Scion: Seeds of Glory IC

[HookerBoots]

Evan and Tryp
Tryp looks back and forth between the two of you, then at the wound on her shoulder. "Yeah, that would be good." She looks up at Evan. "Thank you for the offer."

Crystal
There is a sort of startled silence in your head, and a man's voice speaks slowly. *Crystal? How astonishing.* There is a moment when you can almost hear him talking to someone else, excusing himself from whatever he was doing. *Now, you said something like a dog, but with monkey hands? Fascinating. Let me see . . . .*

It isn't a sound so much as the mental feeling of him searching for something in the physical world, then flipping through pages. *Dogs, dogs . . . Beast of Gevaudan, Werewolf of Bedburg . . . monkey features . . . ah!* There is a feeling of triumph coming over the link. *Here we are. Those nasty little beasts are called Ahuizotl. They're Aztec beasts, but they tend not to leave the water.* You can almost feel his finger running over the lines of text. *Oh, it says here that the hand on the end of their tails can be used to find lost items, or find your way back to someplace you were before! Be useful if you were in the Hotel California, no?* He laughs merrily.

Evan and Crystal
The rest of the trip goes without much incident. Tryp shows you the items that she has built to help the ship go faster, as well as the other little trinkets she used during the fight. The slender mechanic has a fair arsenal built, and the ship is fairly defensible.

Poseidon's Fury makes landfall at dusk, on a small beach a few miles south of the meteorological research station. The captain and Tryp see you off, the rest of the crew puttering about their stations as they try not to watch. "We'll head over to Cape Town, pick up supplies and such, and head back to get you. Be about a week and a half." He looks at Tryp.

"A week, tops," she says confidently, smiling a little. "But do what you need to do here, don't worry about us." Tryp hands over a small bronze box, shaped like a walkie-talkie with a button on the front. "Press the button if you need to talk to us - it'll only work 4 times, so make sure it's important."

 

[Armphid]

Evan smiled and took the box carefully, "Only four times, got it." He winked at Tryp, "I'll keep it professional then." It was amazing though; to Cape Town and back in a week? That kind of speed in a ship of that size...simply incredible. "Keep your bow up and be careful, all right?"

He slipped the precious communication tool into the inside pocket of his coat and zipped it up. "Well, let's get going, Crystal." He'd let her carry the map they'd been given, being the survival expert and all, but he'd studied it a few times on their journey. The island was about fifty miles or so of beach surrounded forest, with a lot of small peaks inland, the largest being the currently active caldera of the volcano that currently loomed over the whole place. It towered above it's few foothills, clearly visible above the trees even from here on the beach. "The sooner we get to it, the sooner we can find...whatever we're here to find."

It would be nice if their mothers had been more specific.

Evan shouldered his pack and gave a last wave to Tryp and the captain before turning up the beach and heading towards the waiting green. He was already feeling...strange. There was a tension in the air and he felt a sense of doom, in the original sense. Something was meant to happen here. "Don't get too Nordic, Evan," he murmured to himself, "No fate but what we make."

He kept trying to convince himself of that, anyway.

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte was beginning to realize that sometimes, being a Scion was not all it cracked up to be.

Sure, the fact that she could bench-press her motorcycle with one hand was cool, and the ability to literally dance on the head of a pin or turn bullets with bare flesh was particularly useful to her, and every woman likes being appreciated, and her divine looks certainly helped with that, but sometimes, all of that still didn't counterbalance the suck factor inherent in the job.

Like now, for existence.

Brigitte had come to Gough Island the day before, coming ashore in Quest Bay, the only semi-sheltered harbor on the entire miserable spit of rock. She'd brought almost all her worldly possessions with her in her duffel bag, all except Gram and her motorcycle. The 'cycle she'd left in storage in Panama City, FL, which was where she'd been when she got the divine summons. Gram she'd buckled across her torso, the great black sheath almost reaching the ground on her left side and the crosspiece sticking up above her right shoulder. She'd got a couple of interesting looks when she started looking for a boat to an uninhabited island in the South Atlantic, with a sack full of weapons and ammunition, a pale blue leather jacket and boots, and a five-foot sword on her back. But cash, the great translator and negotiator, got her passage on a small ship full of nature enthusiasts who wanted to go see the Atlantic Petrel in its native habitat, which happened to be where she was going.

The trip had taken several days, and she was cheerfully contemplating putting the world's nature enthusiast population on the endangered species by the time they arrived. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate nature. Brigitte was just a city girl at heart, despite her wandering. She liked people, liked people places, and the neo-luddites (on their diesel-powered ship, the hypocrites) kept trying to educate her on how humanity was raping mother nature. Brigitte was inclined to believe that, in light of her own parentage and experiences, that if it mattered, mother nature would come and do something her damned self. Still she'd gotten to the island, parted ways with her "companions" and walked off into the forest.

It was only after she'd gotten far enough into the island that she couldn't go back that she realized she hadn't done her damn homework very well. Gough was part of the "roaring forties" and got the proverbial metric shit-ton of rain each year. Now, her coat, bag, sword, and Mossberg Mariner were all waterproof, but she was not, and while exposure wasn't likely to hurt her, the constant wet got pretty unpleasant, pretty fast.

