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Telsa's Room; Includes rooms on all three floors
Topic Started: Jun 26 2012, 01:34 PM (160 Views)
Telsa
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Approaching the chambers of the Baroness of the Bastion, one notices a light chill in the sweetly scented air. Deeply carved runes glow softly on the thick wood of the door that leads into a pleasant room. One side is given over to a seating area, with cherry-wood tables and plush settees, delicately carved chairs upholstered with roses and moonlight. Opposite the door is a small hearth of smoky black stone, and the other half of the room is given over to the dressing area. A standing mirror with frame of jet black wood in one corner, a small table with a round mirror, brush and comb laid in handy reach. A large armoire takes up much of one wall, three glass-fronted jewelry boxes sitting atop. Overall the room is comfortable and inviting. A second doorway leads to the bedroom, with a four-poster bed and duvet of scarlet and gold. Heavy cherry wood furniture to complement the bed crowds the large room.

In the corner, the tower stairs lead up to a small private library, and through another door a study with a large oak desk and bookcases that line the walls. The stairs continue upwards, to the front aerie where walls of open windows look out over the grounds and into the sky beyond. A thick braided rug, its colors still brilliant after all the centuries, covers the octagon used in rituals throughout the ages.
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Cont from the Great Room

Softly scented candles burned in the room, adding their golden light to the warm glow from the fireplace. Telsa moved easily about the room, making a few last adjustments to her clothing. The body suit was a deep, shimmering burgundy; covering her from shoulder to wrist to ankle except for the scooped lines of the neck and back. Layers of gauzy scarves in emerald, gold and black danced at varying lengths from her waist to her ankles, artfully draped about her body and cinched at her waist with a slender gold chain. The trio of scarves wrapped about her slender white throat were patterned in the same colors, and she would top it all with a large, floppy brimmed hat black complete with a dashing gold feather. The tiny-strapped designer shoes were replaced with soft leather boots, dyed to match the body suit. They rose past her knees, disappearing under the layers of gauzy color.

"Do be nice to him, please, for my sake. And who knows, perhaps for the sake of us all." Telsa spoke casually and with affection, the tone that one uses with a dear friend. The wolf raised his head from where he lay in front of the door, his expression displaying no response one way or another.

Telsa rose and picked up a black leather duster from the chair. It was obviously old, and showed much use and well care over the years. The leather was soft and slightly worn in all the best places; and with the collar turned up, she was shielded from eyebrow to ankle. The sun would have no chance at her alabaster skin. True, it wasn't like she would just up and explode if she stepped into the sun. A newborn..., newly infected, she reminded herself with a wry smile; perhaps they might suffer severe injury. She, however, was far past that point. Still, centuries of care, after centuries of living only at night, had taught her that it was better to be prepared.

"I'll return soon, my friend." Turning towards the door, her hand slipped into the pocket and checked for the dark sunglasses. "If I'm needed, of course I'll return immediately." The wolf dipped his head once in her direction, then rose and followed her from the room. The door closed behind them, the runes glowing coldly bright for an instant before settling to a soft blue hum of color. The Baroness moved through the Great Room to the shadowed area behind the curve of the stairs. A whispered word, a hand-sketched rune, and the iron door unlocked. Too heavy for a mortal, she swung it open with ease and descended downwards to the dungeons; the cavern below her goal. The wolf eased himself down once again in front of the fire, content to let Dominic enjoy his meal in peace. Anything else remained to be seen.

Cont Black Earth- Central Park
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Cont from the Grounds

With her coat and hat discarded on her bed below, Telsa sat down at the large desk and slipped open the envelope. Carefully she pulled out the contents, spreading them across the surface of the desk to examine them. A black rose, pressed between two pieces of Plexiglas that caught the glow from the fireplace and flashed colors across her fingertips. She stared at it briefly, lips pursing slightly with consideration, then laid it carefully aside. A bound document, several pages thick, she glanced at it briefly. Frederick Thorison, she noted the name and a few quick details as she flipped through it before setting it aside also.

