Very nice, Justric and Kuro!Igraine Member
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Oooooooooo! SO much anti-authoritarianism in a single collaboration! Very nice, Justric and Kuro!
Very nice, Justric and Kuro!Kuro: Just to let you know, if you want to post for Connor after Justric next posts for Hob? That's just fine with me. Please do feel free to jump in first, and give your character another connection and something fun to do. Of course Devika and Hob will be able to "meet" after Connor - that would seem rather inevitable, no? I have a couple other characters that I can write for as well, and I'm not in a huge hurry here.
Dot: If you would write to like for Park's reaction to Hob's tirade, please do feel free to say something before Abby does, since he was there before she was and wanted to speak with Hob first as well. If you can't for whatever reason, just let me know and I'll do something for Abby imminently.
I have a couple other characters that I can write for as well, and I'm not in a huge hurry here.Dot: If you would write to like for Park's reaction to Hob's tirade, please do feel free to say something before Abby does, since he was there before she was and wanted to speak with Hob first as well. If you can't for whatever reason, just let me know and I'll do something for Abby imminently.
From what I saw of your post order and arrangement Mokley, I thought everything worked out just fine - from Vasily's perspective of course, if that's what you were referring to. It was pretty much how I imagined the flow there as well. As for gcold and Numerica of course, they may answer for themselves!
Lovely post hon, so good to see more of Chiudka coming out!
Lovely post hon, so good to see more of Chiudka coming out!
And what a lovely post yours was Kraft! For what it's worth as well? I happen to be of the opinion that great minds simply think alike is all. Besides, I rather prefer that thought far better than any comparison to a city bus! *grins*
Well thank you both, so glad it was a fun read! I still have to finish up Devi's CS, I know, but I'll get to it... Eventually... >.>
Vasily could feel a numbness creeping over him that had not a thing to do with the frigid cold of the night. It was a numbness that wanted to leave him stunned, paralyzed, impotent to do anything but stare speechless and helpless before every new horror the trio passed. But the warm, weeping, softly sniffling bundle in his arms was his touchstone, his whole reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
He whispered gently into Antonina's ear, to keep her eyes closed tightly. Vasily could feel her tears freezing against the bare skin of his neck, seeping beneath the fur collar of his coat. The silken feel of her golden curls tickled his bare cheek as she nodded that she would, that she was a good girl and would do as her Papa said. Nadejda walked beside him, a hastily thrown thick-woolen cloak over her shoulders, much of her face shadowed beneath the fur-trimmed hood she had pulled upward.
Some small, selfish part of Vasily was almost glad he could not see the sadly haunted eyes of his mother-in-law. He was not proud of that thought, not in the least. And yet the combined grief of all Adishi, flooding from the windows and doors in a tide of stricken cries and wails, pain-wracked sobs and helpless groans, was a cacophany of mourning that had already begun to gouge into at his nerve, with all the subtlety of a scratch awl before the coming of the blade.
And Vasily knew very well, that the night's work had only just begun.
Petya had already left, Vasily could only assume, to find the members of his hunting band - and for once, he did not fault his little brother for the choice. If any kind of fortune still favored Adishi, these strong young men might have escaped the worst of the black tide's predations, and would return to help...
Vasily sighed, and hugged Antonina just a little tighter, kissing the top of her hooded head once more. They would return to help the survivors. Inwardly he cringed at the thought, but his steps did not slow as Nadejda trod beside him, moving toward the tavern. For whatever reason, this seemed the place many of the still-living migrated toward, the center of a grievously wounded village - though if Vasily was any judge, it was unlikely even this makeshift sanctuary remained without its own casualties.
He watched men and women dash past its once-barricaded doors, his bearded face grim. "Nadejda, take 'Nina," he said finally, reluctantly prying the little girl's arms from about his neck, whispering soothing, soft words to his daughter. Vasily met Nadejda's forest-hued gaze, the very same color she had given her long-lost daughter. And just as with his sweet Anna, there was no need for words to pass between them. He suspected that whatever might have happened in the tavern was far worse than the quiet darkness of the midwinter night without, and their beloved 'Nina had seen far too much already. Nadejda took her granddaughter into her arms with a nod, cradling her as her father had and keeping her small, stricken face hidden in the warm safety of her own neck and shoulder. They would wait in this patch of golden light on the snow before the tavern, for his return.