And the mice! Good gods, the mice! Apparently they'd started as house mice, then mutated into giant, nasty, carnivorous house mice, apparently with no gods involved. What she had to be here for, Brigitte didn't know. But the Aesir had sent a raven to say "Jump" and Brigitte, ever the dutiful if bitter and cynical daughter asked "How high?" So here she was, wet and miserable and alone on a godforsaken island in the south Atlantic, waiting for something to happen. No directions, no goal. Just a place.

Brigitte had found a small clearing in the forest, barely large enough for her to practice her swordsmanship with Gram. The blade was sixty-one inches from pommel to point, and looked as though it weighed nearly as much as she did, with a blade that was four fingers wide at the base, slowly narrowing to within a few inches of the end of the blade, where it suddenly tapered into a wicked needle of a point. Despite its great size and apparent clumsiness, in Brigitte's hands it seemed light as a feather, and she spent some time working with it, just to keep in practice. She also felled enough saplings and branches to construct a rudimentary lean-to. It wasn't much, but it kept most of the rain off.

And there was rain. All of the previous night had been a slow, miserable drizzle, neither particularly cold nor heavy, but wet, wet, wet. Because she hated the feeling of having wet cloth stick to her, Brigitte had removed her shirt and put on skin-tight black nylon-gortex tights. They were black, comfortable, and waterproof, though somewhat revealing. Her jacket she left open and wore nothing under it, letting the water cascade between her skin and the cool, slick relic leather. The coat hung so as to preserve her modesty, her small, firm breasts (barely) hidden by the edges of the jacket, but a considerable expanse of alabaster skin was available for the perusal of anyone who looked her way. Her hair she'd pulled back into a simple ponytail, leaving just a pair of white-blond forelocks hanging to frame her face and letting the rest of the pale mass hang down between her shoulderblades. Her Pale blue knee-high boots with the wide, three-inch heels were cinched tight enough to keep the water out, but other than boots, tights and jacket, she wore nothing but her earrings. She didn't even wear Gram, simply carrying instead.

Now, with night finally fallen, Brigitte simply waited. The raven had said "it" was important, but not what or why. Something about this clearing, though. It felt right, like what she was supposed to do would start here, or near here. So she waited. The rain had stopped, and she built a small fire. Anything small would be scared off by it, and anything large enough to come in for it would meet a reception of lead and steel and fury. Brigitte took a seat on a stump she'd dragged in from the surrounding green. Her shotgun was still in the duffel, but she set Gram across her lap and had her .45 tucked into the waistband of her tights, underneath her jacket. Idly, she started to sing as she waited. Her singing voice was no opera divas, but it was high and clear, like glass bells, and she could carry a tune.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again

When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes

The song drifted through the night, and Brigitte just sat and sang, her fingertips tapping out the beat of the song on the flat of Gram's blade. Waiting.

Will you join in a crusade
Who will be strong and stand with me...

 

[cats]

Crystal

OOC: Tough act to follow.

IC: I debated weather or not to remove the Ahuizotl's tail hand. In the end I decided everything has a purpose in the plans of the fates and removed it doing what I could to preserve it. When Tryp and Evan asked I explained the supposed use of finding things and hope it was fact and not just legend.

...Some time later...

Evan and I parted with Tryp. We discused our plans to meet up, and by no means did I wish to miss our ship, but I was simply happy to know I would see my new cousin again. "I'll see you soon then," and a warm smile was how I parted.

Shortly after we parted Evan handed me the map and I took the point of our two man march. I studied the map closely at first but then put it in my pack and only took a rare glance at it to confirm my memories and look at something I missed at first glance.

This wasn't new to me, often I was the most educated on the matters of survival and often recieved the job of navigation. The way I handle it is the way I always handle it, I look closely at the map and then almost never use it. The perk of having a copy of it in my own head I suppose. All of that was the same as it always is. The key Difference was Evan. When I ever I did these outings, two man march or not, some one questioned me. 'Should you check the map? Have you done this hike so much? Is this the right way?' Some even went further, 'if you arn't using the map let me lead then,' or 'why are you walking blindly?'

This is where Evan was different. He didn't question me. I walked further and further into the woods, rain started to fall, and dusk came and went leaving the shadows of the night. All of that and we did not stop. I kept walking and he wasn't unnerved in the least as far as I could tell. His calm started to poke at the back of my mind, it was far from the norm. For that matter so was our trip, a divine mission not a hike for spoiled brats.

The silence started to press into me, amazing given the rainy dark jungle was anything but quiet. It was only a matter of time before I would snap and say something foolish and embarrassing. Fortune however saved me from that fate. Off in the distance was a faint light. I pointed it out to Evan and we agreed to approach it.

The light was the first sensation. As we moved closer though it was join by a faint song, not a bird song but the clear tones of a singer ever so faint against the piercing animal calls. The sound was an echo of the image of the light. The light had been well hidden stranger among the trees, bushes, and vines. Now the sound was a well hidden stranger among the all to different songs of the birds and beasts. After that came the all too familiar smell of smoke and ash from a fire. Again it echoed it's siblings the smell was a hidden stranger among damp moisture, slowly rotting leaves, and ripe fruits.

It was after all of that Evan and I finally came across a stranger by the fire, hidden in the jungle clearing.

 

[Armphid]

Amazing.