Next she lifted two envelopes. Sliding them apart she saw that one was addressed with the name of Dominic Naome. She bit her lip, further unnerved. This Bringer of Chaos knew more than she would have thought possible. Setting that aside atop the report she saw her own name and title on the other envelope, along with a note to open one month from the day. She chuckled lightly, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully.

"Well, perhaps," she murmured to no one, "we'll see about that later, what I decide is for the best." Laying it aside she unfolded another letter and read the contents quickly. When she set it aside she reached for the report. Now she took her time, reading each word, examining each picture and memorizing each detail. And the information was quite detailed, though it didn't tell her what she would like most to have known.

How much did the Dark Dreamer know of Sanctuary? How did he know of this plan that Thorison was hatching to open access? And most important, where was Thorison now?
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Cont from Great Room

In her rooms, still seething, Telsa roughly stripped out of her clothes. "Damned games," she muttered, cursing under her breath. "When it could all come crashing down around us, and this is what I have to fight by my side? This is my defense?" She kicked the clothes away, then forced herself to still, to calm. Several deep breaths and she moved to find fresh clothes, something that didn't smell of the Scotch that even now permeated the air around her. A soft pair of well worn jeans, a button up shirt of deep blue silk that matched her eyes. She pulled a pair of tall black leather boots up over the jeans, checked that gloves and scarves were tucked into the pockets of her coat, then gathered it along with her hat and carried them from the room. Schezda waited outside her door, and he fell into step beside her.

Cont back in Great Room
Edited by Telsa, Jul 13 2012, 03:18 PM.
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Cont from Great Room, in 2nd floor study


When they arrived her private study on the second floor was unlocked, Esther directing the lighting of candles and Thomas quickly moving chairs and small tables at one end of the room up against the walls. Dominic hurried to help the man, swinging a large charge back against the wall then bending to roll back the thick plush rug that covered the floor. Quickly the staff melted away, only Thomas and Esther staying, moving to a far corner of the room. Dominic did the same, motioning to Charlotte to join him as he heard them coming up the stairs
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Jimson

Jimsonweed had carefully picked up Brandon and followed Telsa into the castle and up to her room. He had considered moving at full speed but decided that it would be safer to just take it slow and be sure he didn't unnecessarily jostle the boy. He looked over the others in the room before he stopped at the edge of the circle and turned to Telsa. "Where do you want him?

Charlotte meanwhile watched the commotion with wonder. She admired the weave of magic in the room and quietly basked in the rush of emotion the group was feeling but otherwise stayed out of the way and waited for some sort of direction.
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"There, in the center of the circle," she ordered Jimson. The boy's pulse was dangerously weak, his face chalk white. The thick plush rug that had covered the floor had been rolled up and pushed aside, leaving a stark white circle carved into the stone. Telsa moved past the desk at the far end of the room, her step light and quick as she tossed the boy's knapsack into a chair and then moved about the private library collecting what she needed. She quickly returned and placed two mid-sized wooden boxes on the immense desk. She lifted the lid off the top one and began sorting through a set of stone tiles. Finding the ones she needed, she passed ten of the tiles to Dominic.

"Set these in the circle."

Telsa opened the other box and reached inside, muttering to herself as she searched for the needed components. Stringing a variety of colorful velvet bags around her wrist, she reached back into the box and retrieved a slender, sharp dagger. Delicately etched runes, the same sixteen that were etched on the smooth slabs of white rock she had handed off to Dominic, it caught the light of the candles and flashed colors about the room.

Esther and Thomas still stood in one corner of the room, concern etched deep on their faces. Telsa glanced at them, lips pressed tightly together before she spoke. "I'll need you both for this, he needs you both."

"Of course, Baroness," they spoke almost in unison.

