughts and figure out just exactly what it is you'd like to do. Well, I'd like to think that I'm a good listener. So, If you wish, make use of my ear, my mind and my experience. Although if you really ARE 300 yrs. old, I'd say you've had much more experience than me and I'm not sure if I can offer you anything in that area."

Eveshka listened to Trish speak as she moved about the room. The door the came down closed, seemingly of its own accord. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I should go back to what I know." The sound of the closing door made Trish get somewhat penseive. Throughout her meandering, Eveshka retrieved a golden goblet from the armoire.

"Um, Wow!! Is that real gold?" asked Trish excitedly. "What are you drinking? Wine? If so, I could use some right about now!"

Eve shook her head. "This? This is the gateway back. I'm just not sure I wish to step through it."

Trish walked over to Eve and stood in front of her looking down, curiously, into the cup. "What is it?"

"Honestly?" asked Eve.

Trish nodded her head affirmatively.

"We.. well they, call it Vitae," she said with a fatalistic tone to her voice. "This is mine."

Trish leaned down and sniffed at the contents. Then looked startled! "It's blood! I can smell the copper taint to it. Eve nodded with no emotion readable on her face. "What's so special about it?" asked Trish.

"This is my vampiric vitae," answered Eve.

"VAMPIRE!!??" asked Trish backing away.

"I am not 300 years old, Trish, I'm much older. Through a twist of fate I've become mortal again and cannot handle it any longer."

Trish stepped back in shock, "You're a vampire!!??"

"I was, yes. Now i am just mortal like you."

"Oh. Um, I don't know what to say. I like to think I have an open mind about strange things but this goes beyond anything I've ever experienced. I feel like I've been hit with a bat!" Trish sat down abruptly on the rug.

Eveshka sighed and said, "That makes two of us. I was born in Russia almost 800 years ago. I've traveled across oceans of time to be here with you. The entire culmination of my existence has led me back to this tomb, this is what we are in you know? This is a tomb. My tomb."

Eveshka sighed again. "Here i am, reborn, and I do not know where to go."

Trish reached over and touched her hostess' knee. "Where would you LIKE to go....um, just what should I call you anyway?"

"My name is Eveshka. You can call me Eve. "

Trish's eyes got misty. "OH! What a beautiful name! I wish I had something that elegant."

"This is all I know," said Eve. "I have been undead for longer than I have been alive. I ruined everything that was dear to me as soon as I was reborn. Everything. And now, nobody even knows who I am. I used to be able to move into a room and all conversation would cease." Eve stood up then and walked about the room, holding the goblet as if it were the holy grail. "I was worshipped on every corner of the globe. And now I am nothing."

Trish looked at Eve gently. "Eve, you're not nothing. If you were you would have just walked on by me and faded into the annals of time, forever questioning your existance. Now, you ARE something. To me. I'm a lonely old woman you too pity on and took time to confide in me. Do you know what that means to someone like me?"

"I've also placed you in danger just by telling you about me," said Eve. Therefore, I must do this......."

Eveshka puts the goblet to her lips and drinks it down. Her back arched and she fell to the ground in a heap.

"NO!" Trish scrambled up and tried to stop Eve. "Don't do this because of ME!!"

"Oh, you little fool! Why would you do something that so obviously hurts you just to protect a dying old woman!" Looked vastly upset. She searched for a pulse and found one, but it was slowing.

Trish shook the girl frantically calling, "Eve, Eve! Can you hear me?"

Eve opened her eyes slightly and said in a soft tone, "Hold me until I return......"

Trish sits there rocking Eve's body saying over and over again, "You shouldn't have done that, you shouldn't have done that."

Below, hundreds of pairs of lights, red and white, marched militarily along the grey river of concrete that stretched across the Greek peninsula. From such an altitude, one was allowed a grander perspective on things. Each person had a story that was ennacted from their sole mind's eye, like a play at a playhouse. It was distinct, individualized, and was the only play they truly knew. But here, high above the slithering freeway, the Ventrue Gabriel witnessed countless stories simultaneously, distantly replaying the previous night's events while sipping at a gin and tonic.

The shuffling form of the Ventrue with a cumbersome load thrown over his shoulder had faultered for a moment upon it's awakening. Cyrilynn had thrown a tantrum that only a Tzimisce could devise of, kicking and flailing, nearly throwing the pair of them off of the mountain's narrow trail. Through a bit of blood magic however, Gabriel had managed to mentally subdue his companion, assuring her complete cooperation at least until they had managed to return to the hotel.

