Closed Days of Rememberance

[Fallon]

Fallon shuddered, the lacing of venom within her tone as she released the juddering words into the air, "Yes. The brother, the Hound. Bloody Hound. Bloody Brother. Bloody Wrenmae. Bloody..." She trailed off, her thoughts sporadic and unable to come down to a single level point. A bubbling wrath beneath the skin, something no doubt noticeable by the way the words started to gain that rougher, growling edge, "Just a liar, just a trick. Just a sick, petching joker. Just looking to have sick..." her fist clenched, trembled and then relaxed, whilst her head remained where it was. At least until she worked at burrowing it in deeper. The woman was right in so many things in this instance, it was the fine line between acceptance of what it was and then obsessing over it.

Weight shifted, the dull throbbing within resting there. She clung tightly as possible, refusal almost to let go of the woman beside her, the rough inhale as she sucked in the scents. It was strained, the nagging, heavy weight from within pulled. Exposed, she pulled herself back hands shaking as she cupped the woman's face. Lips pursed into a line, the sore orbs darting about the woman's face. There was only a long sniff and a definite nod to her question, her throat had sealed up and made the formation of words a difficult one. They had been tried and burned, but they had gotten out the other side of the flames together. They had fought the dangers that chased them, and relished in each other in too many ways. It took willpower to stop the arm from trembling and to force the gaze to lift.

Meeting the other's, she let her lips curl. A sense of safety solidified, that brush away of that insecurity in such an easy motion. There was another nod, the finalising of the trail of thought followed by a deep inhale. To acknowledge and put to one side, to make the partner instead of to find and to begin the long delayed cleansing instead of letting it fester. It would be a hard and dark path, she knew that as she stood upon the mental cusp of traversing it, but it would be worth it in the end - right? A nervous chew upon the lip, a moment of hesitation before she quickly kissed the woman on the cheek and returned to her burying against the folds. It was only there that she mumbled, finding the resolve that had been buried beneath the confusion, "I... I will make my own. And choose who to give it to. Knowing it's for someone who won't leave."

She knew what she meant to say, but whether or not that came across was another situation all together. With the arms pulling in closer, with the promise of comfort reached her. She snaked in, form curling up almost in reflex and the eyes resting shut. It was a familiar feeling, deep set and sealed tight somewhere within. When the woman flinched she simply held, her hand reaching up to the back of her head and the fingers gently rubbing there - an impulse to sooth where she could. It came to a moment where she was uncertain on who was trying to help who, both seemed to lean and prop the other up within the dark world before them - somehow.

Calm, they both needed it. She could feel it in the air, that heavy feeling necessities and closeness. Slow words, calm ones to help face those inner demons that haunted her so. Ones that had only just begun to grow apparent and visible to her. A deep inhale, another flicker - tiny fists and gnawing fangs - but they were slowing now in speed, and with it that claw of panic begun to retreat to back where it belonged. It was reassurance in its simplest form, and whilst it did not remove those memories or the sting of words from her youth, it did give that slight glimmer of some hope. A much needed salve for a wound. The was the faintest of a grimace, a creasing of the brow before she released a snort in humour. A pin cushion she was, her last few bouts of combat proved that many times over - as did situations before that. It was the definite belief that she was what she was called and the consequential lacking self worth that no doubt was the cause of such actions.

"I'll try and get better at being less of a pin cushion," she finally brought herself to speak, "And try my best to remember. Might have to remind me a few times though, just in case I forget." There was only a curl of the lips at that point, followed by a firm nuzzle, "Not sure how to do that though. Going to have to learn."