Moving into the circle she began to place the stones. One was set just at the edge, the farthest from the boy, and retrieved a white velvet bag from her wrist. Carefully she filled the room with finely ground powder that shimmered diamond white. Then she moved to place the other nine she closer to him, starting above his head and then moving clockwise in a circle around his body. When all the stones were placed she stepped back and nodded her approval then removed a bag of deep blue velvet and tossed it to Dominic. "The stones on either side of his head, fill the runes." She knelt at the stone above the boy's head, filling it with the same diamond white powder as the first, and as she rose she tossed a bag of deep red to Thomas and one of chocolate brown to Esther. She pointed to two stones on the boy's right, "Skip the one next to Dominic, then use ruby for one and soil for the next." She tossed a black bag to Charlotte. "The one at his feet," she instructed as she reached into yet another bag and withdrew a small glass vial. She retrieved the dagger from where she had sat it on the floor and with a sharp quick motion drew it across her hand. Working quickly she let her powerful blood drop into the vial, then moved to the boy and did the same. This mixture of their blood went into the third rune, even as the deep cut on her hand began to stitch itself back together. Ignoring the profound itch in her palm she withdrew another bag, pale blue, and moved past the others to the other side of the circle. She filled one rune with sparkling powder of pale blue, and left the next one empty.
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Jimson

Having set Brandon on the ground Jimsonweed turned to look at the proceedings seeing Charlotte doing much the same. Then with a strange look of resignation he turned and walked to the edge of the Circle standing near the rune for death. "What will this be, the third or fourth time? Or have I forgotten times, It's so hard to remember?" For a moment he stared out into nothing before choosing not to ask if this would be the time he didn't come back from it. As Kind of an Afterthought he removed his well worn gun belt and set it in a far corner before returning to the place.

Charlotte for her part did as she was told. Placing the contents of the bag she then moved back towards the edge of the circle feeling the currents of magic with the tips of her fingers but trying hard not to unintentionally pull at any.
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Once Telsa stepped back and surveyed that everything was to her liking, her eyes fell on Jimson. She smiled her thanks, grateful that he so freely gave of his strength, then turned to the others. "Dominic, you stand there, at his feet; Esther next to Dominic on his right and Thomas you next. Charlotte," she paused, considering then pointed. "There, on the boy's right, next to his head." The boy convulsed again, time was running out.

Dominic moved to his place, casting a quick glance at Charlotte and keeping his eyes carefully away from the gunslinger. He'd heard tales of these healings before, but never experienced it himself. Once standing at the boy's feet he turned his attention solely on him. He appeared very young, and very human, and very much on the point of death.
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Jimson

With a smile and a nod Charlotte moved lightly on her toes to take the position near the boys head. Looking at the boy she payed careful attention to the pained contours of his face and the convulsions that shook his body as if trying to remember every detail, which in fact she was.

Standing there as she finished her preparations Jimsonweed closed his eyes in concentration. His hands clenched and unclenched very quickly and he took several fast deep breaths. Then he stopped breathing. He did not let the air out, just sat there forcing the organism withen to work it's magic. He could stay like this for several minutes if need be with no side effects or discomfort what-so-ever.

Hands open in a ready possition at his side he began to put himself in the place of death. He pictured the gunfights he had been in. Hundreds of them. That split second after the draw as the bullet sailed home. As he stood there concentrating he pictured all those men he had killed tried to recall their faces. The looks of surprise or fear as they realized they were dying. Then he began to visualize himself in diffrent roles at their death, at first taking joy in the act as a Gunfighter who was one of the greatest at what he did. Then as a murdered who only did it for the joy of death the kill and the blood. Then forcing those emotions out till it was a job, a duty, as a bringer of the intended end. It was here that he let him mind rest. As an avatar of Death. This is where he concentrated visualizing. This was his place. Even now he could feel his Body language change ever so slightly to fit this new image. Straight backed and stiff the fluidity leaking out of him and the grace that normally seemed to exude from him instead telling of purpose and direct action.
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Even as each took their place she began chanting, the words ancient and her voice lyrical. She moved first to the stone before Jimson, not glancing at him but focusing all her awareness onto the stone. The dagger cut through the air, dancing in a pattern that mirrored that of the rune, her eyes dark with concentration as she knelt gracefully. Soon a brilliant white glow began to emanate from the stone, upwards towards the flashing blade. When she waved her hand outward with a sharp motion the light darted out of the circle, shining not only around Jimson but apparently through him as well. It spoke volumes for his strength that he barely staggered, quickly holding his balance and standing steady. She had pulled deeply on his energy, mixing it with her own and then through the stone to push death away.

