A Long Way From Home

[Julen]

(This is an alternate reality storyline, based on some events that occurred in chat. The current players are Jenica, Julen, Mercedes and Uluki -- along with Uluki’s NPC husband, Rollick. There is no particular posting order or time limit.)

They had all said goodbye -- those among them who still possessed anyone willing to receive their tears, hugs, and stoic farewells -- and gathered on the edge of town. The stranger, the vampire, the fairy, and two humans. Looking at them in the moonlight, Julen felt a surge of gratitude for their participation. But he also couldn’t help regretting the absence of someone who would not be traveling with them. An emergency had required Aorle’s attention, and while Julen understood that the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few, he already missed his friend. Their path seemed so much darker and uncertain without Aorle’s sure step to guide them down it.

Moving to make a final inspection of the cart, Julen brushed past Mercedes. Her last minute addition to the group had come as something of a surprise, but Julen was in no position to turn down help, especially when it came with Uluki’s endorsement. Julen had barely talked to the young woman, so he still wasn’t sure what to make of her. The fact that she was an old friend of Uluki’s would have been reassuring...if he didn’t know that at least one of Uluki’s old friends had tried to kill her.

The cart was the vehicle they had “confiscated” from Snyde during the attacks on his organization. Merohl and some of the other Lightswords had helped to build a tent-like arch over it, constructed from layers of hide, tar and dark paint. The thick covering would be enough to protect Jenica from the sun. That way, by taking turns resting in the cart, they could travel during both light and darkness. Since Jenica’s need to feed was one of the main obstacles facing them, they needed to make the trip as quickly as possible.

Pushing aside the flaps, Julen poked his head inside, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. There was the pile of cushions, the bundle of freshly picked wildflowers, the small carved horse, several bottles of wine, and a few pictures of people dancing which Dash had drawn at his request. And enough food and water to last those able to consume it for about a week. Additional supplies would need to be scavenged and procured as they went.

Everything was ready. With a heavy heart, Julen knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. Reluctantly, he lifted the chains from the floor of the cart, and carried them over to Jenica. Orin had tailored the wrist and ankle shackles to match Jenica’s measurements, so that they would be secure without being needlessly uncomfortable. But they were still iron chains. And Julen still needed to put them on the woman he loved. “Jenica...” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes as he stood before her, holding the restraints. “It’s time.”

[Jenica Sabiny]

Papa, tell me a story.

Once upon a time, there was a lovely paper ballerina who sat atop a shelf and danced and danced in the breeze. And in a toy chest down below there was an ugly tin soldier who fell in love with her. They would stare at each other day after day and fell more in love. But one day the tin soldier fell into a fire and melted, and the ballerina followed him and died in the flames.

Papa, that's so sad -

Leave dreaming to the beggars.

More often than not, her voice crackled. If she spoke it would now, painfully - she hadn't eaten for several hours, and the longer her throat spent dry, the harder it was for her to even manage a word. She strove for succinct by not speaking at all.

Something in this man's veins turned her away from killing him. This once-a-warrior, with the odd light in his eyes when he looked at her. He called it love. She didn't know what it meant, this love. She couldn't feel it - couldn't feel anything. Not like he could. But she'd promised to be loyal. She'd promised to stay. And most importantly, she'd said she would go.

She expected to die at the end of the trip. There was nothing that could be done to sway her from believing that the angel they sought would kill her on sight. The duskling was certain her own death or banishment was coming at the hands of a creature famed for its mercy. And if that were true, the vampire could stand no chance for mercy. In a world where breaking things was bad enough to get one killed, murder could only get one killed faster.

A tendril of shadow detached itself from the corner of the makeshift tent, drifted upward, and nudged at her hand. She pat the snake-like shadow tenderly, feeling the familiar sensation of home. The only home she trusted.

She absently pushed the shadow away and rubbed her forearm with an open palm. There was no moment's hesitation or silent musing before she offered her hands to him, looking over the chains with a clinical, tired gaze. They had been her idea, and he had said it was time to put them on. Thus, it was time.

Her eyes flickered to the drawings, the flowers, the carved horse and the bottles. Tin soldier and his pretty ballerina.