There, over coffee moderately sprinkled with vitae of course, they had discussed the evenings revelations and what course of action they would take next. It had seemed that Cyrilynn's probings at the ruins had been somewhat more fruitful and certainly more enlightening than Gabriel's. Although her collected countenance would not allow a full breakdown of composure, he clearly identified several nervous glances and twitches as she related her "vision" to a very skeptical listener.

Whether or not the Tzimisce was suffering ill effects from Julius' extremely potent vitae, or had actually experienced some form of a glimpse into the past of the Oracle was still in question. But as he changed into a casual grey suit, Gabriel had decided not to think on it further, but rather focus on the task ahead. They were to travel to Athens and take a closer look at the items removed from the burial site.

So intense were his recollections of the previous evening, that Gabriel failed to notice the rapidly approaching purple hues, gradually creeping up on the dark horizon, heralding the arrival of morning. Quickly he snapped the shutter down and went about securing the rest of the windows on the small "puddle-hopper" they had chartered. As he reached over the seats opposite of him, he glanced at the silent Tzimisce, who still seemed completely introverted. In fact, she had barely said a word since her "vision". Even now, as he snapped the shades shut, she didn't so much as acknowledge him.

He settled back into his seat and listened to the propeller's intrusive hum. Although the cabin was completely darkened, he could feel morning's arrival, pulling him into slumber. As quick as a murky mind would allow, he ran over his final thoughts for the evening performing something of a mental checklist. The last upon the list was the question of whether Julius would really expect him to perform a task of importance with a delusional, catatonic Tzimisce.

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

Much to his annoyance, the retainers that were to meet the pair at the airport had never shown, as was evident when Gabriel awoke stiffly still strapped into the seat of the plane. Throwing open the shades, the small oval window gave him a clear view of an empty hanger. He found himself occumpanied by complete silence, other than the occasional shuffle of his partner across the cabin. Grumbling, he undid his restraints and stood up.

The agreement had been the retainers would meet the pilot at the airport and box up the duo before delivering them to a safety house to await nightfall. Had someone mistakingly taxi'd the plane out onto the tarmac during the day, they both would've had quite a rude awakening. He shook the Tzimisce awake, and was instantly assaulted with frantic curses in a language that sounded similar to Greek. Her skin rippled with fleeting images of spiney projections, and she bared a pair of elongated fangs only briefly before coming to her "senses". Or at least what was left of them.

[i:368464c3d4]"What's happened? Why are we still on the plane?"[/i:368464c3d4] she asked inevitably.

[i:368464c3d4]"It would appear that someone has dropped the ball at our expense."[/i:368464c3d4] Gabriel answered, collecting his belongings from the back and making his way towards the plane's hatch door. Still groggy from the day's sleep, Cyrilynn collected herself and followed the wrinkled suit to the front of the plane. She watched as the Ventrue gave the hatch two mighty kicks, tearing it from it's steel hinges and sending it sailing across the now revealed hanger bay.

The pair had only just leapt down when another figure emerged into the hanger. For a moment, Gabriel wondered if angrily kicking the door open was a wise decision. Perhaps he had attracted the attention of the airport security in the area. But as the frantic, frazzled figure of a man approached at a high speed, his panicked, apologetic aura spoke for itself.

[i:368464c3d4]"Well well..."[/i:368464c3d4] Gabriel hummed, setting his bags down. [i:368464c3d4]"The ball dropper himself."[/i:368464c3d4]

The events of the world unfolded. In France, a young woman's body was dying, her perfect skin taking on the pale tones of death as she resumed her ancient life. Another woman, her skin already pallid as the grave sniffed a black rose and sighed, with a certain melancholy. In Greece an unlikely couple departed an aircraft to commence a journey of danger and self discovery. In England, a new player was about to enter the stage, his own chapter just beginning.

Were these events in the past? Did they happen even now? Rather, perhaps all this was yet to come. Julius knew not. Oblivious to the turning universe, in his own pocket of time and space. Anything could be happening, in the outside world, or perhaps could have happened, or might happen. Time an illusion, forgotten in the strangeness of his circumstances.

