Igraine

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

There was not a single thought behind what she did, not a moment's consideration as her hand shot out snake quick, and slapped Ethan full across the face. Her palm stung with little prickles as it dropped back to her side, but she ignored that utterly. In this single moment, Bree's whole body shook with rage, and a range of emotions she didn't even know had a names.

"Go fuck yourself," she snarled, grey eyes flashing like the steely roiling clouds of an oncoming thunderstorm.

"Go fuck yourself, you selfish, self-absorbed goddamned man-child!" she hissed, ignoring the quick glances of passers-by who turned away just as quickly. No one liked to watch a lover's spat after all - well, at least not out in the open where they could be seen gawking.

"Do you really think I didn't have some time to think about that on the drive here, how impossibly strange it would be to have you around again? How the hell I'd ever explain your presence to the other agents? Do you really think I haven't thought about the fact I'm probably going to lose my job for this - or worse? Not everyone can just walk out of a jail, you know." At first Bree had been incredulous, furious at Ethan's reaction to her desperate plea. Now, in the space of seconds, she could feel the bitterness roll through her, heavy and ugly - but it was still better than the despair she knew was right around the corner.

"Someday Ethan, when you finally grow up, you might realize there are things in this world bigger than you. That there are some things worth laying it all on the line, for no better reason than it's the right thing to do." Bree flexed the hand she'd slapped him with, her lip curling with disgust.

"Lose everything you built? Everything you love? Psh... The only thing you have to love is you. Have at it. I'll just get back to doing my job, and pray to God I don't somehow manage to trip over my own feet like the Keystone Cop I am. Hell, I couldn't even keep Victor alive, and get these sick bastards shut down for good. You're right Ethan, why fuck up a moment of your precious life, when the poor kid's as good as dead in my 'incapable' hands, right?" Bree could feel the tears or rage and helplessness begin to prick at the corner of her eyes, and whirled on her heel from the green-eyed man to stalk away before they could fall. She'd be good and damned if she let that bastard see her cry.

The Last Kings of Orion

Pauline ignored the fact that Jack Pumphrey managed to both praise the Lord and then take his name in vain, all in the same breath. The God she loved was a lot bigger than a little bit of overexcitement after all.

And though she laughed and nodded along with Jack's enthusiasm for his upcoming meet with some young lady or other, Pauline really couldn't say she knew for her 'own self,' what it was like to be kept waiting for a date. She hadn't actually ever been on a date. Well, except for the night of her senior prom, but that didn't really count. Kevin was actually just a good friend whose girlfriend since the 9th grade broke up with him at the last minute, and he'd already paid for the tux and the limo. It probably would have been a good time, but for the fact that he downed way too much of the spiked punch, and wound up drunk-crying on her taffeta-covered shoulder most of the night when his ex showed up with one of their linebackers.

At least when Kevin finally puked, it had been on the sidewalk outside her house, and not on her shoes.

Dating... Well, it wasn't as if there hadn't been any interest from the opposite sex. Pauline wasn't really vain at all, but she also did not believe herself unattractive either. She simply hadn't met a peer who... Well... Who she thought of that way too...

"I like you being a 'bit of a mawk' Mr. Pumphrey," she piped up with a smile, shrugging her shoulders and all the memories away for the moment. "I think the world could use a few more 'mawks,' and a lot more God and Jesus, and Newfoundland too. New Canaan will be better for it all. But no, it probably isn't polite to keep you date waiting." Pauline fought the urge to kiss Jack's cheek before he left, a brotherly gesture that, she imagined, could be taken exactly the wrong way by some people. Best to just stick with the handshake.

"I'm glad we met," she said sincerely, turning to walk back toward the office. Pauline sighed softly when she realized the door was still closed, and that Owen and Abby must still be talking. One corner of her mouth turned downward, the thought of the beautiful blonde woman still chatting up her new boss Owen somehow... Disquieting.