That was his thought at least at first, as he followed Crystal into the verdant wet of the forest. How many people ever saw or came to such a place as this? So remote and forlorn. There were only six other people on this island, and whatever they had been sent to deal with, but beyond them their only company was the trees, the steady rain, the birds and beasts. To think that once most of the world had been this way. He felt both terribly alone and wonderfully liberated all at once.

Evan sang softly under his breath as they went on into their trek, "Splendid isolation, I don't need no one, splendid isolation..." He hummed a few more bars of the song, falling into silence as they walked under the green gloom of the trees. He could see in the dark, much to his own surprise. One of the gifts he'd been given must be responsible for that; a gift well chosen in this case.

They walked on and on, Crystal never consulting the map after a few initial checks. All the while Evan followed without question or complaint. This was her element and her knowledge and skill here far eclipsed his own. There were times when the gloom and wet made him feel weary, or he was unsure of direction, but he kept on. He trusted her to guide him safely. Even as darkness fell and still they went on, he followed silently.

To many it might have seemed a fearful silence, or a sign of weakness or overcompensation. To Even it was a simple matter of loyalty; his friend was guiding him and he would go on for as long as she wished, and he never doubted she would lead him well.

Nevertheless, he could see tension growing in Crystal as they went on. He didn't know the wild like her, but he knew people and how to read them. Something was weighing on her mind, more and more as the hours passed in their soggy, increasingly unpleasant march. He should ask her about it...but he'd bungled it badly on the ship when he'd tried to make her feel better about something. Perhaps this time, he should let her do the talking, if she needed to.

Then they saw the light. It was far but brilliant; shining through the darkness of the forest night clear and cold. Gods, it was remarkable how far and easily light carried. Living in a city most of the time, he forgot just how well and from how far it showed. He nodded at Crystal's gesture and they altered their path, making for the unexpected beacon.

It wasn't too far though, and soon they heard a sound that had nothing to do with wildlife or the wind. A song. It lifted high and clear though the night air; sung by a woman's high, fair voice. "I know this song," he whispered, the first words he'd spoken in hours. "I'm going to let them know I'm coming, you might want to get a bit away from me in case they start shooting."

Evan cleared his throat, recalling the lyrics. He liked this song, actually had performed it in the musical his senior year of high school. The farmboy turned porn star counted the time in his head, lifting his head up and starting to sing as well, joining in on the second chorus and continuing on to the next verse. His voice was good; a proud, brassy baritone that seemed to ring out and shatter the silence around them.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again

When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes

Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance
Some will fall and some will live
Will you stand up and take your chance?
the blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!

He kept moving while he was singing, sure he could be heard and now likely seen as well from the lit area ahead. He made no effort to conceal himself, instead continuing on to the chorus once again and sincerely hoping he wasn't doing something incredibly stupid.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again

When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte was so startled when she heard someone else pick up the song, that she almost lost the lyrics. She caught herself and her high soprano went on unfaltering, a perfect octave above the resonant baritone of the unseen singer.

As she continued on with the song, Brigitte stood and hefted Gram in one delicate hand, then reversed and sank its point into the soft loam, burying the blade nearly a foot deep. There was a muffled hiss and a bit of resistance as the blade encountered something under the soil, a rock perhaps, and passed through it. Turning to face the direction from whence the singing was coming, Brigitte stood to her left of Gram, to the apparent right of the new arrival. Her right hand rested lightly on the grip of the sword, her left hand behind her back, caressing the butt of her pistol. Sure, the voice of the man floating through the forest was pretty and strong, but even titanspawn could sing sometimes, and it would be entirely in keeping with several breeds she'd encountered to try and use music to cause her to drop her guard.

Brigitte stared out into the damp night as the song was completed, waiting for the singer to make himself known.

 

[Armphid]

Whoever was singing was well disciplined, which was interesting and potentially troubling. If it came to violence, he'd prefer his enemies a bit more wild and without cool reasoning or collected will. But it might also be a good sign, so far in his career he had yet to meet any titanspawn with that kind of focus. Yet.

Hoping for the best, Evan slowed his pace towards the fire. Whoever was there should be able to see him soon if they hadn't yet. He raised his hands up, holding them palm out. "I realize this isn't a ship, but ahoy the fire! I'm coming closer to talk, and I've no weapon in hand."

As he drew nearer, he finally caught sight of someone. This could only be the singer. "God damn," he murmured. She was stunning; a rare beauty, even among the others back in Iceland. She was slender and supple but he didn't doubt for a minute that it masked some strength as well. She wore little, which surprised and pleased him, and though there was nothing salacious to view, he could see a great amount of smooth, pale, and perfect skin. He thought he could see tantalizing hints of the curves of her breasts at the edges of her jacket. Her face was beautiful; fine and delicate features with large eyes whose color he could not make out at this distance or with the glare of the fire behind her. It was hard to tell her hair color either, as it was wet, but the way a few locks fell and plastered to her forehead and face was more fetching than it should be.

She was also standing next to the biggest sword he'd ever seen, driven point first into the earth, a dainty hand resting on it. The other was behind her back, though it was even odds in his mind if she had a knife or a gun back there. Which made him more nervous and her more attractive. Damn his mind was weird.

Evan stopped at the edge of the firelight once he was sure she'd seen him. "Good evening, miss. You have a lovely voice, if you don't mind my saying so. My name is Evan. I traveled here with a friend of mine and we saw your fire. May I get a little closer and talk?"

 

[cats]

I considered how to approach the stranger. He or perhaps she was holding something across her lap and it was clearly foolish to walk in.