Vasily turned to clear the stairs, entering the tavern just as young Tjasa dashed past, so intent on whatever errand she had in mind that she noticed him not in the least. He let her pass, and then walked into the abattoir that been made of the Adishi tavern.
The coppery scent of blood assaulted him the moment he entered, turning his stomach though he kept on, grim blue eyes darting about the tavern's confines and the carnage within. He frowned with sympathy as... Bogdan, yes it was Bogdan clutched the limp, bloodied body of his once beautiful dog as he wept. But Vasily's practical mind would not let him dwell on the passing of an animal when there were so many more human friends injured, dead or dying in the black tide's wake.
Chiudka's familiar, slender form leaned over one of the too-still bodies. Swiftly he took a knee beside her, hoping to catch her doe-eyed gaze as he ignored the puddle of cooling blood that was soaking into his pant leg. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked as he lay his hand on her shoulder, peering toward her stricken face. This gentle woman might very well be the closest thing to a healer Adishi had, beyond the witch on the mountain. But that woman - or women, by some accounts - was too far afield to be of much good to the village she was supposed to watch over and had, by all accounts, failed spectacularly this midwinter night anyway.
"I can move our people for you if need be, help to lift - "
That fresh, agonized scream sent Vasily's skin to crawling, blue eyes wide and his heart in his throat. He glanced to Chiudka, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze that was more an unspoken promise, that he would return. Swiftly he leapt to his feet, turning to sprint the length of the tavern to the stairwell just beyond the common room door.
"Oskar!" Vasily cursed under his breath, falling to his knees once more and pulling the young man close when he realized it was Stansislav lying there, barely recognizable beneath his hideous wounds and all that blood. "Damn it all," he hissed furiously. No, he not angry in the least with the grief-stricken young man, but at all the pointless suffering this night, a relentless tide of pain that already seemed damn near endless. Slowly, Vasily rose, and then bent to take Oskar's wrists in both hands, to gently pull the young man to his feet.
"Oskar," he began again, his voice gentled now, soothing and calm as he'd learned to speak with his Antonina. "Come away Oskar... We will take care of him... "
He whispered gently into Antonina's ear, to keep her eyes closed tightly. Vasily could feel her tears freezing against the bare skin of his neck, seeping beneath the fur collar of his coat. The silken feel of her golden curls tickled his bare cheek as she nodded that she would, that she was a good girl and would do as her Papa said. Nadejda walked beside him, a hastily thrown thick-woolen cloak over her shoulders, much of her face shadowed beneath the fur-trimmed hood she had pulled upward.
Some small, selfish part of Vasily was almost glad he could not see the sadly haunted eyes of his mother-in-law. He was not proud of that thought, not in the least. And yet the combined grief of all Adishi, flooding from the windows and doors in a tide of stricken cries and wails, pain-wracked sobs and helpless groans, was a cacophany of mourning that had already begun to gouge into at his nerve, with all the subtlety of a scratch awl before the coming of the blade.
And Vasily knew very well, that the night's work had only just begun.
Petya had already left, Vasily could only assume, to find the members of his hunting band - and for once, he did not fault his little brother for the choice. If any kind of fortune still favored Adishi, these strong young men might have escaped the worst of the black tide's predations, and would return to help...
Vasily sighed, and hugged Antonina just a little tighter, kissing the top of her hooded head once more. They would return to help the survivors. Inwardly he cringed at the thought, but his steps did not slow as Nadejda trod beside him, moving toward the tavern. For whatever reason, this seemed the place many of the still-living migrated toward, the center of a grievously wounded village - though if Vasily was any judge, it was unlikely even this makeshift sanctuary remained without its own casualties.
He watched men and women dash past its once-barricaded doors, his bearded face grim. "Nadejda, take 'Nina," he said finally, reluctantly prying the little girl's arms from about his neck, whispering soothing, soft words to his daughter. Vasily met Nadejda's forest-hued gaze, the very same color she had given her long-lost daughter. And just as with his sweet Anna, there was no need for words to pass between them. He suspected that whatever might have happened in the tavern was far worse than the quiet darkness of the midwinter night without, and their beloved 'Nina had seen far too much already. Nadejda took her granddaughter into her arms with a nod, cradling her as her father had and keeping her small, stricken face hidden in the warm safety of her own neck and shoulder. They would wait in this patch of golden light on the snow before the tavern, for his return.
