Elainne Dunaway Payal's Fledgling Part II Wales 1917 A.D. .......... [GM] The next day you continue on. Your clothes are now in such tattered condition that you'd be embarrassed to meet anyone else when not wearing the light jacket you brought along; you can barely cover yourself decently with the ripped and abraded remnants of your blouse. More importantly, it's getting cold up in these mountains. You begin to shiver as you walk, but Payal is wearing no more clothing than you, and seems unconcerned. The next evening, she gives you a knife again, and forces you to repeat the knife drills she began the night before. You're a little better now, having learned not to be hesitant, and Payal is correspondingly less gentle with you. You get cut and stabbed many times, though not fatally; each time, Payal makes you keep fighting until you're incapacitated, then she lets you heal, and resume. She weaves her knife in circles, and it seems you can never move fast enough to block it. Now and then, you succeed in cutting her, but never with a blow severe enough to drop her. You notice she's always quick to stop sparring and goes immediately for a devestating counter-strike after you wound her, perhaps afraid of what you might do if you have her at your mercy a second time. She doesn't let that happen. But she does praise you when you succeed in getting past her defenses....even though you think sometimes she is letting you. You are also coming to understand that as inept as she makes you feel, she is not trying to flaunt her superiority over you. Certainly she outmatches you in every respect, but that's what convinces you she's not beating you up and mauling you out of malice or a desire to demonstrate her prowess; clearly, she can kill you anytime she wants. What need would a woman nine hundred years old have to humiliate a fledgling? She is teaching you. And you are learning, quickly. You continue hiking through the mountains, dreading each sunset as it means huddling near the small fire, with your increasingly threadbare clothes, slashed and perforated and worn almost to rags. Each evening, Payal makes you fight for at least two hours. You are getting used to the feel of a knife in your hands...and the sharp pain and the smell of blood. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ As the days waxed and waned, Elainne was becoming increasingly comfortable with the new turn her life had made. That she was a doctor seemed remote, only becoming important when she was alone where her mind could wander. It was at those times she mourned the loss of her former life -- the loss of a straight-forward existence -- the loss of a clear future. Most of the time, her mind was bent on trying to stay focussed. She was determined not to let Payal get into her mind. Yet, the steadfast and comfortable way the lessons were progressing was making her less and less wary. She still kept memories of the night with the heart buried deep in her subconscious, rarely considering it lest Payal might have some uncanny ability to read her mind. She trusted nothing she had not yet assessed. And while that night had come and gone, she felt far better not remembering it. The countryside of Britain was passing quickly -- so quickly she was actually surprised. And, the uncanny ability to be rejuvenated by only a night's sleep was rapidly becoming routine. It triggered her curiosity, though, such that she was became increasingly fascinated with how the process worked. Occasionally, she ran sharp objects over her palm to observe the healing -- but nothing she knew from medicine could explain it for her. While little was yet known about the body's normal aging mechanisms, the pathology of wounds made it clear a mortal body's means to heal was not by regrowing the same part again. It healed by fibrosing and scarring -- walling off the bad parts -- filling in the holes with functional but inferior material. She felt like a Sadist, slashing and poking and stabbing at herself. But no matter the severity of the wound applied, she inevitably rehealed to the point she had been at her death. The image of Payal's blue sparks also kept coming to mind. She suspected the sparks had much to do with the changes in all the immortals, but she wondered why she had never noted any on herself when her own wounds healed. Curling her arms around both legs at the fire, she looked across at Payal briefly before losing her attention to the flames. A fine shiver went down her spine as the heat soaked through to melt the chill. As the fire spat tiny sparks at the sky, she sighed. A sudden, almost overwhelming sense of loneliness surrounded her, and she settled her chin onto the top of one knee. What she felt was a strange sensation. It was as if tears might fall any moment, but her eyes remained dry. She even tried to cry as the feelings washed through her. Yet, no tears came. After sitting thus for quite some time, she queried quietly. "Payal?" Without lifting her eyes to the answer when it came, she continued. "What will we be doing in Ireland?" A second chill flitted through her then. *Ask about clothing, Elainne.....!* she chided herself stubbornly. She did not ask, however. Instead, she looked quietly at her strange companion, physically whole but emotionally weary. <><><><><> [GM] Payal glances up at you, producing that little smile that seems to be a response to all your questions. She is dressed as lightly as you, clad only in that scarf-like wrap. Do her powers include immunity to cold? You don't think so...if you watch closely, you notice that she is shivering slightly too. Why would she subject herself to this chill, just to make you suffer it too? Another harsh lesson in endurance? "Ireland is really only a stopping point along our journey," she says. "I have certain contacts there, who will help me arrange a trip to our final destination.....India." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She could not help but be a little surprised at the answer. India? How in the world would she explain *India* to her family whenever she contacted them? She wrapped her arms more tightly about her legs, trying to keep as much body surface area covered as possible. "And..... once in India.....?" <><><><><> [GM] "In India," Payal says, "we will have little fear of being accosted by other immortals. And we can spend as much time as we need. Your training will be uninterrupted, and free of distractions." She watches you for a few minutes. Finally she says "It is much warmer in India." "You can hardly walk around like that, though. We will get some more clothes at the next town." She curls up on the ground and goes to sleep. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She looked across the way at Payal, sighing yet again. It was a foreign sensation to feel so utterly close to someone while being so distant emotionally. This was so much more intense than ever she had felt with her patients. She also never felt such intense hatred intermingling with the love and caring. She turned her attention away to stare into the fire a little longer. Slowly, sleep crept up on her despite the everpresent chill. Finally, she curled up into a fetal position facing the fire. As her eyes closed, she remained conscious for several more minutes. The memory of the heart slammed back to the forefront, making her grimace in disgust. But, she was too close to falling asleep already. Next, she drifted into a light but oblivious slumber.... retaining the fine shiver despite herself. <><><><><> [GM] The ground is covered with a light coat of frost when you wake up. You are trembling violently. It's not cold enough to be life-threatening, but it is cold enough to make you thoroughly miserable. Even Payal shivers as she rises, but she begins going through her odd calisthenics routine, and soon appears to be quite comfortable, despite all the bare skin. Fatigue and cold is beginning to take its toll on you. You have more trouble keeping up with Payal. To your relief, she slows down, and even puts an arm around you, letting you soak up some of her body heat. "India is much warmer," she says, winking. "I have never liked England." That evening, on the other side of the Cambrian Mountains, you come down a steep mountain trail to a ridge overlooking a tiny Welsh mining town. "We are about fifty or sixty miles from Cardigan," she says. "We will reach it tomorrow." She looks at you, still shivering in the cold. After days of sleeping on the ground, and brawling and knife-fighting every evening, your clothes are in rags. You could probably be arrested for public indecency. Payal smiles, as if amused at your tattered state and your sudden self-consciousness as she looks you over. "Modesty, while a virtue at times, can also be a liability," she says. Without giving you much time to wonder what she means by that, she adds "But we will be mingling with mortals again, so you will have to make a presentable appearance." "We will not go into this town; they would take too much notice of us. Stay here, I will procure some clothes for you." She begins slipping down the rocky slope, as agile as a monky. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ As the sun crept over the horizon to bring in the new day, Elainne awoke, stiff and cold. It took quite some time to work heat back into her joints -- and even walking through the mountains was not enough to entirely warm her. It was a welcome surprise to Elainne that Payal extended her warmth to her, and the surprise was both literal and figurative. The comments made about hating England and enjoying warmth much more touched a spot in her soul. _____ Standing to overlook the Welsh mining town, Elainne became acutely aware of how greatly her life had changed. Her fingers tugged absent-mindedly at the barest threads still left of her clothing. And, she stared longingly at the tiny yellow glow emanating from each window. As Payal speaks to her of Cardigan, she tears away her attention, flushing faintly despite the stark chill. She had her teeth clamped together tightly to prevent them from chattering. Both hands were busy rubbing her arms to create friction for heat. As Payal eyed her, mentioning modesty, Elainne's eyes lowered instinctively. There were few things which truly frightened her..... being laid so bare was one of them. She was uncertain whether it was being so naked that concerned her -- or being so naked in front of Payal. Between the two, she would never allow herself to decide. As the woman continued, Elainne's ears pricked up at the mention of mingling with others and obtaining clothes. She had hoped Payal would not be so much a heathen to parade her naked through town. She felt she could swallow her pride but did not want to be tested if she could help it. She had long since decided that going along with Payal's directions left their trust intact. Trust made Payal more eager to teach. While Elainne had tread the line of this Indian woman's patience previously, she wanted to demonstrate respect for her..... and she wanted to continue to receive it. Part of that, in her mind, was being very aware of both deficiencies and strengths. She watched everything the other woman did -- every move, every tiny nuance of her fighting, every lilt to her speech..... even to the large doe-eyed stare so beguiling. As Payal went skimming down the face of the slope, Elainne settled down near a tree. Again she assumed a tightly curled position. Again she waited, shivers whipping through her so rapidly she almost convulsed. <><><><><> [GM] Payal is gone for less than hour, but it's a cold hour. You sense