Geoffrey Stone Elainne Dunaway ZEPPELINS OVER LONDON December, 1917 A.D. London .......... Elainne Dunaway ~~ As the sirens go off, Elainne cannot help but grimace at the sickening sensation that wells up inside of her. All of her energy is consumed to create in her a mixture of panic and the desire to MOVE fast....... She considers first diving under the table..... but thinks better of it. Kicking off both heels with an errant gesture, she scrambles toward what seems to be better shelter.... then does as she sees the locals doing: huddles up tightly and holds both hands protectively over the back of her neck while burying her head into her knees. To anyone watching, only the sudden change from bright and cheery to pale and stoic signal that something is wrong. But, every bone in her body screams that something is desperately wrong with this picture...... desperately...... desperately wrong. A shrill whine can be heard..... Then, the screams finally come to her ears. Or, at least, she acknowledges them for the first time. The women and children run full speed to try to leave the station..... try to get out alive..... try to escape. The sound of their hurried footsteps is entirely covered by the ever louder hum of the incoming missiles. Then, the rumble of explosions...... A horrible crumbling sound. She looks up, wearing a look of despair. Then..... Blackness. <><><><><> Geoffrey: Geoffrey stares in horror at the speed with which the bustling train station is turned into a nightmare. And what of Elainne, had her train started to leave, or was she still in there? His train had stopped - should he stay in it, or leave? The bombs remind him strongly of artillery barrages at the front, and make him want to cower somewhere with his hands over his ears. No, he has to find out. In any case, a near-miss might topple the train, or derail it if it starts moving again. He jumps down, onto the track, and begins running back towards the bombed station. <><><><><> [GM] Geoffrey leaps out of the train, and another bomb detonates perhaps a block away. The explosion brings back all the months of living on the front...hiding in trenches....huddling helplessly beneath pitiful cover as shells rain down on you.... Suddenly you are diving for cover, clutching your hands over the back of your neck, then doing a low-crawl for the nearest shelter. Blinking away the fog, straining to see enemy soldiers coming up the rise towards the train, and grasping for your rifle, which isn't here. Instead you find your saber, a poor substitute. This isn't some medieval duel, this is modern warfare. More explosions....you fancy you hear machine guns rattling in the distance. And sirens. Gradually you realize someone is calling to you- It's a conductor, squatting by the train to peer down at you where you've crawled beneath it. "'Ey! Are yer bloody insane!? Get out from under there 'fore yer run over! Ey, are yer all right?" You are not sure how long you've been lost in your flashback. You shudder, realizing perhaps you haven't coped as well as you thought you were doing. <><><><><> Geoffrey: It had seemed so *real*. Was he cracking up after all? He's still shaking, and can feel the cold sweat coating his forehead. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his jangled nerves, and crawls out from under the train. Dusting off the worst of the dirt, he gives the conductor a weak grin. "For a moment there, it felt like I was back at the Front." Then he looks toward the station. How long had he been under the train? Had the bombing finished? <><><><><> [GM] The zeppelins have passed on....still depositing death in other parts of London, but the bombing in the immediate area has ceased. The conductor helps you out from under the train, with a sympathetic expression. "Must've been bloody awful over there," he says. It isn't much better here. You stumble into the devastated train station, and are aghast at the carnage. Wreckage. Bodies. Women. Children. You've seen limbs blown off, and mangled corpses strewn about in the wake of a Hun shelling, but always on the Front. On the battlefield. You'd almost gotten used to it there, though it was probably just a sort of cultivated desensitization. It seems infinitely more obscene to find bloody, unidentifiable bodies lying on the ground here, in London. London! This is what the Huns have done to England. Mass slaughter of civilians, for no other purpose than to terrorize the populace and force capitulation....which they know will never happen. Then you feel it, stepping over a charred bench and looking around helplessly, while other rescue workers also begin converging on the station, to dig in the wreckage for survivors, some of whom are already screaming, or moaning. The Quickening. <><><><><> Geoffrey: He'd thought he was hardened to the destruction of war, but this sickened him. Civilians were inevitably caught up in war, but this was slaughter with no attempt at hitting a military target. It was killing purely for the purpose of killing, the action of a vicious bully kicking a helpless victim who couldn't fight back. Geoffrey wandered through the ruined station, trying to help where he could, trying to free those trapped underneath. The sudden feeling of the Quickening was like an electric shock. Somewhere in the station was another Immortal, one he hadn't sensed earlier. Had the Zeppelins created one amidst their destruction? Carefully, so as not to injure any all-too-mortals who might be underneath, he began to shift the rubble to search for the source of the Quickening. <><><><><> [GM] The Quickening has never been directional for you...of course, you've only had a few months and one other immortal to test it with (except for the brief encounter with General Von Kesselnau.) There's no way to tell which of these bloodied bodies might be a nascent immortal. You know it took you at least several hours to recover, after you were blown apart the first time. Though you really don't know if your body stitched back together immediately, and it simply took you a longer period of time after that to regain consciousness. However, a flash of dark navy blue catches your attention, and some gut-level instinct draws you there. Beneath smoking rubble, easily dislodged, you find Elainne. Not that you could identify her except by the burned remains of her coat...the rest of her is crushed and mangled beyond recognition. The flesh of one cheek was nearly torn off by the concussive effect of the bomb, exposing her teeth and gums in a grisly, corpse-like half-grin. The rest of her once- lovely face is a bloody ruin. You see the tattered remains of her dress clinging to her body like a cocoon of baked ashes, and it's hard to tell where charred cloth ends and charred flesh begins. One of her legs is folded beneath her, the other leg lies oustretched beneath a fallen beam that you move aside with some effort. That leg, bared by the destruction of most of her skirt, seems undamaged except for a swelling above