Spinning quickly, all the while chanting softly under her breath, she moved to the single stone whose rune lay empty. The dagger danced again and again and as soft breeze blew back her hair then sharply around her. The diamond dust in the rune at Jimson's feet was lifted up, sparkling as it followed the path of the light out of the circle.
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Again the boy convulsed, a deep moan wretched from his lips. Kneeling at the rune at Charlotte's feet the ritual was repeated. The soft glow this time was of deepest blue, and it seemed almost alive as it reached for the woman, surrounded her with light and warmth, then bent back into the circle to shine down on the boy as the Baroness directed the healing properties of the rune into his fragile body. She stepped past the stone above the boy's head and knelt at the next. Again the deep blue light flowed upward to meet the dancing blade, brilliant but not as strong as the light that moved through Charlotte, she called for protection as it joined its glow to the light already shining into the circle.

At the blood filled rune she knelt and her lyrical voice was growing tight as the boy again convulsed. The dagger flashed and the blood began to smolder, an acrid smoke rising into the air to float about her head. She was moving more quickly now, drawing the ruby powder from the rune where Thomas stood to shine fiery red through the man and back over the boy. The soil in the rune near Esther smoldered, bringing a musky rich scent to the room. At Dominic the light she brought forth was soft gold shot through with inky black veins, and as the power moved through him and back out he felt tears burn behind his eyes. The final rune cast a pale blue light over the boy as she called the last of the manifest elements to work on the boy's fragile body.

Moving back to the boy's head she reached deep into herself, pouring all of her considerable power into the rune then amplifying the life force through herself and into the boy. Brilliant white light, diamond bright and sparkling, flooded the circle, drawing the other lights up into itself, spinning them brightly across the young body and then settling into each cell. The boy relaxed at last, though a soft moan slipped past his lips. As the light slowly faded she stumbled, releasing the powers and letting the energies called move into the boy to finish their work. Sitting suddenly, her head hung briefly as dizziness washed over her. With trembling fingers she touched his young face, delving deeply into him to check how well the spell had done its work, then checked the bite to find it closed, the skin scarred but healed.

"The poison has been purged from his system, but he's not out of the woods yet," she stated softly, brushing his chestnut hair back from his face. It briefly crossed her mind that he reminded her of someone, but the thought was fleeting. "He'll need more healing, though nothing so intense, I can do the rest alone." She made to rise and Thomas moved to offer his hand. She took it gratefully, smiling up at him. "Thank you for your help," she said softly, moving to let her gaze roam across them all. "Each of you, thank you for sharing your strength." She took a deep breath, waving one hand and clearing the air in the room.

"Thomas, move him to the room by the tower stairs. I'll check on him soon. Esther," she glanced at the older woman who answered the question before it was asked. "The room is ready, M'Lady, the kitchen staff has begun preparing broths and soups to help him regain his strength." Thomas easily lifted the boy, though a slight gray pallor belayed that the man himself was tired. "Once that is done get some rest, both of you," Telsa told them both.

Turning her eyes to Charlotte and then Dominic she nodded her thanks, speaking softly. "And thanks to you as well, for what you have given. Go and rest, we'll go through his things later and see what we can learn. Meet me in the Great Room in two hours, that should give us all time to recharge." Another deep breath and she moved to Jimsonweed, looking up into his eyes and placing one hand on his chest.

