Getting There

[Seven]

((Continued from Cavyrn--> Return From the Night))

It was not unusual for Thrasymachus to patrol the early morning, even though he would almost without fail be out on his evenings and nights, doing the same thing. But mornings were especially useful, in some ways. He did have the appearance of an extremely handsome human, after all. And hidden in plain sight, no one ever suspected him of being from the Cavyrn. It made him an excellent spy, moving freely through the crowds, listening, finding cues for trouble--for Rebels. And being in the early morning, he never had to attack, which made the human outfits lighter, more comfortable. In all, mornings had become his favorite time of the day. The time of day he could be at ease, cut himself a break, explore any direction as he desired in 'search of' leads.

The only time his choking dog collar would be cut long enough to be free, if only for a while.

Though now he regretted such freedom would be once again hindered by the fact that Asila's eyes followed him--the Cavyrn only as far away as she was. But sacrifices had to be made for greatness. He would have his day, someday. Someday soon.

"Morning, Terence," the baker called seeing the sight of one of his regulars. His thoughts spun away at the call, whirling him suddenly back to this world of the waking. He hated it when that happened. He knew that coming out from his thoughts left him with a dazed, even confused expression. As if being the abused misfit of the Guardians wasn't enough, to the humans he had come to know, by coincidence or regular patronage, they had been quick to label him as an absentminded eccentric. His formal undertone and distant attitude never helped either, both somehow making him seem childish and innocent of all bloody things! If only they knew...

"Good Morning, Mr. Payne," he said pleasantly enough, an inner fire burning. He simply knew what was coming next. Humans are so predictable.

The man chuckles with a kind smile gleaming from s face full of thick laugh lines, powdery apron covering his fat form and a dirty rag in one hand, indicating he had been cleaning the counter moments earlier.

"Daydreaming again, Terrance?" he asked with another chuckle.

It was only a sweet teasing, but it made Thrasymachus' strings wind tightly. He loathed to be patronized, criticized, it only made his need to be recognized as a Guardian all the more urgent, his determination all the more steadfast. If only they knew what they were saying and to whom--to the one who was blood splattered almost nightly--then they would give them the respect he deserved. But everyday, this man and many others would sing the same songs in almost identical patterns, changing it up only slightly. Even when he wasn't pondering how to dismount the politically powerful from their thrones, he would enter only to hear, 'Wow, Terrance isn't in another world today!' But as much as he would've liked, Thrasymachus wasn't about to blow his cover.

Yet... Thrasymachus knew the man was only teasing him. Perhaps he was too used to the Cavyrn he had forgotten the human world he had come from--its lighthearted qualities and jovial tones that were plentiful when Guardians weren't acting as the wardens of upcoming disaster. The man's face was kindly, even fatherly towards him, like the others he had come to know in the little neighborhoods he frequented for goods and spent a little more time than he should have in his patrolling of the area. Perhaps in denial, knowing if he had not liked these people, he could have gone elsewhere for goods.

But the man's voice interrupted once again, tellingly, "Ter, really, I told you could call me John already, okay?" This obviously was another thing said on an almost daily basis, but before Thrasymachus could reply with his usual answer, John's eyes moved to the girl behind him and smiled at Thrasymachus with the utmost interest slightly before he whistles Asila's direction.

"And who is this?" he asks. Thrasymachus follows John's line of sight to Asila, looking back at John almost in shock realizing what his suggestive tone means. "Wow Terrance, and here we were all goin' and thinking you were an eccentric loner, you sly dog. Quite the pretty girl, huh?" Thrasymachus just shut his mouth, near the brink of glaring at the man and his implication as he stood silently. John just took this as the awkward silence and faltering embarrassment of a youth and his early experiences in dealings with the opposite sex. Which means John merely chuckled looking at 'Terrance.'

Thrasymachus quickly pulled out the exact change for two bagels, though he had never payed for more than one. "Mr. Payne, may I please have two regular bagels, I'm in quite a hurry," he said with a slight edge to his tone, holding out the necessary cash. John looked quite surprised at the money, not knowing how the boy had known the exact price...but he blew it off as just another odd eccentric quality. He had always figured, like the others, that the boy in question must have been quite smart. However, John ignored the cash, shaking his hand lightly.

"You've been a good customer, Terrance. You've practically kept me in business."

"Trust me Mr. Payne, that was no intention on my part..." he continued with a slightly darker, more annoyed tone. Which was once again blown off as a sort of unexperienced, youthful rebellious attitude.

"I'll throw it in for free," he blew the former comment off, handing it to Thraysmachus without even claiming the price of one. He was already far more curious over the girl who put this relatively 'calm' person in a defensive tone.

"How about you, Honey? Why so shy? What's your name? Come up closer!" he smiled while 'Terrance' seemed to groan silently.