"No! No no, no!" she exclaimed as she jerked back to Zandelia's question. Eyes blinked, her head shaking from side to side an almost look of horror that such a thought had been suggested. Her hands clenched and unclenched, the expression changing as she met the woman's gaze once more. With her voice raised in sincere protest, she brought the hands to grasp upon the other's fingers "No, you're not monstrous! Not at all..." Her shoulders slumped, her thumbs idly running over the knuckles, "I think... you're wonderful. A lot kinder than you actually think you are." Her better hand pulled away at that point, finger tips lifting to trace across the forehead. There was a brush around the socket and to the cheekbone, the digit brushing away a strand of hair, "And, I think sometimes, you forget that you're also not only your mother's daughter, but... also yourself and who you are as an individual. Your own person outside of blood." She gave a frown, the hand tracing down her cheek to her chin now, "You're no them after all. You are you, and you're..."

Fallon lost her words at that point, the once frown easing off and the hand sliding round to the back of the head. There was purpose in her gaze, the look of action over expression. She pulled the head in a reach forward a gentle lean in followed by a brush of lips, the resting of the forehead upon the other's. There was a sniff, "You're the one I chose to open up to. No one else." The blue-green met the emerald, a gentle exhale and a final calm hum trembling from her throat, "And... it's you that I'd like to help me fly. Please?"

[Zandelia]

“Wrenmae…so that is his name? Wrenmae,” she muttered the name, testing it as if trying to recall something from somewhere deep within that was now relegated to the depths of memory, “Wrenmae…Wrenmae…strange name. Bloody brother? Well at least he fit’s the role of brother then, never had one but have heard they’re all bastards until you need them” she mumbled, it was difficult to keep the sheer relief from her tone of voice and the strength of it was enough to be fearful of.

Fears were soothed with the words, despite the wrath she heard broiling beneath the surface and she saw that perhaps she did have a use beyond what she was. She had carved herself into a tool, one which was adept at observing the world and drawing connections that others were either incapable of, or to hesitant to, draw themselves. She had never considered herself terribly insightful when it came to the subtler motivations of others, her skills lay in exposing their wants and desires - manipulating them where at all possible, for a greater aim these days also. She hadn’t considered that they could be put to a different use, a more positive use in some ways. She was not sure whether to feel elated that such a possible route could help Fallon, or whether to be concerned that following such a path led to a much darker part of their psyches.

There was a smile at the words about making a wing for someone that was trusted not to remove themselves, at least willingly. So some of her words were worth something, it was surprising. Fallon was the true wordsmith, the one who made them dance and caper in ways she herself had yet to truly fathom - she still couldn’t fathom the depths of half of what the other woman said. She was glad, however, that her own blunter ones had given something to hold onto. She wouldn’t deny, either, the sense that lay beyond the spoke. That there was already an affirmation, albeit spectral perhaps, that a partner had already been found. She didn’t press the matter, she didn’t need to. The subtext was there for her to read as the brush of the lips upon cheek was felt and the closeness was continued.

“Good…good, much better that way. I’ll look forwards to see who you choose” she smiled as she rested the side of her head upon the top of Fallon’s.

She could feel the pull within, the deep shifting and flickering of something that had lain dormant for so long that it was at first unrecognizable. Knowing now that Fallon was from her own past, the small girl growing up in terror but still so curious about the world, they started to coalesce into that which was knowable. Before there had been the sense that she was the other’s guard, the desire to be, but now there the need to be and that was different. She didn’t begrudge it one iota, instead she embraced it for what it was - self-expression that was beyond the selfish and mechanical. The reasons for so easily having made the promises, always chattering at the back of her mind, were now laid bare and she wondered how long the depths of her mind had realized the truth but not told her.

“I’ll be sure to remind you. The first lesson - step to the side” she chuckled softly, “wait…Wrenmae….Shroud?! Shroud is your brother," she called the picture of the man as she knew him into her mind, "Egyptus...was another name I think? The guy with bloody daggers? Distant, cold eyes.That’s…that’s impossible! He was just so…so…” she gave up then, the fact that they were related was like a slap to the face as recollection of the man coalesced. The letters from Ana, the journal entries and the blood and death. The time in the warehouses that he had truly annoyed her by stealing her idea of shipment stealing.