"I would not have been able to save him without your strength," she stated simply. Her smile was tired and she briefly let her head rest against his chest. "Rest, and feed, we'll speak soon." Looking up at him again she smiled and then moved to retrieve the boy's knapsack from where she had tossed it into a chair.
Edited by Telsa, Aug 1 2012, 04:34 PM.
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Jimson

As the blueish light reached for Charlotte she shut her eyes. The moment stretched out before her the desire to manipulate the energy around her and the desire to just experience it delicately swaying. It was the promise she had made that tipped the choice. With the moment tumbling away her back arched as the energy moved through her. She could feel her hair wave gently and wondered if it was the magic, a breeze, or her mind that caused it to do so.

By the time the ritual was over she wasn't sure if she felt any different but in the time it took her appearance had shifted. Subtly younger her hair longer and wavier she scanned the room with fire opal eyes. Even her skin has gone mildly paler with a faint grey tint. with out paying attention to anything else in the room she dropped to a crouch to look at the boy up close. The strangely detached way she examined him was at contrast with the calm smile on her face. Then with a start she looked up at Dominic giving him a more sincere smile even as her features shifted to their previous state and colours. She practically skipped up to him standing on her tip toes to look him directly in the eyes. Charlotte didn't even turn away from looking Dominic in the eyes instead merely nodding. "Come on we should go." She said stating the obvious before she slipped around him playfully and glided gracefully down the hall and towards the stairs.


-----------

As the white light and energy coursed through him Jimsonweed pushed back at the nothingness that threatened to consume him. Though he could feel pain and entropy pulling at his limbs it wasn't stamina that kept him up. Though he was resilient because of being a vampire it was will power that drove him through it. As the ritual continued his mind was subsumed in the role. There was a downside to this. It killed a person and he wasn't sure if Telsa even knew. Not physically, it didn't even destroy their memories. It killed attachment. As it continued He visualized himself in the back of his mind he huddled over those things that were important to him. His family long gone, Telsa, Even to an extent the Bastion itself and duty.

As the greater part of him focused on death the rest dug it's feet into his psyche holding on desperately against the sandblasting effect of what he was doing. Then in the darkness, the blackness caused by the torrent in his head he could make out the newest attachment. Fresh and clear, as yet unscarred by time or the forces of this magic was the attachment he was forming with Katelyn. Panicked, that part of him abandoned everything else to the ablative effects of the storm and guarded this new attachment fiercely.

At the rituals end he nodded to Telsa, coldly coming out of the mindset he was in. He smiled at her as she approached and held her head against him gently. As she expressed her thanks he shook his head. "You would have found a way to save him, it would only have been more costly." Somewhere in the back of his mind tatters of attachment spun gently in the unseen wind of his thoughts.
Edited by Jimson, Jul 28 2012, 06:43 AM.
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Dominic felt the gathering of power as it moved around him, through him, and for a brief instant he almost panicked. His body recognized the difference before his mind acknowledged that there was no shift in his form, and as his gaze settled on the boy he felt a deep sense of responsibility begin to grow. His concern deepened, and the clear worry on his face darkened his green eyes, spinning a shining circle of bronze around the emerald iris. As the ritual ended and the magic energies slipped away from him, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind, to remember why it had become so important to him that the boy survive. Of course it was, he reasoned silently, somehow the boy was instrumental in the safety of Sanctuary, and that meant the safety of the Baroness. His Prince had bid him to see to that safety himself, so all of his concern would turn in that direction.

Something in Charlotte's smile, something eerie he couldn't put his finger on even as he marveled at the change in her, brought forth a protective instinct. He was stepping forward even as she turned her face up to him. The shift in her smile, in her face, brought him up short and he blinked hard. Unsure of what he had seen, he glanced at Telsa and Jimson, then nodded to himself as he turned and followed Charlotte from the room.