the Quickening as you're huddled behind a rock, teeth chattering, and know she'll be angry if you're just huddled there waiting for her return....she has emphasized the importance of always being on your guard and never making assumptions about who's coming. But it's so hard to stand up and assume a ready stance. When she comes scrambling up the slope again, she has a heavy bundle under her arm. It includes a change of clothes for you, approximating your size, and best of all, a heavy coat for both of you. The fabric is stiff and new. It's a good thing. A wind is picking up, blowing in from the sea, and this night outside will be worse than all the previous ones. Payal finds a sheltered spot and the two of you curl up there, huddling together for warmth. Having her so close is both comforting and unnerving...she's gone out of her way to instill in you a mixture of trust, respect and fear, and you're never certain of her motives. "There is some business I must attend to in Ireland," she says. "We will be mixing with dangerous company, mortals and possibly immortals. It is particularly important you heed me, Elainne." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She was glad of the change of clothes. The immense difference in warmth between now and previously was like a godsend. Huddling up with Payal to increase the warm feeling was tantamount to heaven. Still shivering as the chill in the bones began seeping out of her, she peered at Payal, curious. She wondered the sort of business that might involve dangerous company. "What would you have me do?" <><><><><> [GM] "Nothing," Payal replies, "except obey me. And especially remain silent." She lays a finger across your lips gently. "You are very good about holding your tongue and refraining from unnecessary questions. You may have to be even more demure....seen and not heard. Other immortals we might meet will be curious about you, but any information you give them might possibly put you at risk...and me." She sighs, and closes her eyes, leaning into you. "You are not a warrior yet, Elainne. You are becoming harder and stronger every day, but you are still very vulnerable. But I will not let any hand but my own harm you." She falls asleep instantly, as is her talent, leaving you to ponder her typically double-sided message. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Certainly, things were becoming interesting. That Payal wanted her to remain silent definitely tweaked her curiosity. What could she possible say that might place them at risk? Then, an image flashed into her head. The Abbey. She huddled even closer to Payal, suddenly cold from within more than from the cold of the air around her. She could feel her cheeks warming with blood from her shame, and she sighed. Why had she been so weak about turning back? But, that was no surprise. Payal's power was evident in the way she carried herself. It took no genious to sense that Payal was completely comfortable wandering alone. Not only that, Elainne suspected Payal could best most of the men she had known from home..... and likely many immortals, as well. She shuddered once, renewing the horror of the last several days. How readily had she settled into the daily fighting and butchering and grappling..... it was as if all her life had culminated into this one period of time. She felt she would remain forever marvelled by the sight of the blade as it sliced through air. The sound of its music, so quiet and deadly, seeped into her soul to take up residence. She liked it. She liked it a lot. More than that, she was learning to love it. As her eyes closed and she drifted off into a restless sleep, Payal's last words lingered in her mind. She had done nothing recently except obey Payal. Being demure was becoming the norm for her, but she was prone to impulsivity on rare occasion. Who would they be meeting that would put them in so much danger? She conjured up images of a group of historic figures: Cleopatra, George Washington, Alexander the Great, .... Pip. She smiled despite herself at the thought of Pip. He was a fictional character in one of Dicken's novels, and she wondered why his name had suddenly come to mind. Then, before she could come up with an answer, she fell asleep. <><><><><> [GM] Payal wakes you the next day before dawn. You make the arduous climb down the mountainside, and follow Payal's relentless hike west to the coast. You reach Cardigan before sunset, and to your relief, Payal consents to check into an inn. She says you will cross the Irish Sea by ferry tomorrow. Relaxing for the first time in days, you sit in the small common room downstairs from your room. Payal sits opposite you at the wooden table, oblivious to the stares the two of you are getting from the innkeeper and the locals who come here to drink. "How do you feel?" she asks you, which would normally be a rather mundane question, but from her it's surprising. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Elainne feels a little uncomfortable with so many eyes on her, but she works to keep her attention focussed onto Payal despite them. As the question came, she frowned somewhat.... unsure quite how to take it. Her own eyes sought out Payal's, hoping to find clarification, answers, some sort of aid. "How do I feel?" she repeated to herself quietly. Then, she shrugged, unwilling just yet to admit to anything. "I don't know. Fine, I guess." Her gaze trailed down to her hands, still finely chiseled despite the recent labor and fighting. The eyes were the windows to the soul. She believed that..... but windows worked in both directions. Elainne was still not entirely convinced that she should trust Payal with her deeper thoughts. Her frown etched lines into her features as she realized how utterly transparent she must seem to Payal. It