Vasily turned to clear the stairs, entering the tavern just as young Tjasa dashed past, so intent on whatever errand she had in mind that she noticed him not in the least. He let her pass, and then walked into the abattoir that been made of the Adishi tavern.
The coppery scent of blood assaulted him the moment he entered, turning his stomach though he kept on, grim blue eyes darting about the tavern's confines and the carnage within. He frowned with sympathy as... Bogdan, yes it was Bogdan clutched the limp, bloodied body of his once beautiful dog as he wept. But Vasily's practical mind would not let him dwell on the passing of an animal when there were so many more human friends injured, dead or dying in the black tide's wake.
Chiudka's familiar, slender form leaned over one of the too-still bodies. Swiftly he took a knee beside her, hoping to catch her doe-eyed gaze as he ignored the puddle of cooling blood that was soaking into his pant leg. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked as he lay his hand on her shoulder, peering toward her stricken face. This gentle woman might very well be the closest thing to a healer Adishi had, beyond the witch on the mountain. But that woman - or women, by some accounts - was too far afield to be of much good to the village she was supposed to watch over and had, by all accounts, failed spectacularly this midwinter night anyway.
"I can move our people for you if need be, help to lift - "
That fresh, agonized scream sent Vasily's skin to crawling, blue eyes wide and his heart in his throat. He glanced to Chiudka, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze that was more an unspoken promise, that he would return. Swiftly he leapt to his feet, turning to sprint the length of the tavern to the stairwell just beyond the common room door.
"Oskar!" Vasily cursed under his breath, falling to his knees once more and pulling the young man close when he realized it was Stansislav lying there, barely recognizable beneath his hideous wounds and all that blood. "Damn it all," he hissed furiously. No, he not angry in the least with the grief-stricken young man, but at all the pointless suffering this night, a relentless tide of pain that already seemed damn near endless. Slowly, Vasily rose, and then bent to take Oskar's wrists in both hands, to gently pull the young man to his feet.
"Oskar," he began again, his voice gentled now, soothing and calm as he'd learned to speak with his Antonina. "Come away Oskar... We will take care of him... "
Oh Lil, Oksana would not be the first to chew a bit of my face off, and likely not the last either! Those were wonderful posts from you and Heroes, and I will see what I might yet pull together this afternoon/evening 
*cheers and tosses big handfuls of confetti* Way to roll, all you prolific and talented writers out there! 
That would be wonderful Acrolith, seeing an OOC come together. I am very much looking forward to seeing this come together, and seeing a few more people venture into the story as well.
Devika Wilkes-Lane
"Was there some other language but English, Lieutenant Harris, that passed my lips? Because if not, I honestly have no idea why you are still standing here with your mouth hanging open... Unless it's a matter of sudden deafness?"
All five feet nothing of Major Devika Wilkes-Lane smiled placidly up into the reddening face of the red-haired First Lieutenant Harris, one of the nominally promoted "senior technicians" for the NI teams. Somewhere in the back of Devika's thoughts, she did wonder if the pale skin of the woman's face was turning crimson for profound embarrassment, or towering rage - or maybe just the effort to keep her hands still at her sides and not deck the little woman in front of her?
The major smiled widely at the thought, genuinely hoping it was the latter.
"If it's deafness, well I suppose you might also. Try. To. Read. My. Lips?" Devika enunciated loudly and slowly, enjoying this way too much. She did not doubt, not even for a second, that the time would come - likely soon - she would regret indulging her outrage like she did right now.
But this moment had been coming from the instant she woke to this little house of horrors known as the NI Unit, an affront to every medical and nursing ethic she held dear. That quick visit with the magnificently blue-haired Connor Douglass, the realization of how deeply the devious fingers of these amoral, power-drunk so-called "researchers" had gone, shook her to her core. Devika was horrified, sickened - and pissed. Really, really pissed - at her own helplessness to end this abominable practice, to intervene to set a damn thing right. Everything had gone much too far, and it was far too late to un-ring the bell that kept the Copernicus from being sucked into an event horizon, or re-entering normal space in the middle of a red giant star.
But that did not mean she wouldn't be good and damned, if this status quo was going to stand. Devika. "Little Goddess" in Sanskrit, a gift of a name from her adoptive parents, something the woman who birthed the too small, club-footed girl child had never bothered to provide. It was a precious gift this slender slip of a woman had fought tooth and nail to honor, all her life.
