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[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

---

How many days had it been? It was too many. No, not enough.

She stood on the balcony, gazing out. Waiting for something. Someone.

But, she'd been wrong before... It was still too early to tell, but perhaps she would be forced to go out in search.

Would it come to that?

Perhaps one of the early reasons she'd taken up the dark arts was an innate refusal to let things die.. but then, one could say the same for almost any woman, if one wanted.

[Sindreline]

---

Sindreline was going about his normal patrol before he set down for the night. On his was past the Sepulcher he noticed the Matriarch alone on her balcony seemingly lost in thought. He wondered what she could be thinking about that would make her seem so impervious to the world around.

"Seems she doesn't notice me" Sindreline thought as he walked through the trees.

Intent on finishing his patrol Sindreline went on his way without a second thought.

[Thraxas]

---

"Where are you off to Gerond?" the red-haired man inquired, as he shifted in his saddle.

A short distance away, a family of six stood amidst a profusion of sacks and crates. The man so named had just exited the hostel carrying a large sack over his shoulder. He let it drop. "We're leaving m'lord Thraxas. I... I've got a new job in Magincia."

Thraxas frowned. "Magincia is a heap of ruins. What possible job awaits you there? And where will your family live?"

"Clean up detail and militiaman. My family will go to Britain for the time being to live with her relatives until I can find us a new place." As if trying to console his landlord, he added, "I'm sure you understand, sire?"

Thraxas' horse snorted and shook its head. "Are you sure it isn't something else? The recent killings perhaps?"

Gerond was a bit too quick in reply. "No, sire! Nothing like that. We... we're used to trouble around here."

"I am disappointed in you, Gerond. I thought you had more faith in me. Your family has always enjoyed my protection. You have always paid rent on time and helped care for the hostel. This decision seems so... sudden."

Gerond began loading the sacks and crates onto two pack llamas. His two sons, strapping lads in their teens, helped him. "I'm sorry, lord Thraxas. I have an opportunity and need to grab it while I can."

"Well, I wish you well on your new post. I will inform the Magnate of your arrival... put in a good word for you as it were. He will be your employer I presume?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

"No?"

"No sire."

"You are lying, Gerond; I can tell. I don't know why you would want to, but you are. Don't bother denying it. And I don't have a lot of patience with liars."

The man stopped what he was doing and turned around. "Sire... I..."

Thraxas' eyes blazed red. Gerond knew what that meant. He had only enough time to yell a warning to his family, which bolted for the apparent safety of the woods. Gerond was instantly racked with pain and fell to the ground. Before the spell had time to dissipate, he was engulfed from heel to head in a ball of flame. Within seconds the flamestrike spell was followed by a powerful bolt of energy. Gasping his last few breaths, the smouldering wreck of a man lay on the ground clutching at his broken body.

"Farewell old friend," Thraxas stated coolly. He turned his horse around and rode back to the manor.

Once inside, he entered his study. He sat down at a table piled high with books. This life is such a bore! I am in need of a real holiday... or something! His thoughts turned to Ceinwyn. He had deliberately kept his distance from her, knowing the difficulties she faced. He had hoped not to add to them, but his feelings for her would not abate. In truth, they had done more than merely linger; they commandeered his thoughts and his dreams of late. I *must* see her. In fact, I will."

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

---

Behind a desk, she sat. Hours ticked by. The coin made yet another volley into the air, spinning end over end as it fell, landing decisively into her palm. By now, any normal wrist would be sprained from the countless tossing, but Ceinwyn just continued, unwilling to make the decision herself.

If she was going to act, it would have to be now while the trail was warm. Before any remnants of his aura faded, before he could break their bond.

Would he break their bond?

She refused to think about that.

Flip. Heads. Track him down.

Flip. Tails. Remain and never know.

Damn, curiosity was a cur.

Everytime the coin landed tails up, she flipped it yet again, in the vain hope that it would land heads. Every time it landed heads, she second-guessed herself anew.

Finally, as the hour tolled late, she stood, slamming the coin down onto the granite surface. Bugger the coin. She would find him, there was no alternative. No room for failure. The last ounce of her "humanity" depended upon it. She would track him down. If she returned as something not quite herself when she came back, so be it.

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

---

Sanctus. She meandered to Tatiana's home, intent on speaking with the quiet tailor, but she was not there. With a bit of annoyed muttering, she recalled out. Perhaps the woman would be at the other place, Mazewood.

The scene of Church's attack not too long ago, some repairs had been made to it during the last few weeks. She wandered about until she came across one of the townsfolk. A query about Tatiana sent the woman running to fetch her. All the while, voices in the back of her mind were pushing her onward.

Weak.

Foolish.