No, just a coincidence. She’s just so different, blood can’t be that strange surely? But now that I think, the jaw and the way she sets it….no, I refuse to believe it she told herself adamantly but had little time to consider further as Fallon pulled away with a start.

It was the vehemence of the words that touched her the deepest, the absolute certainty in the words that she was far from a monster. It was a balm offered back to her, the idea that she was just as her father was - the similarities of their activities and mindsets - was a poisonous seed within that was knocked back by Fallon quite effectively. She felt her eye tear up a little as they were spoken, the finger tracing upon her face gently as if trying to draw out what was within to banish it forever. It wouldn’t be so easy, though she wished that it was. It provided a welling up of warmth though, the reassurance and she saw how ironic it was that as she had tried to ask the question to prove her own point it had been reversed quite neatly. She smiled sheepishly as the forehead was pressed upon her own and she pushed back for a few moments before giving her own brush of lips and pulling away gently with their gazes locked.

“Just so, so therefore you are not a monster either. Monster’s don’t have feelings to open up over,” she responded simply, “I would like to believe what you say, it’s so nice and beautiful. I’ll try to live up to them, for you. Become something more than a tool, more than they were” she sighed, the internal conflict would rage for sometime she was sure but, for now, it was eased off.

“You don’t need me to fly Fallon but if you want me to help than of course I will. Nothing else I’d rather do, honestly. Ever. Not sure I’m any good at it though, never had a wing see? You might have to help me do it too” breathed softly.

[Fallon]

"Definitely a bastard, never there, never known until then. Might as well have not have had one," she mumbled and shook her head, her form finally finding a level of relaxation. Pleasantries were shared, the simple closeness of touch. It was a safe bond, warm and secure behind the wrapping of arms and feeling of lips. A warm nuzzle, half closed eyes and steady breathing despite the aches that rested within her chest. No, she was safe here and the chuckling the woman produced proved that. Everything was explained now, everything was clean for them to see and build upon - after much needed purification after all.

At least, until the exclamation occurred. There was a pull away, her eyes narrowing to the use of the name 'Shroud', it was one she had not heard of before or knew that was associated with her brother. Fallon stared, very long and very hard at the woman before her. Concern was the first thought, the linking of the name to another. Lips were licked, the brow raised slightly as the woman tried to link it together. And then his true name was spoken. There was a moment of alarm, eyes widening and a further pull away.

She did not truly register what was later said, a moment of hesitation to the tracing of lips. Maybe the poison had been temporarily given an antidote, but it did not mean that it cured all of it. Time was needed, she knew that if she thought about it - but the current mindset was busy trying to work out how the woman knew the link of Wrenmae and Egyptus. Fallon met the gentle gaze and softly spoken words with a hardened one, still caught up over this revelation. She gave a chew upon the lip, barely registering her words.

"How do you know that name?" it was not a question, but instead a demand. There was an element of nerves laced within her voice, eyes darting about and checking for signs of movement. With a tremble, followed by a blink as she thought at pulling herself away, her right hand twitching in reflex to grab something - anything. Wrestling within, common sense begun its battle with uncertainty. Her jaw gave a tense, her eyes searching for an answer somewhere upon the face. Sucking in the air, she felt her core harden almost, "Answer me. Now. Please."

Was she in danger? Was Zandelia someone seeking to cause harm against her? She was very specific with the latter name after all, certain traits distinct to who he was as a person and individual. She remembered the daggers, she remembered the gaze, and in her foolishness she had announced his relation to her. Had she been buying her time, waiting patiently for her to make a mistake? For a moment there was pause, a conflict of mind as to what to do. She could fight first then ask questions later, but she was not really in such a position to do so with her present injuries. But it was the woman she had adored, who she had opened up to and vice versa - would she really betray her?