[Forsaken]

((Reading this again, I re-realized how incredible you are, Seven! Now, if I can only write a post that's half as wonderful I will be content.))

As she trailed indiscreetly behind her new master, Asila's conscious thoughts were also wandering. Of course, the programming ingrained in every Forsaken's mind still remained active. This network of artificial instinct would rapidly process all of the outside information brought in from her senses, busily keeping track of what was occurring around them as it searched for any potential threat, but she was still able to think a little. Even though the alien programming was in over-drive since she was the sole protector of a single Guardian walking among the scattered drifts of people emerging into the dusky morning twilight.

Her thoughts, however, were so badly scattered and confused that she abandoned them in her growing frustration. It was too hard to think, now. She would rather employ what remained free in her mind in more idle observation of her surroundings. She hadn't walked openly in the day lit streets for what felt like a lifetime. A lifetime...or had it only been a year or two? There didn't seem to be much of a difference in the two measurements to her.

She heard the greeting of the baker and knew from her masters expression that it was intended for them, but why the new name? Did he disguise his identity in these streets? She couldn't remember the details of his life-in-between, but that would make sense. Whatever the case, and whoever this baker, I really like him. Gazing up at the flour-dusted baker as much as she dared from beneath the shelter of her hats brim, she felt the child she had been uncurl from that secret hiding place within her mind and creep toward the sunny lure of this John's warm voice.

Unnerved by her own vulnerability to such a kind, parental voice, she stepped closer to her master. She couldn't lose herself to phantom comforts. Not when she had so little left to lose.

Then the baker turned his attention to her and she felt she'd made a mistake, a feeling that compounded when her master tensed and fell into silence. She tilted her head forward so that the hat brim tilted lower, horrified by the possibility that the teasing baker would catch sight of her eyes, see she was a monster, and react in a way that would cause her master inconvenience.

But her master was already striving to deflect John's attention from her, so she'd already caused him difficulty. She locked her jaw in growing frustration and fear. If she couldn't do anything right, what would become of her?

Now John was speaking to her, and she had to react. "Well..." She began, her voice tremulous in it's uncertainty. Yet such quaint nervousness seemed to be just the thing for the situation, so she held on to the tone as she continued. "I'm Simera," She let the false name hang in the air, stepping so close to 'Terrance' now that her sleeve brushed his, keeping her gaze on the ground all the while. She hoped it would seem to the baker as though she's only just escaped some kind of ordeal and simply didn't have the strength to face society just yet. She hoped she hadn't gone too far, but when she couldn't meet him eye to eye her options were limited.

[Seven]

((Aww, you flatterer, like always! Actually, I almost wish you wouldn't say such things, since now I feel like I can't live up to my last post. *pout* I guess I'll try, but I'm having issues trying to figure out how to start.))

Thrasymachus had glanced at Asila from the corner of his eye as he felt her hand brush past his. He wasn't sure he was quite comfortable with her hovering just that close to him--he liked his distance, from all people--but made no notion of that. It was a silly feeling in any case. He knew that she was only behaving such a way because she was nervous, being questioned by someone and forced to act. But she didn't disappoint him, picking up on the idea of giving a false name, even without giving her warning. In hindsight, he should have done more to better prepare her, but...

Letting that train of thought go, he instead focused on the fact that he was more or less pleased with Asila's words. He threatened to smile at her for a moment, to reassure her that she was doing fine, but he quickly caught himself. He didn't want any other inane rumors going around about him--even if this was only a false identity. Unfortunately for him, John had already picked up on the slight twinge of Terrance's lips upward, causing his eyes to flicker with some small amusement as he looked back to the girl, who was brushing up quite closely to Terrance.

"Simera..." the baker echoed, the broad grin still on his face. Clearly, from the way she practically hid behind Terrance, this girl was shy--it was sweet really, in an innocent sort of way--so he was wont to be gentle with her rather than outright mocking as he was with the callous man beside her. "It's a lovely name, for a lovely girl." But catching sight of Terrance's growing expression of impatience, he decided to tease the poor lad more, his smile becoming sly and almost wry. When he spoke, he was pointedly looking down at where the pair's hands nearly met, an eyebrow raising elegantly. "Oh Ter, really, you a lucky guy. You've had this sweet, cute girl all along and you never told us?" John tisked woefully, before flashing 'Simera' a smile and a wink. "He doesn't deserve you, remember that."

Thrasymachus, however practically stood there in stunned silence (or outrage) at the implication, an angry torrent of thoughts and insults flowing through his head. Hidden behind the shades of his sunglasses, his eyes widened with their hateful and silent glare, wishing he could relate his frustration and anger, though he knew he couldn't. What the hell!!? I come once with a woman and they're already gossiping about me?!