Harris sputtered for a moment, her mouth open but without the ability to spit out a single, sensible syllable. She was acutely aware of the junior techs nearby, eyes wide with genuine surprise and maybe just a little satisfaction, seeing her forced to eat crow - feathers and all - shoved down her throat by a woman who barely cleared her shoulder. The Port Watch was still on duty in their tubes, and the new medical officer for Third Shift was not, it seemed, near so pliable as her predecessor, nor willing to simply turn a blind eye so long as he could be left alone to drink his contraband stash of Jim Beam and screw whatever woman would take his credits. Changes. This loud-mouthed pain-in-the-ass midget thought she was going to make changes in a system that wasn't broken - or at least, wasn't that broken!?
Finally, Harris managed to clear her throat and spat out, something. "Everything we do is... It's all signed and approved by the Copernicus commander - "
"Does he have a medical degree? Is General Lahan a licensed registered nurse? Has he so much as a basic CPR certification, to your knowledge?"
"Of course not - "
"I won't tell General Lahan how to drive the Copernicus from here to New Canaan, and he won't tell me how to keep the most valuable people aboard this ship alive and healthy." Whether that was true or not, Devika hadn't a clue, but it sure the hell sounded good - especially delivered with all the confidence she'd ever faked in her life.
"But the catheters - "
"Are a health hazard, and should have never been used on such a frequent basis - particularly by people who wouldn't know a sterile field from a soccer field, without the knowledge or training on maintenance, cleansing or insertion." Devika tilted her head just so, eyes widening just enough to emphasize the fact that Lieutenant Harris and her ilk were exactly the people to whom she referred.
"Catheters are a direct route to the body for infections of all types, bacterial, viral, fungal - and the practice will end. Now. The moment the Port Watch wakes, and the Starboard Watch resumes their duty. We've already lost two of these NI technicians - and did you know, that an infection, even a UTI, can have a direct impact on brain function Lieutenant Harris?" Devika lifted an eyebrow, stared at the woman for just a moment, and then continued on.
"No, of course you didn't. But I will say this again - these people are more valuable than you, or me, or any single person standing in this room right now. Without them and the work they do, performing feats you and I cannot so much as dream of, we'd all be dead. Precious, Lieutenant Harris - worth their weight in platinum, each and every one. There will be no more catheters."
"Engineering is going to - "
"Engineering is going to do their damned jobs, and clean, tune up, fix and fiddle with anything I tell them to," Devika said softly, coolly, matching every rise of Lieutenant Harris' voice with a corresponding drop in her own.
"And after that? After that, you and I are going to go have a small chat with the Psych department as well. The NI technicians cannot be expected to perform optimally without at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep a day. You want to talk to me about these ghosts in the machines, these echoes of echoes, of dreams even? What the hell else do you expect, when these people are routinely, daily, deprived of a proper rest, of REM sleep? Did you know, that was once a method of torture Lieutenant Harris? Sleep deprivation?"
Devika sighed softly, almost indulgently, her head tilted just so as she looked up into that red, stunned and speechless face, smiling so sweetly, as if she had all the patience of a bloody saint.
"No, of course you didn't."
Pauline Weber
He knew and, it seemed, that knowledge momentarily struck him dumb. Pauline swallowed back the sudden squirming bile that wanted to rise up in the back of her throat before she let out a long, slow breath, deliberately releasing the tension she could do nothing about and had not a single remedy for anyway, as her gaze returned to Hands- ... No, Mowzer.
And no matter. When Antoine knelt beside her, eye-to-eye, Pauline could read it in his face, written as clearly as if he'd scrawled the promise across his forehead in India ink: he meant her no harm, this strangely intent, intense and undeniably good-looking young man. But when he finally addressed his wayward cat, Pauline's jaw dropped in undiluted amazement.
"What in the... " Pauline's head tilted just so, her mouth falling open as he spoke - and then she began to laugh. Obviously, the young woman had not the least idea what Antoine had said, beyond recognizing mention of his name somewhere, but there was no doubt in her mind that whatever he had said, was certainly a language of some type or other... No! Now wait just a moment here! Coyote? What Frenchman in this world, just casually let the language of a Native American tribe trip so lightly off his tongue? Had he... Had he really just... ?