the knee that might indicate a break. Her exposed thigh and ankle gives her an undignified, fragile appearance. Anyone can tell by looking at her that she's dead. Just a glance is enough to confirm that. But the buzzing in your head persists, and in your heart you know the source is lying at your feet. <><><><><> Geoffrey: At the sight of Elainne's corpse, Geoffrey feels emotions that he hasn't known since his first few weeks on the Front, and sinks to his knees. He'd known her for less than an hour, but in some ways that almost made it worse - in the space of an hour, he'd met this beautiful and poised young American woman, only to see her turned into this charred caricature of her former self. Tears that he hadn't shed since 1914 welled in his eyes. Someone who'd only wanted to live and save lives, callously destroyed by enemy bombs. Was he imagining things? Was it just his own desperate hopes that were telling him that the Quickening came from her? She *looked* dead, but he probably hadn't looked too good himself after that mortar bomb went off. Could he see her flesh slowly healing, or was that just his imagination? What to do? His mind feels overwhelmed by events. Only two things are certain: he can't continue to Gloucester tonight, since he's missed his train even if Paddington's untouched; and he needs to know if Elainne is an immortal. Pulling himself together, he decides on a course of action. They're bound to take the dead to an impromptu mortuary somewhere, so they can get the station open as soon as possible. He *has* to find out where it is, and to find a way of getting in later. By then, he should be able to tell if Elainne is another Immortal or... or just another Zeppelin casualty. <><><><><> [GM] The dead are taken to the local mortuary, where they are lined up neatly in rows, dismembered bodies reassembled as much as possible, and what effects could be gathered from the rubble laid with the most likely owner....all so grieving relatives can come identify the most badly disfigured. You help clear the survivors out of the debris, nervously trying to keep track of Elainne's body. You carried her to the side of the station and gently laid her down, with her jacket covering her from head to knees, but then you have to stand aside and let the constables and fire brigade do their work, including loading Elainne with half a dozen others into the back of an ambulance-turned-hearse. And the Quickening fades. When you make your way to the morgue, you sense the Quickening again. It's easy enough to get inside, since they've left it open for kin to come and claim the bodies. Policemen are standing guard everywhere to ensure there is no theft of personal items, or mistreatment of the bodies. No one questions you, though, as a military officer. You can pretend to be searching for your own kin...which in a sense is true. You find the American woman lying on a canvas stretcher against the back wall, still covered by her burnt navy blue jacket. When you pull the coat back from her face, there's no question that she looks less dead than she did an hour ago. Her eyes are closed, not staring sightlessly, and her cheek is almost whole again. You see no sign that she's breathing, and don't want to check too closely- a policeman is already looking at you with mild curiousity and sympathy. This is going to be awkward. At the rate she's healing, she might be ready to "wake up" within another hour, at a rough guess. Unless she stays in a coma-like sleep as you did, for the better part of the night. But there will be people coming in and out of this morgue for at least the next couple of days. <><><><><> Geoffrey: *Yes!* He has difficulty in concealing his joy at his discovery, the confirmation of his hopes. No wonder the policeman was looking at him strangely... But now his problems really start. How on earth could he smuggle a body out of a busy mortuary without anyone noticing? Especially - he blushes - one whose clothes had been burned from her back. His first impulse is to carry her away, to hide her in some hotel room somewhere until she recovers, but a moment's thought tells him that would be impossible. "Hello, don't mind me, I'm just taking this dead woman into my room" would be unacceptable to even the seediest hotel manager. No, he needs a better idea. Pass the problem on to someone else - people would believe anything, rather than accept that a dead body had just healed itself and come back to life. He leaves Elainne covered up, and passes on. An hour later, he returns. Assuming that Elainne is now healed enough to be showing some signs of life, he'll look startled, check her pulse, and yell out to the authorities: "One of them's still alive!" <><><><><> [GM] An hour later, another peak under the coat shows Elainne apparently fully healed...though it's hard to tell with charred clothing still clinging to her. Your cry brings the policeman rushing over. "What, are you daft?" he says. He looks down at the erstwhile corpse. "For God's sake, cover the poor lass up again, son." Elaine suddenly gasps, with a violent spasm that almost throws her coat off entirely. The policeman practically leaps ten feet backwards, clutching at his chest. "Bloody !&#%@ &#@&*!!!!" he exclaims. He stares at the woman, whose chest is now visibly rising and falling (and causing more bits of her charred clothing to flake off with every breath.) Then he turns around and runs screaming towards the front of the morgue- "Doooooctor! Get me a bloody dooooctor down heeerrrre!" - to the shock and consternation of the other grieving people searching among the bodies for their own kin. Elainne's eyelids flutter open. ***** The last thing you remember is the bombs, the roar, the flash of light, the heat..... Now you feel very tired, and almost numb all over. You also have the worst headache you've ever experienced in your life....a jarring buzz that goes all the way down your spine and makes it impossible to think. You are distantly aware of somebody screaming. