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adara · Adventurer Joined: 15 Feb 2011 Posts: 32

She rose early, the grey hush of pre-dawn barely filtering through the inn's window. Shaking the stiffness from her limbs she disregards her finer clothing for something more comfortable - the worn boots, bright layered clothing, tattered cloak, and numerous bangles to decorate her wrist. Despite Rilien's suggestion she had forgone the bath - she wanted to blend in as much as possible. Exiting her room quietly she tiptoes downstairs, careful not to wake the other patrons. The streets of Britain are quiet, there being little or no activity at this time in the morning. Her movements are precise and quick as she expertly makes her way through the scant back alleys, memory guiding the way.

Her footsteps falter, the confidence of stride flagging, as she reaches her destination. Her eyes roam over the old decrepit building - the windows boarded, shutters torn, and the door hanging off its hinges. Glancing around she makes sure there are no prying eyes before darting inside. Despite the dust and cobwebs her old shop is how she remembers it - even her old desk still stands. She idly brushes her fingertips over the corner, searching for blood but her eyes find none. She is lost in time as her mind flashes back to that night - the screaming, hands around her neck, and the blood upon her hands. She crouches upon the floor trying to gain control of herself, taking deep breathes in an attempt to clear her mind. Her eyes see Demetro's prone form upon the floor.. metallic pool cradling his head. She shakes the image from her mind, closing her eyes. Opening them she notes there is nothing amiss - its as if the place was cleaned before abandoned. All evidence of that night now forgotten.

Wrapping her cloak tight about her she exits the ramshackle building, feet carrying her on a far more familiar path. It was as if nothing had changed - same route, trees, rocks. The smell of sea and salt on the breeze carrying her home. Her pace increases with each step until she is running full tilt, cloak flying behind her. She stops, face falling.. the clearing that had once been full of such bustle and life is now empty. The caravans had vanished, the shacks dismantled - all that remained was trodden grass that was now springing back to life with vigor. She felt her heart breaking as she made her way to the place that had been her home. Her eyes roved the area hungrily, desperate for a sign yet only meeting silence.

In anger she kicks a pile of rocks in the very spot that had once been her bed. Kneeling down to tear at the grass, fingernails relishing in the feeling of dirt beneath them. Her nail catches on something sharp - causing it to tear.. blood welling to the surface. She screams, emitting a series of choice profane words.

"Da.." her eyes notice the faint glimmer of sunlight off the object that had attacked her. It was a stone from one of her mother's necklace she realizes as she grasps it carefully in between her hands. Tears stream down her face as she cradles it to her bosom. Her mother would not have left it here without a reason and she surveys the area closer. The rocks that had been the outlet for her frustration were stacked precise, removing them she notes the disturbed dirt beneath. She tucks the bead into an inner pocket of her skirt before digging her hands into the earth. She slows feeling something hard, using all her strength to grasp beneath the object and wrench it free. It was just a box - plain, ordinary, and wooden. She dusts the top off, carefully prying the lid.

Inside is an old leather bound book with two small metal clasps of intricate design.. she opens to one of the weather stained pages that seems to be marked. Tears springing back to life as she sees the letter - the writing upon it familiar and dear to her.

Chakano,

I know that what has happened was an accident. Your grandfather and the other elders took care of it - they did not want the Gadjo authorities to get wind of it and come snooping around. He was given the proper rites and mourning. They believe you to be either dead or taken. It needs to stay this way *Large ink spot showing where pen was poised for a long moment* You can never return. You would be punished severely if they saw you were unscathed. I do not wish you to be disgraced in the same way I have been. You have a chance out in the real world but you have to be the one to lift the veil from your eyes and seize it. I know you did not love Demetro and that you tried your hardest to make it work. Do not let this burden hinder you in the new life and chance you have been given.

There is much I never told you of your father. But I loved him dearly and have never stopped. If I cannot be with you then know that he is - in spirit. This book belonged to him. The gift inside was sacred to him. He said it represented the body, mind, and soul and that it offered protection to the wearer. I have nothing else to give except these memoirs and a message. Your father said if I was ever in trouble to travel to the city of sand and light. And to make my way to a floating haven in the east from there. That is all I have to give. I wish it were more.