Sunk in this strangely conflicted fugue, Jack's words returned to her, all the happiness he treasured, the legacy of his family... Heck with it. She had no way to know how long Abby and Owen would talk, and she wouldn't be caught dead knocking on the door to see when they'd be done. Pauline turned once more, away from Hangar Six and back out into those narrow hallways.

The path she took was almost as familiar as the one to the gardens, or to the nursery and her dear friend Naomi. And with every step she took, Pauline shed just a little more of her strange, uncharacteristic irritation until, by the time she made it to the cryo bays, she was actually grinning with anticipation. Even if she couldn't really talk with them, family visits were still one of the high points of her day too.

Pauline meandered through these now-familiar aisles for a few moments, until she approached just the lady she'd been looking for. She was a handsome woman, her long strawberry blonde hair falling about her shoulders, framing a lovely ivory-skinned face, lightly dusted with freckles. If she were not sunk deep into cryo-sleep, most anyone would note that, if the two women side-by-side, her daughter had inherited her pale blue eyes as well.

"Hi Mom," Pauline whispered softly, one hand lying lightly over the older woman's sleeping body. "Guess what! I got some good news. I actually got a job...

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

That. Was. Awesome...

Oh, and I think I failed to mention when we chatted the other day: you did break my heart you know, with Raigo, and even Goemon. Yes, I saw it coming because you're evil, but Souma weeping silently for his father is the absolute evilest thing ever - or damn close *sniffles*

I'll try to get something written up tonight again, but as you can see in the Kings OOC, there's homework in the way and a couple other places I have to post first. Honestly, I just cannot wait to write for Galina though - the struggle for self-control is going to be... Exquisitely agonizing...

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

I'll be honest and say that the whole "you have to come back because you killed my source" guilt thing was pretty much what I wanted to avoid from the start, and the reason I developed the scenario of the murdered and kidnapped children. It had to be a seriously desperate reason for her to even try to find Ethan again - or rather, that the universe would "allow" her to find him again. Laying down guilt trips about the past just isn't a Bree thing to do, but she'd be desperate enough to try damn near anything in the present.

I do, however, have something else in mind, another tact that, I hope, would be just as powerful. I'll try to get it written tonight, but I have some other writing to get done, after I finish my homework and reading, and I just don't know I'll have the time until, likely, tomorrow - just to let you know *grins*

The Last Kings of Orion

That's awful Justric, hope you're feeling some better by now! :(

I hope to have a Pauline post up a little later this evening. At the moment, I pretty much have to pretend I'm a grown-up, and finish my school work and reading first before fun times. ><

Penny in the Well (Jiskastya x Igraine)

"Yes, I... Yeah," she muttered softly, almost incoherently. He was alive. Jacob was alive.

Robotically, Bree took Jacob's picture back in her hand, her eyes riveted immediately to the sweet smiling face in the picture. She had a state, a city even, and Bree knew very well that the center of operations was located in Boston. It made sense of course, and she never once - not even for a moment - considered the possibility that Ethan was just saying something to get rid of her, to ditch her again. Somehow, some way, she just knew he wouldn't do that to her. Not now.

But there was simply no way for them to find him. Not in time at least. Even if they could get warrants for every single building in Boston and its environs, every last penthouse, shack, trailer and that was even remotely suspected to be owned, run or overrun by this mob, it would be the work of untold weeks. And Ethan had said one word that stopped her breath cold, gripped her heart with a panic that twisted her gut up so painfully...

"Yet."

"Please... Please don't go Ethan." She was desperate, as desperate and scared as she'd ever been in her life. And as simple as that, FBI Special Agent Brigit Walsh, former U.S. Army sergeant and all around serious bad ass, had come as close to begging as she'd ever done in all her life. She spit in the eye of anyone threatening her life, but for Jacob... ?

"That is such a large city, such an immense countryside to find such a little boy... " Her voice trailed off, and Bree could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, painful little pinpricks at the corners. She shut them tight, quickly, digging the heels of her palms into her eyelids. She still had that much pride at least - but that was all.