"Distant... maybe. Cold?" she turned her head away at that point, "No... more... confused." She gave an awkward shuffle, her eyes barely darting back and forth with the shoulders hunching inwards. Timid almost, her fingers gave a wriggle, a pursing of lips as she made some small space between them. Cheeks gave a puff, the blue-green peering out from beneath her brow before she looked away again, "I... it is possible. He's not a bad person, maybe a bit... stubborn. But, no not bad. Lonely. Very lonely." She could not look at things properly, her eyes gave a dart, her lips pursing into a line her mind summoning forth what she could remember about him, "He came for me, that doesn't make him bad, does it? I mean..." she gave a shrug, "Okay... maybe he's a bit of an arse hat.." She drifted off after that, her thumbs twiddling and her jaw cracking. She could not exactly defend him, she did not know his past nor the people he had met.

Inhaling, she lifted her gaze firmly to Zandelia and begun the firm probing for answers through a growing paranoid mind, one way or another. With her chin lifting she spoke, "Who is he to you? Honestly now. I just... want an answer. Is he a friend, the supposedly once rumoured leader of the Scars. Or is he... something else?" Her brow creased at that point, her gaze lowering. With that she released a mumble, "Shouldn't have left him in Sahova. Stupid..."

[Zandelia]

The pulling away of the form, the deep and steady look at her, was all she required for the conclusion to be drawn quickly within her mind. She had probed something in Fallon that had not been ready for sharing, more for dismissing, but now that it was in the open between them she could almost feel the tension. There was a depth to the gaze that was not always at the fore, often kept back behind a door within where the darker portion lay dormant - ready to spring. She had experienced that before and now, on the cusp of ruining the day, wished she had said nothing instead of her rash exclamation. There was a hardness now, a demanding tone that had not been heard before outside of the Bitzer persona. On one level she was annoyed, on the other she was strangely proud. Fallon had made a demand and she appreciated strength in her partners.

She thinks I am a danger now, or uncertain at least? Irrational, why would I give myself away if I did? Troubled? Why did I even open my stupid little… she sighed internally as she felt the breeze penetrate her torso for the first time with Fallon’s departure and shivered slightly. The grabbing at her clothing brought back the memory of the fighting, the wishing her to die, and she tensed.

She had no idea how Fallon would react, the day had been emotionally draining for the both of them, more so for the other woman she knew, and that sort of occurrence was the most dangerous of all. In hindsight she should have left her suspicions for another day. Yet there was an anger also, that there was such a demand given in such a hard manner. She didn’t want to start a fight, not ever and leastways not with Fallon injured, but whilst she liked the strength it showed it was still grating. She put her hands up between the both of them with open palms facing forwards.

“Peace!” she stated with a slight snap, “peace Fallon. I know the name from an old friend. She disappeared and left her journals. She had letters from someone called Shroud under that name, talking about things that only Shroud would have known. I put two and two together but thought nothing further of it” she explained simply, she looked away and into the distance a little - Neilles’ disappearance was still a mystery and she felt responsible for it. She had driven her away after all, chosen Revy over her and then lost track.

Only to then lose Revy to another and wander aimlessly once more until now. She had found Fallon and now discovered she was related to Shroud. It was a tangled web of coincidences and connections. Usually she enjoyed such puzzles but now, faced with the node of another person within it she would rather have cast it away for eternity. She looked back to Fallon and grimaced slightly, the way she knew the name was too similar to what she had done to her. Not the same but still close. Then the words came about his character and uncertainty struck once more - it didn’t sound like the same person at all. The letters had shown a change in the man but she had assumed they were fictitious. Perhaps they had not been but to be so removed from her remembrance of him was a difficult thing to accept.

“I’m not sure I am in a position to pass judgment upon him, I knew him so long ago. Years actually and then we went separate ways. I knew him only as Shroud and the name was…apt,” she didn’t want to tell the truth of what she knew of him but she saw little choice, perhaps she could omit some things, “he was lonely yes…though more of his own volition. He never socialized beyond what was useful and truly I think he didn’t want to. He took a fancy to Ana…Neilles…that much I knew. But he was…dangerous” she reflected, remembering the rumors about Rokan’s death and grizzly display.