"Sad tale."

Her voice grated.

Papa used to tell me that tale. Read it over the candle fire, read it again, Papa...cold clawed hand on the forehead, kind and cruel...

She swayed as her thoughts came forth and nearly overwhelmed her. It took great effort to concentrate on the present, and she flinched and shook her head to clear the memories away. They came without being called now, and she had to work harder to push them down.

"Scar looks painful."

She raised her hand, drew a finger against the side of her throat to mimic his wound.

"Killing blow."

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki had to struggle to keep her eyes from filling with tears as she bid her family members goodbye. Out of the whole flock of them, only she and Rollick were going on the journey-- which she was told would take a month and a half in total. She hated the thought of going that long without seeing the girls' faces. She ached knowing that she and Rollick would more than likely miss the baby's first word. Still, it couldn't be helped. Jenica needed them. So did the people who would otherwise be the vampire's victims.

The baby seemed completely unconcerned when his parents bid him goodbye, giving him one last cuddle. He was often left in the care of his sisters, and had no way of knowing how long his mother and father would be gone, and how much he would grow in the meantime.

Dash, Zee, Kira, and Kaydee, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on. Zee burst into tears, and Uluki and Rollick had to comfort her; Kira trembled violently, and was making less eye contact than she had since the day she had arrived at the compound, back when she was abused and terrified. But Kira had said she could be brave, and bid them goodbye as calmly as she was able to manage. Dash looked stoic, but squeezed them extra hard as they hugged.

Once they were out of sight, Uluki broke down. Like a dam had burst, the tears she had been holding in poured down her cheeks, as though all the water in her had been waiting to be released at once. Rollick wrapped a comforting arm around her, but his own eyes were misty, and his throat felt too thick to try to talk.

Uluki wondered if she would ever see her children again. There were many dangers along their path. Even a chained vampire could not be considered entirely safe. If Jenica got loose with the bloodlust in her, that would be it. There were bandits outside Marn; whether along their route, who knew?

And then there was the ceremony itself. Uluki knew she was accepting the risk she might bleed to death while trying to summon the angel. The sight of her blood might send Jenica into a killing frenzy, one even chains could not stop. And Amaranda. She was the most dangerous of all, as far as Uluki could tell.

The angel would know. She'd know about all the mistakes, all the bad things. All the disasters that followed Uluki wherever she went. Uluki brought corruption. The angel would kill Uluki, because Uluki caused pain. So did Jenica, but unlike Jenica, Uluki couldn't repent. She could-- and did-- feel sorry, but part of repenting meant changing. No matter how hard she tried, Uluki never seemed to do any better. Giving Jenica a second chance was merciful, but also logical. Giving Uluki one seemed to have little point.

Death wasn't the worst thing, though. Uluki would rather have the angel strike her dead than send her away, somewhere where her family would never see her again. To an angel, that might seem the gentler option. That way Uluki wouldn't make trouble for the kind people at the compound. But being alone, being without her husband and children, was a fate far worse than death.

Worse for them, too. If Uluki died, they would grieve, and then they would heal. If Uluki was just gone, never to be found, they would worry about her and miss her as long as they lived. At least death brought closure. If she was in her grave, no one would need to fear for her. Maybe the angel would understand that.

Uluki desperately wished she could stay. Never face an angel's wrath. Never be far away from her beloved family.

"I'll miss them," Uluki said quietly, wrapping her arms around Rollick's waist.

"I will too," he murmured, embracing her as she leaned against him.

Uluki tried to wipe away her tears before they joined the others, but wasn't entirely successful. Her face was puffy and blotchy and her eyes were red as they approached the wagon, but she plastered a smile on her face.

[Julen]

When Jenica swayed, Julen reached out a hand to steady her. What story? What scar? Was she referring to the bite marks on his throat or to some broken memory he couldn’t see? As always, Julen wished he could be her guide, could lead her through the maze of her shattered past. But such things were beyond his power. When she got lost within her mind’s labyrinth, he could only stand outside the impassible walls, calling her name softly, hoping she might manage to return to him one more time.