'I know this song,' Evans voice was a soothing tonic after so long spent in silent worry. 'I'm going to let them know I'm coming, you might want to get a bit away from me in case they start shooting.'

I nodded, his plan was better then anything I had in mind. Still a bit risky. I would fallow a few paces behind. My bow was already in hand but I knocked an arrow for safety.

'Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again'

My gods and goddesses he can sing. Evan is indeed a man of many talents.

As the song moved on so did we. Evan to the front me a few steps behind. Soon the stranger was in fool view. Clearly a woman, and based on the size of the sword and the grace of the sword arm, not likely a normal woman.

'I realize this isn't a ship, but ahoy the fire! I'm coming closer to talk, and I've no weapon in hand.'

Realizing what he just said I placed the arrow knocked on my bow string back into the hand holding the bow. I did my best to not look hostile as I made the sudden but subtle move.

We advanced several more feet. I knew with the woman standing next to the fire we would likely have better view of her before she had good sight of us. Still the fire was now not in front of her, and who knew how fast her night vision could return if she was in fact different from a normal person.

I took her into view, her stance and manner set her apart from a normal person. She had her muscles were neither relaxed or tense. Had she been tense in her legs or arms it meant she had uncertainty in her mind. Had she been relaxed then she would be inviting attack. No she stood as a virtue between the two vices, a mark of confidence. The way she embarrassed both the sword we saw and an item behind her back, showed a weary competence. So few are both competent and confident, the location of this meeting set aside, this clearly wasn't a normal person.

'Good evening, miss. You have a lovely voice, if you don't mind my saying so. My name is Evan. I traveled here with a friend of mine and we saw your fire. May I get a little closer and talk?'

 

[Kinkerhell]

Two strangers came out of the forest, and even though she knew about one of them, she almost started shooting as soon as they appeared, and it was only with a conscious effort of will that she took her hand off the butt of her gun, snorting quietly to herself.

Guess that run in with the Spartoi in Der Schwarzwald had made her a bit twitchy in wooded areas. She was going to have to work on that.

Brigitte looked the man over first, partly because he was pretty eye-catching, and partly because she didn't even see the woman at first, she was so quiet and so...in her element, seemingly. Her eyes roved over the muscular, good-looking man, and Brigitte had to fight to keep from drooling. He was spectacular-looking, literally inhumanly attractive, and Brigitte was forcefully reminded that she hadn't been laid in almost four months. He had heated-gold hair and chocolate brown eyes, and what she could see of his body lived up to the strong, masculine features. He was like the cover of a romance novel, actually. For some reason, Brigitte had the nagging feeling that she recognized him, but she couldn't put her metaphorical finger on where from.

The man didn't seem to be armed, and was fairly unthreatening-looking, so Brigitte turned her eyes to his female companion. She was cute, pretty even, but more in the girl-next-door or pretty-berkeley-activist way rather than the "marble statue" or "porn star" way that so many godspawned women seemed to favor. Brigitte was more impressed with her movement than her looks, actually. She moved with the lean grace of a predator, and she looked as though she knew how to use that bow.

"Good evening, miss. You have a lovely voice, if you don't mind my saying so. My name is Evan. I traveled here with a friend of mine and we saw your fire. May I get a little closer and talk?"

Brigitte blinked. He was...polite. She lifted her left hand slowly waved them forward. They seemed too human to be monsters, but too capable to be mortals, which pretty much left them as kinsmen of one sort or another. If she was right, then it was probably to meet them that Huginn, or Muninn, whichever raven it was, had sent her here. If not, well, she had Gram right there.

Brigitte stepped slightly to her right, keeping the sword between herself and the newcomers, and dropped her left hand to cover her right on the pommel of the great blade. Trusting didn't mean stupid. Still, she should probably make an effort to be polite.

Brigitte inclined her head toward the strangers and smiled slightly, her pink, bowed mouth turning up at the corners.

"Of course, kinsman. Come forward and share my fire." Brigitte said, her voice soft and high. She turned her gaze to the woman. "And you, lady, please join us."

 

[Armphid]

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as the mystery woman looked him over; seeming to linger on him in a way he was familiar with. She was checking for danger, yes, and checking him out for good measure.

Yeah, that felt good. God, but he was vain, sometimes. He should really focus. There had been a tense moment when she'd seen them; she'd almost attacked but had forced herself not to. The danger was far from passed.

Fortunately, he seemed to be catching her off guard by trying to talk to her. At her wave, he moved closer to the fire, but not quickly or much closer. He halted at the edge of the trees; despite wanting to go further. His divine heritage had made him hardy and he was able to endure the wet and chill but that didn't mean he liked it. Even from here the heat of the fire felt absolutely wonderful.

Her smile was small but did remarkable things to already lovely features. Kinsman, she'd said. Did she recognize him somehow? Whether she did or not, he hoped he wasn't too close a kinsman to her. But there was another interesting possibility there that could help to diffuse the tension further. "Thank you, miss. I accept your hospitality and I, and my friend, will act as good guests."

He didn't know her heritage but hospitality was a very serious matter in most pantheons. Even Sodom and Gomorrah's burning was about hospitality more than anything else. His stating that he would be a good guest should mean certain things, among them that not only was the hostess in no danger from them, but that they would be bound to protect her as good guests if danger were to come.