Maybe one day we will be united again, my dearest. I love you.

She wipes the tears from her face, cradling the note in one hand while using the free to view her new gift. It was corded necklace with a strange symbol - woven and intricate. A vague memory tickles at the back of her mind but she fails to grasp at it. With a deep sigh she returns the contents to its box and brushes the dirt from her clothes. She makes her way back along the same path - this time with new found resolution and for the first time in a year.. hope.

adara · Adventurer Joined: 15 Feb 2011 Posts: 32

She rides into the city at dusk - the heavily wooded road giving way to clear, open plains sparse of any living being. The city itself seems silent, resilient - stark in contrast to the barrenness about it. The walls were high and thick, sunlight basking them in an eerie pink glow. All together it was very majestic and captivating.. she understood why her father referred to it as the city of sand and light. The guards allowed her to pass through the gate with nary a second glance. She was sure she appeared bedraggled - her clothes dusty and wrinkled from the full days journey. She silently made a mental note of everything she passed - what appeared to be a barracks with two tired yet alert guards outside the doors, a small quaint park, a tavern - the only accompaniment to her passing is a steady clip-clop of the horses gait. The inn appears like any other and a very welcome sight to her sore rump. She passes the reins of her horses to the stable boy, making her way inside to find a room. After what seemed like agonizing hours she finally slips into the small yet comfortable bed - eager to begin the second leg of tomorrow's journey.

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It wasn't hard to find - the silent haven her mother bequeathed her to find. She had chosen less conspicuous garb - drab flowing dark pants with matching vest, a thick long sleeve shirt, heavy boots, and finally her hair tucked beneath a thick wrap. She set out on foot, keeping her head down and her eyes alert.. her destination was surprisingly not far from where she was staying. In the distance she could hear the heavy toned calls of fishers and sailors, the tickling of wind upon a sail mixing headily with the pungent fishy odor that wild waters sometime have. The cobbled bright streets give way to a large, worn trail abundant with wildlife - deer scattering in confusion, leaves crumpling all around her. The trail narrows, trees becoming more scattered - open plains of domesticated sheep, cows, and bulls mingling in unison. She pauses, surveying the residence that suddenly appears as if from nowhere. Two stories of ornate sandstone walls with matching stone roof, the same as within the city, yet it is on the smaller side. She notes the rather large garden peering from behind the edge of the house accompanied by a worn wooden bench.

Steeling her courage she marches up to the door, poising her hand to knock as it opens. She steps back in surprise, giving a small yelp. The woman before her is tall, graceful in her bearing with graying blonde hair and sharp dark eyes. Her garb is simple yet of finer quality - a deep blue dress that brings light to her wrinkled, fair complexion. Her ears are adorned with silver earrings dominated by large hanging emeralds. Her brow raises in a questioning look.. a small sardonic smile curing her lips.

"Greetings.. chakano.. "

Nadya's blood freezes in her very veins, her heart beginning to pound rapidly in her chest.

"Who.. who are ye?" She manages to sputter out.

"Why.. dear child.. I am your grandmother" That same smirking smile remains in place, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

Nadya's knees feel like rubber, her head suddenly faint - world reeling, fading to black, as she loses consciousness.

adara · Adventurer Joined: 15 Feb 2011 Posts: 32

Her eyelids flutter - taking in scattered rays of light. She lets out a moan feeling the pulsating throb of a headache as her fingertips reach back to discover the knot upon her head. She tries to sit up, her vision swimming as the pulsating increases.

"Ah.. you are awake" She hears footsteps enter the room.

She opens both eyes, brows furrowing at the older lady. "Why didn' ye catch meh?"

The elderly ladies lips curve slightly in an amused smile.. "You expect a little old lady like me to catch you? I think not. Besides.. I am not the one who went slack kneed.." Her smile turns into a frown. She hands her a small cup and Nadya takes it gingerly between her hands. "Here, drink this child.. it will help."