And it would only get worse. She was agitated, uncomfortable, certain that death awaited her at the end of their journey. Nothing he said or did could convince her otherwise. And maybe she was right. Julen tried to remember seeing Amaranda, tried to recapture the feelings she’d inspired in him -- peace, awe, hope. But the fears and worries of everyone around him had muddied the angel’s image. Now, Julen doubted all that he’d once been so sure of. Maybe the angel really would kill the vampire as payment for the lives she’d taken. Maybe she’d kill the duskling for the abomination of having evil blood. And maybe, while she was at it, she’d kill the two humans who had allowed innocents to die because they couldn’t summon the moral outrage needed to strike down a body that was already dead. Maybe, when the smoke cleared, Mercedes would be the only one left standing. Presuming that she didn’t have any sins of her own.

Again, Julen wished that Aorle had been able to come with them. He wanted to see unwavering conviction reflected in golden eyes. He wanted to hear reassuring words, spoken with gentle certainty. He wanted a prayer, a sacred principle, a belief that this journey amounted to more than some futile gesture. But Aorle wasn’t here. Faith wasn’t going to be handed to Julen by anyone else. Somehow, he’d just have to make his own.

Tenderly, Julen kissed one of Jenica’s wrists, before locking the shackle in place around it. The gesture was then repeated with her other wrist and both her ankles. After he’d finished, Julen remained kneeling for a moment, gazing up at his lover. She spoke about how she’d broken his life, but hadn’t he broken hers as well? She used to be a wild thing, taking what she wanted, pleasing only herself. He’d given her concern for others. He’d given her promises to keep. He’d given her chains and maybe even death. What made him imagine he had the right to do that to her? What supreme arrogance made him think she’d be happier this way?

But it was too late to undo what had been done. Two broken lives and no way to fix them but to move forward.

“I’m going to speak with the others,” Julen informed, pushing himself to his feet. “Make sure they’re all ready to go. Then, I’ll come back and sit with you for awhile. Alright?”

Awaiting her reply, he lingered, prepared to do whatever she wished. But also prepared for the possibility that there was absolutely nothing he could do.

[Jenica Sabiny]

She could hear the tears. Not the water pattering against the earth - they stood too far for this - but the gasping lungs, the small sighs and whimpers that accompanied the action of crying. She listened as the fae sobbed into her husband's chest, could hear the murmurs of their words.

It was her fault. She was at the root of the smaller woman's pain. She couldn't fix or stop it without refusing to go, and she had said she would go and wanted to honor this statement. And a small part of her, buried deep in the back of her chest where she could only just sense it, hoped that perhaps it really would work and she would be free of the rage and pain that so consumed her. A day without pain, just one blessed moment...

She grabbed and twisted one manacle, pulling it at a sharp angle, hard enough for the metal edge to dig into her wrist. A personal reminder. There were certain things others got in life that she simply never would, and although she rarely had trouble remembering this, she couldn't staunch the vague sense of maybe which rested in her sternum. She decided to ignore it instead.

Mama, please listen, I need to tell you something. Please don't send me away, just listen and pull me into your lap and stroke my hair. Wrap your arms around me and tell me you'll fix it and it's going to be fine. You can lie, but just say that to me and it'll be alright...

It had been a broken attempt to discuss her emotions. She didn't care if these others knew about them - her anger, her terror, her base instincts - she felt no shame in any of these or need to avoid them. But she wasn't used to conversation. She'd forgotten how to approach these topics in a healthy, normal manner, if she'd ever known how in the first place. Instead she'd simply blurted what she feared to the duskling in the effort to bring it up at all.

But the fae hadn't reassured her. Instead the conversation had circled around the duskling's belief that the angel would kill her as well, and rather than losing any doubts the vampire had merely become more and more certain of her own fate. The conversation had continued on and on, with Jenica unable to grasp the fae's conclusion that she herself was worse than a monster, a murderer with no remorse.

The vampire had given up, left with the sour reminder that her own pain was of no consequence. A breached effort to hash out her misgivings about this trip had gone beyond failing, instead making her mental state worse. Where before she had been only anticipating her inevitable death, now she stood as an impenetrable wall of certainty.