Cont Great Room
Edited by Telsa, Jul 28 2012, 04:45 PM.
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As the others left the study, Thomas carrying the boy and Esther following close behind him, Telsa took a deep breath and steadied herself before moving. She tiredly brushed the thick jumble of raven black curls away from her deep blue eyes and retrieved the boy's knapsack from the chair in the corner. As she made her way down the curving tower stairs to her suite she carefully blanked her mind, preparing to rest for the next hour before meeting again with the others.

As she exited the tower she glanced longingly at her bed, the soft satin duvet seeming to seductively whisper her name. She moved onward, no true rest yet, she chided herself, and once in the sitting room she dropped the knapsack on the floor and stretched out on the soft velvet chaise before the fire. She pushed off her boots, one after another, and wiggled her toes as she let her head fall back against the cushions. Try as she might to calm her mind, thoughts ran in and out, scurrying to the front only to be pushed aside as the next concern demanded consideration. A soft knock on the door drew her attention, and without sitting up or opening her eyes she called out for the visitor to enter.

"Excuse me for interrupting your rest, M'Lady, but I've brought the boy's things." Esther stepped silently into the room and deposited the few belongings on a table by the chaise. "He's sleeping well, and I've left one of the girls to watch over him with strict instructions to alert me of any change."

"Thank you, Esther," Telsa replied, opening her eyes and smiling gratefully at the woman. "Rest yourself, I know it was draining for you as well. I'll check on him soon, before meeting with the others." Even before the woman left the room her eyes slipped closed again and once more she attempted to empty her mind. The ritual had drained her strength, and the thought crossed her mind that she was lucky to have fed so recently.
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For most of the two hours she tried to rest, but was only partly successful. Too many questions, too many dangers, too many variables. Each time she tried to shut down her mind a single thought would rush to the forefront and she would find herself following that thread, examining the possibilities, keeping and discarding with cold precision each conclusion as she deemed necessary. Finally after most of the time allotted had past, she swung her legs around and sat upright, reaching for the small pile of the boy's possessions on the table. A bit of cash, one stack folded carefully and amounting to a little over four hundred dollars, the other wadded, a twenty and some change. A pocket knife, well cared for, a watch, and a wallet. She lifted the wallet and opened it, flipping through the contents quickly.

Brandon Raye Kelner, she noted, he was barely 16 and now far from his home in Texas. She wondered why he had ended up here. What could a mortal boy, a mere child, have to do with the coming threat against Sanctuary? She had little doubt he was tied in some form to that, either part of the threat or part of the answer to Sanctuary's defense, but how? She sighed deeply, knowing she should go and probe his mind for the answers while he slept. But first she would see what she could gleam from these few treasures he had brought along with him.

Lifting the knapsack her nose wrinkled. The rancid odor of snake still lingered on the fabric, and as she opened it she carefully glanced inside before reaching to draw out the contents. Three sketch pads, which she laid carefully on the seat beside her, a handful of pencils, a passport and a few changes of clothing. Stuffing passport, pencils and clothes back into the pack, she dropped that on the floor and turned her attention to the sketch pads. The first held various scenes, vague landscapes that showed some talent, a few people who seemed to be quickly sketched. The last was what appeared to be a tavern, one patron seated and a woman serving behind the bar. Talent again, but nothing that leapt out at her. The second sketchpad was empty, and she was moving to set it aside when an envelope tucked between the pages slipped out. She retrieved it as it began to fall and set the sketchpad aside. Carefully opening the envelope, she pulled the contents out into her lap. A photo was on top, faded and obviously several years old, a young girl in fancy dress with a wide smile and blonde hair. She flipped it over, noted there was no name or date on the back, and placed it on the seat beside her. The rest of the contents were articles, clipped from newspapers and magazines. The first caused her to freeze briefly, and the more she looked at the more her concern grew.