[i:3dc6c559ba]"Little grandmother."[/i:3dc6c559ba] Julius replied, remembering the title the fae had used for this abomination of flesh. [i:3dc6c559ba]"You know me, it seems."[/i:3dc6c559ba]

[i:3dc6c559ba]"Then we are even, young one."[/i:3dc6c559ba] Answered the hag. [i:3dc6c559ba]"Why do you seek out Baba Yaga? Answer well, for it has been too long since I tasted such sweet flesh."[/i:3dc6c559ba] She licked her lips lavisciously, making a disgusting slurping noise.

Julius jumped down from the tank. [i:3dc6c559ba]"You were there. Eight hundred years ago."[/i:3dc6c559ba]

[i:3dc6c559ba]"Was it so long? When was it? When is now? If you seek answers, perhaps I will help, but you must learn to ask the right questions."[/i:3dc6c559ba] The ancient nosferatu cackled, her whole body shaking in a hideous parody of laughter.

[i:3dc6c559ba]"I thought I sought for the splinter, the relic of Shal-ka Mense. The blood of our Sire's Sire. Yet, I fear that perhaps this is not why I am here."[/i:3dc6c559ba] Julius thought carefully choosing his words. [i:3dc6c559ba]"I have been set upon a path. The choices of my life have brought me to this place, this..."[/i:3dc6c559ba] Julius paused. This time. When time was gone, then all that was left was the single moment. [i:3dc6c559ba]"...this moment."[/i:3dc6c559ba] He continued. [i:3dc6c559ba]"I do not wish to be anybody's pawn, Little Grandmother. What must I do? What must I learn to be free?"[/i:3dc6c559ba]

The recited mantra halted as an arrow of thought penetrated the American's whirling senses. With a cry of pique at her own stupidity, she rose swiftly, laying Eve's chilled body gently on the floor and dashed to the door, trying the handle. To no avail.

[i:31c97d2073]"Why didn't I think to go for help before?"[/i:31c97d2073] She berated herself, [i:31c97d2073]"She needs help I can't give her. If I'm quick enough, they'll be able to revive her and give her blood transfusions."[/i:31c97d2073] The door refused to budge and several minutes of futile effort got her nowhere. She stood looking at the sealed door and another kind of panic set in. [i:31c97d2073]"I'm trapped in here! I'm trapped in here with a dead French woman!!"[/i:31c97d2073]

Thoughts in disarray, she came close to a full-fledged hysteria. Standing with clenched fists, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm her own racing heart. [i:31c97d2073]"I'm in a dream, that's what it is. This is [b:31c97d2073]not[/b:31c97d2073] real and I've probably dozed off in the spring sun on a park bench in Tours somewhere. This is all a figment of a tired imagination."[/i:31c97d2073] But when she opened her eyes and looked around, nothing had changed.

It took another few moments for the quasi-reality of the situation to settle down to something she could deal with and, as is usual with housewives of the motherly type, she took the biggest breath of air she could get her lungs to accept and got on with the task at hand. That of survival and the routine of life. The first grim task being to see to the arrangement of Eve's remains. Leaving her on the floor seemed disrespectful and..............untidy.

Trish wasn't a spring chicken any more and her muscles had long lost the
elasticity and strength of youth. However, her subsequent travels and the
walking she'd done had brought a bit of her old constitution back to her and she had little trouble wrestling the slight frame onto the ancient bed. She wasn't quite sure when rigor mortis would set in so she arranged the still figure, much like a child will do with a doll, to that of a sleeping beauty. She carefully covered the now thoroughly icy body with the bed linens then turned to even more mundane matters.

She would have to hope for rescue, but in the meanwhile, she needed to see if she could find a way out. There were no windows, so that was no route of escape, instead, there seemed only to be the door and the walls. There existed the possibility of secret passages in old places such as chateaus and the like and she set about looking for them, trying to remember some of the triggering devices she'd read of in romance and history books. A long hour and a half later, she was no wiser and certainly no closer to freedom. She'd discovered a vast quantity of dust, though!

Trish wound up dusting her hands on her own clothes as there was no water to be had. Further explorations turned up nothing except the memory of Eve pulling a goblet of.........that substance she drank....from the armoire. Maybe there was something else besides...that...in there. It was worth checking out so she hurried over to the closet. What DID turn up was just nothing more than the clothing that she'd seen originally. She turned away to the scan the rest of the room.