Her hands dropped to her side, and Bree opened her wet, reddened eyes as she looked into Ethan's green gaze. "They buried her alive Ethan," she began softly, "Jacob's sister, they buried her alive. Those bastards took video footage of a little girl crying and screaming for her Mommy and Daddy until she finally suffocated to death, hours later. Hours... "

"And then? Then they sent the video to her parents."

Bree's hands just couldn't stay still, and she ran her hands through her auburn hair, trying to catch her breath. "I need your help Ethan. Honest to God, if there was anywhere else to turn, I would. I know you just want to get away, far away - hell, you haven't even asked how I found you. But I know it now, even if it makes no rational, common sense at all. There's just no finding Jacob without you."

A Cold Wind Blows...

Scoundrel said
I like this idea! I'd say, let's make this possible. I'll PM you with an idea or a few details on how their past interactions could work once I come up with one or if you could, then feel free to drop me a PM. :D

Uh... I'm going to translate this to mean, that you'll be sending me a PM, Scoundrel? Whatever ideas you have, we can play with, not a problem.

And thanks for weighing in there Melonhead - I think Lil liked the idea of bows and crossbows anyway, so it should all work well *thumbs up* Looking forward to seeing your character!

A Cold Wind Blows...

Actually Scoundrel, the reason most everyone seems to know one another is a feature, not a flaw. From the beginning Lillian wanted people to know one another as Adishi is a remote village, and as you've seen, some of us have coordinated back and forth to make this happen! The reason for this, is that our dear GM despises loner characters, those angsty emo fringe hangers who invariably attempt to suck all the air from the proverbial room of the RP. Loners often try to get other characters to chase after them, distracting from the main plot line, only to find out "what's wrong this time" while simultaneously never having the least bit of worthwhile character interaction with the rest of the group - unless, of course, it centers around their character's endless emotional turmoil. *big fat eyeroll*

I should probably mention, I despise these types of character myself

With that said, if you Scoundrel, or you Gcold, would like to have some type of interaction, past or present, with my character Vasily, I would welcome a PM with any ideas on your respective parts. Vasily is already a very skilled carpenter/woodsman/forstmeister, so perhaps Gcold, your merchant might be interested in finding a market for Vasily's wares or something along those lines? Hey, why not? Throw out anything, I'll bite!

And if you Scoundrel, would like Vasily to, say, have apprenticed or some such under Tristen's father, or the like? Why not again?

In addition, I've noticed that thus far there are at least three male characters of approximately the same age (Petya, Tristen and Oskar). From past experience, I can tell you the fun to be had among three inseparable guy buddies is wonderful! Lots and lots of fun *grins*

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

There was no real thought, no rational consideration involved where Galina must first head when the passenger ship from Vladivostok landed on the Japanese shore. Her trunk was sent along with a porter to a local hotel she knew catered to visiting Western dignitaries, while Galina herself saddled and outfitted her Russian don stallion Anatoly.

The first hint of the fierce Japanese summer to come was starting to sear away the tender Spring weather, and she had shed the long woolen coat and shapka, eschewing the weighty clothing for an ivory linen blouse tucked neatly into the long, full skirts split like the pants of a man, the bottoms of her well-worn Cossack riding boots peeping from beneath its lengths. The thick leather belt about her waist still sported her sheathed shashka and kindjal, though the Winchester rifle, once a gift to her brother Yury, was strapped to the horse's packs, easily at hand.

Galina wore her thick, dark brown hair pulled ruthlessly from her ivory face, plaited tightly at the nape of her neck. There was nothing of the gentle Western teacher left to be found as the Russian stallion trotted through the Tokyo streets, not a recognizable hint in face or form of the sweetly smiling Shizuka, the gentlewoman who charmed nobleman and criminal and little child alike with her humble, tender and studious ways.

The Cossack woman rode to the grand home where she had once been welcomed with genuine warmth, with open arms, to find nothing now but a burnt out husk. Whatever emotions, whatever thoughts or feelings might have coursed through her at the sight of this once beautiful, vibrant compound turned a charred and solitary shell of itself, were hidden well and deeply behind the alabaster mask of her face.