He was frustrated, to say the least, even if it was for no good reason, just because he was fed up with constantly having to play these ridiculous little games with seemingly everyone, perpetually unable to do anything about it. He knew what the pair of them being together must have looked like, especially with Asila stalking so close behind him. He was frustrated with his inability to justify his reason for being with this person, his inability to rectify all of these situations, and just demeaned in general. His temper's fuse was already cut shot from yesterday with Somriad and his plot and dismissal, and just his life in general, but he bit back with all of his might the idea of just snapping and lashing out against everyone at this point.

But he did tense slightly, the side of his face twitching once as he forced a smile to his lips. "You...." Thrasymachus began, almost as if still trying to force the words that were falling out of his lips to not suddenly be a less than appropriate expression "...are mistaken, I am afraid. I am only lucky enough to be Simera's co-worker," he managed to say evenly. Each new word in the sentence of lies calmed him, till the anger dissipated like the silly thing it was. Perhaps in part because he enjoyed playing these games, but more so, liked to show that he was unfazed, even if he hadn't been initially.

"Oh, is that so?" John asked, his eyes meeting Thrasymachus' shades with their curious look of interest, before glancing back at 'Simera' once more.

"Yes," Thrasymachus continued, before John had the chance to ask Asila any more incriminating questions. "She was just recently hired by the Conservatory, so I am training her."

"Ah," John smiled a little wider, now understanding. "Another herbologist, huh? You guys do good work--we'd all die without you guys!"

Thrasymachus flashed a smile, hoping he could take the compliment as a means to escape the over-talkative baker. He began to tread to the door, but unfortunately, John started up again, forcing the near-ornery half-Guardian to stay out of politeness.

"I suppose that's a good thing for Juliet though," he mused out loud, something playful as he made the revelation. Thrasymachus, who had been turning to leave, couldn't help but glance back, his stoic expression becoming just the slightest bit curious. But as John didn't continue, instead flashing a brief smile, he knew it was an indication that John had no intention of continuing unless 'Terrance' drug his feet back to the counter. So in a quiet defeat, Thrasymachus did so. Almost immediately, the cheeky baker dropped a package into Thrasymachus' hands, smiling mischievously. Thrasymachus stared down at the package, his jaw dropping before he looked back at John in wordless outrage. Finally, he managed to pull the words from himself.

"What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed.

"Since you're on your way to the Conservatory, you'll be sure to take Adle Way anyways...so I thought you could deliver a package for me," John suggest, chuckling softly to himself. 'Terrance ' visibly frowned.

"I will do no such thing," he said, ready to hand the package back over the counter, but John wouldn't touch it.

"Come on Ter, it wouldn't be out of your way at all. And Granny certainly does miss you. She keeps mentioning how you hardly stop by to say hello anymore. And I'm sure Juliet wouldn't mind seeing you either..." John winked, still playful. Thrasymachus, however, only firmly clenched his jaw down. "Calm down, lad!" John laughed. "Let's just call it fair, for the bagels, okay?"

Thrasymachus frowned, looking down at the pair of bagels. It shouldn't take too long. He sighed, relenting, snatching the package back up. But this time, he offered his own rendition of John's mischeivious grin, a darkly smug smirk. "You had just better have lemon tarts, tomorrow morning, or there might be hell to pay," he said, turning and heading to the door.

"Eh? But those are a seasonal item, Terrance!" he yelled from over the counter, but Thrasymachus didn't look back.

"I know--but I know you have some ingredients in stock early!" he called in response, before talking leave of the store.

[Forsaken]

It seemed to Asila that for as long as she under Thrasymachus' direction, she was destined to feel increasingly lost. Places like this bakery, with it's cheerful, teasing patriarch and cozy atmosphere, had faded beyond revival in her weakening memory. Until today, that is. Today she was reintroduced to a more carefree aspect of life. An enlightenment that somehow filled her with foreboding. This felt too much like something that could be turned against her later.

Or so the cynical voice that armored her against potential destruction insisted. It was just so hard to listen. Let the entire world turn topsy-turvy! She liked it much better this way!

She listens attentively, smiling timidly. She felt the urge to burst into helpless giggles when John told her her new master didn't deserve her. Now, there was a tidbit to be saved for a moment of despair! How easy it was for John to believe that she was a being of worth beyond that of a weapon. If he had any idea what she was....

So what if he did? Hissed a wounded voice in her mind. You think he'd reverse the remark and insist instead that you didn't deserve such a kind master as him?

Asila's smile faltered as she shoved that thought to the back of her mind. She didn't want to confront the answer. She had better things to think of, like the mysterious Juliet and 'Granny'. Who were they? Trailing Thrasymachus out the door, she wished she could ask him directly.

[Seven]

((Well, it's been over a year, but lets see if I can pick up Thrasymachus again!))