Jenica wanted to avoid the fae. She didn't want the tiny woman anywhere near her. But she said nothing of these feelings, instead lowering her gaze and scratching at her wrist around the manacles. She'd nearly forgotten, in lieu of this male's constant pestering for what she wanted, what she felt, but the fae had reminded her of her own reality: what she wanted or felt didn't matter. It was irrelevant in the face of anyone else's needs or emotions.

Horror and anger stared back at her, and her face stung from the slap. The mouth moved and the words were stuttered and angry and she could hear them despite her sobbing. Don't ever make up such vile stories. I never want to hear of this again, do you understand? Get out.

In a way she was glad the fae had given her this gift of reality, made her remember where she stood. It was a memento of why she should not be doing this and why this male should not be with her. She could accept it and re-integrate this element into her being. But she still didn't want the smaller woman anywhere near her.

He had spoken. She looked up at him and answered the real question, the chains clinking as she shifted.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine."

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki and Rollick approached the wagon hand-in-hand. Rollick had a traveling satchel slung over his back, containing their clothes, and he wore his usual sword and dagger. Uluki too had a dagger sheathed on a belt at her waist, not specifically for self-defence-- she would try to use it if attacked, but she had neither the strength nor the skill to do so very effectively-- but for drawing blood for the ceremony. She knew how to cut, vertically along the wrists so she would bleed for as long as possible, and she was fairly sure that when the time came she would be able to do it without hesitation. In truth, her mind was much more at ease about doing it herself than she would have been about having someone else cut her. The slight weight of the dagger around her waist was strangely reassuring.

In her hand that wasn't entwined with Rollick's, Uluki clutched a small knitted bundle.

"Um... hello!" she called as they approached the wagon. "We're ready to go." Her voice was already much calmer. Goodbyes were hard and horrible, but after they were said, it got better. "I brought something for Jenica."

The bundle in her hand. A pair of fingerless gloves that extended past the wrist. Soft, thin wool-- Uluki hoped it was thin enough to go under the manacles, that had been the point, to protect Jenica's wrists. The gloves were a deep maroon, not the colour of blood but of fresh, ripe berries. Small white flowers dotted the fruit-coloured field.

Uluki held them out like an offering. "I'm working on socks too, but they aren't finished yet, sorry," she added apologetically.

The drawings already in the wagon weren't the only ones being brought along. Uluki and Rollick also had one, tucked safely in the satchel. It was the family picture Dash had drawn, with Kira and Kaydee added in at the last minute. Uluki wasn't sure the two girls would actually want to be part of a family portrait, but when Dash had drawn them in too, Uluki hadn't had the heart to question it. It would be good to have the memento.

"So... whenever you two are ready, I guess. If you want some time alone first..."

[Mercedes D'Amour]

Mercedes turned toward Julen when he brushed against her, and found herself searching his eyes as he did hers. She could see he didn’t trust her, but she didn’t mind because she didn’t trust him either. What would cause a man to breathe the same assurances into two separate sets of ears? Apparently he had loved that Rosemary girl with a depth of feeling that shouldn’t have been able to be split between two women. What had shaken their love? No, HIS love. Her eyes shifted to the vampire. She didn’t seem to reciprocate the same level of passion as he did, but she complied with his requests, which spoke volumes.

Why did they say they’d come?

Was it to protect Uluki from the vampire if she got loose? Well, yes, of course. The fae was their sister – they would be together to the bitter end. It was the other little voice that really bothered her. A flicker of sympathy. Why had she stood between the angelic knight and the vampire that night? There was something – a connection between them that she couldn’t quite explain. Was it because she was “broken”? That brokenness had been something Merc and Aimee understood quite well. Or maybe it was her factual way of dealing with the sisters’ condition. It was refreshing to be understood and asked intelligent questions.

Her index finger made a *tap tap* on her temple. Aimee hadn’t meant to do that “out loud”. Merc glared at the finger as though it had acted of its own volition before stuffing both hands deep into her jacket pockets. Three of her fingers wiggled through the torn lining and she nervously played with the frayed openings. They felt so out of place in this setting. Nothing to prepare. No risks to count. No one to say goodbye to. Typical of a drifter.