“I don’t think he was confused when I knew him, more focused. He knew what he wanted and searched for it. Whether he found it and it changed him…I don’t know. He left a lot of blood behind I know that much”

“There was once a group called the Crimson Edge, mercenaries and thieves and all sorts banded together to form protection against the syndicates. We worked together, as best we could. Kind of like the Scars but more…mercenary. We killed a lot of people, then it was shattered. Half of us went to the Spires and only a few survived. Those who stayed in Sunberth died at the hands of the Daggerhands. Shroud…avenged them. According to the letters anyway,” she sighed and her head bowed slightly, “who was he to me?”

“He was an annoying little twerp who too many times got in the way of my work, a distant figure who I feared for his ability to deal death so proficiently. A rogue who never really worked with people and instead belittled them. I never called him an enemy and, I think, he didn’t call me one. I just never called him brother” she shrugged a little at that, there was little else to say.

“You left him on Sahova?” she asked, “makes sense, always thought he was a mage. Perhaps that is the best place for him. You don’t need to believe me, if he returns then he will tell you the same. Though if he has cast off Shroud then I suppose he might be annoyed that I told you rather than himself”

“And that…as they say…is that. I know only the names and that he was good at what he did. Whatever it was. Never really worked it out. That you are his sister is a bit difficult to accept but I don’t doubt you are right. You’re just so different. You care where he didn’t, you try to build bridges where he burnt them. Though…your pouts are very similar I have to say” she pursed her lips.

She’d never be able to not tease her about it again

[Fallon]

Fallon spied the woman carefully as she spoke, her brow creased as the woman gave a shiver and looked for peace. For a moment her teeth gritted together, jaw tensing as she gave a snap and explained herself with hurried tones. It was hard to get a reading on the woman at present, was she angry or was she trying to find some common ground in which to work up of? Her fingers gave only a trace upon the hilt of the kurki, paused and then relaxed. No there was nothing to worry about, was there? Withdrawing her hand she brought it to rest upon her lap. Hairs had still risen, a probing gaze as the woman slowly spoke. In time there was the gentle nods, gaze lowering in severity and the burn easing back. She was still guarded though, and it was carefully that she treaded around the subject.

"I know he was dangerous," she spoke coolly then, "You do not have to tell me that. You know, when I first met him he demanded I prove I wasn't weak? That I was strong and able to hold my own. Had to test me in the name of his gods. Petch knows which one. Tried to pierce me with a rapier..." She paused, gaze softening, "So... I strangled him with projection. Seemed to work wonders." Frowning she returned her gaze to the woman and tried to read the reaction, "What? I could barely swing a sword or a kukri and that was what I was sort of competent in."

She fell into silence after that, fingers knotting together as Zandelia explained her past that she would have otherwise not known. Another group, another life long gone and left behind. Her eyes glazed over, her brow creasing slightly as she tried to imagine what exactly happened. Was it a forewarning of what was to come? A sign of the powers that held Sunberth and what would happen if she continued to try and work against them? It left a heavy weight in her stomach, a flickering of doubt as to whether she should quit whilst she had the opportunity. They would have to kill, destroy and rebuild to even reach a pinch of what could be achieved. But, that was for her to try and do - alone or otherwise. It was make or break really.

Some resolve steeled herself within her core, ready to bring forward what could be achieved despite the costs. And it was perhaps then that she would allow the past experiences of Zandelia to reach her ears. She had the background knowledge where Fallon did not, and thus it was because of that she would have to simply step down and accept what knowledge was known. Part of which saddened her to some degree, she wanted to be the wise, steady leader needed to pave the way to a future - but even the best leaders needed advisors at their sides. Among other things. But, for the moment she would not speak up about it. There was plenty of time for that.

There was a licking of lips, the subtle curl as she remembered the autumn of the previous year, "I can see why you think he's annoying," she mused her tone turning rather matter of fact, "He once thought that about me. Then I punched him and everything worked out dandy after that." And then a sense of realisation hit, "I think I might have been a bit rough with him." Sheepishly she reached a hand forward, the guarded state gradually beginning to fall and looking to find some reconnection between them, "Shame, I never got to talk to him more really."