Thrasymachus, however, was too busy storming off in a huff to take note of Asila's questioning eyes. His body language displayed annoyance and frustration, but somehow, he didn't seem actually angry. It was more like he was wearing the caricature of agitation, as though his demeanor was part show. But who was his audience in that case? The answer--though she couldn't know it--was himself. He didn't want to think that he could be fond of the cretins that lived in this ghetto. That would be the same as admitting that they could be the same, that he, a might guardian, was not high above them all.

For that reason, it was better to be agitated than amused.

Still, as he began to briskly walk, he softly began to mutter to her. It would have been inaudible to any normal, sane person, but he knew she would be able to hear him with her cat ears. His speech was only broken up by the small gaps of silence of when they passed closer to some human in their path, so that his words would not be overheard.

"You did...well... but you will have to keep track of your lies from now on. I frequent certain areas of the city on my patrol...and I must maintain my identity. As you... named yourself Samira...from now on, during these patrols you... will have to continue going by Samira."

He mumbled something, and this time it truly was indistinguishable, not because she couldn't hear, but because he was just muttering darkly to himself. It seemed that apparently, today was a loathsome day, and all the more loathsome for his new errand. But at his brisk pace they quickly arrived at a tiny little shop. Very tiny. It looked to be only six feet wide, and it was wider than it was tall--or at least it gave that illusion as it was about a foot sunk into the earth. And, despite the cold, a little old lady sat in a rocking chair outside with a salmon-pinkish quilt over her legs, sitting before a little table where she drank tea. The wrinkles on her face deepened when she smiled, having caught sight of the 'young man.'

"Terrance!" she called, her voice cracking, but almost powdery. 'Terrance' walked forward, and though Asila, behind him, couldn't see his face, it looked from his actions as if he was trying to behave politely to this elder. Teasingly, the woman lightly slapped her feeble hand against him. "What a bad child you have been, boy, leaving an old woman like me here--not paying me a visit in so long!"

Terrance simply bowed his head. "My apologies, Granny."

"That's better," she said, immediately accepting the apology without a second thought. "Well? Sit yourself down boy."

Terrance nearly grimaced, wanting to get out of the long discussion that was sure to follow if he let Granny pull him in. He quickly shook his head. "I must take a raincheck, I'm afraid. I just stopped by to drop off your order--I must get going."

"What?" she protested. "Come now, you can take a break. Besides, I see you brought a little friend with you today."

Thrasymachus wanted to slap his palm against his forehead, then slowly let his hand drag down his face. He worked quite hard to check the instinct.

[Forsaken]

((We are back in action! *grins* Sorry about the long post, though. I just had to work through a few thought processes for Asila.))

Asila followed silently as Thrasymachus stormed off. As she walks, she considers him. He does act strangely for a Guardian. His body language seems more accurate to what he is really thinking. Not at all the artificial shell that the others erected around themselves. Her expression is thoughtful. If he is different...then maybe the rules are different, too.

There was only one way to know for sure. She would test them. Carefully, she would test them.

Yet for all her boldness in these thoughts, she starts guiltily when Thrasymachus addresses her. She takes his words to heart. He has reassured her, told her that the actions she chose at the baker's shop were the right ones and giving her permission to continue in that manner. She had a new name, now. A new identity. If she was clever, she could use it to create an alternate existence for herself. A better one, if only slightly. The chance alone gave her strength, and by the time they reached the tiny shop and the elderly woman Thrasymachus called Granny, she felt daring as well as inquisitive.

She notes T's respectful demeanor and the elderly woman's friendly teasing. Once again, she feels much of the longing she felt at the baker's swell up like a tide. She wanted to feel the warmth of a friendly conversation, to take a less passive role. She wanted to be noticed, but her appearance held her back.

It is only my eyes that are frightfully strange. Everything else has been covered up. She considers something she has not dared to practice in weeks. I know I can change them. I can change many things. That last thought resonated with a strange sort of echo, as though she had thought this many times before. She just couldn't remember exactly when.

She closes her eyes, visualizes the eyes of a girl she had seen while walking here and forces her own to take on that shape. Everything feels static for a moment as her latent energy struggles against that of the curse, but she feels her eye sockets shift, becoming smaller, and knows her gaze will be nothing but average now. When she opens her eyes again they ache, as though she had been staring at something too long. It is difficult to maintain even the smallest of changes to her form. She doesn't know how long she will be able to maintain this one. But even a small amount of time can be time enough to accomplish something meaningful.

When the old woman acknowledges her, she looks up, smiles shyly and says "And I'm glad he brought me. I've wanted very much to meet you." She glances slyly back at 'Terrance', then looks back at Granny and gives her a playful wink. "Even if we can't stay long. I'm Simera."