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Spasms rock her body as she starts into violent coughing fits. The smoke and gravel from the explosion still sit heavily in her lungs. The brilliant rays of sunlight nearly blind her, and she groans, squinting against its rays of hope and life. Unaware that her body is nearly unclothed, she curls up beneath the blanket, a bundle of shivering muscles... all seeking to find some solace or respite. Tears quietly roll down both cheeks from her coughing fits. Whether they come from fear, confusion, or simple physiology does not matter. The uncanny sensation she feels at the moment is nearly enough to overwhelm her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she can vividly recall the flash before the darkness. The incredible seering pain as shards of concrete and missile flattened into and around her seems but a recent memory. The hacking and coughing continue, and she rolls about, gradually becoming accustomed to the light in bits and parts. Thick gray phlegm rolls up out of her lungs where she spits it out onto her cot. After a bit, it even is tinged with her blood. The doctor inside her starts calculating away. What kind of things had she sucked into her lungs? And, what was it that had hit her? Who had resuscitated her? Where was she now? As her eyes again flicker open, the shapes of two men come into her field of vision, and she barely croaks out, "Help me..... please........" The tips of her still-charred fingers snake out from beneath the cover, slowly grasping for something that seems real.... something to steal her from the pain and the horror.... something to make her forget. <><><><><> Geoffrey: Geoffrey grabs her hand, hoping that the `charring' is just debris - otherwise, the doctors are bound to notice her healing. He tries to shield her from the grisly sight of the morgue: she's probably seen a few dead bodies in her time as a doctor, but a roomful of them is hardly a welcome sight to wake up to. "Easy, Elainne. You've survived an air-raid; in fact, you've had a very lucky escape. There's a doctor on the way." *You've no idea just how lucky, yet* he thinks. Elainne sees him smile, and almost laugh, as he wonders just how her medical training is going to react to the medical impossibility of her condition. Then he sobers up, and looks round for the doctor. "Doctor! Over here!" <><><><><> [GM] Elainne has had time for a few more deep breaths, surprise at waking up to find the smiling lieutenant she met back in the train station....and the realization that she's practically naked, by the time Geoffrey sees the raving police constable leading an incredulous doctor, down at the other end of the morgue. While her respiration and circulation seems to be normal, Elainne still feels that unnatural buzz reverberating all along her spine. It's like nothing she's ever felt before. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Someone was telling her she had just survived an air raid?? Surely not! One of her hands lifts up to her chest...then slowly, her fingers trail up toward her cheek. Nothing. Not a single wound. Not a laceration. Not a bruise. She realized the man standing over her was the one who had so recently just left her on the train. What was he doing here? Or did he die, too? Surely this was some sort of joke. Or, maybe she had dreamt it all. And, why was he smiling? She replayed the entire scenario in her head. Women and children were screaming. There was a terrible whine. There had been thunderous roaring from overhead. There had been a series of explosions.... and too curious to keep her head buried, she had looked up. She had looked UP. She remembered that vividly. Even more, she remembered watching the ceiling cave in on her.... and recalled the terrible suffocating sensation as the dust had caked in her lungs with each inhaled breath. And, as if that had not been horrible enough, she remembered the final explosion that rocked her world. She had already been pitched into utter darkness. The air was so filled with dust and debris that even a good pair of headlights would not have been able to pierce it. She had just acquired enough sense to lift the edge of her jacket to cover her mouth when a new explosion shattered through the wall behind her, tossing her headlong and forward. Shredded concrete had ripped through her back.... searing the fabric from her dress and coat nearly entirely. The wall across the way had come at her far too quickly.... too quickly to really adequately brace herself for the impact. She recalled the crunching sensation as her skull had crack. She recalled the gory details of that and the burning pain she had felt so briefly before passing out entirely. She was SURE she could not have survived that.... and she was SURE it was not a dream. She had never been one for dreaming up such fanciful things.... no matter _how_ apprehensive she might have been about travelling abroad and running headlong into the middle of a war. Her coughing had already subsided quite a bit. Most of the caky residue had been expelled from her lungs. And, even the blood-tinged sputum was clearing. She looked back and forth between the two faces hovering over her. How in the world?? Someone was going to have to do a ton of explaining.... because if she really _was_ alive, there was some fantastic medicine going on here that she had yet to be exposed to. Her fingers trailed down again from her cheek. Neck intact. She let the tips of fingers linger long enough to palpate the carotid pulse.... Arm intact. Abdomen intact. Trunk intact. A bit tachycardic, as expected, but definitely with good heart sounds....That was readily apparent, as they were beating loudly in both ears. Respirations slowly becoming unlabored. Bowel sounds positive. Smudges from the rubble still were on her fingers as she lifted them into her line of sight. Someone was definitely going to have to explain this.... and explain it soon. Nothing so far was making any sense. And what was that darned TINGLING sensation? She just could not get over the feeling that someone had stuck a jack hammer into her skull and was drilling away. But, the feeling was not entirely unpleasant.... maybe something more like a dentist's drill would make more sense. But, even that wasn't quite right. Yes... explaining was definitely in order here. And, if someone did not volunteer it soon, she knew she was going to have to start asking some very pointed questions. <><><><><> [GM] An English doctor arrives, with the flushed constable. He looks down at Elainne in surprise. "Please, step aside Lieutenant," he asks Geoffrey politely, and kneels to look into Elainne's eyes, check her pulse, and do many of the other inspections Elainne just performed on herself. He flushes slightly when he realizes she's practically naked, and looks up at the policeman. "Well don't just stand there, man, go get a blanket for the poor woman! An...err, unused one, please!" Speaking over his shoulder to Geoffrey, he asks "Are you a relative, young man?" Then addressing the patient for the first time, he says "How do you feel, Miss? What do you remember?" He shakes his head. "When I find the imbecile that brought you here instead of to the hospital, I am going to have his head!" <><><><><> Geoffrey: "No, just a friend." He knows that Elainne is going to have lots of questions... questions that he can hardly answer in front of a doctor. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ There is a part of her psyche that still is reeling from the shock of the explosion. While the body may heal in less than a day, the mind was far from ready to accept the impossibility of the situation. Large eyes reflected back her confusion and sudden feeling of solitude. What was this madness? Every medical bone in her body _knew_ her being present now was nothing but an impossibility. But, every scientific bone in her body knew her senses would have to be deceiving her for anything less than that to be true. She lay still....staring up almost in wonder at the man who had come up to her out of the blue. Who was this man to enter into her life at such a bizarre moment in time? A guardian angel? The devil to ask her to sign her life away in blood? Was it something like Screwtape? She just continued to look up at the faces that hovered over her, debating her outs.....considering her fate..... pondering her destiny. Dismal or no, she had already decided that no deal was going to be made with any devil or trader for her life. If it was time to be done, it was time to be done. <><><><><> [GM] The doctor examining you offers no Faustian bargains, simply asks you (after the constable has brought back a blanket to lay over your charred and tattered coat and ashen, disintegrating clothes beneath) to lie still as they move you onto a stretcher. While you feel quite capable of walking, the doctor is insistent that you let them carry you, which makes sense if you have possible spinal damage. It's hard for you to take such a possibility seriously- that you could survive in the first place is incredible enough. Geoffrey follows, but isn't admitted past the crowded reception room in the hospital above. Both continue to feel the buzzing in their skulls, which tells Geoffrey that Elainne hasn't been taken too far away, and tells Elainne only that whatever has happened to her continues to generate this strange, unfamiliar sensation of foreboding. A more thorough examination (expedited a bit when they learn that Elainne is a doctor herself and can give precise answers about her own condition as she's able to perceive it) reveals that she has absolutely no injuries that they can find. Internally and externally, she appears to be in perfect health. "It's a miracle," the English doctor says, shaking his head and suggesting various implausible explanations- you were close enough to be knocked out by the concussion but far enough away to be spared the blast, and covered with rubble and perhaps another unfortunate victim's blood, you were brought to the morgue by mistake....or you were trying to tend the injured, and fainted (!)....the sort of explanations people come up with to explain the unexplainable. In his own mind, any of these explanations may become reasonable enough for him to accept them. Elainne, however, knows what she experienced. The doctor tells you, "Normally we'd want you to stay overnight for observation, but frankly, after the raid, we need every available bed for bomb victims, and a ship full of casualties from the front just docked as well. Do you have someone to help you back to your hotel, and make sure you come back tomorrow for a follow-up examination?" In the meantime, they have found a nurse who's approximately your size, who's able to donate a change of clothes until you're able to go buy more clothes yourself. <><><><><> [Geoffrey] Geoffrey speaks gently to Elainne. "Something must have protected you, Elainne; you must have a charmed life! The blast still knocked you out, though, and the mind can play funny tricks when that happens - I've seen it, on the Front. The doctors will take you to a hospital, to see how badly you're hurt. I'll come and visit you tomorrow; things will probably be a bit clearer then." He wished he could say more - but anything he said aloud would make him a candidate for the jacket with the extra-long sleeves. [OOC: If they aren't keeping Elainne in, Geoffrey will wait at the hospital so he can escort her back to her hotel] <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ This was almost getting to be too much for her. Surely these people knew what had happened to her and were just patronizing her with all their platitudes. She had _died_, The more she reran the scenario in her head, the more certain of it she became. Her parents had been staunch Christians, and she had been brought up in the church. She had always been the type to admit her religion if pressed about it, but really knew deep down that the whole concept left her feeling a bit vague and unhappy. She liked the whole idea of religion from a philosophical standpoint, but she really never liked the idea of practicing it. So, now....she was in the middle of one of the most religious experiences in her life. What in the world was going to happen to her? What _had_ happened to her? She went through the motions with the doctors and nurses at the hospital in very much a daze. They all had convinced themselves of any number of explanations for her lack of clothes with intact skin. Why argue? They would not.... and frankly, should not listen. It would go against everything taught in medical school. Such an intense injury does not leave the body unscathed. And.... She just ends the thought there. She knows it is useless. At some point, an explanation would come along. And, she would be looking for it. And, the bizarre sensation that kept her entire head feeling like it sat inside a bell..... buzzing from the vibrations..... she could not even begin to hypothesize what that might be. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was strongest when the strange man with the officer's uniform was around. She was sure that meant she should either seek him out or do everything in her power to avoid him. Frankly, she liked the former option better. He was rather good looking, after all.... and right now, she liked the idea of finding someone who might be able to shed some light on the whole situation. Her hand took the garb from the nurse without her commanding it to do so.... or so she felt. Her entire body felt wholly detached from her mind. It was uncanny. She even dressed with that same sensation. But now..... she was free to leave the hospital. He had said he would come to visit her there. The man who called himself "Geoffrey" wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see him. But, how would she know to find him now? <><><><><> [GM] The doctor unwittingly answers you final question by saying "Oh, that young officer is waiting outside in the reception room. I told him we'd let him know if you'd be hospitalized overnight or discharged." He smiles a kindly, knowing smile. "I'm sure your young man has been terribly worried about you." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Stunned to silence, she just swallows hard at the doctor's kind offering. She looks toward the exit from the hospital ward, wondering still how it is that she has found herself on this end of the medical arena.... and finally moves toward the door. Her shoes feel full of lead, and her motions are semiautomatic. Shaking very slightly, she presses against the swinging door and walks out into the outer chamber. <><><><><> [GM] Elainne emerges in a crowded reception room filled with anxious, noisy civilians. The single military uniform is easy to pick out, especially since Geoffrey was standing as near to the doors as he could, trying to keep Elainne within his sensing range (not that he even has a precise idea of what that range is, nor could he do much about it if they did take her to some more distant room.) Geoffrey sees Elainne, looking numb and pale, a slightly haunted look in her eyes. Probably not unlike the expression he was wearing when he woke up in the trenches, and then again in the field hospital. The pretty American's smart (and now smouldering) outfit has been replaced by a faded, rather dumpy dress, and a pair of worn shoes that are a little large for her feet. Which is an improvement over dried blood and ashes. <><><><><> Geoffrey: The young officer looks worried, pacing across the floor, and is relieved to see Elainne when she's brought out. "How do you feel?" he asks anxiously, "Let me call for a taxi." [OOC: At least, I assume the cabs of 1917 were fitted with taximeters] Then he whispers to her: "I've got some answers - about what happened to you, and the strange sensation I imagine you're feeling in your head. But it's a long story, a very strange story, and one that shouldn't be overheard." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ >> The young officer looks worried,...... "How do you feel?" he asks >> anxiously, "Let me call for a taxi." << Somehow, she finds her voice.... a bit scratchy but intact. "I feel.... alive." Her forehead wrinkles up as she lifts her eyes to stare at him. It was the cursed buzzing that had her attention now. Every step closer to him she came, the forboding and tingling grew more urgent. The next question she wanted to ask sounded as funny as she repeated it in her head as she was sure it would sound if asked aloud. **Who _are_ you?** She did not actually ask it. Of course, she knew who he was. He had told her his name was Goeffrey. And, she had no reason to disbelieve him. But.... just _what_ was Goeffrey that his mere presence created in her the desire to vomit and flee? She gave him a skeptical glance but acquiesced. A ride around the town might do her a bit of good. Plus, it might allow her to get a better view of the supposed explosion sites. <><><><><> [Geoffrey] Once they are in the taxi, Geoffrey closes the partition so that the driver can't overhear their conversation. He smiles, but the effect is rather spoiled when he nervously chews on his lip. "This is going to sound crazy. You are going to think I've just escaped from the Funny Farm. But please hear me out." He then hesitates, unsure how to begin. "You see, you are imm-... er, no... When you were pulled from the wreckage... um, no... When I was in France, I had an escape that was rather more than just luck. I told you about the mortar bomb, and you were surprised that I wasn't badly injured or killed. I was even more surprised - because I had already been caught on the wire and fatally wounded by a machine gun. When I woke up in the field hospital, my uniform was in shreds, but I was unhurt. Not only had a survived the mortar bomb, the bullet wounds had vanished. Which wasn't possible. "I assumed I'd been concussed, and had a particularly vivid nightmare. Then, a few days later, I felt a strange buzzing in my head - much as you are feeling now. It was caused by my commander; from him, I found out that I could heal ridiculously quickly." He smiles weakly. "I thought he was crackers - until he pumped four bullets into me, and the wounds healed in a minute or so. "Back at the station, you were dead. I don't mean so unconscious that the doctors thought you had died, I mean that you were a badly burned corpse. That was why you were left in that crude morgue. An injury that severe took a few hours to heal, then you came round. "As I said, it sounds crazy. There's one simple way to prove it to yourself, however - the next time you cut yourself, notice how quickly the wound heals. A minor cut will be gone before you can find a dressing for it." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She let the man finish his rantings. For surely that is what they were: rantings....tirades....sheer lunacy. Her mind ticked through the possibilites.... and in a sense, she just knew somewhere deep inside that what he was saying could not possibly be as off the wall as it sounded. But, she still was not ready to believe it. Somewhere along the way, she recalled reading Sherlock Holmes discussing his methods in deduction. When all the facts point to a possibility and rule out the other potentials.... no matter how outrageous, it must be true. She could not help but hear those words barely ringing above the other din that was wreaking havoc upon her psyche. If the taxi had not been going a bit more quickly than would allow her a quick egress, she might have hopped out right then. But, as it were, she just sat stone-faced and listened to it all.... ready to label this man a fanatic. And.... how _DID_ he know about that buzzing??? <><><><><> [GM] Neither Geoffrey nor Elainne have a hotel, since neither was planning to stay overnight in London. Since now both of them will apparently be doing just that, that leaves the question of where each will stay. Geoffrey can always find quarters at a military barracks, though he's not eager to do so, being that he's just left the front for a few precious days *away* from the army. Elainne's situation is a bit more problematic, since all her money and, in fact, everything else she brought with her to Europe has been obliterated. Her organization doesn't even have a headquarters in England...she was supposed to meet the fellow female doctors in France who are trying to set these hospitals up. All her contacts are either in France or back in the U.S., and there's not much way of reaching any of them quickly. <><><><><> Geoffrey: Geoffrey feels a bit lost too. Before the war, the closest he'd ever been to a hotel was a boarding house at Clacton. Now, while the pay of a Second Lieutenant was hardly extravagant, it was a better wage than he'd ever had before. Though paying for two rooms is going to drain his money pretty quickly... He'll ask the staff at the hospital to suggest a reasonable, basic hotel, "nothing too expensive, just a good place for a night's rest". Then he'll watch the reaction of the cab driver - if he pulls a face or something, Geoffrey will ask him if he knows somewhere better. <><><><><> [GM] The hotel the cab driver takes you to is a modest establishment, in a section of London where no bombs fell in the recent raid. It looks like the right sort of place for what Geoffrey had in mind- the hospital staff probably figuring he wanted a place to put up his sweetheart in decently- separate rooms (but where no one would be watching *too* closely to see if they stay in separate rooms.) The cab stops. Geoffrey pays the driver, and Elainne realizes that right now she is being looked after by a man she barely knows, who's just spun a mad tale about immortality and coming back from the dead. She isn't totally without options. If nothing else, her medical credentials could probably get her some assistance back at the hospital...a nurse who might be willing to put up a stray American who's lost and temporarily destitute in London thanks to the bombing. And it isn't as if the hospital couldn't use another doctor, with all these casualties coming in...