Almost on cue, Uluki and Rollick walked up. A gentle smile touched her lips – their friend had been crying. No doubt it was hard to leave the children behind, but this caravan was no place for kids. Why did the responsible thing always seem like the hardest way to do something? Uluki’s offering of wristlets and socks to the object of her separation was an expression of who Uluki truly is – not what the fae thinks she is. It breaks their heart to hear her talk that way about herself. She was certain she’d be killed by the angel, but Aimee knew better – and Merc could only hope that her sister’s optimism wasn’t misplaced. Else Aimee would have her own body by the end of it.

That wonderful thought stepping briskly across her frontal lobe was quickly banished by the two of them. With nothing to do and nothing with them but what was on them and in that single satchel around their shoulder, Merc did what she always did when she found herself with a free moment. The guitar seemed to appear in her hands as though by magic and the melody that floated up from the stings, equally ethereal. Unable to think ahead to what may lie in store after three weeks of travel, the women lost themselves in their song.

[Julen]

(I'm assuming everyone is in the cart -- if you weren't before, you are now. )

“Yes. Yes, it will be.” Ridiculous as it was to be reassured by a vampire -- a vampire who thought she was going to die, no less -- Julen still took strength from Jenica’s words. Maybe faith was hard to grab hold of right now. But he still had determination. Everything would be fine. Or by the gods, he would die trying.

When Uluki hailed him, Julen pulled aside one of the flaps, allowing her to enter the tented cart. She looked like she might have been crying recently, and Julen didn’t blame her. He knew how hard it must have been for her to leave her family. But she seemed to be putting on a brave face. And, to top it off, she even had a present for Jenica.

“Thank you, Uluki. That was very kind of you.” Julen took the fingerless gloves from his friend, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness. Then, he passed them over to Jenica, awaiting her approval. But the vampire seemed puzzled. Perhaps she no longer remembered gloves? Sometimes Julen forgot just how much of her mind was lost to her, hidden beneath the unceasing roar of hunger and pain.

“You wear them. Like this.” Taking back one of the gloves, he tried to demonstrate it for Jenica. But his hand was considerably larger than hers. Not wanting to risk tearing the glove, Julen didn’t force it, and instead left his fingertips sticking out of the holes like five featureless heads sticking out of five turtleneck sweaters. Smiling sheepishly, he gave them a self-conscious wiggle. Then he pulled the glove back off. “Here. I’ll put them on you.”

As Julen removed the shackles from around Jenica’s wrists, he noticed the fresh gouge she’d already dug into her skin. It made him all the more grateful for Uluki’s gift. Gently, he slipped the gloves onto Jenica’s hands, covering the mark. How much wool would it take? How much wool would he need to make a cocoon for her, to protect her from herself?

After giving Jenica a moment to react to the gloves, Julen reluctantly replaced the shackles, and hung the key back around his neck. Gone was the locket from Rosemary, gone was the medal from Kaydee. But now he had a different promise to wear. And he would do his best to keep this one.

The sound of a guitar being played startled Julen from his reverie. He’d been so focused on Jenica that he hadn’t heard Mercedes enter the wagon. Now, however, he nodded his head in time to her music, even humming a little under his breath before he caught himself. That was when it struck him for the first time -- soon they would beyond the borders of Marn, and he could sing without fear. Despite his other concerns about the trip, Julen couldn’t help looking forward to that.

Julen would have been happy listening to Mercedes play more, but they needed to get started. “Jenica will ride in the cart for the entire trip. The rest of us can take turns as needed, hopefully just one at a time. The fewer people the horse has to pull, the longer it can go without needing to rest. I'll sit with her first.”

Although the instructions had not been spoken as a question, Julen still searched for approval on the faces of his traveling companions. No formal leader had been selected from among them. Still, Julen felt the weight of that position resting on his shoulders, and it was a role in which he felt little assurance or comfort.