'Simera' continues to smile her careful, close-lipped smile, realizing that she is treading very closely to the fire now but enjoying this morning too much to diminish it by continuing to play it safe.

[Seven]

As Asila began to approach, the Forsaken's head held up high, Thrasymachus spun around, ready to shoot the creature a glare for their daring. After all, what could the Forsaken be thinking, coming so close, when they both knew that her appearance would give them away and threaten Thrasymachus' position. But as soon as he moved to turn was he greeted by normal, human eyes, and a tone of speech that was neither inappropriately withdrawn or viciously fierce or just plain uncanny like other Forsaken. The momentary shock must have shown on the young Guardian's face, because, though Granny couldn't why it was there, she noted it.

Thus, as if playfully mocking him, she also changed her expression to one of mild disbelief, though her thin, pale lips twisted up a little and her eyes had a bit of her amused, but silent laughter in them. "Why..." she said as though something dire. "...what a refreshingly well mannered young lady!" She let the false expression fall as she smiled entirely, and then she looked up at 'Terrance.' "See? She wants to stay. You needn't be so stiff, young man," she said, lightly batting her frail hand against his arm. Terrance frowned, but said nothing in reply, as she almost immediately reached out for Asila and took her hands to draw her to her little table. "Come, come, sit dear. You can have a nice cup of tear, or I could read your stones!"

[Forsaken]

Asila hastily shifts her hands into something normal as Granny grabs them, feeling a touch uneasy until the elderly woman released her and she could let them slide back into their usual form, unseen beneath the hems of the coat's sleeves. She isn't foolish enough to try and change too much. She isn't confident enough in her ability to sustain anything too drastic in controlled situations.

She notices her new master's reaction, but is not alarmed. She has given away only a suggestion of capabilities beyond that of an average Forsaken. He does not know any more than her former master, and these strange anomalies in her power hadn't done much to help or hinder him. He had seen it only as a curiosity.

Her gamble, however, has paid off. She has been accepted as human and treated as warmly as she could wish. She sits at the table. "I wouldn't want to trouble you with tea. It's hard to tell if I'll have time to finish it, after all." Another playful jab at 'Terrance' "But I would like to see what my stones have to say." She does not know exactly what this woman means with her talk of reading stones, but it's bound to be something interesting. She leans forward with the bright interest of the young glowing in her expression. She was only thirteen when she had been cursed, after all. And while she had built walls and adopted behaviors designed to keep damage to herself at a minimum, and this often made her seem older, the personality that she retained was still very young.

It certainly was strange to act so naturally again. In the three years she'd been a Forsaken she had not had a chance to interact with the friendlier members of society like this. In the beginning, it was because she was too smothered by despair and humiliation to try. Then, as her appearance changed, she had thought she simply couldn't be acknowledged as one of their number ever again. And even when she learned how to change her appearance according to her own will, she simply didn't dare to go that far.

Yet Thrasymachus had granted her an opportunity to interact, to blend in. And she was not about to pass this up.

((Asila the rule-bender. : P Her magic is such a strange mix that I always theorized she'd be able to do strange things. Let me know if I'm being over the top with it.))

[Seven]

((No, we know. Asila is perfectly fine. But we'll let you know if we think something is up.))

"Simera," Thrasymachus warned in a low tone. It was his own fault, he knew, but he was starting to fear that he was giving his new Forsaken too much freedom. She would think him weak, just like the rest of the Guardians, and would not adhere to his status above hers. "We really don't have time for this," he muttered, knowing she would take the hint. But before any implicit threat could take hold, Granny shot him a look with her wizened face that silenced him once more, and then, just as fluidly turned to smile at Asila once more.

"You mustn't mind him, dearie. He's always like this," she said emphatically with a slight roll of her eyes. "Barking about this or that, and how he must be going. In the end you just need to be firm with him--take a stand." She was quite encouraging... which was really something the Guardian shouldn't have been standing for. And yet he stood, at a respectful distance, the only logic to his madness being that his priority was in keeping his identity secret. It was not as though he could say that Asila belonged to the Guardians and served as their tool.

"Now then...where was I?" she asked like the perfect picture of a forgetful old lady. "Ah yes, the stones." She turned slightly in her chair, facing toward the little door. "Juliet!" she called. "Juliet!"

"I'm coming, Grandmother," returned the call in a sweet, obedient, but slightly weary voice. The door opened inwards, to accommodate the few steps that lead up to the street. A pretty thing, a slim brunette with her hair loosely pulled back into low ponytail, walked up the steps, shortly followed by the fragrances of cooked food. Her head down, her eyes watching the narrow steps to ensure that she didn't slip on any ice coating them--she wouldn't have been able to catch herself as she was carrying a tray with a little tea set. One of her hands still had an oven mitten on it, from whatever she had been doing the moment before she was called, surely.