By now the exhaustion of the eerie day had begun to set in and her legs were beginning to wobble from the unaccustomed use they'd been put to. She found as comfortable a chair as her backside would tolerate and pulled it up next to the bed. She refused to share even so inviting a place as the mattress looked to be, with a corpse. The chair would suffice and, when that palled and she was numb enough, the floor would have to do. She gratefully lowered herself into the seat and sighed in weariness.

The older woman's eyes alited on the now serene face of this once tormented woman/child and saw what no one else could have unless she let go of the world around her. Black hair and eyelashes with the luster of of a ebon pearl, porceline skin like that of the finest china and, when they were open, the bluest eyes that only a sapphire could rival. Pouting red lips that could charm a husband or father into whatever she wished and yet................beneath it all was the troubled innocent trying to find someone to love and cherish her. Never really knowing who or what she was.

[i:31c97d2073]"Oh, Eve! Why did you have to feel that you needed to return to that which persecutes you so much!? I'm too old and too worn for you to have done this just to ensure my own shortening existence. Dear girl, foolish angel, you shouldn't have done it."[/i:31c97d2073] With this final utterance of her former chant, she clasped the younger woman's hand and brought the limp, cold fingers to her cheek and held it there, bathing it in warm tears.

Finally, lids drooping with overworked emotions and tiring events, she lay both her head and her hostess's hand on the top of the blankets and slumped her torso down, wriggling a tad, to find a comfortable position. In that twilight phase before final REM sleep, the whole day played itself over again, from beginning to end.

Just before she dropped over the edge into blessed oblivion, and escaped her dilemma, she recalled her vampiress's last words, [i:31c97d2073]"Hold me.....until I return."[/i:31c97d2073] Trish stirred restlessly, then grasped Eve's hand a bit tighter before she murmurred, [i:31c97d2073]"I'll be here, baby. I'll be here when you come back."[/i:31c97d2073] Sleep, at last, closed in and before too long, placid snores had begun to fill the chamber.

Trish opened her eyes after sleeping what seemed to be a long time. Her stomach made urgent complaints about needing to be filled. She yawned, opening and closing her mouth a few times, not particularly savoring the yucky taste. With a grunt and a sigh, she stumbled about the dimly lit room. The young woman lay exactly as she had before on her immaculate bed. How the hell long was she going to be trapped down here, Trish wondered. She wondered if there come a day when someone would find TWO corpses in here. Piles of moldy bones: one laying on a rather well appointed bed, another in a lump next to a locked door.

The young woman was probably completely nuts anyways. Eight-hundred years old indeed. Perhaps if she banged on the door a bit, somebody would hear. So Trish proceeded to pound on the door for several futile minutes. The realization seemed to hit her like a ton of bricks. She would die in here with the corpse of a psychotic French woman. She began to cry. Trish slid downwards with her back against the door. And what a terrible death it would be. And so, Trish wept. And wept. And wept. For hours she wept.

Several hours later, with an odd [i:1ce5888b48] foooosh [/i:1ce5888b48] the candles in the room all lit at once. Trish's head snapped up, her eyes wide in fear. On the bed, she saw the corpse's left leg twitch and pull itself up so that it was bent at the knee. Then the right arm moved upwards and the hand attached to it brushed hair our of an insanely and inhumanly beautiful face. The corpse sat up at turned its head to look at Trish. A ravishing smile crossed the perfect features. Eveshka blinked her eyes a few times and swung her feet out over the bed.

Trish brought her hands up to her mouth and inhaled rather deeply and frightenedly. The young woman seemed even MORE enrapturous to behold if that were possible, which it plainly was. Trish could feel a great power eminating from the curvey frame of the Vampire. It almost felt like the crackling of static electricity.

"You stayed," said Eveshka as if she had not expected Trish to have done so. The fact that Trish COULDN'T leave didn't seem to have entered into her mind.

[i:f1567e8371]"Hopeless question, maybe I'll eat you."[/i:f1567e8371] Said Baba Yaga, fixing Julius' gaze. She approached him slowly, his tank vanishing with the rest and his smart SS uniform being replaced by his more normal suit, with the case that contained his "equipment".

Julius reinforced the barriers protecting him. [i:f1567e8371]"You can try, ancient one."[/i:f1567e8371] He announced defiantly.