[Jenica Sabiny]

The vampire remained mute with confusion from the moment Uluki presented the gloves to the moment they were on her own hands, covered by the shackles. She did produce a small smile when the male waggled his fingers at her from inside the gloves, his hand too large to continue further without stretching the fabric. He could be awkward and gangly, his words completely unrehearsed and stuttering. He was impulsive in ways, and often seemed so unsure of himself or his actions. She enjoyed how he rambled and staggered through explanations. She wished he'd do it more.

Her eyes dropped to inspect the new additions to her binds. The wool was thin enough that it gave the shackles extra pressure around her wrists, but it wasn't enough for her to care - though pain wouldn't have bothered her. She reached to tug at one chain, pulling the shackle at a sharp angle - testing. The wool prevented anything beyond an uneven pressure from building up beneath the edge. It would take more strength to cause damage to herself, more than a casual tug or absent scratch. Her eyes flickered to the duskling's face, narrowed and suspicious. She understood this game.

The look passed as she placed her hands on her lap, palms facing upwards though no longer bare because of the gifts. She stared at her fingers, wiggled them as her male had, and found herself amused by the odd spectacle this made. The same small smile as before appeared on her face. Jenica looked up again, and if the duskling were looking at her she would see the smile directed at her.

Music wafted through the cart and her eyes widened as she eyed this newer human. She didn't understand the woman's motives for being here. She had no perceivable connection to anyone beyond the duskling, and that was a sibling connection made through memories rather than blood. But if the human could play music, she was already welcome. The vampire perked up more when she heard her male begin humming, knowing his singing could bring pretty pictures and colors in the air - but he stopped quickly and got on to business, and she lowered her eyes again. Her gaze returned to her more natural tired expression, and her fingers twitched where they rested on her lap.

The steady roiling in her stomach tightened, making her fingers twitch again. She closed her eyes against the sensation, hiding away the red tint that would be present in her eyes. She did not want them to see. Her male had explained how she would be fed on this trip - drinking from him while the duskling healed and healed until she was filled. She had agreed with little other choice, but she hated the idea. She couldn't control how powerful the bloodlust became, and despite not loving this male, she recognized what he'd done for her, what he was trying to do. She did not want him dead. They'd said three weeks, perhaps less if they were fast enough, and some part of her had determined that she would feed as little as possible within those three weeks. Perhaps even try to last the entire trip without feeding even once.

Still in silence, she curled her arms in and twisted them to wrap around her abdomen, ducking her head forward. Beyond the red in her eyes, there was no other sign of what was happening, and she kept her eyelids shut to hide this glow. Instead of a vampire riding out a craving, she became a human riding out a wave of depression. It could have been caused by the duskling's unexpected gift, or the guitar's melody, or Julen's instructions to them reminding her that this solitary cart would be home for a while yet, or a culmination of everything slamming into her at once, making her realize the sacrifices these mortals were making on her behalf.

Any of these interpretations were welcome and she would not refute them. She did not want them to know that she was riding out visions of their own mutilated corpses drained day.

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki scrutinized Jenica tensely for a reaction to the gift. First there was suspicion, which didn't surprise her. Then a smile, which warmed Uluki to the core. She'd expected the gift would be thrown back at her, as gifts had been so many times before, so mere acceptance was nice. The smile was more than Uluki could have hoped for.

Then Jenica closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, and Uluki's heart sank. She wanted to look away, but she forced herself to continue to watch the vampire. Remember that, she told herself. Remember that when the nice things people say to you start to make you forget how bad you are. See how you've made things worse, like you always do. Jenica would be better off without you, like they all would, even if they don't realize it.

Suddenly Uluki's fears about the angel completely evaporated. Not because she didn't think she would die; she was now more sure of it than ever. No, her fear was gone because she knew whatever the angel did would be for the best. If Uluki deserved to die, if the world would be a better place without her, what was there to be scared of?

Her blood would already be used, the angel already summoned. Uluki's death wouldn't prevent Jenica from becoming human. Rollick would be sad at first, but he'd find someone new to love, just like Julen had. Someone better. It didn't seem to take very long. The children would prefer their new mother. Mercedes could find a new best friend. Maybe even Jenica. They seemed to get along.