"I brought you your tea--" As she hit the final step, she looked up, and the first thing she saw was 'Terrance' standing in front of her. Surprise on her face, she nearly dropped the tray all together. "Oh. Terrance," she murmured, then hastily looked away. "I didn't realize you were here..."

Thrasymachus tilted his head a fraction of an inch to one side, an his muted expression seemed to gain the slighted bit of her endearing awkwardness. "Just running an errand--our good friend "The Backer" wanted me to bring Granny her order..." Juliet nodded, shrinking away slightly as she turned to her Grandmother. She had a pretty face, a soft shape with a quality that made her seem akin to old oil paintings, and her skin was the same olive tone as her aged grandmother. "You're tea, Grandmother."

"I don't want any child--"

"Your doctor insists. It's good for your health," she said, pouring a mug and setting it down on the side of the table. Only after that bit of work was done did she look up at the woman in front of her grandmother. "Oh, hello. I'm terribly sorry for being so rude. I am Juliet. Are you.... a friend of Terrance's?" she asked, looking at her curiously. She looked kind, but the momentary glance at Terrance revealed she had a twinge of anticipation. Thrasymachus, meanwhile, rolled his eyes where he stood, grateful for the dark shades that hid them from sight. He had not wanted to attract so much attention to his new "partner."

Before Asila could respond though, Granny cut in. "Yes, she's being trained by Terrance at the Conservatory." Juliet seemed just the slightest bit relieved, something that would have been imperceptible to anyone other than a person so used to trying to pick up on subtle cues, for the sake of their life. "Her name is Simera--she's a sweet thing--and I was just about to read her stones. Would you be a dear, child, and go fetch them for me?" Juliet nodded, smiling faintly as she left. Granny leaned over a bit. "That's my granddauther, Juliet, if you haven't gathered it already. She's a good girl, but I really am afraid I keep her too busy."

Juliet came right back, awkwardly brushing past Terrance and hurrying right back to her grandmother's side, like a slightly skittish, but well behaved hound. In her hands--she no longer had her oven mitten on one of them, having felt a bit embarrassed in walking outside with it on--was a clear, glass, square vase, filled with small stones of about the same size--some a bit larger or smaller than the rest--but of various colors and shapes. The opening of the vase was wide, wide enough to put in both hands.

"Now then, dear," Granny bade Simera to come a bit closer. "First, you must pick one stone that you like. Just any stone," she said, setting the vase before her.

[Forsaken]

Thrasymachus' tone had rolled over her like an icy wave, causing her form to freeze for a long moment as her dread caused her to tense. She felt her eyes flicker briefly as her focus faltered. A brief flash of green would light up her gaze before it returned to the nondescript gray she had adopted. It was such a brief lapse, only the slightest fraction of a second, that it would be easy to believe the strange shine to her otherwise colorless eyes was only a strange trick of the light. Yet it only enhanced her nervous feeling of dread at that moment.

Granny, with her easy familiarity and no-nonsense tone, helped her recover quickly. But the spell was not as whole as it had been. She didn't feel as safe and at home. Instead, she could feel the seconds ticking away as she tried to think of a way to extract herself from this situation before any real damage was done.

She considers the girl, Juliet, as she comes into view. There is something in her behavior concerning 'Terrance' that hints at a fondness for him. She wonders what her half-Guardian master would think of that, and immediately decides it would be best not to ask him.

Then came Juliet's relief when told by Grany that 'Terrance' was training her. Asila smiles and nods agreement through the rush of confusing emotion she felt. Surprise that the girl would have cause to be relieved, even though her assumption that there was something more between them was a perfectly natural one that the baker had also made. As well as a strange sort of guilt, as though it was her fault that the assumption had been made. And maybe it was. Wasn't she being a bit over-friendly? And if she hadn't wanted to see the stones then Juliet wouldn't have been confronted with her presence at all. Then there was the familiar nervous tension, for she wanted to make sure she didn't do anything that would cause this girl to suspect her again.

Somehow, all of this faded from her mind once the stones arrived. She briefly considers the vase, slowly changing the shape of her hand into something more natural, before reaching in as Granny instructed to choose a stone. There was a certain gravity to the vase and it's colorful stones that seemed to demand a moment of appreciation. Then she pulls her fingers through the stones, trying to decide which one she liked most. Her hand closes on a golden stone with a strange rust-colored flaw nestled in it's tapered end. The flaw reminds her of an arrow, pointed and a little bit wide at one end while it narrows for most of it's length. The stone has rounded edges and is flat, as though it has been smoothed by centuries of submersion in running water. The gold makes her think of pleasant things, like sunlight, which she had always wanted to see.