Within her another voice, certain that only the half-meer could heal her mind. Where Merrique had freed her from the curse years before, she clung to the hope that Arakad could use his magics to free her of the damage that had been wrought. In frustration, she cursed that he was not psychic, that he did not already know how screwed up her mind was. As if it was his fault that she had betrayed him...

------------------------------

Shortly, Tatiana came to see who was calling upon her.

"Miss Cein?"

The words came from Ceinwyn beyond her control. Though, if pressed, she would not have known why she was telling such things to this woman. Tatiana was a myriad of things to the half-drow, none of them pleasant. She had gone through seasons of change in regards to this woman's existence. Protect her. Kill her. Have her killed so Ceinwyn wouldn't have to. Even Arakad had offered to off the quiet blacksmith. Hell, when Church had decimated the building and she'd discovered her lying trapped, she still hadn't just provided a killing blow. Damned if she knew why not.

She followed Tatiana into the tavern and up to the sitting area. The tailor described it as "cozy". Ceinwyn found it suffocating. She hadn't fed in days, and here was Tatiana offering her a drink. Declining, for she had other plans. The bond, if it still existed, would be put to the test. Out came her kryss, Tatiana's eyes widening. Perhaps she thought Ceinwyn meant to harm her, but no, there was madness to her method. She pointed the kryss to her chest, and as her intention was registered, the gentlewoman stood, urging her not to. She would not be swayed. If he was going to come, he would come. If not... well she would deal with it if it came to it. The black metal slid into her chest, ruby liquid spilling out, though precious little of it there was.

She managed to utter two small requests to Tatiana, before darkness took her.

[Starfire]

---

Tatiana sat long beside Miss Cein. She just didn't understand how anyone could stab themselves like that. And what if Arakad did not come? Sighing, she thought back over the time she had known Miss Cein. Never would Tatiana have thought Miss Cein would come to her to talk. Not considering ..... the past and the present. She looked back down at Miss Cein laying so still. Even dribbling her own blood on Miss Cein's lips had not brought her around. And here in Mazewood. Shaking her head at herself, Tatiana gave a wry smile. Miss Cein knew her too well. She knew Tatiana could never just turn a wounded person out. Even if she was from Umbra... lord she WAS Umbra. Tatiana would have to make sure to keep her presence quiet. It would disturb Miss Star something awful. Grinning a bit, and she would understand. Toying briefly with the idea of calling on Umbra and have them take her home, she tossed that out as soon as she thought it. Miss Cein had made her promise, well to take care of her...a promise she would honor. Thinking over it, Tatiana came to a solution. Her mining outpost. It would be perfect. It was isolated and Miss Cein would be in no danger from anyone. Tatiana, would have to make sure to leave a servant to watch over her, but it would have to be someone she trusted absolutely. Skye could do it. She had been moping since Mr. Winzo had disappeared.
Now that the decision had been made, Tatiana sat down to get it carried out.
_________________
aka: Tatiana Thorn nee Alexi; Summer Kane; Ivory Skyfire; and others

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

---

Time passed, who knew how much, and the corpse-like form slept on in Tatiana's hideaway. Haunting and enlightening visions greeted the fitful mind in tortured sleep bred of starvation. Many dreams passed through the dormant one's subconscious, but the one growing was a dream of realization that a plan had not gone accordingly. An acknowledgment of failure and an awakening of some further buried part of the mind. One that had not known awareness in well over a hundred cold years.

There is only so much the average mind can handle without shutting away what would cause it overload. Yet, what it shuts away ofttimes releases things that were buried for a purpose. Things that perhaps even the most steeled minds did not wish to think about, and pushed to the back of their consciousness where it became forgotten in the sands of time. When there is no more capacity to store unwanted knowledge, ancient memories are awakened to make room. Such was occurring at this moment.

The corpse was stirring fitfully, and at this point she truly did appear much like a corpse. How many times had the gentle and kind Tatiana looked in upon her only to be met with the grim and grisly visage of the wasting away Matriarch? Skin tightened around skeletal frame as her body turned against itself, scrounging for nutrition and finding itself wanting. Eventually, all that would remain would be a husk of this ancient, at least by normal standards, ab'Arawn. Following that, dust to primordial dust.

Yet, within her, memories awoke. Memories from a century or more ago when she had served Andreas Kincade. Recollections which she had hidden from even herself, the knowledge she had buried about "humanity" and the depraved acts Kincade's servants had carried out. And she found herself realizing they had deserved it. Knowing it, inherently. The other voices at this time were blissfully quiet, as if they, too, had been stored away. Things were happening and her mind only glimpsed clues in flashes of memory and images in its weakened state. They would needs be dealt with when she awoke.

But there was the problem, she needed to feed and be nourished. That was priority, the rest would save until after.