Galina dismounted and led Anatoly by his reins through the bullet-ridden front entrance of the once-proud Takahiro compound. She had not known, but only guessed, that the assailants would have put the place to the torch. Word from the ancestral Demidov manor said they had done as much to her own home, a far more difficult task considering the stone edifice than the light wood and paper walls of this place.

Gingerly she paced past scorched timber and fallen beams, overgrown and neglected gardens, along bullet-riddled walls. She was grateful that the stench of rot did not greet her - the bodies of the dead had, of course, long-since been removed. Galina had no particular destination in mind as she wandered through the destruction, but she was not surprised in the least when she looked up from the ground, and realized where her feet had brought her.

She wrapped Anatoly's reins about the singed and blacked bough of a dying cherry tree, and carefully entered the once elegant tearoom of the Takahiro clan. The roof of the tearoom had collapsed along with much of the main house, but that did not deter her from her search. She knelt in the soot and blackened timbers, and began to heedlessly push away ash and charcoal until she found -

A shiver ran through her body, a shudder that had not a thing to do with the temperature, as gloved hands lifted a single clay cup from the debris. Swiftly, her deft fingers wiped away the dirt and soot, revealing after some moments the exquisite deep blue that began at the lip of the elegant cup, the singular color blending seamlessly, masterfully into an ebony at its base to rival the night sky above. A long, weary sigh escaped her as she stood, cradling the tea cup in both hands. Galina lovingly wiped away as much filth as she might while she walked from the hollow, blackened shell of the tea room, until the small vessel was as near to clean as she could possibly set to right.

Carefully, so very gently, she set the tea cup on a single wooden beam that somehow remained upright, the glaze still shining prettily in the sunlight. Silently, Galina regarded this single spot of beauty for several long moments before reaching for Anatoly's reins. She left the sad remnants of the Takahiro compound without a single look back.

**********

Horse and rider maneuvered easily through the Tokyo streets she had come to know so well in the past year. Western-style facades nestled easily next to the more traditional Japanese architecture, a melding of the two cultures that should not have seemed right side-by-side, and yet somehow did. Fortunately for Galina, the man she was looking for would be ensconced within one of the more European-styled buildings, his portly frame fit into a neat and well-tailed suit and coat as always, outfitted with an eye to setting his numerous Western clients at ease.

This day, Galina was not in the least interested in setting anyone, anywhere, "at ease." Shashka and kindjal still sheathed at her side, the warrior woman strode into the broker's house, her booted heels resounding on the wooden floors, demanding the attentions of the one man she sought. Several young Japanese women dressed in Western fashion looked up form their work, eyes wide with surprise as Galina Demidova, unrecognizable now as the gentle teacher Shizuka, walked past them without a single word or glance, straight to their boss' office.

Unsurprisingly, not a single one of these women made the least attempt to stop this terrifying woman as she opened the ornate Western door, shutting it with an audible *thunk* behind her.

"Good afternoon, Hasekura Soshitsu," Galina said easily, the unmatched beauty of her voice belying the deadly serious intent beneath her stony demeanor. "How lovely to see you again. It has been so very long, has it not?" Finger by finger, she began to slide the leather riding gloves from her hands, pulling the whole with her teeth as she finished removing them and folding them neatly into one hand.

"Although you must forgive me, of course. As you might imagine, my tolerance for pleasantries at the moment is... Low. I have questions of you that I will ask, and then you will answer, to the very best of your ability - and you will answer rightly. Things between us will not remain... Pleasant otherwise." A tight, toothless smile slid across her lips, the spirit of which never made it to her eyes.

"The Takahiro clan. Did any of them survive the attack on the compound? If so, who? And finally - and most importantly of all: where can I find them now?"

The Last Kings of Orion

Go to bed, Justric!

Oh, and lovely Hob post as well! *grins*