Uluki didn't want to die. Not because she feared death itself, which she had faced enough times to be accustomed to it, to know one day she wouldn't be so lucky... but she didn't want to die because she didn't want to leave her family. She didn't want to be alone. But they would go on without her, and be fine. She didn't need to be scared for them, so she could accept her own fate. Uluki decided to enjoy this trip as much as possible, so she'd have happy memories. The bleeding and death that awaited her made this time all the more precious.

She felt strangely calm inside, no longer afraid.

"That sounds smart, Julen. It'll be better if we don't make the horse too tired, like you say. It wouldn't be good to be on the road any longer than we have to be."

Then, in one last ditch effort to repair things with Jenica, "I was thinking about what we talked about before. Not about you getting a dog, before that. How to make sure you don't die. You could stay somewhere else when we first summon the angel, like outside or in a different room. Julen can tell her about the situation, and ask if she'll help. If she says no, we'll just thank her for coming and unsummon her, and find a different way to help you. If she says yes, it'll be safe for you to come in. Angels can't lie." Uluki was absolutely sure about that. "If she says she'll help, she has to stick to her word. Either way, you won't die. So you don't need to be scared."

[Julen]

Watching Jenica’s fascination with the gloves drew a smile from Julen. This was one of the things he loved about her -- the way that even ordinary things became new when held in her hands. She made the world fresh for him. She reawakened him to the small wonders that his own jaded senses had begun to ignore.

But the moment didn’t last. All too soon, the hunger and the monster reclaimed her.

When Jenica curled in on herself, Julen fought an urge to pick up the wooden horse and make it gallop across the cart floor, neighing as it went. He wanted to distract her from her unhappiness, perhaps even coax forth one of the rare bursts of joy which made death seem to recede from her weary expression. But he restrained himself. It was hard, sometimes, not to treat her like a child. Her confusion and her awkward speech could make her seem so much younger than she actually was. But these were just the lingering effects of what had been done to her -- her spirit was that of a fully grown woman. At least, Julen hoped it was that of a fully grown woman. If it wasn’t, he was one sick bastard.

Lifting a final length of chain, Julen used it to secure one of Jenica’s leg cuffs to a metal loop that had been screwed into the cart floor. He wasn’t sure it would be able to withstand the full strength of her frenzy. But it was the best they’d been able to do, so for now at least, it would have to be enough.

Uluki’s words of approval reassured Julen about his plans for the trip. But when she brought up Amaranda, he couldn’t keep from wincing. He knew Uluki meant well. However, her last conversation with Jenica about the angel hadn’t gone well, and Julen’s mind filled with grisly visions of Jenica ripping up chunks of the cart and stabbing herself with them. Fortunately, Uluki kept silent about her own fears. Instead, she presented a very rational plan, which sounded good to Julen. But he suspected that Jenica might be frightened past the point of being comforted by logic. Turning his eyes toward her, he awaited her reaction.

[Jenica Sabiny]

When she heard the duskling's voice she automatically raised her face to look at the smaller woman, raising her eyelids to reveal a red that was only just startied to die away. She glanced around the wagon, not liking the focus centered around her but unsure what to do to deter their attentions. She sat up and lowered her gaze again rather than try, keeping her arms curled around her belly.

As the duskling's words settled into her mind for contemplation, her eyes returned to their natural near-black state. As her male secured the final chain directly to the cart, she gave a small nod in assent. She'd thought this was the plan beforehand, but saw no use in voicing this fact. The fae was trying to alleviate some of the danger to her, and the effort was appreciated with the baffled detachment the vampire felt at all times.

Which reminded her. She glanced at her male with a blatant look of hesitation and insecurity before looking back at the duskling. Her voice cracked forth in a harsh whisper with only the slightest hint of intonation added, sparing herself from unneeded pain.

"Thank you for the gloves."

[Lylessa Uluki]

Uluki's eyes widened with surprise when Jenica thanked her, and then she beamed. "You're welcome," she replied happily. She was glad that her gift had been acceptable, and being thanked for it was extra-nice. People didn't often say thank you. "I'll try to get the socks done as soon as I can, so the metal won't rub on your ankles, either."

She squeezed Rollick's hand, and he returned an answering squeeze. She was glad to see that his mood also seemed to have improved now that their goodbyes were over.