It was a gamble. He thought it was a good one, but still risky.

Evan stepped in a bit further into the fire-lit clearing and slowly let his backpack slip down his shoulders to the ground. "I don't know if you've eaten, but we do have some food and I'll gladly share what's mine with you. A guest shouldn't demand too much, after all." He smiled at the ash eyed beauty, "I also have to say that, while I'm sure it's tragically not your normal look, I think that is a fantastic outfit. May I ask what I can call you?"

He wouldn't ask for her name directly. Some supernaturals were touchy about names.

 

[Kinkerhell]

So, offer accepted, offer reciprocated. In Brigitte's experience, most monsters just didn't care enough to play by the old rules of hospitality, unless she was in Ireland. Or Chicago.

This guy was probably alright, and thus his companion with him. Brigitte could be wrong, but sometimes you had to take a risk.

Brigitte stepped back slightly from her blade and took her hands off of Gram's pommel. When the man offered her food, she shook her. When he commented on her appearance, her smile grew and she laughed, a delicate, breathy little sound.

When he asked for something to call her, she briefly considered giving a pseudonym, but what was the point? Besides, Aesir owned up to what they were, and their children should do the same.

"Actually, put a shirt under the jacket and replace the tights with jeans and I pretty much always look like this. The jacket was a gift from my father, and its helped me through many a problem. I'm Brigitte, by the way." Her voice had the faintest hint of a french accent when she gave her name, and her name came out as "brij-EET," with a softer J and all the emphasis on the second syllable. Now, it was time to see if she could garner a reaction.

"Daughter of Uller."

 

[Armphid]

"Having a shirt on under the jacket is what would make it tragic, for me, anyway," he replied with a grin. And then came her name, and he was pretty sure that it actually was. While it was entirely possible that her skill as a liar was better than his at reading people, he got a sense of authenticity about what she was saying. Which made the mention of her parentage all the more interesting. "Daughter...of Uller," he repeated thoughtfully.

Then he nodded and extended his hand, "Nice to meet you, Brigitte." When Freya had first visited him, Evan quickly found and read a few books on Norse mythology. Uller was a god of many things and though his origins were unclear in legend, he was connected to the Vanir either directly or as a son of Sif. Which meant that maybe they were kin...so should he keep flirting or...

Damn, his mind was weird. Of all things, he was worried about that?

"As I said, I'm Evan, and my biological mother is Freya." He chuckled and quirked his brow, "My friend has similar parentage, though from a more Mediterranean origin." He wouldn't give away any details but there was no reason not to be forthcoming, as far as he could see. "I'd guess you were told much the same thing as we were then. There's a group on the island other than the meteorologists that aren't supposed to be here and we're to deal with it." Freya had actually used the word "destroy" but he'd wait to see what this group was before making that decision.

He was taking another big chance here. Brigitte might not be what she said, and even if she was, she might be here on a different mission or even as opposition. The gods didn't always get along. Still he went on, "I don't know if you were told anything more about it, but I can't imagine you came here just for the scenery."

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte grinned and inclined her head at Evan's comment.

"Its true, though to be honest, I don't know why I'm here." She shrugged, her slim shoulders rising and falling in a graceful motion that pulled the hem of her jacket up several inches and drew the flat skin of her stomach and ribs taut for a moment. "I was given orders to come here, so I did. No explanation, no discussion. Just a place."

Brigitte looked at the as-yet-unnamed young woman, thinking. With that bow and that body, she looked like one of the marble statues of Diana that could be found dotted around Rome, but Brigitte had never heard of a Roman Scion. Diana had an analog in Greece, didn't she? Brigitte's command of Greek myth was sub-par at best, though she'd had a couple of run-ins with it. She'd once spent a week tracking a Vrykolakas across Crete, and her hair hid the scar that the adventure had given her.

Brigitte turned back to Evan. "I can only begin to guess why I'm here, but I would presume that its to meet you and your lady friend, but my father being who he is, and being the bearer of the sword Gram, I usually only get called when there's killing to be done. I'm not much good at anything else."

She glances at the other woman and asks, "May I ask your name, ma'am?" Her tone is quiet and respectful. At nineteen, Brigitte knows quite well that she's the baby of he three, and her mother taught her to be respectful.

 

[cats]

Crystal

IC: "I am quite sorry Brigitte. I am Crystal adopted daughter of Artemis. I've been quiet because quite frankly Evan speaks much politer then I do. I tend more to being the one alone in the woods."

I took a breath and let out a sigh. "It would seem famous parents such as ours never seem to give as much information as we want."

"The question now becomes what we are here for. Your gift of hunting, or Evans gift of speech."

I decided to walk over to the fire and turned to see Brigitte reasonably well but not to be so blinded by the fire. My senses were extremely sharp, so much as to allowing me to see with out my eyes, but I had no desire to be blind if fate began to move.

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte nods to herself. Greek it is. She smiles pleasantly. It seems to be the default expression for her.

"Don't worry, Crystal. I'm an Aesir's daughter. Irreverence is part of the package. Besides, I've had a rough life. Don't stand on ceremony for my sake." Her pleasant smile turns predatory. "As for hunting, considering your parentage that's probably more your skill than mine. I'm not totally incompetent, but I'm no tracker. I'm a killer, through and through.

She turns so that she can face both of the other Scions at once. "So," she asks, "What now?"