could be no secret that she was enjoying these training exercises. It also must seem obvious that the line between moral and amoral was muddying already. Raw power was something she had never previously attempted to attain. She had a healthy respect for it. She also feared she thirsted for it all too much. A thought occurred to her suddenly, and she looked up at Payal -- directly into the woman's eyes. "Tell me. This..... these changes that made us who we are...... Do we change internally, too? Is that a part of what makes us seek each other out to...." From the corner of her eye, she could see the slip of a figure leaning closer, as if trying to listen in on their conversation. She did not acknowledge it with a look but merely left off her sentence without fully finishing it. Elainne was curious what Payal might say. Perhaps the very same chemistry that allowed the immortals to perpetuate themselves.... somehow changed thier psyches.... She was not entirely sure she liked the idea, but it might make her feel a little better about some of the emotions she had been recently experiencing. <><><><><> [GM] Payal looks slightly puzzled. "I am not sure what you mean," she says. "Change internally? Our organs are the same as those of mortals." She frowns at you, suddenly reminded of old suspicions, but goes on. "We seek each other out because the Quickening demands it, but I think the Quickening also binds us to one another. It is our karma, that we should seek one another out, either to teach or to slay." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She took what Payal said quietly, nodding then looking back down at the table while collecting her thoughts. "I see." Elainne wondered why and how she had become so quickly enticed into this type of lifestyle. She wanted answers. She wanted to know so much more. She curled up emotionally into herself and fell silent. So many questions. So little time. <><><><><> [GM] The next day, you take a boat across the sea to Ireland. You dock at Waterford's Port Láirge. As soon as you're off the boat, Payal leaves you at an inn and tells you to wait for her there, saying vaguely that she needs to meet some people and arrange for further transportation. You find yourself alone in an Irish tavern. A number of the local lads come in, sailors or dockworkers mostly, and spot the pretty stranger immediately. Soon they are all vying for your attention, and the fact that you're an American intrigues them further. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Elainne peered at the vacant faces before herself, blushing from the attention while also enjoying it immensely. It was an odd mix of excitement and fear. She enjoyed their ogling in a vaguely vain way, yet she feared it, as well. She had never been an especially attractive woman. Or, certainly, she had never considered herself to be one. So many along the way had tried to convince her otherwise. But, there had always been a difference in the impressions others had of her and her own impressions of herself. She twisted around on her stool, sliding back against the bar as tightly as it would allow. One burly man nudged his way in beside her. She could smell the liquor. It fairly permeated the space between them, creating a sickly sweet and heavy fragrance. A forced smile arose to replace the previously easy one that had been there only moments previously. She imagined herself to be calm and hoped her hand did not shake as she reached out to lift up her mug. It had been kept full all evening my the admiring throng. First, she took a slug of the ale into her mouth. Then, she rolled it around on her tongue. And, finally, she swallowed it. She had drunk quite a bit already, but the friendly haze of the alcohol had only just begun to seep into her bones. All the while, she could hear the harsh breathings of the man at her side. His thick black beard contained white flakes of dandruff that matched the ones in his hair. At the same time, his cheeks bore evidence of infrequent washings, where red pustules lay waiting to burst. She paused before taking a second swallow and took in a deep breath. One younger, lanky sailor was rambling about his time in America. This one seemed a nice enough fellow. At least he was clean-shaven. Although, he also smelled faintly of beer. **Where is Payal?** she found herself wondering, despite the banter nearby. After taking a second swig, she then set the mug down for the bartender to perform his ritual refilling. She continued the social facade, smiling and nodding appropriately while trying to keep track of the myriad conversations occurring on her behalf. Besides the man who held most of her attention telling of his times in the States, there were two others bursting with questions about what medical school had been like and about what such a pretty young thing was doing all alone at night. She found herself falling into an old habit of yore as the alcohol thickened her tongue. Phrases were rolling off in a dimly Irish ilk. She did not even register that she had fallen into their accent. Yet, her words took on a distinctly Celtic sound. She cut off the alcohol as the room began dimming and wavering. If nothing else, she had never been one to over-indulge in most things. Besides, the everpresent reminder of her immortality kept beckoning her to remain keen. "No thank ye...," she replied to the bartender just as he pushed her mug once again below the tap. "Please tuh halt on that fer now, good Sir...." A quick jerky nod in reply met her, and he set the mug back down. "Okayiee," was all he said. <><><><><> <> "Now, I thought you were an American," one of the dockworkers says. "What's this Irish accent about, then? Ye do it fairly well, though." "Maybe she has a little Irish in her," a sailor says. "Maybe she'd *like* to," suggests another, and the tavern erupts with bawdy laughter, intensified by your flaming scarlet cheeks. No one is threatening, but this certainly isn't the sort of environment you're used to, and it's making you increasingly uncomfortable. And there's no telling just how "friendly" some of these lads might become, as the night wears on and more alcohol is imbibed. You've certainly drunk more than is good for you, though you realize you don't feel quite as drunk as you probably should be. Still, you hope Payal doesn't intend to leave you here all night. Though, that might be just the sort of thing the inscrutable Indian woman might do to you, just to see how you deal with the situation. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ The innuendoes were becoming a little too close for comfort.... so close, she was almost becoming claustrophobic. She felt she had done well thus far keeping a semblance of peace, but as the subtlety of the comments wore off, so too did her placidity. She cleared her throat. "AND..... on that little thought, I think I'll go get some air." She had resumed her normal intonation. No more accents for *this* night. Slipping off the stool, she looked momentarily into each of their faces, expecting some type of reprisal. Her feet were already a bit rubbery, and she clung to the bar to keep herself righted. She gave them too little time to retort and took off immediately between two of the less intimidating sailors. "Perhaps we can do this again tomorrow?" She forced the words to come out as if she might actually want exactly that. But, she hoped it would never happen. **Where is Payal?!** "Thank you for such a lovely evening....." Her words were rolling over themselves in a torrent. The alcohol had taken just enough hold to loosen her tongue, and her excuses seemed to come of their own accord. She turned back once between the men, performing a poor-excuse-for-a-curtsie. "I've a friend who's to meet me soon, and I think I should be certain not to miss her...." She offered her best smile and turned around to face the door. What concerned her most now was evading the boisterous chatter. Her eyes slipped to the exit that would take her up to her room. That might be the best way to go, but it seemed no safer than her other options. It also would mean a dead end. Multiple thoughts flitted through her mind as she considered her options in those briefest of seconds. No. She would get a quick breath of air and look for a back door.... thus preventing anyone from seeing her re-enter. In taking off, her shoulder nudged one of the sailors nearby. Her balance was a bit affected. "Oh... sorry." Her hand reached out to pat lightly the spot she had hit as she offered an apologetic smile. <><><><><> <> "S'all right, lass," the sailor says. He smiles and places a steadying hand under your elbow. "You're a little, err, unsteady, there. I can't let ye walk alone in this condition, now. Where are ye stayin'?" <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ The touch was a sobering reminder to Elainne that she was alone amidst a room full of strangers. She met the sailor's eyes, then looked deliberately at the hand on her elbow, then allowed her gaze to again meet his. Elainne did not flinch, but her heart fluttered enough that she recognized its stutter of apprehension. A quick flicker of a smile was offered as she followed his train of thought to its expected conclusion. "That's sweet of you....!" She wanted no part of company just now. "I'm staying close by, actually. As I said, I'm just going to get a breath of fresh air just now." <><><><><> <> "Oh, well, I'll walk with ye just to make sure ye don't stumble in the dark," the man says, still smiling, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring your attemps to leave unescorted. It doesn't seem you're going to be able to ditch him without being rude. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She was quickly seeing that her attempts to evade him were failing. Go with her? What did he expect to happen to her? Or, was there more to it than that? It was one thing to accept the arm of a familiar gentleman but a far cry different to take the elbow of an inebriated stranger. On the other hand, it was a nice enough gesture.... something her brothers might have done were they in his shoes. She tried sizing him up. He seemed nice enough. Drunk, perhaps..... or very nearly there.... but nice. He certainly did not seem to carry any malice in his demeanor just now. In the end, she supposed it came down to deciding whether she could escape him or take him should his intentions turn sour. A brief glimpse of a tussle with her older brother in their barn came to mind then was gone. This sailor was a full-grown man, though..... far different from her brother at the time. She had been a child, then. She wondered if any of Payal's training would be enough should she run into danger now. "Alright." It was too late to turn back now. She had allowed the intrusion. She would reap its results, be they benign or otherwise. **No more ale for you, Elainne....,** she moaned internally. She desperately hated the fluttery feeling her heart was making. And, she feared what she might do if backed into a corner. More than that, she feared what *he* might do if she was backed into a corner. That thought, however, got swept away as she offered a bright, almost-sincere smile. "Shall we?" Sometimes she wished she did not want so badly to trust people. It seemed always to be an odd combination of wariness and trust for her. Expect nothing. Hope for everything. Be ever-watchful in case something goes wrong. And, with that, she nudged at his arm to head outside. <><><><><> <> The man, named Ian, walks outside with you, asking you simple questions about where you're from, and how you came to Ireland. He walks close alongside you, but so far is making no aggressive or forward moves. As you start to leave the immediate circle of light from the tavern, you feel the Quickening buzzing in your ears, sharp and almost painful after the lightheadedness from your drinking. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ The Quickening. It was a rare day that something took her by entire surprise. But, the piercing intensity of the buzzing in her ears made her release a short, involuntary yelp. It was a tiny enough sound that the sailor might well have missed it. Nevertheless, she felt like some new pup that had just had its tail stepped on for the first time. She hesitated momentarily but continued walking. Her steps fell immediately back into the rhythm they had had previously. Her eyes skimmed the surrounding darkness, seeking any type of movement to reveal the intruder. She reasoned it might well be Payal, in which case she needed to quickly leave Ian behind. But..... what if it was someone else? Another immortal? A tickling sensation began at the back of her neck and refused to abate. **What if this was another immortal?!** The thought chilled her to the bone. It also served to sober her. She continued to answer the sailor's questions and maintain the friendly to-and-fro of the conversation. She hoped her answers were appropriate and knew of one question he had asked.... "So, how do you like Ireland?" which she had answered, "Yes, it is quite nice." It was not a large faux-pas, but she had missed the crux of the question in her inattention. It struck her that she would need a weapon should the screaming pain in her temples turn out to be a foe, she needed to find a weapon..... quickly. What concerned her most was that she had no idea the circumference of her Quickening-sensing abilities. Did age allow it to become more sensitive... to reach a greater area? What if this immortal had known longer of her presense? He....she.... would be at distinct advantage. She feigned a yawn, tapping the sailor lightly on the arm crooked into her elbow. "Shall we head back? I'm getting quite tired....." She slowed her step and smiled up at him, trying not to wince with the acute pain in her ears. "Although I enjoy your company, I'd like not to miss my friend." She felt like a cat whose entire body was tense from anticipation after noting a second cat in its territory. Despite having her eyes turned to Ian, she felt herself paying close attention to even the slightest of sounds in the vicinity. Then, she wondered: If not Payal..... would this immortal know whether the quickening it was feeling came from her or from Ian? She reasoned this might be her only counter-advantage. <><><><><> <> "F'course," the sailor says. You start wheeling around, and a figure emerges from the darkness. If it was an immortal coming for your head, you'd have had seconds between the time you sensed the Quickening and now, when you come within sword range. Payal smiles at you, cat- like. "So, you've found a friend I see," she says softly. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She caught her breath as the Indian woman came upon them. Then, she smiled, a mixture of relief and fear washing over her in a single wave. "Yes." She motioned to Ian. "This kind gentleman is Ian. He has been escorting me while I waited." <><><><><> <> Payal nods. "How nice. You may go, Ian." Ian seems nonplussed. "Err.... well, maybe I should just walk her back to the tavern. Umm, you shouldn't be--" "I said go," Payal says, still smiling pleasantly, but you feel your pulse quickening again and panic beginning to build. Ian, a bit slow, says "Now, look..." and Payal's hand darts out. You hear a soft crunch as it impacts against his throat, and the Irishman crumples to the ground. "Let's go, Elainne," Payal says, turning away already. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ Elainne was shocked. Actually..... the word 'shocked' was perhaps too mild a term. She was stunned to the point of speechlessness. It was not the sight of the man lying in a heap at her feet that so horrified her... more the entire disregard Payal had paid him. Her jaw hung wide open for a moment longer before her drive to mend kicked in. This was what she was trained for.... it was what she *did.* Immediately, she knelt at the man's side.... all but forgetting Payal already. Her hands cupped his face, still puffy from the alcohol. And, she gently straightened out the limp limbs to let him lie flat. She leaned an ear over his face, hoping to feel even the faintest of breaths, the tiniest hint of a stir in the air.... And, at the same time, her fingers crept up to his neck to seek a carotid pulse. **Breathe!!!** she muttered beneath her own breath. **Just breathe!** But, she had already glimpsed his throat as she had repositioned him. <><><><><> <> The poor man's throat is crushed, and he's suffocating. In a hospital he might be saved, but it's unlikely there is a modern hospital close enough. Payal looks down at you dispassionately. "Leave him, Elainne," she says. "He's just another drunken sailor who was hoping to get you into bed, and he didn't have enough sense to leave when he was told." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She looked up from the sailor just long enough to give Payal the vilest of looks. She nearly bit her tongue off to keep from hurling a tirade of grossly inappropriate epithets before turning back to the man. Her eyes quickly assessed the damage: the cricoid cartilage had been rammed backward toward Ian's spine. Its shield-shaped face had been pressed into the shape of a butterfly, where the body of the insect lay neatly against his esophagus as its wings sprang through the skin of his neck. To set off the scene, high-pitched stridor whistled through his mouth as he struggled to pass air through the tiny opening yet remaining. Her hands sought frantically for places to aid. **An airway..... You need to open an airway!!!