"So... are we ready to go?"

[Julen]

Watching Uluki and Rollick exchange reassuring squeezes, Julen felt his heart clench. He’d once held Rosemary’s hand in his own like that. They’d once drawn comfort from the touch of each other’s flesh. But not now, not ever again. Loss whispered through Julen like a ghostly caress. However, he knew he had no right to sympathy. This was all his own doing. So, he hid his emotions from Uluki, and simply replied. “Yes. I think we are.”

After the duskling and her husband had exited the cart, followed closely by Mercedes, Julen remained standing, watching the tent flap flutter in their wake. This was the moment, wasn’t it? The moment for regret and doubt. The moment when he was supposed wonder why he’d decided to leave his wife, his home, and his life so many miles behind -- all for the slim chance that an angel would help a vampire, and the even slimmer chance that the vampire would still want anything to do with him once she was human again. Madness. Absolute madness. This was the moment when he should be praying for a chance to turn back time and change the choices he’d made.

But there was no regret, no doubt. He missed his wife, and his home, and his life -- he grieved for them, as old age grieves for youth, as barren branches grieve for green leaves, as a child grieves for the day of fun that is over and will never return. But he did not want them back. This was his path now. It might be crazy, but doing anything else was simply impossible.

Julen felt a jolt as the cart jerked into motion. Turning back to Jenica, he crossed over and sat down beside her. “So...what would you like to do to pass the time? You can rest, if you’re tired. Or we could talk. Or play games.” He would sing for her later, when they were farther from Marn. And when she needed it more. Like his blood, his use of magic would need to be rationed. Julen still hadn’t forgotten what happened during the confrontation with Panterras. As much as he wanted to sing for the entire three weeks, to ease her pain and fear with shimmering illusions, he still lacked control. Performing more than two or three songs at a time would put his friends at risk.

Glancing around the cart, Julen tried to think of games he could suggest. “There aren’t many spots where we could conceal ourselves, so Hide-And-Seek is out. I think I’d have an unfair advantage over you if we played tag.” He tapped one of the chains binding her, his smile slightly awkward as he attempted to turn their presence into a jest. “I didn’t bring a deck of cards. You’d break me if we tried to arm wrestle. Truth or Dare is probably a pretty meaningless game for someone who never lies, and anyway, I’m not sure that I want to know what your idea of a dare would be...”

“So...um...do you know how to play Rock-Paper-Scissors?”

[Jenica Sabiny]

She dropped her eyes again when the duskling responded to her thanks, baffled as to how to accept the words. She'd forgotten that there was a response to the words she'd given, and avoided her own confusion but not acknowledging the duskling's acceptance. She drew her wrists together and rubbed the metal links against each other, calming herself with the quiet sound of grating metal between the links. The socks would stop her from digging the pedicles into her ankles once created, but this was no real barrier. Her nails remained as sharp as ever, and the body had more than enough skin to peel and crack under the strain of her abuse.

As her male nudged the other mortals from the cart, she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw against another wave of craving. She wanted so badly to feed, to satisfy what waited in her belly with the urgency of dying resolve, but she remembered now. She remembered this male and his promise to her. She remembered the odd light in his eyes and how she liked his odd speeches. She called forth the hope he'd expressed when he told her about this plan.

She remembered him begging her not to make him help kill her. And she remembered that she did not want to die.

If I'm somewhere else, I could be spared. The angel may leave me alone. The same angel he showed the fae, in the tavern, with the blood running from her back. It felt like nothing when I touched it - illusion. Dream. Remember, remember. You cannot eat this one.

Disjointed and still fighting her cravings, she distracted herself with his presence. He settled next to her and she tilted her head enough to let him know she felt him there. She opened her eyes as he began speaking, relieved that the assertion he'd shown earlier was gone.

The list of games sparked sets of odd memories funneling through her mind. She shuttered her eyes against the onslaught, wading past her own thoughts to hear his words instead.

There was one assertion she had to deny.

"I lie."

She tapped her head, the chains clinking gently as her wrists adjusted.

"Not always. Truth - "

She reached out and tapped his chest.

"You, truth. Why won't you go back?"