"I did leave him there but... I am worried," she admitted after a long chime with a self berating tone, "There was something... wrong with him. Something scared him and his emotions..." Fallon looked upon her hands at that point as she tried to think, "His skin would move and writhe, his form changing shapes to his whims but... it was out of control and ran purely upon emotions." She remembered the writhing hiss, the way he pushed against her and screamed in anger when she labelled herself in such a way. Pushing the thought to one side she shook her head, "Well... as and when he returns I shall deal with him accordingly. Until then, well, not much can be done. What can I say? I guess we're both like two sides of the same coin, but equally needed to make the whole," she gave a frown, " Maybe he's just the one to set the ball rolling and for me to take up the mantle. Who knows. I could go in circles about it all day but get nowhere. I am not him, and he is not me."

She gave a vivid blush at the mention of pouts, her face almost creasing up into one out of reflex to the words. There was a firm snort, her eyes boring down upon the woman. It was hard not to resist, the deep inhale only drawing out the length of time that the expression remained. Firmly taking the woman's hands she rubbed her thumb across the knuckles, her head quickly turning to see what was going on around them. Nothing, even Orvin had taken to simply resting with his back to them and his eyes looking out onto the world. Snapping her attention back, she let the previously tense and sombre state lift, and the curling's of a true smile begin to grow.

"You're such a tease. You know that right?" her hand lifted gently, the finger tips resting beneath the woman's jaw line the expression momentarily turning serious, "I didn't... scare you did I?" Probably not, but both knew of her temperament and what dwelled beneath the skin. There was the lean forward, the gentle testing of brushing lips as she padded her way across the momentary uncertainty. Withdrawing she breathed upon the woman, "I think... I'm done resting for now. Shall we move on?"

[Zandelia]

“Prove you weren’t weak? Yes, that sounds like him. As if he were the strongest man in the world to pass such judgment,” she spoke slowly, the revelation that Fallon would strangle her own brother was one that made her wary, she knew there was a darker side but that seemed a bit extreme even for that, “can’t say I’d be able to do that but if it worked well I could always ask you” she continued with a faint smile.

She was not sure of what else to say, there was a longing in the tones used despite the words spoken that seemed to be a deep source of conflict and it was something that she could not help the other woman with - short of dragging the man back from Sahova of course. Even then she was not sure she would even want to, whether it would help Fallon or not. Wrenmae was a dangerous beast and she was not sure he wouldn’t kill Fallon, or all of them, if it meant getting what he wanted. She remembered him having few moral scruples and they were both a boon and a devastation in Sunberth. She simply allowed the silence to continue, the other’s gaze was distant and she was just thankful there was no immediate danger of confrontation flickering in the background anymore.

It was perhaps a time for stillness and reflection, the day had been set up for that but she had not expected it to be providing for her own - it had been Fallon’s day this day. Or so she had presumed. Philosophically she supposed that she should have seen it approaching, her own thoughts and past laid bare - in some respects at least. There had been no stories, no tales to tell. The Crimson Edge had flamed like an inferno and then just as quickly had been smothered by life, kicked whilst they were down and torn into bloody chunks before being elft to rot. It was not so much that fact that it had happened that was most hurtful but that fact that no one had cared. They had been mourned by none but the few scattered members that now would like as not never reunite once more.

But then our goals had been selfish, driven by our own improvement. Not once did we stop to think about others, about the people and what we could do for them. Perhaps it will be different this time, now that we will give people a reason to want to keep us. To fight for us, to fight for them and help their lives become easier. I think…that was what we lacked. That social contract. All the syndicates have it, we just need it to be a better one she thought to herself sadly, her own youthful self-interest was a source of shame to her now. Oh she would do it all again, learn the mistakes - she would not be her if she hadn’t.