"Antoine," she asked incredulously, still smiling though her brow was furrowed with naked curiosity, "What language is... Was that some Native American tongue? Honestly?" Pauline was confused - pleasantly confused at that, but confused nonetheless. "What do you do aboard the Copernicus during Third Shift? I have really got to know!"
Pauline laughed softly once more, shaking her head slowly as she took a deep breath, glancing toward Mowzer-who-was-not-Coyote apparently, utterly unimpressed with his human keeper's shockingly good linguistic display. She looked back to Antoine once more, the expression on her face becoming far more thoughtful. Considerate. The gaze she gave the young man beside her now had lost some of its lightness, the pale blue slowly replaced with something far more like a steely grey. She was, of course, the very same woman who had just played tagged with a cat, who tossed all dignity to the winds as she toppled into a young man's room and babble near incoherently at the unexpected sight of his handsome face.
She was also the very same woman who fought for her life with the ferocity of a tigress, whose furious screams had reverberated through the cryobay until the MPs came running, her would-be murderer bruised and bleeding at the hands of a half-conscious woman maddened by pain and terror and fury. Pauline was many things, some of them not near so good as her parents believed, but God Himself knew that a coward was not one of them.
Pauline leaned forward just a little, catching Antoine's gaze with her own and holding it there as she spoke. "And I would really like to hear Antoine, how it is you know my name."
"Was there some other language but English, Lieutenant Harris, that passed my lips? Because if not, I honestly have no idea why you are still standing here with your mouth hanging open... Unless it's a matter of sudden deafness?"
All five feet nothing of Major Devika Wilkes-Lane smiled placidly up into the reddening face of the red-haired First Lieutenant Harris, one of the nominally promoted "senior technicians" for the NI teams. Somewhere in the back of Devika's thoughts, she did wonder if the pale skin of the woman's face was turning crimson for profound embarrassment, or towering rage - or maybe just the effort to keep her hands still at her sides and not deck the little woman in front of her?
The major smiled widely at the thought, genuinely hoping it was the latter.
"If it's deafness, well I suppose you might also. Try. To. Read. My. Lips?" Devika enunciated loudly and slowly, enjoying this way too much. She did not doubt, not even for a second, that the time would come - likely soon - she would regret indulging her outrage like she did right now.
But this moment had been coming from the instant she woke to this little house of horrors known as the NI Unit, an affront to every medical and nursing ethic she held dear. That quick visit with the magnificently blue-haired Connor Douglass, the realization of how deeply the devious fingers of these amoral, power-drunk so-called "researchers" had gone, shook her to her core. Devika was horrified, sickened - and pissed. Really, really pissed - at her own helplessness to end this abominable practice, to intervene to set a damn thing right. Everything had gone much too far, and it was far too late to un-ring the bell that kept the Copernicus from being sucked into an event horizon, or re-entering normal space in the middle of a red giant star.
But that did not mean she wouldn't be good and damned, if this status quo was going to stand. Devika. "Little Goddess" in Sanskrit, a gift of a name from her adoptive parents, something the woman who birthed the too small, club-footed girl child had never bothered to provide. It was a precious gift this slender slip of a woman had fought tooth and nail to honor, all her life.
Harris sputtered for a moment, her mouth open but without the ability to spit out a single, sensible syllable. She was acutely aware of the junior techs nearby, eyes wide with genuine surprise and maybe just a little satisfaction, seeing her forced to eat crow - feathers and all - shoved down her throat by a woman who barely cleared her shoulder. The Port Watch was still on duty in their tubes, and the new medical officer for Third Shift was not, it seemed, near so pliable as her predecessor, nor willing to simply turn a blind eye so long as he could be left alone to drink his contraband stash of Jim Beam and screw whatever woman would take his credits. Changes. This loud-mouthed pain-in-the-ass midget thought she was going to make changes in a system that wasn't broken - or at least, wasn't that broken!?
Finally, Harris managed to clear her throat and spat out, something. "Everything we do is... It's all signed and approved by the Copernicus commander - "
"Does he have a medical degree? Is General Lahan a licensed registered nurse? Has he so much as a basic CPR certification, to your knowledge?"
"Of course not - "
"I won't tell General Lahan how to drive the Copernicus from here to New Canaan, and he won't tell me how to keep the most valuable people aboard this ship alive and healthy." Whether that was true or not, Devika hadn't a clue, but it sure the hell sounded good - especially delivered with all the confidence she'd ever faked in her life.