*if* she doesn't have to go through the usual lengthy hassle of convincing the male administrative staff that she is in fact a "real" doctor. Right now, though, after having been beyond medical help herself just hours ago, it's hard to think about putting on a mask and gloves and going into an operating room. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She looks up through the grimy window at the stone hotel facade. Her face reflects back at her in the window before she turns to give Geoffrey a haunted expression. Just what was the proper thing to do here, she was definitely not sure. But, one thing seemed obvious. If she continued to stay with this man, she could almost see herself be lead down his path of madness. Certainly there were several things that made sense if she accepted his explanation. But...... _immortal_???? She even rolls her eyes slightly as the thought passes her mind. Her hand gropes for the handle to open the door. Gone are her desires to let this man be gentlemanly for her.... proper or no. The roomy dress hangs limply about her form, hiding any potential curve so that she very much looked like some orphan or waif. Even her hair was now cropped short but straight. The curls that took so many hours to set had been done away with by the explosion. What hair had regrown...... ..... She stopped midway through opening the door. She was beginning to _sound_ like Geoffrey!?! She eyed the distance between herself and the car. Then, she looked to the surrounding buildings to see what her other options were for the night. Surely..... <><><><><> Geoffrey: [OOC: If Elainne does dash back into the taxi, most of this is void, since Geoffrey won't talk with the taxi driver still around] Geoffrey actually smiles at Elainne's reaction, recalling his own reaction to Major Cumberland. "I know it sounds crazy", he says awkwardly, "It *is* crazy. But it's also true. "I've met enough soldiers who thought they were immortal - soldiers who'd had one lucky escape, and decided that they couldn't be hurt. They were usually proved wrong in the next attack. This... this is different." He shrugs, all too aware that he sounds like a bad vacuum-cleaner salesman. "I've watched fatal wounds heal before my eyes. I saw you come back to life from being nothing but a charred corpse - it's no wonder that the doctors were puzzled at how your clothes could be in ashes, while you didn't even have minor burns. There's no way I can prove it to you - you have to find out for yourself. Meanwhile, I think we could both do with some sleep." Actually, he knows he could prove it to her, the same way that Cumberland proved it to him. But that's a step he isn't prepared to take, one that matches Cumberland's contempt for life. <><><><><> [GM] There are other hotels not far from this one, should Elainne be determined to spend the night somewhere else....but her options are kind of limited without cash. For that matter, she can't even take a cab back to the hospital... <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Geoffrey actually smiles..... "I know it sounds crazy,.......But it's also true......I've met enough soldiers who thought they were immortal ....... This... this is different....... I saw you come back to life from being nothing but a charred corpse...... The man was babbling about things that made no sense to her -- and all with a plastered-on smile she wanted to squeeze tightly with her forefinger and thumb. What in the _world_ had happened to her that he felt it necessary to speak such blasphemy to her? There just *had* to be a logical explanation for her clothes being in such tatters while her body remained intact. What it was, she still was working to formulate.... but.... certainly, there had to be some good and plausible explanation. He continued on, even so. "There's no way I can prove it to you - you have to find out for yourself. Meanwhile, I think we could both do with some sleep." Elainne did her best to mask all the terrifying sensations that rocked her. But, she knew she was, at best, only marginally successful. Maybe she was dreaming? That seemed a perfectly reasonable possibility. But, then.... why such terrific pain when her face had collided with the wall? No dream she had ever had previously had created such a distinct and real sensation that lingered in her mind. She sucked in a raspy breath while standing in front of the hotel. At least she agreed with him on one count. She was _tired_. And, no amount of bizarre story-telling by him would convince her otherwise. She offered a weary smile. "Yes, we could." That was all she felt her throat able to say. Then, the breath came out slowly while she rehashed again in her mind the moment of her death. <><><><><> Geoffrey: He gave a sigh of relief - she hadn't panicked and run away. Being locked up as a madman was the last thing he needed at the moment... What was he supposed to do? So far, it looked as though he hadn't helped at all. No doubt Cumberland would have been able to convince her... maybe everyone needed direct proof, like that which Cumberland had provided him by way of his revolver bullets. He went into the hotel, holding the door for Elainne to follow, and booked a couple of rooms. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She stood by quietly while Geoffrey asked for the rooms. All the while, her mind was on other things, though. Her actions were entirely automatic again. Her eyes roamed over to peer at the tiny lift near one side of the lobby. It's brass gate covered the main corridor so that the elevator operator was nearly hidden from view. Then, she let her gaze skim around the rest of the place. It was quite a nice establishment, despite its small size. The lobby reaked of the Victorian style -- something that was not so far removed that she had not also witnessed it in her grandmother's home out East. She let her weight shift from one foot to the other before looking back up at Geoffrey's back. She still could not help but wonder how she had ended up with this strange and bizarre man. Maybe she _was_ dead.... and this was just her entrance to the afterlife? But, what a strange tour guide he was! <><><><><> [GM] The hotel concierge considerately books two adjacent rooms for the young couple, with a friendly smile. <><><><><> Geoffrey: He almost hands a key to Elainne, then thinks better of it - he holds out both keys. "Any preferences?" Whichever key she takes, he goes up to the other room, unpacks what little luggage he has, then lies back on the bed. *What a day! Is this some side-effect that Cumberland didn't tell me about, that strange things will keep happening to me?* Then he remembers his own mission. He doesn't know the telephone number of the person he's going to contact - or even if he's got a telephone! - so it'll have to be a telegram in the morning. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She chooses her room..... realizing suddenly and regretfully that she might have given this man a raw and hasty opinion. He had not mentioned dying and immortality since they had left the taxi. And, her curiosity nagged. There was far more to this than met the eye. The question now was going to be how to find out what he knew -- without subscribing to whatever he said. Her face contorts with indecision as he closes his door with a quiet snick. She now stands on the threshold of her own door..... but sighs and reluctantly turns the key. The room was quaint enough -- much in the same style as the lobby. And, it adjoined Geoffrey's room. She had no clothes except those on her back. So, she padded quietly toward the bed to sit on it. Her mind raced with the possibilities. The longer she had been away from the train station, the less real it seemed. A dream? Reality? It all blended together now. Maybe she was not as injured as she had thought. Her eyes sought to bore straight through the door as she attempted to imagine what Geoffrey might now be doing behind it. He said he had been =killed= by a mortar shell. He said he had been shot. He said he had been renewed. He said she was the same as he..... The realization slammed into her. Mad or not, she needed to know. If she ignored it now, she might never know. And, that would be too much. She stood up resolutely..... and strode directly toward the flimsy door. Her hand raised into the air and rested poised, ready to knock. But, then she paused. This was ludicrous! And, it was improper, to say the least! She spun about on one heel then paced back over toward the night stand. The inside of her mouth was becoming a painful ulcer where her teeth had ground away the soft and tender flesh. Her brow knitted in frustration. What to do? What in the _world_ to do?? She tugged at her shoes with a quiet fury and tossed them aside suddenly. The more worked up about this she got, the more likely she was going to be to just _do it_. She stopped abruptly and twisted her head to glare at the door. It stood as her only obstacle to the answers she needed. Her concentration intensified until she could make out the few flecks of white paint as the slow effects of decadence set in. She had to know. And, this man was her only link to that knowledge. No book was going to explain this to her. No doctor. She _was_ a doctor -- and she surely had no clue what had happened! She moved ferociously over to the door and grabbed the knob. She twisted it roughly, to no avail. Then, with a sick feeling in her stomach and with her heart sinking rapidly into her feet, she lifted her hand to smack it against the door. "Geoffrey! We _need_ to talk!" <><><><><> Geoffrey: Geoffrey opens the door a few moments later. "Yes, I suppose we do need to talk. Come in, and ask away." He sighs. "But I'm not sure if any of my answers will make much sense." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ What greeted her surprised her. She had been all ready to pound him with questions -- but his somber attitude brought her back again to reality. What in the _world_ did she think she was doing knocking on some strange man's door in the middle of the night? "I...... ," her mouth hung open for a moment with the words sitting on the tip of her tongue -- but he seemed less than thrilled to be interrupted like this. She snapped her jaw shut then swallowed deliberately. Her voice took on the controlled and mellow tones she used with her patients. If nothing else, she wanted to know as much information as possible. "Ok. So..... you say I died. And, you say I'm immortal. Can you tell me anything more than that? Why did this happen? And..... How can I be certain you're telling the truth?" There. She had said it aloud finally. Granted, she didn't believe a word of it. But, maybe if he thought she did, she could find out something. She stood looking up at him, blushing slightly as it struck her to notice his features more closely. The shadows played tricks that made his face absurdly attractive. She tightened one of her fists into a tiny ball. This was hardly the time to be thinking about *that* sort of thing. And, to top it off.... the raw place inside her lip was _really_ beginning to hurt, too..... <><><><><> [Geoffrey] "I don't know how anyone can ever be *certain* that someone else is telling the truth but... well, I can give an example, sort of." He rummages in one of his bags, and produces his cutthroat razor and a towel. Not giving Elainne time to worry if he's a mad slasher , he slices open his left palm. "Ow!", he exclaims, dropping the razor, but keeping hold of the towel to catch the blood, "It doesn't *hurt* any less. Watch!" As Elainne watches, the blood stops flowing, faster than it should do. Then, over the next few minutes, the wound closes up completely. [OOC: ...unless this doesn't apply to self-inflicted wounds, in which case Geoffrey has just made a complete fool of himself ] "See?" he says, showing her his bloodstained, but undamaged, palm. "We are immortal. I can't think of any other way of putting it. I don't know why, or how; I hope I can learn more from the man in Gloucester I'm going to visit. We heal from wounds incredibly quickly, and I think we stay at the same apparent age as we were on our first `death'. "I may as well start at the beginning. *My* beginning, at least. "I was at the Front; we had to go over the top, and the last thing I recall was being caught on the wire and machine-gunned. I was a bit surprised to wake up, and find a stretcher party examining me; then we were hit by a mortar shell or something. "The second time I awoke, I was in a field hospital, in the shreads of my uniform but unhurt. That didn't seem possible, so I decided I must have been struck on the head and imagined it all. Then, a few days later, I felt the strange sensation in my head that you're feeling now - I'm feeling it too. It seems to be a normal reaction between immortals. It came from the commander of our unit, a Major-General Cumberland. He put me on his staff, then showed me that I was immortal by shooting me with his revolver - the bullets came back out within a minute or so, and the wounds healed. "I was sent back here to take a message to a man in Gloucester; at the station, I felt a strange sensation from you; not unlike the sensation of another immortal, but different. When the bombs fell, I found your body in the rubble, crushed and burnt - but I could now feel the sensation of an immortal. Presumably, the earlier sensation I felt was because you were an immortal who hadn't suffered a fatal injury yet. I followed you to the morgue, then alerted the doctors once you had healed. "Cumberland explained to me that we are a small group of people who are somehow immortal. We can't be killed by normal wounds, and we don't age like others. Cumberland himself claimed to have fought in the English civil war, and I believe him; there are probably many older than him. "There is one way we can be killed, however: beheading. And there are some immortals out there who think it a great game to go around killing other immortals. You may have wondered why a British officer is wandering around with his sword when not on parade - it's there for self- defence, in case I'm attacked." His frown deepens. "Another downside to immortality is that it's easy to become callous towards mortals. When I thought of a way to get you out of the morgue, I never considered the fate of whatever doctor had your body sent there - I hope he didn't suffer too badly. Cumberland is further gone, being older: he was prepared to kill off many soldiers under him, just for a diversion so he could hunt down a German immortal. I hope I never go that far." With a shrug, he sits down on the bed. "And that's about it. It's crazy, it's illogical, it's even probably blasphemous, but it's the truth." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She deftly follows him into the room. Her ranting internally has already died down to a dull throbbing between her ears. The only additional feeling she has is the eternal buzzing, much like a tiny plane. It does not escape her notice that, as Geoffrey had promised, that sensation grew more keen as soon as she drew nearer to him. She listens as keenly as she can to his explanations, trying to be as unemotional as possible. With a flick of his hand, he grabs for a shiny object and stabs it at his hand. "Ow!", he exclaims right before a razor clatters to the ground. She stifles a gasp of her own while he wraps a towel around his oozing wrist. "It doesn't *hurt* any less. Watch!" he tries to admonish her, but it would have taken a powerful force to tug away her eyes. She moves closer to him, trying to get a better view. Then, she watches with astonishment as the blood stops flowing and finally stops. That, however, is the least of her surprises. "See?" he holds up his palm for her. She reaches out for it, ogling the surface. There is not a scratch or scab or remnant of any sort to betray his injury. No matter how many times she palpates the flesh and looks at it, though, she still refuses to believe. And, then his tirade began.... about dying, swords, men in Gloucester, gunshots and mortar shells. It all made sense.... almost. But, no amount of medicine had ever prepared her for this. She kept swallowing to prevent herself from interrupting his story, but all the while her eyes remained on his palm. She still could not help but think this man might be somewhat like one of the great magicians she had heard about. "Masters of illusion," they had been called. She wished then that she had been able to read some of their works. When he finally finished, she was initially at a loss for words. The inside of her lip had been chewed to the quick long before, so now she was wincing from the pain it made. But, despite the persistent pain, she realized it was slowly healing..... slowly but surely. And, it was even doing it as she continued to work at it. She frowned, frustrated that every sense she owned was agreeing with this crazy man's words. She forced herself to stop chomping on her lip and returned her full attention to him. Her voice was controlled but revealed a hint of her fear. "Ok. Let me see if I understand this. I cannot die?" Her eyes plead for him to interrupt and laugh -- or to tell her she is wrong. "I will heal if wounded unless someone slices my head off? And, I will have to carry a sword around so that I can chop off other people's heads?" After a brief pause..... "What is going on?!" It is clear that she is close to the breaking point. <><><><><> Geoffrey: [OOC: It wasn't supposed to be a tirade, though Geoffrey did speak a bit quickly and nervously] "That's about it, yes. Maybe there are other ways we can die, but that's the only one I know about." "I might be too worried about the danger of being attacked. So far, I've met three other immortals, and none of them has taken a swing at me, so maybe my commander was exaggerating. Perhaps it's a bit like the killers who supposedly stalk people in the pea-soupers - the stories are more dramatic than the number of victims. Still, if there *are* immortals who hunt down others, I'd rather... well, I'd rather make life difficult for them, if they came after me. Not that I'll carry a sword in civvy street, though." He sighs. "As to what's going on, I wish I knew. I *really* wish I knew. This was dropped on me just as much as it was dropped on you; I never asked to be immortal, though I'm grateful enough for the chance to survive this war. Maybe it's some sort of test, with God watching how we treat our new powers - though I've had a harder time believing in God since going to France. Or maybe it's some sort of punishment, and we're doomed to remain in this world instead of going to the next. There are too many maybes; for the moment, just accept it, and maybe we'll learn `why' later. "Yet another `maybe'," he adds with a wry grin. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ All of this was just a bit too odd to be real. It came off sounding real. And, to hear Geoffrey tell it, he certainly seemed to believe it. Even the strange sensation in her head spoke for it all, but she still refused to open admit it to herself. It was on thing to play the game but a far different one to have faith. He had left of commenting that she should "just accept it." She shook her head, then. The loose waves of her shoulder-length hair wafted over her shoulders sadly to match her morose mood. "I cannot deal in 'maybe's.' I accept nothing blindly. I don't know a thing about swords! And, I really can't imagine people roaming around the streets with the intent of slicing off another's head!" Her brow furrows, and she gives Geoffrey a poutty look. "For crying out loud, I'm a DOCTOR!" She left it at that. While she still felt unsatisfied with the answers she was getting, her fatigue had begun to catch up to her. She could feel it in the way she was answering his questions. She could sense how quickly her impatience was rising within her. She looked down at the saggy dress she was wearing. Her lips curled downward into a disturbed frown. **And, what in the world am I to do with _this_ thing!?** Her wrinkled face had softened by the time she looked back up. And, she seemed to have lost the wind in her sails. "Can we talk about this in the morning? I really want to understand this, but I'm not being fair to you." <><><><><> Geoffrey: >"For crying out loud, I'm a DOCTOR!" *Well then, use a scalpel* he thinks. "I *hope* I am exaggerating," is what he actually says aloud, "I hope that neither of us ever encounters someone who wants a head for a trophy. But I'm not going to make it easy for him." Then he laughs. "As for dealing in `maybe's, I don't think there are any other goods available at the moment. "You're right, though - this would be better after a night's sleep."