 

[cats]

Crystal

IC: "No qualms about what you do. Monsters are one thing, animals another, and people yet another in my eyes. Perhaps I am in denial but I refuse to see our kind as killers... For better or worse let me keep my view of the world. To answer your question."

Feeling far less worried about Brigette I warmed myself by the fire further. "We have few options but their result is the same. We are going to the peak of the volcano. Once there we make a new plan if needed. In the mean time our options are to continue moving in this dark dampness, or to set watch, rest, and wait for light. The risk or reward of the second one depending on how you see it is that our mission may find us instead of the other way around."

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte nods. Crystal's rationale makes a certain kind of sense, even if her viewpoint does not, not to Brigitte, anyway. Still, she can't let it go by. She hadn't really talked to anyone for months now, and she felt that she shouldn't leave her possible companions with false impressions.

Leaning on Gram again, Brigitte says to Crystal, "I have no illusions about what I do. I understand where you're coming from, really I do. Its just that to me, people are often just another kind of monster."

Brigitte stares into the flames, remembering. "I'm nineteen years old. In that time, I've lost my family, been beaten a half-dozen times, and been sexually assaulted twice. Now, I'm a tough girl, I can take it. Life is what you make of it. But I've seen awful things happen to nice people. That's why I do what I do. The monsters, be they ancient legend or the more mundane types, come for women, children, families. Then I come for the monsters."

Brigitte says that last with a chilling air of finality, then shakes her head and tears her eyes away from the fire and looks up, as if just realizing what she'd said.

"Oh. Oh gods. I'm sorry!" Brigitte cries. "I didn't mean...I'm sorry. Its been a long time since I talked with anyone who might understand. I shouldn't have unloaded on you that way. My apologies." Brigitte pauses, unsure what to say now. Would they be sympathetic? Irritated? Embarrassed? Would they take off into the night?

 

[Armphid]

A big part of being able to talk to people well was listening. A lot of folks didn't get that, but Evan liked to think he did. Most of the time, anyway. He'd also tried very hard not to gawk when Brigitte shrugged but, well, he was only human. Half, anyway. But there was a lot to hear in the brief discussion between Crystal and the delicate looking young woman.

Evan's lips pressed tightly together as Brigitte spoke, staring into the fire. God, to have gone through so much and be so young. He felt bad for ogling her and flirting like that now, dirty somehow.

It was impressive that the girl hadn't become a monster herself. She still could, probably. Depending on what happened to her from here on.

Maybe he could help with that.

"I don't think you have anything to apologize for," Evan said barely a beat after Brigitte had finished speaking. She seemed....not afraid but unsure now. He grimaced and shook his head, "I'm sorry, for what it's worth, that you have had to experience so many terrible things. But that you've survived and are trying to do something about those monsters, human or otherwise, is something to be proud of." The redhead paused, "I would never claim to understand what you've been through or how you feel about it...but I do understand your view and how you've come to it. I don't think it's a bad thing, and I don't feel any differently about you for it. For what my thoughts are worth."

He smiled, "Why don't we sit and talk for a while? All of us. Whether we go or stay, it's possible that our mission could find us whichever choice we make. So, why don't we build up the shelter and the fire a bit and be warm. Talking about who we are and what we do...it's good for us, I think. And I'd like to get to know my kinsman better too."

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte smiles gratefully at Evan, eyes shining. He was so kind to sympathize, even if it was unnecessary.

"I think that would be a good idea." she says. Brigitte resumes her seat on her stump and lays Gram to one side, its point in the earth and its hilt resting on her right thigh. Then Brigitte casually pulls the .45 from behind her back, setting it on the stump beside her. She looks up at Evan and Crystal and shrugs apologetically.

"A lady in the woods can't be too careful, can she? You might have been terrible monsters, come to spirit poor little me away, oh my." She laughs, a chilling little sound devoid of mirth, before continuing.

"Anyway, I appreciate your sympathies, but they're unneeded. I'm a big girl, and many of the terrible things are just pain. Life is pain, only the dead don't feel it." She shrugs. "It was horrible, certainly, and I'd not like to repeat it, but I am past it now. I simply strive to keep it from happening to others who are not as well-equipped to endure as those like us."

She looks up at the other two Scions. "What about you two? The ultimate reason you're here is because of an accident of birth and a celestial busybody organizing your life, certainly, but what drives you on from day to day? How do you two keep going? Or is this your first time out?"

 

[Armphid]

Evan smiled, the expression a bit grim and sad on his face, as Brigitte laughed. Such a pity, that so pretty a laugh would have no happiness in it. He'd have to hope he could get her to laugh for real, feel something good, in the time they were together. "I'd never blame anyone for being cautious. Never something I mastered, really, and it'll be my end someday, probably. I like to take my risks."

"As far as my sympathies, just because they're not necessary doesn't mean they don't do some good." And he needed to say it, even if she didn't need to hear it.

Evan pulled some of the gathered wood and set it near the fire so it would dry more before it was added to the cheery little blaze. "This isn't my first time out, no. I've done a few things in L.A., and Crystal and I were both actually in Iceland before coming here. That's where we met."

He pulled one of the larger logs a bit closer and sat down on it, looking across the fire at the grim, young girl. Then he looked back at Crystal and sighed, a self-depreciating little smile passing over his lips briefly, "What keeps me going day-to-day? It's complex, I'd like to think. Part of it is that there are these monsters, and the things they do, and even beyond them other problems that I can do something about when no one else can or will. That's part of it. But not a big part, I'm not that good a person, really."