"But the catheters - "
"Are a health hazard, and should have never been used on such a frequent basis - particularly by people who wouldn't know a sterile field from a soccer field, without the knowledge or training on maintenance, cleansing or insertion." Devika tilted her head just so, eyes widening just enough to emphasize the fact that Lieutenant Harris and her ilk were exactly the people to whom she referred.
"Catheters are a direct route to the body for infections of all types, bacterial, viral, fungal - and the practice will end. Now. The moment the Port Watch wakes, and the Starboard Watch resumes their duty. We've already lost two of these NI technicians - and did you know, that an infection, even a UTI, can have a direct impact on brain function Lieutenant Harris?" Devika lifted an eyebrow, stared at the woman for just a moment, and then continued on.
"No, of course you didn't. But I will say this again - these people are more valuable than you, or me, or any single person standing in this room right now. Without them and the work they do, performing feats you and I cannot so much as dream of, we'd all be dead. Precious, Lieutenant Harris - worth their weight in platinum, each and every one. There will be no more catheters."
"Engineering is going to - "
"Engineering is going to do their damned jobs, and clean, tune up, fix and fiddle with anything I tell them to," Devika said softly, coolly, matching every rise of Lieutenant Harris' voice with a corresponding drop in her own.
"And after that? After that, you and I are going to go have a small chat with the Psych department as well. The NI technicians cannot be expected to perform optimally without at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep a day. You want to talk to me about these ghosts in the machines, these echoes of echoes, of dreams even? What the hell else do you expect, when these people are routinely, daily, deprived of a proper rest, of REM sleep? Did you know, that was once a method of torture Lieutenant Harris? Sleep deprivation?"
Devika sighed softly, almost indulgently, her head tilted just so as she looked up into that red, stunned and speechless face, smiling so sweetly, as if she had all the patience of a bloody saint.
"No, of course you didn't."
Pauline Weber
He knew and, it seemed, that knowledge momentarily struck him dumb. Pauline swallowed back the sudden squirming bile that wanted to rise up in the back of her throat before she let out a long, slow breath, deliberately releasing the tension she could do nothing about and had not a single remedy for anyway, as her gaze returned to Hands- ... No, Mowzer.
And no matter. When Antoine knelt beside her, eye-to-eye, Pauline could read it in his face, written as clearly as if he'd scrawled the promise across his forehead in India ink: he meant her no harm, this strangely intent, intense and undeniably good-looking young man. But when he finally addressed his wayward cat, Pauline's jaw dropped in undiluted amazement.
"What in the... " Pauline's head tilted just so, her mouth falling open as he spoke - and then she began to laugh. Obviously, the young woman had not the least idea what Antoine had said, beyond recognizing mention of his name somewhere, but there was no doubt in her mind that whatever he had said, was certainly a language of some type or other... No! Now wait just a moment here! Coyote? What Frenchman in this world, just casually let the language of a Native American tribe trip so lightly off his tongue? Had he... Had he really just... ?
"Antoine," she asked incredulously, still smiling though her brow was furrowed with naked curiosity, "What language is... Was that some Native American tongue? Honestly?" Pauline was confused - pleasantly confused at that, but confused nonetheless. "What do you do aboard the Copernicus during Third Shift? I have really got to know!"
Pauline laughed softly once more, shaking her head slowly as she took a deep breath, glancing toward Mowzer-who-was-not-Coyote apparently, utterly unimpressed with his human keeper's shockingly good linguistic display. She looked back to Antoine once more, the expression on her face becoming far more thoughtful. Considerate. The gaze she gave the young man beside her now had lost some of its lightness, the pale blue slowly replaced with something far more like a steely grey. She was, of course, the very same woman who had just played tagged with a cat, who tossed all dignity to the winds as she toppled into a young man's room and babble near incoherently at the unexpected sight of his handsome face.
She was also the very same woman who fought for her life with the ferocity of a tigress, whose furious screams had reverberated through the cryobay until the MPs came running, her would-be murderer bruised and bleeding at the hands of a half-conscious woman maddened by pain and terror and fury. Pauline was many things, some of them not near so good as her parents believed, but God Himself knew that a coward was not one of them.
Pauline leaned forward just a little, catching Antoine's gaze with her own and holding it there as she spoke. "And I would really like to hear Antoine, how it is you know my name."
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