She holds it in the palm of her hand, suspended over the table, and holds it out to Granny. "There's something about this one..." She trails off, having no idea how to describe the vague, faint feeling she got from the stone, and waits to hear what her elder has to say about it.

[Seven]

"Ah," Granny said, but said nothing of illumination. Simply considered the choice, glancing over to Asila, and then up to Terrance, and then back to the stone. She promptly folded her hands and nodded. "It is a lovely stone you have chosen. For some reason, people tend not to pick it though, which is a shame." She softly laughed. "I remember the stone Terrance picked, do you remember?" she asked of the half-Guardian, who nearly frowned, but just solemnly nodded. Granny immediately looked back to Asila. "Now then, Simera, follow my instructions..."

Granny's wrinkled hands rose up, and lightly--from her weakness--reached out to Asila's respective hands, and gently pulled them together, so that they both cupped the stone. "Now then, concentrate on your life. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them dear. Set the stone down into the center of the table," she said, guiding the girl's hands down. "And once it is set, reach into the vase once again, with both hands. Close your eyes and grasp onto however many stones. And drop them, set them free, and let them fall onto the table."

[Forsaken]

Asila glances at the stone again, considering Granny's words and wondering why this stone usually wasn't chosen. Maybe it was just because the muted gold of the stone wasn't nearly as dazzling as the bright colors of some of the other stones were.

She would like to know what stone 'Terrance' had chosen. Perhaps that was something she'd ask him, assuming he didn't shut down what freedom of action he had allowed her after this stunt. Yet she isn't very concerned just now, since the present is far more engaging than intangible fears of what may be in the future. She simply follows Granny's instructions. As the wizened hands touch hers and guide them together, she watches her chosen stone disappear into the shelter of their hands and tries to think about her life. About everything she ever was, and everything she ever wanted to be. Even about what little she had become. The memories flow to her in a mix of impressions and faded passions, since most of the memories that had mattered to her had lost all other detail. And it was these memories she tried most to focus on, leaving more current memories to their ever-present pool of fear, anger, and self-loathing at the back of her mind.

When instructed to do so, she sets the stone down on the table, reaches into the vase with both hands and closes her eyes. She dips her hands into the stones and pulls them out, allowing only what felt like the right number of stones to remain in her grasp. Then she pulls them out and carefully drops them onto the table.

[Seven]

Granny watched as the stones fell with a few clatters and clumps against the table and unto the dark violet cloth on it. She didn't move, and her aged eyes didn't release their sights on Asila. Curiosity didn't make her glance down at the stones like Juliet did. Instead, when she heard the last thunk, she slowly turned her gaze to Juliet, who immediately understood the message and bent down, reaching for something beneath the table. Quickly, she brought up a small little table. It wasn't made of glass, but it was clear--plastic probably--and it was not very large. It was more like a tray than anything, though it had tiny little legs to prop it up as Juliet placed it on the table above where the stones had fallen. The clear material of the tray-like table was only obscured by a few black markings which were concentric circles. Juliet carefully adjusted the center circle around the golden indicator stone Asila had chosen, and once her task was completed, she backed away to watch Granny.

Granny raised her bottle-lensed glasses from where they hung on a layette around her neck and carefully leaned forward to look at the rocks. "You must forgive me Dear. My eyes aren't what they used to be. I'm just so thankful that Mr. Rupert Johnson, just around the block, was able to make me this contraption here. It helps." She adjusted the glasses on her nose. "Terrance" looked down at the stones, almost over Asila's shoulder from where he stood, perhaps also secretly curious as to what she drew. At one point, he seemed a bit taken aback.

"Well now!" Granny softly exclaimed, smiling. Her eyes were on the the table on Asila's left side. The stones themselves had fallen scattered across the board, on different circles, at different degrees of the various circles. Some fell in empty spaces. And some had fallen on places that where specially marked by little black X's on the clear tabletop that stood above all the stones. "Why now, you have quite a lot of Marker Stones. More than most people usually have. You must have had quite a lot of turning points in your life." She reached across the table, to Asila's left side, pointing, saying: "Look here."

There was a red stone, like fire, not blood nor roses. "This is your past. Passionate. You have a strong sense of justice," she said, her hand gliding across the clear table, where it looked like a few more stones branched out to the rings of farther out circles, some above the golden centerpiece, some below. "There are high and low points to everything. Highs represent ideals and our strengths. Lows, our weaknesses. See here, you have a black stone above you in your past." She smiled fondly. And indeed, a sleek, shiny black stone gleamed in the pale daylight. "Many would misread black as misfortune, but it is not. Black is the color of unity. It is all other colors come together to form one. And it sits on a line--this line being the emotional level. At your highest points, you were able to use your emotions--all of them, whether happiness of grief--to fulfill your sense of duty, your sort of "quest" if you will. You have single-minded determination. You are very passionate." Granny smiled one last time before her hand drew down the line, farther across the table and closer to where Asila sat, to another set of stones. The largest was a crystal, nearly clear with just a bit of a smoky quality.