Evan sat back a big on the log, thinking about how much he should say. Why not be honest about it? He felt, though he might be wrong, that Brigitte had certainly been straight forward and held little back, and he knew that Crystal had never been anything but honest about her motives with him. "The rest of it, well, I do like to take chances. And this life, there's a lot of danger, a lot of risk, and I like that. There's something in it that excites me, that drives me." And would likely get him killed someday.

"But...well, I've never really expressed it before but I grew up on a farm, wholesome family and all that. My parents raised me fine, even though my Mom knew who my biological mother was. My Dad got sick, cancer, and he lived, but the medical bills ruined us. I went to L.A. to be a big star, make money, save the farm." He laughed and shook his head, "It didn't turn out the way I had in mind...but I was able to save the farm. I saw a lot of bad things in the city, and even worse since," he made a vague gesture indicating their mutual divine heritage and lives, "but I know that the farm's still there. And that it can be there, if I fight the monsters and hold them back. And I might never see it again, but knowing that it's there...that's why I do it."

Evan shrugged then, "And that's probably self-serving crap, wanting to think I'm more than just a thrill seeking egotist who sees an incredible story I want to try and be the star of." He shrugged again and shook his head. "But I think I might have said a bit too much about it anyway. Always have liked the sound of my own voice."

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte listens raptly as Evan tells his story, instinctively comparing it to her own. So much is different, in their backgrounds, their drives, their outlooks. But at the same time, there's a certain familiarity to Evan's story. They are perhaps two sides of the same coin, different on the surface but both part of the same whole.

When Evan finishes, Brigitte smiles, but its not the frosty, polite smile that she usually has pasted on, or the mirthless death's-head grin that overtakes her in battle, or the expression of amusement and happiness that she turned earlier. This one is different, smaller and warm with a tinge of sadness at the red-haired man's story.

"Though you may not be able to believe it, I understand. There's something about the danger, about the fighting and the hunting and the killing that's exciting." Brigitte stands up and begins to pace.

"I got started on this path because I had nothing else when my 'father' came to me, but I have to admit that I love it now. To know, not think or hope but know that at least some of what I'm doing is really and truly good, well, that's something fantastic."

Brigitte stops pacing and turns back to Evan. "It gives me hope, even in the face of some of the terrible things that have happened to me, and to those around me. Even when measured against some of the things I've done."

Brigitte throws up her hands and lets them fall again. "I know that it can't last forever. The titanspawn are legion and powerful, and someday, one of them will get me. But not that one," she stabs a finger at an imaginary foe, "or that one, or the one behind him, godsdamnit!"

Brigitte's voice begins to rise, not shouting but strident and impassioned. "Not as long as I still have the strength to lift my blade and the breath to spit in the eyes of fate, because any hardship, any suffering, is a minor cost against one mother's relief at having her child returned, or the look of gratitude in a young woman's eyes when she's delivered from the clutches of a monster." Brigitte stops and calms down a little, turning back.

"Sorry." She says quietly. "I do go on sometimes." Brigitte turns to Crystal. "We Aesir children are a fatalistic and sentimental lot. Forgive us, we sometimes get wrapped up in that." Brigitte's eyes meet Crystal's. "What drives you, my lady?"

 

[cats]

Crystal

IC: I had been making use of the discussion time to improve the lean-to ever since we decided to wait for dawn. It was also a way to keep my mind from focusing to deeply on the darkness.

'We Aesir children are a fatalistic and sentimental lot. Forgive us, we sometimes get wrapped up in that.' Brigitte's eyes met my own. 'What drives you, my lady?'

I stopped patching the small hole in the shelter as the sudden question took me by surprise. I watched the rain drip threw a bit.

"I don't know for sure, I've never questioned it. My divine relationship with my parent isn't different from either of yours in the least, except for one thing and perhaps that is why I just do this task with out question. You see who ever my true mother is did not want me, or call to me. So Artemis adopted me, so what you see as neglecting I see as Artemis going out of her way to be the mother I lack."

I smiled "Because of this kindness I do not question what she asks me to do. Even as she called the young child I was to walk alone in the woods for a year, I don't question it because she gave me the physical gifts to get by and the experience has prepared me for this life."

"Beyond that some one has to do this job for the good of humanity. Only our kind is able to do it, so we should do fight the titan spawn."

 

[Armphid]

Brigitte had a lot of different smiles it seemed; all of those he'd seen so far were beautiful, but he preferred the last two she'd shown him. There had been something infinitely chilling and mildly disturbing about the smile that had nothing in it and hadn't reached her eyes.

His earth brown eyes followed her as she rose and began to pace, her emotions building as her voice did. There was something about the way she said "father" that caught his ear. He had some resentment towards Freya; after basically ditching him as an infant she expected him to fight her war for her? But it was far deeper and more profound in Brigitte. Understandable, from what she'd said of her past. Any beef he had with his mother was negligible compared to what Uller owed Brigitte.

Her voice rose in rhythm, pace, and fervor as she spoke and he felt something in him answer. He felt a sudden energetic surge as her rich voice rang out, declaring the worth of returning stolen children, rescuing people from the talons of monsters.