Nadya brings the cup to her lips, nostrils flaring as she takes in the atrocious stench but despite the smell its taste is surprising - smooth and sweet as it glides down her throat. She takes a few more sips before balancing the cup upon one knee, eyeing her surroundings with curiosity. The elderly lady merely watches in amusement. The room appears to be a small foyer with several benches, scatterings of books, rolled parchment, rugs, and throws. The one dominating feature is the vast fireplace where a small fire crackled and danced - illuminating the already well lit room. Above it is a large portrait, her eyes narrow as she takes in the scene - the woman in it obviously the woman before her yet younger. At her feet sits a small boy who looks painstakingly familiar.. with dark eyes and wild blonde hair.

"Petsha?" She whispers as if she has seen a ghost, looking to the stranger in confusion.

"No, that is my son.. William Alastair Blackwood.. and your father"

"Which would make ye.. meh.. meh.." Nadya sputters, looking down at her hands.

"Your grandmother, as I have said previously but you can call me Grace if that will make you more comfortable."

"'ow did ye know.. earlier.. ye called meh by a nickname.. only one meh mother ever used."

Grace slinks down on the bench adjacent to her. "There are many things I know of but most of them are not important, at least not yet. What is important is that you are here, as it should be." Nadya looks a question at her, frowning.

"I suppose you've never heard the story of how your parents met." Nadya shakes her head slightly. "She didn' like ta speak o' i'."

Grace nods, wetting her lips a moment before she continues. "They were very young when they met - your mother and her people camped outside the city, as is their norm. Your father and I were walking down by the fish market when he saw her. He was very much.. smitten." A fond smile lights up her face, eyes seeing back through the years. "You have to understand something about your father. He was very.. impulsive.. and determined.. when he saw something he wanted he would fight with all his will, and usually he got it."

"But, as you know, your grandfather would never condone such a union. So, they ran away.. your father didn't even bother to leave a note." Her laugh breaks the grim silence of the room, surprisingly bright and clear for her older age. "I seen neither hide nor hair of either of them.. until one day four years later they showed up on my doorstep.. with you." She pauses, frowning. "They both appeared bedraggled.. an unspoken tension between them but I could tell your mother was still crazy for him, and he for her. They sat in the very spot you are now, asking for my help."

"William was.. " she heaves a deep sigh "becoming consumed.. the extent unbeknownst to me at the time. Your mother didn't, couldn't, wouldn't understand and was fraught with grief and worry."

Nadya's brows furrow, eyebrow raising. "Consumed by wha'?"

Those dark eyes turn to her, giving the full weight of their gaze, finally revealing the depth of their insight. "His powers of course."

Nadya blinks. "His wha'?"

"Why dear, didn't you know.. your father was a practitioner of magic.. and you are too."

"Bu'.. magic.. tha' would make meh a.." she fumbles for the word, thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour.

"A witch.."

adara · Adventurer Joined: 15 Feb 2011 Posts: 32

Nadya sits in stunned silence, mouth hanging agape as she tries to absorb the weight of those words.

"Well don't just sit there with your mouth hanging open child." Grace looks to her with a deep frown.

"Bu' witches are.. evil.. aren' they?" Nadya looks to her in confusion.

"Pah!" Grace scoffs. "Witch is such a misused word. You are a practitioner of magic and should be proud. The Blackwood line has a long history of such, passing it from generation to generation.. even though it manifests in all our descendants the only ones able to actively wield such to its maximum potential are the firstborns. Besides, times are different now then they were in my day. Society as a whole is more open, free thinking, and less.. persecuting."

Nadya sits there in silence, taking it all in. She thinks back upon her past experiences, the people she has met in her travels, the ones from what she now calls home. She nods in agreement. "Why didn' meh mother eva tell meh?"

Grace heaves a sigh, looking all at once solemn. "My guess is she did such to protect you.. because of the way it was with your father. That and your grandfather hated William with a passion.. for taking your mother away from him. And for bearing, excuse my word usage, half breeds.. only half Rom."

Nadya steels her courage before wording her next question. A deep part of her is curious to know the rest of the tale yet another is hesitant for the pain that the truth will bring to light. "Tell meh tha' res'.. wha' 'appened?"