Closing her eyes, Telsa recalled the boy in her mind. The full thickness of his chestnut hair, the slant of his jaw, the curve of his lips. Could it be possible? Her eyes opened as she cast her mind back, counting the years and the days, and she realized yes, it was all too possible. If it was true, then more doors were opening, more possibilities, and more problems.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she whispered, a reminder to be cautious. Carefully she pressed the clippings and the pictures back into the envelope, laying it on the table beside the wallet, and reached to open the third and final sketchpad.

The world rocked around her, the gasp that slipped past her full red lips shocked. Staring back up at her was her own face, three times over. In laughter and tears, alone and with her wolfish companion. She pushed past the thought that it was impossible, for quite obviously it was very possible. With trembling fingers she turned to the next page. More of the same, some with a vague backdrop that she recognized as the castle, others her alone, sitting, standing, kneeling. The third page again, and somewhere across the top of her mind the thought flittered that it was good she had little need for breath for she surely would have been unable to draw one now. Near dread she turned another page.

Dominic stared up at her, the likeness striking, leaving no doubt that it was him. In three of the four pictures there appeared an almost feline grace to the portrait, each caught in movement, each exact in detail. The fourth was somehow different, in more than simply pose. He stood still, yes that was different, but there was a sense of pride to that last picture. He stood tall, his long silky hair swept back from his face as if teased by a soft breeze. His eyes held knowledge and age, and perhaps a touch of pain.

Steeling herself she turned yet another page, and briefly her eyes narrowed. The boy, if indeed he was the artist, had captured this subject as exactly as the first two, the gunslinger with his hat shading his face, his eyes hidden and a bare suggestion in the shadows. She let her finger trace over the lines, an ache touching briefly in her heart as she realized that in each picture his gaze was caught by a white haired young woman who stared back at him. Some pictures they stood together, others apart, but always their eyes connected. Another flip of the page revealed more of the same, fire and pain clear in the expressions in some, peace and contentment in others.

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she pressed forward, caught now in the sheer need to know more. The next page drew her finely arched brows together, yet another belonging to Sanctuary. Charles stared back at her, a soft grin and a twinkle in his eyes. She wondered briefly why he was alone, but before she even turned the page she knew what would be next. And indeed, Charlotte graced that page. Her smile was mischievous and even on the paper she seemed graceful and light of step.

Flipping another page Telsa stopped. This one she didn't know, this was no one in the Bastion now or in the past. Carefully she studied his face, the strong set of his jaw, the prideful stance of his pose. Somehow he seemed familiar, but she knew she had never seen him before. Another to come? Friend or foe?

Another page and she froze, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. A spark of anger flared deep in her mind, darkening her indigo eyes to black and bringing her to her feet even as her mind called out a sharp command.

"Have Jimsonweed meet me in the boy's room."

Stuffing everything into the knapsack she hefted it onto her shoulder and ran swiftly from the room and down the hall to the Great Room.
Edited by Telsa, Aug 1 2012, 09:46 PM.
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(Cont from Great Room)

The emptiness she felt fall over the Bastion brought a sigh as Telsa moved silently about her room. She felt restless, on the edge of something she couldn't quite name. Aware she would need to remain close to the boy for another day at least, she decided there was no reason to stay dressed for travel to the city. Quickly she shed the tight denim and silky shirt, reaching behind her to unhook the lacy bra as she stood before the armoire. The skirt she chose was gauzy linen, a deep indigo that matched her eyes and fell in gentle waves about her trim ankles. The matching top tied at her shoulders, the neckline draping artfully over her full breasts. As she fastened a chain of tiny silver hammered links about her ankle she acknowledged she was dressing for comfort, not only in the physical sense but in a way that called forth memory from ages past. She sat for a time before the mirror at her dressing table, pulling a brush through her thick jet black curls so that her hair shone with deep highlights of cobalt and plum when the firelight flared high. Finally she rose, moving through her bedchamber to the tower stairs and up to the second floor.

(Cont Brandon's Rooms)
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