** She knew what needed to be done. Dozens of surgical texts outlined proper methods of creating an artificial airway in someone. But, this!? There was little left! Her fingers trailed deftly over the ground as she crawled around, searching for something to dig into his neck -- something.... anything that could provide him an opening through which to breathe. Already, his face was turning a dusky blue as the lurching, gasping efforts to obtain air gradually waned to become listless and ineffective. So rapidly he declined, she knew any efforts would be futile. But, still her hands roamed for a hollow stick, a pipe, a spoon..... anything to dig open his trachea to get him air. But, the blue around his eyes and lips rapidly took on the darker hue of twilight. And, the last bit of oxygen was used up by his failing body. She halted her efforts before it was done. She already knew the end result.... anticipated it before it was through. An ugly scowl formed as she lifted to her feet and turned to face her mentor. She had seen death many times before -- sometimes gruesome, sometimes peaceful..... but seldom so callous. "So needless!!" she spat at Payal as the sailor expired his last, prolonged sigh. She faced Payal in sullen defiance, simmering with cool hatred. Never had her emotions broiled so fiercely. Had she any less sense, she might have lurched for the woman and tried felling her in a single motion. But, never had she also been so acutely aware of her own risk as she faced the ancient immortal. One misstep, and her words this night could become her last. Even so, she held her ground. She concentrated to train her voice and repeated calmly: "So needless." <><><><><> <> Payal shifts her stance slightly, and tilts her head just a bit, as if she was about to respond and then stopped. She meets your gaze, and says at last "If I'd come upon him as he was trying to rape you, you'd have thanked me." "You will learn to accept death more calmly. Now come, we must go." <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ The anger was already seeping from her. Life was different now. It would remain different..... forever. She was now a pupil.... no longer the master of her own destiny. Holding a still-beating heart in her hands had been more than enough to convince her of that. She sighed, then nodded once. Then, she turned to take a final look at the wilted body at her feet. After only a moment's hesitation, she pulled away to follow Payal as ordered, not appreciating how simple it was to push aside the shock, to push aside the guilt. <><><><><> <> Payal doesn't talk for a long time, as you walk. You're heading into the mountains again, it seems, and you don't look forward to another one of her brutal hiking expeditions. But then you come upon a dirt road, and shortly after that, you hear someone call out "'ho's that? Identify yourself!" "Tell Conaire that Payal is here!" Payal replies into the darkness. You hear some shuffling, and then someone scurries off. Payal turns back to you. "We are going to meet another immortal now," she says. "He is very old, and he won't be expecting you." She reaches out and lays one finger on your lips, gently. "Do not speak unless spoken to...and then as little as possible." She smiles. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ She followed the line of Payal's finger up to her face, met her eyes, then nodded. Remaining quiet was seldom a problem for Elainne. She would be content to merely observe.... and hopefully learn. <><><><><> <> Eventually, a man returns from the shadows. "This way," he grunts. Payal follows, with you in tow. The man leads you to a small automobile, where two other men are standing. "We have to blindfold you," the Irishman says. "I don't think so," Payal says icily. She glares at him. "I know Conaire would not have been so foolish as to suggest such a thing." The man looks stubborn for a moment, and then blanches slightly. "Aye, fine, fine, be like that," he mutters. "Just get in the bluidy car!" Payal gets in the front seat, one of the other men gets in behind the driver, next to you in the back seat. He has a machine gun across his lap. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ After sitting in the car as directed, Elainne took the opportunity to look about herself and assess the men escorting them. The machine gun left her feeling a little uneasy. Her father and brothers had carried shotguns, and her father kept a pistol in his bedroom. Automated weapons, though, were the things of movies and newspapers. She studied the man holding it for a bit, curious whether he had ever fired it at a person before. Shortly afterward, she found herself chewing the inside of her lip and quickly put that to rest with a moment's concentration. She looked at Payal next, wondering just what type of intrigue this strange woman was getting her involved in.... All in all, she found she had too many questions, none of which seemed appropriate to ask in the confines of the auto. Thus, she kept herself content by turning to watch the scenery and listening to any conversation occurring around her. <><><><><> <> The little car winds its way over many twisting mountain roads which were made for horses, not automobiles. It bumps and jolts along, and several times tilts slightly as it makes sharp turns, and you see a vast black gulf yawning on the other side, going down who knows how far. Yet the driver seems confident of his route. Eventually, you descend into a small valley, barely wide enough for the single sod-roofed house you see at the bottom, with candle-light shining in one unpaned window. The car lurches to a halt, and the men get out, as does Payal. She turns and gestures for you to follow. The driver precedes Payal, the man with the machine gun walks a couple of paces behind you. As the first man reaches the door and knocks, you feel another Quickening...ominous in this dark valley, where the other immortal might emerge from the darkness as suddenly as Payal did. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne Dunaway ~~ After Payal gestures for her, Elainne is quick to follow. It was an odd sensation that coursed through her as she considered how private this spot must be. The man at her back with the machine gun would not soon allow her to forget it, either. She felt a quiet sense of satisfaction, though, that Payal seemed to command such respect from the two henchmen. Was it purely the woman's ability to shape them through her experience in years? Or was there something more special... something linked entirely to her immortality itself? Elainne had sensed power from the other immortal woman on the stairs before the Abbey. That was something she never seemed to especially feel from Payal, as much as simply know it was there. She wondered if that meant the other was older? or perhaps had some sort of special powers? She pushed the thoughts aside. She had always fancied that magical powers might be possible, but she had never truly believed them. The science of her education had pushed such thoughts from her mind. Until her own 'death,' she had never had any reason to really assess whether magic might, in fact, be real. Now, so many odd and strange things were occurring.... not the least of which was the tingling that Payal called 'The Quickening.' When, once again, the odd and wonderful sensation crept upon her in the grove, she was a bit less surprised by it. It was becoming almost commonplace to encounter the feeling. What left her wondering, though, was if she would ever be able to direct this ability.... to tell where the immortal was standing. She stepped up a bit closer to Payal, hoping this ceremony did not mean she had just traveled over mountain and through stream to only become a sacrificial lamb in some ancient Irish-Indian ceremony. All the while, her eyes darted back and forth, peering into the shadows. Just who was this Connaire? <><><><><> <> The man at the door opens it, but doesn't enter. Instead, he steps aside and beckons for Payal to do so. She does, and the two men who rode with you stay outside as you follow her in. The room inside is small and cozy, suggesting other rooms must also be crowded into the relatively small building. There is just a wooden table and benches on either side, with a candle sitting in a holder in the center of the table. Payal walks in, and looks around. There's a dark doorway, with no door, at the other end of the room, and a rectangular hole in the wall next to it. The added Quickening still tingles up and down your spine, making it almost oppressive in the silence. Payal seems relaxed enough, but there is just a little bit of an edge in her voice. "Well? I am here," she says aloud. <><><><><> ~~ Elainne ~~ The atmosphere of the room bespoke more than she would have liked. The fact that Payal oozed timidity made Elainne no less frightened. Yet, she refused to give into her fear. It was one of her stubborn traits. She acknowledged it.... tossed it about in her mind.... intellectualized it so it would seem less important..... and dealt with it. The problem here was that no amount of intellectualization would allow her to save her head should this immortal decide he wanted it. Knowing this prevented her from being able to remain as at ease as she wanted. She nudged a little closer to Payal. Who was this Connaire? She vowed she would ask Payal to describe some of the better-known immortals to her next time they were alone. She wanted some warning if ever she made it through the present ordeal. <><><><><> The inky darkness clung to the interior of the cottage in an eerie thickness. The dancing light of the candle played at shadows upon walls and ceiling and floor making the tension all the more palpable. Moments ticked by and an eternity seemed to pass in a few seconds. And still there came no sound. No response to Payal's call. Then, without discernible clue or preamble, a form took shape in the dark. Cutting the veil of black, like a curtain being parted, a man emerged into the dim and flickering light of the candle before the pair of you. He was entirely too close. Just beyond reach, but closer than he should be. His lean form blocked the view of the far doorway. He never came through it. Your searching eyes would have shown him then and there, he simply resolved himself from the substance of the shadows themselves. Or maybe he did and you missed it. There was no way to know. What was certain was that he was very close now. He was dark of complexion and hair in the poor light. His clothing made him to be a man of average means for the place and times. A suit, also dark, with a tie. A white shirt that caught the light. He was clean shaven and his hair was pulled back in a que. In his left hand he carried a thick knobbed blackthorn stick. The kind you had seen a few men using as a walking stick. It looked like it would serve quite well as a cudgel if needed. "I can see that," he whispered to Payal. His voice was clear and resonant but very low in volume. His accent was that of the north and west of Ireland, perhaps Mayo, or maybe as far north as Donegal. Payal said he was ancient, but to you he looked no more than 30 years old. "And Sweet Sufferin' Jaysus, Ye brought a fledglin' too," he said fixing you with a cold, passionless stare that seemed to warm as he held your attention. Then again, it might just be a glow of the small flame upon his features.