Grace wets her lips. "I agreed to allow William to stay here.. I didn't ask many questions. Along with being headstrong he was also very private with his affairs and I assumed he would come to me in his own time, as was his way. Your mother said nary a word as to what had happened.. maintaining your fathers confidence. For a few weeks it was almost blissful here, in this house. You were a breath of fresh air to mask the tension - so precocious and active." She smiles at her with a sudden tenderness, eyes looking back.

"And then your father started to become more absent, venturing out all night, returning home bleary eyed and haunted. Your mother and I feared he was losing his sanity for he would rant about all these things.. in many languages.. of blood and magics darker than I had ever delved into. He would pick fights with your mother - their yelling loud enough to shake the rafters of the house. He would throw things in his rages but to his credit he never once hit her. I think he knew if he did that she would leave him, taking you with her when she did."

"He then turned his rage on me, which I took with a grain of salt. Then one day you were playing in the study and knocked over an ink bottle, an accident of course but William was furious. He yelled as was his nature and struck you, perhaps a little too hard. Sometime during the night your mother took you and left. I only later learned that your mother fell upon your grandfathers mercy, he taking her in despite his disgrace. Your mother must have been pregnant with your little brother, Petsha, when she left here. But William never knew of this, before his death. He slipped into madness.. spending his days furiously searching for the two of you.. his nights out working the dark magic. Aye, I knew at that time what he was up to. I could feel the corruption of his soul.. sense the taint in his aura. I feared him, my own son." She pauses a moment, sounding choked. "It is hard to be a mother, to want what is best for your children and then to watch them tear themselves apart. I didn't say anything for fear he would leave me again. That I would lose him forever by questioning his motives."

"As the weeks progressed I would see him less often, he would come in after days of absence - smelling of death, covered in blood and layers of grime. He would bathe, eat, and sleep for a few hours at a time and then would be gone again. Then he stopped coming home at all - there were whispers throughout the city.. of dark beings manifesting in the woods, more and more people missing from their homes.. attention our family did not need. It took weeks to trace your father.. tracing him back to a hideout he had in the woods southwest of the city. The horrors inside will haunt me to this day... bodies cut open in every manner and fashion. He was experimenting, some were fresh corpses.. others he had dug up from the ground. His mind, at this point, was completely shattered.. we tussled.. only just managing to subdue him enough to bring him back here."

Grace pauses, looking down at her hands, tears welling up at the corners. "He had to be contained, like an animal, my poor William. He refused to speak, eating and drinking very little, and wouldn't sleep. He would revert to these fits of rage, destroying anything that got in his path. His moments of lucidity were the most painful because he would cry for you and your mother. I couldn't bear to see him that way.. so far gone there was no return.." Her whole body seems to shudder, the next words being a whisper. "I gave him.. an herb.. to make his heart stop.. and it did." She swallows, as if to maintain her composure, shaking her shoulders in an effort to shake the gloom.

"I buried him.. in the garden out back.. wrote your mother and told her of these things.. sending her the amulet and your fathers journal.. the pages of which have been removed for your own safety. Perhaps, when you are more learned, I will show you these things." Grace turns her steely gaze to Nadya, whom is sitting silent, tears rolling down her cheeks. She hears the ruffle of skirts, the weight upon the seat next to her, the warm presence as as hand clasps hers. "Dear child.. I tell you these things not to hurt you. It is only through truth of our past that we can go forth into the future. Your father loved you dearly, never doubt that.. ever."

Nadya nods gently, wiping tears away with her free hand. It appears to be only mid-day but she feels as if she has been awake for days. "I am suddenleh vereh tired.."

Grace pats her hand before rising. "Of course child, you have learned enough in one day to last a lifetime. You may go, if you wish, but there is always a room here for you if you should want it. I expect you back tomorrow, bright and early.. there is many more things we need to discuss."

Nadya rises, although a bit shakily on her feet, smoothing her skirt in a gesture of nervousness. She passes out the door without another word, making her way back to the inn.. the truth of the past weighing heavily upon her heart.