Evan had risen to his feet himself before he noticed it, his eyes flashing and an eager, toothy smile on his lips. It took an effort to restrain himself from...he wasn't sure what. Leaping across the fire and kissing Brigitte or heaving a burning log high up and cheering or just knocking down a tree or something stupidly aggressive or manly.

Wow. That was an interesting reaction.

Evan sat back down with a wry grin, "We're passionate as well, more than controlled at times. But there are things worth getting worked up about, and I'd say this counts."

He turned to watch Crystal as she answered the question. He'd studied the quiet huntress more than once since meeting her but would readily admit he still felt that while he knew much about her, she was still very much a mystery. It was intriguing how indebted she felt to Artemis. From what he could tell, Crystal's Visitation had come much, much earlier than for any of the others. She's been a child when Artemis first appeared to her, everyone else he'd spoken to had been at least in their mid-teens. So was it kindness because Crystal's real divine parent hadn't yet claimed her or was it poaching before the other parent reached out to the girl?

He should probably never voice that question to Crystal or Artemis; he hadn't gotten tired of breathing just yet.

"I think we can all agree on that last part." He laughed and shook his head, "In a lot of ways, choosing to fight the monsters is the easy part of what we do. It's clear cut and without moral quandary; a nice change from the rest of life." Evan pursed his lips and tilted his head back to look up at the sky overhead, "I wonder about that though too, sometimes. I mean, with all this fighting and the war with the Titans, what's going to happen to us once it's over? Will we be able to go back home or live a normal life? It's not like you can put any of this on a resume or use it to explain to the IRS why you haven't filed your tax returns."

 

[Kinkerhell]

Brigitte listened to Crystal speak with her lips pursed and her eyes thoughtful. She could see where Crystal was coming from, but she couldn't reconcile it with her own views. Perhaps it was a celestial culture thing, but Brigitte just couldn't understand how a woman who was thrown into the woods as a child by a cosmic sadist could be so reverent.

She turned as Evan began to talk again, and had to bite her lip to keep from smiling once more. She was only partially successful, and the corners of her mouth turned up just the same. He was so wonderful. She'd known him only for minutes and had already grown fond of him. Perhaps it was because he was in the same situation, the same place, the same dire hell.* Maybe it was because he seemed so warm and charming. Maybe it was just because he was really hot. No matter the reason, Brigitte liked the man. When he got to the part about the monsters, though, something in Brigitte's head clicked.

Brigitte waited for Evan to wind down and said, "Well, as I understand, people in our position either go on using our powers for whatever end we might, become gods, or die. I don't think we'll ever be in the position that requires filling out a tax form, and even if we are, so what? You could just smile and nod and say it was all a mistake, and they'd believe you."

Brigitte took a deep breath, unsure of how the other Scions would react to what she was about to say. "You mentioned killing monsters, Evan, and how it was without moral quandary." She paused, then continued. "Is it? I mean, really? Sure, our moral compass generally points north where killing fell creatures is concerned, but is it always so clear cut?"

Brigitte began to pace again. "Look at it from their point of view. They were created the way they are. We're born, we develop, our powers come to us naturally. They're constructed, with no choice and knowing no other way. From their point of view, our parents eviscerated theirs, then tossed them in a dark hole to languish for the rest of eternity, so that our parents could rule the cosmos."

Brigitte turned and looked imploringly at Evan and Crystal. "Think about it! We're the bad guys from a certain perspective, killing them because of a grievance against their creators and because of their natures. Sure, a vampire or vrykolakas must feed on blood, and a Leanan Sidhe feeds on a mortal's soul, but that's just the way they are, its not a conscious choice."

Brigitte sits and rests her elbows on her knees, staring at the ground. Quietly, she says, "The worst things ever done to me are by people. Mundane, ordinary, garden variety humanity. But we don't kill them." She laughs bitterly.

"No, that would irritate Mommy or Daddy dearest. Instead, we commit mystical genocide, one dead titanspawn at a time. Were it possible, I'd be delighted to work with them, instead of killing them off." She looks up. "But its not, is it? Most of them are just going to go on killing, because that's what they do. So I'm just going to go on killing, because that's what I do, and when the day comes that all evil is banished from the world, I too will go down into the dark, swallowing curses."*

OOC: So, I've started tagging quotes and references with an asterisk. They'll give us something to do when we're waiting for a post. Both of the ones in this post are from books, one esoteric, one fairly famous amongst SF/F fans.

 

[cats]

Crystal

IC: "I think you are over looking something simple. Ask nearly any one and they will tell you murder and killing is wrong. This has been the basic response since history was first recorded. But since the same time few ever have qualms about killing in war, we are at war. True it may not look it since so few battles are being fought but that is because our small numbers, and thankfully the small numbers of titan spawn."

I returned to patching the hole in the shelter. "As for our plans after this, it is my turn to be fatalistic. I do not expect to see the after. This war started long before any of us were born and unless one side or the other is about to make a plan come to fruition I very much believe it will go on long past us."

I looked into the small dry area under the shelter. It would be cozy but it was easily enough for two people. That was all that was needed since one person had to keep watch.

"But despite what I just said I don't expect to die fighting, not if I have any choice of it. I will eventually grow tired of my service and part ways with this life style. Sit down and focus on my writing, which I hope is better then."

"I think our talk is heavy for this late hour. We should set watch and then rest til dawn."