Yet still there lingered, deep within, an echo that told her she had been wrong. It had taken Fallon to show her that, dark as she was within she was still a beacon of light when she had everything under control. She had taught her that sometimes being good and decent was not a weakness. She still had trouble processing why that was so, a lifetime of immorality was difficult to reverse. Yet it worked. Merv had sheltered them after she had shown him kindness. Her contacts followed her because she tried, where she could, to improve their lives. And though the memories of the dark room and the beatings by her father’s men would likely be remembered for her lifetime she had to thank him begrudgingly. He had forced her to choose, tested her willpower in ways that were quick and hard. He had steeled her resolve after Fallon had given it to her. He had been a father in that respect, though she would never see him as one.

“Sounds like morphing…or out of control morphing,” she mumbled as her reverie was broken by words once more, “no wonder he was a bit mental. He knew magic but having that…well what is done is done. I cant change what happened between us and if he comes back I will try to make an effort to play nice. Can’t promise I won’t kick him in the stones though if he starts ordering me around. He may have started all this but you…you are my leader. And I follow you because I want to. Whatever he could offer me would not even come close” she stated without a trace of doubt.

She blinked at the sudden change in mood, it was difficult to keep up though clearly something she had done had helped. What it had been though she was not sure. Such changeable moods were an enjoyment found in Fallon yet she wished the other gave some clues as to how they worked. That way at least she would know how to help change them when required. She chalked it up to one of the many things she would need to learn if they were to be together for some time to come and grinned broadly at the last words spoken. It was true, though she fancied Fallon was just as bad too.

“I know I am,” she pecked Fallon’s before levering herself up towards her feet and brushing herself off, “but you love it and so I keep on doing it. The day you start hating it will be the day I stop. And no, you didn’t scare me. I am not scared of confrontation, or of the dark. What fears I do have regarding you…well you are smart. You figure them out” she stated simply as she retrieved her case and waited for Fallon to get to her feet.

“Come on, I think we have wallowed in the past long enough. Let’s go and wallow in something far more enjoyable for once” she stated as they began to make their slow way towards the Bath House once more.

Zandelia didn’t know it at that moment, but the things discussed and the thoughts mused upon would bring a change unexpected.

[Caela Dorin]

Grade Awarded Fallon Experience Skill XP Earned Endurance 2 Flirting 2 Investigation 3 Philosophy 1 Rhetoric 2 Lores • Lore Earned • Learning to dress while badly injured • Zandelia: Uncontrollable Cougar • Learning to share past experiences • The Hound’s Philosophy: The Strong Live, the Weak Die • Last words I would have said to Aleric • No time limits except the ones you set yourself • Zandelia: A face from the past • I was a slave • Wrenmae’s other name: Shroud • Zandelia was a member of the Crimson Edge Zandelia Experience Skill XP Earned Flirting 1 Investigation 2 Observation 5 Philosophy 1 Playing an Instrument: Lute 1 Rhetoric 2 Lores • Lore Earned • Fallon: Stubborn and Courageous • Patience: Making oneself wait • Freedom in being told what to do • 66th Spring: Fallon’s Day of Remembering Aleric • How Fallon met Aleric, her mentor • Fallon’s Projection Training • The Hound’s Philosophy: The Strong Live, the Weak Die • Fallon: Bringer of Change • Receiving a gift from Fallon • Placement of Fingers on a Lute • A Child’s Song: Perfect in Memory, Terrible when Played • Fallon: Memories of a shared past not quite forgotten • The Hound’s name is Wrenmae • Wrenmae: Fallon’s brother • Wrenmae and Shroud: The same person • I am myself Items Aquired : +1 Lute and Case Additional Comments Well that thread was wow! It took the most unexpected directions at the unlikeliest times although I must say that the past is thoroughly remembered now. I was left wondering whether it was chance or fate that brought these two together. They're even connected through Wrenmae. A truly fascinating and gripping thread I must say. I want more! Please edit or delete your grade request and PM me if you have any questions or problems concerning your grade. x