What is your real name?...Elizabeth St. John.
Make sure no one learns it. So, have you thought of a good alias for yourself?Alias. I suppose I need one, now, don't I... Pity. I liked being Eliza.
...but call me
Stheno.
How old are you, anyway?Old enough to know better. Pre-thirty, and thanks so much for
that little rose, Kyle...
...but I'm twenty nine.
How would you describe your own appearance? Height, hair, clothes, whatever.I hate talking about myself. You know those people who hate talking about themselves? I'm one of them. I'm pretty, and slim, and I dye my hair more than I'd like but less than you think. I'm not tall. I've grey eyes, bleached white hair and...well,
no figure...
...but if you must know, I like my collar bones.
Recently all of us are afflicted with these impossibly unreal abilities. Like Mystics. What is your ability?'Ability', it says. What, you mean this little
talent of mine? The one that means I shouldn't see my son again? Or husband? Or feel normal? This isn't a bloody comic book, you know, this is my life and it's ending in what might as well be bloody
Siberia for God's sake. So yes, I suppose, I can take people's essence. Or life, or energy, or...
whatever. Whatever it is, I take something from them, and if they're very lucky it comes back. Sometimes it doesn't. Is that what you want me to say?
No. No, of course it's not, because that's not enough, is it. There has to be
more, there's always
more. Trouble comes in threes, they say, so if you must know I'm... I suppose you could say 'strong', but let me stop you there. When I say that, you're thinking bodybuilders, weights at the gym, Arnold Schwarzenegger, but that's not on. Not quite, at least. I'm... more than that.
Swing-a-telephone-pole-like-a-baseball-bat more than that.
Toss-your-car-over-my-shoulder more than that.
And, while we're at it, my skin is strong too, and my bones. They must be, because that's the only bloody explanation I can think of as to why they don't rip or break or cut like normal. I mean sometimes, sure, but not like they ought to. I've put my hand through a car door without a bloody scratch, I mean, can you believe it? I don't know. I just don't know, sometimes.
...but they told me I was
strong, and
tough, so there you are then.
What is your voice like? Has he told you anything aside to search for Elvarren?Oh yes, and thanks so much for
that little chestnut. Going on about
Elvarren, as if that isn't some made up word. I'd say I've gone mad, but apparently I'm not the only one. Mass hysteria is real, you know, I've read about it on the telly, and maybe that's what this is...
...but it's kind, kinder than I'd like. It tells me it's not my fault.
Where did you come from, and how long have you been looking for Elvarren?Gloucester. I say 'England' and you all think London, like there isn't a whole rest of the country out there.
...but yes, I'm from Gloucester. I miss it. It was warmer there, though I'll give you not by much.
How did you end up here?Well I flew, didn't I? I certainly didn't swim! London to Montreal to Saskatchewan to a rental car that I never took back...it ran out of petrol a ways back, and I suppose I...well, walked from there. At least I brought flats.
...but yes, I flew. What would you have done?
Anything else you want to get off your chest?I miss them. God, I miss them so much. Kyle and...and Charlie. I'm so sorry, Charlie, honey, mommy's so sorry...
...but I had to go, didn't I.
It is good to meet you, friend. You’ll be safe here – for the time being…Oh yes, I'm sure. Of course I will.
...but will you?