Baba Yaga stopped. [i:f1567e8371]"You have strength, young one. Aye... and spirit. I will answer your question. You need learn nothing. You are free. Spend less time listening to faeries. You imagine, do you, that they truly know the way of the world? No, young Julius. For all their chaotic nature, they tend towards a single track. Their lives are dull and repetitive, for that is their nature. They are ephemeral, like the wind, yet just as the chaos of the wind is predictable, so is the behaviour of faeries and thus is their comprehension of the world."[/i:f1567e8371]

[i:f1567e8371]"So, what Learyn told me is still only a possibility and not written in stone as she claimed."[/i:f1567e8371] Said Julius quietly.

[i:f1567e8371]"You will learn that everyone is free to do as they will. Fate, predetermination, destiny. These things are fiction. It may be that your life is painted in the stars, but only your choices can prove the stars true. Consider that perhaps the stars shift in their orbits to accomodate you, rather than force your path. In your case, most ancient one, the stars wait with bated breath before scurrying to announce your latest choice."[/i:f1567e8371] The hag smiled gently. Sadly, this had the unpleasant effect of causing her already hideous mouth to leer in a disgusting slimy gape. Julius suspected she knew it would.

The magus considered her words for a moment, missing the point obscured within, as he so often did, then realising asked: [i:f1567e8371]"What did you call me?"[/i:f1567e8371]

The slimy gape became a toothless grin. [i:f1567e8371]"I called you what you are. Young one. Young and Most Ancient. The paradox of Julius Darrant, whom even the stars obey, is that he is a little child, without the faintest clue of his true potential."[/i:f1567e8371]

[i:f1567e8371]"And you will teach me?"[/i:f1567e8371] It was more of a statement than a request.

[i:f1567e8371]"For a price. You will give up something most precious. You will part from that which has always been near and upon which you depend. You will make this sacrifice and I will benefit greatly from the secrets I will learn."[/i:f1567e8371] Baba Yaga cackled triumphantly. [i:f1567e8371]"If you will learn what I can teach, you will give to me the skull you carry, even now, in that case."[/i:f1567e8371]

In the short ride from the airport to their hotel, Gabriel's feelings on the entire situation were made unmistakably clear as he sat silently in the passenger seat, not offering so much as a glance at the driver. The only sign of life he offered was the occasional rub of his shoulder, with the still hollow absence of an arm painfully apparent.

Cyrilynn too avoided conversation, choosing to mull over her own thoughts and the still very vivid experience that seemed to dominate every aspect of her waking (and sleeping for that matter) moments. Only once did the sole mortal of the vehicle offer another apology, but it was met with stiff regard and little in the way of reconiliatory words.

By the time the driver had pulled in the parking garage, heaved the Kindreds luggage onto a bellcart, and escorted the travel weary pair up to their rooms, he was greatly looking foward to parting their company for the evening back to the drab comfort and familiarity of his own life. Unfortunately, there were other plans in store for him.

[i:554c43cded]"Leave the bags there. No they're quite alright. We needn't unpack a thing."[/i:554c43cded] the businessman known only to him as Gabriel barked orders faster than he could write down. Specific people to call, odd bits of information about the city to collect, various types of unusual requests. [i:554c43cded]"Now, gather our things,"[/i:554c43cded] he motioned towards a briefcase and a small duffle bag, [i:554c43cded]"and take us to the museum."[/i:554c43cded]

[i:554c43cded]"Tonight sir?"[/i:554c43cded] came the shakey reply. The Ventrue paused in his flurry of movement and stared directly at the man with cold green eyes. From behind, almost invisible in the light of his rapid movement, his thus far silent companion gave a similiar stare. She stepped foward, as if an actress taking her que.

[i:554c43cded]"You've already caused some delay in our schedule. If you value this job, you'll do things without question from now on."[/i:554c43cded]

Something in her voice communicated to him that this was no longer just a matter of payment and services. This was much [b:554c43cded]much[/b:554c43cded] more serious than that. The blonde figure nodded in agreement and returned to his frantic preparations, leaving the mortal and grey haired woman locked in a staring contest.

((well i had planned to post more...but i simply ran out of the time :/ i have to go to work now. well i'll post the museum bit when i get home tonight if Trish doesn't feel up to it :)