"Here. Just between the lines of physical and mental, there is an absence presented by near clarity of this crystal. It's not completely clear though, but what is there is smoky. Smoke, haze, all of these things that almost not real. Almost more like a reminder of something you've forgotten, though you can't remember what it is. Just the reminder that whatever it was, it is now gone. You lost something precious to you in our physical, tangible world, and it struck you deeply in your mental one. Sitting beneath your red stone, it might be the seed of your passion, which lead to the bloom of your unity in the higher degrees, but it was also the source of great emptiness and loneliness. It's not directly beneath your stone of the past, but closer to the center, and so this means you are still troubled, Dear."

[Forsaken]

((I wonder why T looked taken aback? *ponders*))

The three stones Granny had pointed out, three symbols of her past and present reality, drew Asila's focus so insistently that all else seemed hazy. Each stone, each definition, had caused a thunderous resonance to tremble throughout her very being. Seeing herself in this unlikely mirror of stones clarified aspects of her personality that had slowly grown so skewed and vague over the past three years that she could seldom recognize them for what they were. But she realized what they meant now, and she wondered how she ever could have become so misguided. She slowly exhaled, trying to ground herself enough to be what she had to be while she was here.

"You know, I really was such a thorn in the side of those I disliked." She speaks softly as she reaches toward the fiery stone with careful, normal, fingers, her gray eyes wistful even as she smiles with amusement. She pulls her hand back just before it touches the stone, as though afraid it would explode into dust and drift away from her just as it had begun to in her life. "I've felt so confused lately," she murmurs as she considers the smokey crystal, "but I don't think I ever lost that sense of justice. I face so much opposition that it should have been obvious that my old habits have remained with me. I wouldn't have to struggle so much if it were otherwise." Her gaze settles on the black stone as she continues to think aloud. "My mind can't be as purely chaotic as it sometimes feels if I've held on to my pride and sense of purpose for this long." She stops, and looks back to Granny. She had spoken more out loud just now than she had for months, and she didn't know what sort of omen that would prove to be for her. She felt like this was good, that she'd gained much needed clarity. But she knew well that anything she thought good was always condemned by the Guardians who owned her.

Oh well, she'd come this far. There was no point in turning back now. "Do they say anything else?" She asks with some of her previous excitement bleeding back into her question.

[Seven]

Granny nodded along thoughtfully to Asila's words. However, the silent question the disguised Forsaken had had was soon answered. Thrasymachus slightly taken aback look was only matched by Juliet's widening, almost horrified eyes, as she pointed to the stone farthest to the right, and on the same, central horizontal area that Asila's golden stone lay one. "That's Terrance's stone!" she exclaimed, perhaps to Thrasymachus's disapproval. It was a white stone, just a little jagged looking, but completely white. It had no polished, smooth surfaces, no small clear crystals--even in the most granular form--it was just white. Almost like chalk, but harder, and it left no trace. Granny shushed the excitable child, leaving Juliet looking mildly embarrassed. Thrasymachus remained distant and slightly ominous looking in the background, defiant, as though he meant to not acknowledge the topic, even as Granny's eyes looked at him playfully. The old woman chuckled very faintly, recollecting memories.

"Terrance once had a reading done..." she said quietly, then turned her eyes back to Asila, smiling a bit wider. "I asked him to pick out a stone, just I asked you. The poor fool responded to me by saying, 'They're all just stones--they all look the same to me!'" This time 'Terrance' really did frown, and arms crossed, turned away just slightly. "So I told him to close his eyes and pick one at random--since he wouldn't choose one, one would choose him. So he chose this stone..." She winked. "And it has been Terrance's stone ever since."

'Terrance' scoffed. "It's just a stone."

"I know you don't believe Terrance, but just you wait and see..."

She turned back to Asila. "It's strange though, dear. In your future, you have many 'marker' stones. What I mean by that is...well, all of these stones land on spots that are special. Spots on lines, in neat angles from your central stone, almost symmetric to each other across the horizontal line." She looked at Asila. "This means that in you are entering a era of your life. It will be filled with choices--choices that you will have to make."

"Don't we all make choices, all the time?" Thrasymachus asked in a patronizing way. Granny scrunched up her aged face.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She looked down back at Asila. "He's such a troublemaker--don't listen to him. These are special choices, if you will. Pivotal points that can and will change the course of your life, and most likely the lives you touch. It could even change the world around you." She smiled fondly once again. "You have quite an adventure before you, young lady. I thought you might--I thought I saw it; you have that feeling about you. You are a very special person." But she didn't mention Thrasymachus's stone.