Asuryan

[OOC: argh! Falcon won't be able to be at Gal's this evening for certain reasons (related to roleplay), and already I see so many new interesting people she would so much like to see and know! welcome, all of you, both old customers of Ladies of the Lake and new arrivals! I am enjoying your conversations and roleplaying thoroughly! ]

"My name, both earned and given, is Falcon Kitiara... a pleasure to meet you, Paravespula."
The red-haired warrior bowed her head slightly, then said with a smile:
"I am not sure of the nonexistance of a god or gods. And I am not sure that such beings exist either. It's true, there are lots of people around claiming to be gods, but what is a god after all?
Is a god someone able to fly, or to regenerate his/her wounds very fast, or to fight for hours at end without feeling tired at all? Normal people would consider these things supernatural and, thus, expression of the will of a god, and lots of these so-called gods would point to these skills as a demonstration of their divine origin. Well, tough luck, since I can do those things too, using meditation and training. This doesn't make me a goddess."
Her smile was amused, apparently by the idea of being called a goddess.

"For centuries, humanity has called "gods" or "God's will" things like thunderbolts, volcano eruptions, floodings, forest fires. Now we know that such things are caused by Nature and her normal adjustments, or from her reaction to our actions. I think that if we should meet, on another dimension, a race of all-powerful, omniscient beings, we shouldn't call them gods, no matter their power... We should call them friends, offer them our friendship instead of worship. "God" is a word that has been used to justify bloodshed, slavery and war so many times in the past... it brings with it a ...bad sensation."

"This is not to say that there aren't gods at all or that supernatural doesn't exist. They very well could. Only..." she toyed with her empty glass of cider "...well, I'm ready to accept both possibilities. If there is a goddess there, I won't fear her judgement, since I am living as I want, without regrets, and harming no one, helping people when I can. If there will be nothing... well, no problems for me either, will be like a peaceful, endless sleep. Of course I hope that the banished pantheon won't get a hold of my body! Have you seen those husks in Dark Astoria?" her smile became playful.
She felt it was late: the place would've closed soon. She decided that she would've left the place as soon as the Sisters did.

Falcon Kitiara cocked her head to one side, watching the metal person, unable to keep her eyes on its "eyes", looking in turn at the joints, the shoulders, the neck. Her eyes went back to its "eyes" only when both him and the Sister had stopped talking.
"But you are an intelligent being capable of thought and feeling. Isn't it self evident?"
She gestured toward the android.
"You just came here, asking questions about the soul and the afterlife, and answering our questions in turn. You also did say that you sometimes feel disturbed. To me, this is proof of an intelligent being capable of both thought and feeling."
She smiled.
"About the afterlife, well, I guess that people can believe lots of different things about it, but no one can really know anything. Every religion will talk about the afterlife, everyone will tell you a different version of what is there after death. This, I think, is caused mostly by fear... people are terribly afraid of dying."
She could still remember her parents' words about an afterlife and religions: she had resumed those words avoiding the blunt part. Her parents had greatly despised religions and every other thing without a scientific basis.
"Animals, on the other hand, do not."
This was a thing she had learned first-person, though.
"Animals don't fear death, thus they don't need an afterlife. They accept it when their moment arrives, have no need for prayers, for priests, for threats of a hell or eternal torment in flames or what else." she shook her head with a small sigh. One of the first events that happened to her when she had just arrived in america, had been being approached by an inquisitive-looking old man, asking her if she had been "saved". She had listened the man for a bit, then simply walked away when he had tried to scare her into believing with threats of hell and torture.
"They live as fully as animals can, and when they die they have no regrets, nor do they care if they are about to disappear forever or if they will reincarnate in another living creature; they just accept their fate."
She looked the android deep in its visor.
"Of course you might say that it is so just because animals are less intelligent than humans, and can't understand what death is... but I don't think so. Animals do understand what death is (you can see it in the behaviour of a very ill animal), they just don't make a fuss about it. In fact, animals fight fiercely to protect their cubs, their health and their freedom, but don't fight at all when death comes. Acceptation."
She smiled again.
"For me, it is the same thing. I think that if I live a full life, as I really want to live it, without harming any innocent, and respecting other people, in the end I will be at peace with myself, no matter if I will simply cease to exist, or if I will be judged by a god or a goddess. I will have no regrets."

[OOC: Falcon's views about religion may be harsh, but no offense is meant toward anyone at all, really. After all she has been raised by atheist parents and grew up alone... no sunday school or churches for her This is how I imagine her personality to have evolved, given her past.]

Falcon smiled to Gal, and greeted her only after the Sisters had done it before her. It seemed right somehow. She had decided not to ask about Gal's mistress and partner, it seemed a complicated matter and one that pained her greatly; perhaps it wasn't the right time to ask her to go over the whole story again.
"Hello, Gal." she nodded "Yes, I will come to your island as soon as I can: after all the lovely things I have heard about it, and after I have been so kindly invited by the sisterhood, how could I refuse such an opportunity?" her smile was warm, her skin was lightened by the delicate white rays of her aura, dancing on her hair and brightly reflecting on her headpiece.

Falcon was also watching the metal person, curiosity in her eyes again; she had seen those things around the city, running around to do some task, but she had never thought before that they could talk and think: she had thought they were only robots, automatons or similar, programmed to do something and simply doing it.
Its voice seemed the voice of a male, but... it wasn't a "he", was he? After all, it... or he?... had been built, he said. While she so thought, her eyes looked at its groin with an innocent question in her mind: why a male voice if it wasn't a male?
"Are you a it or a he?" asked her, deciding that only looking at its groin wouldn't have helped her deciding.

[OOC she has no malice, she's just perhaps even less used to androids and cyborgs than sisters are ]

Falcon had been mainly talking to two of the Sisters, in a discreet tone, to avoid disturbing the others; she had just completed a phrase, when she heard Sparx voice; she turned her head toward him, red long hair swaying on her shoulders following the movement, and looked at him with genuine, unhidden curiosity in her eyes.

[OOC Sparx: could you give me a better description of yourself, please? after all, now the prying eyes of a lady are watching you closely... ]

Falcon Kitiara shivered slightly as the unexpected cold rush washed on her skin, then something similar to a warm wind caressed her pale skin; she closed her eyes with a small sigh, smiling, her mouth closed; she opened her eyes only when the pleasant breeze had ceased.
Her forehead had ceased throbbing, and her right hand went to her wound to check with it: the wound was simply vanished. Falcon's skin was smooth again, no bumps or pains at all.

Then the scents wafted to her nostrils, and she couldn't help but sniff deeply to fully perceive the different flavours in it.
"Thank you. It has been... very different from the other cures I have experienced during my fights in Paragon City. This was actually something" she paused, searching for the right word "...alive. Pulsating with life and feelings. Plus the side effects are so nice!"
She took her tiara in her hands and turned it so that the battle tiara faced her.
"I chose this tiara because I am from scandinavia, and there are many legends about vikings and valkyries there I grew up with. So, you see, I decided to use it, both because of my battle name (both a Falcon and the headpiece have raptor wings), and because this kind of tiaras seems to recall Valkyries to people as it did to me."
Kitiara held her hair with her left hand and put her tiara back in its place with the right. It sure was very pleasant not to feel that tugging, pulsating pain anymore. She inhaled deeply, to find out if there were still traces of those inviting scents.

"Cure me? Yes, please."
Falcon sat nearer to the table and removed her golden winged headpiece, putting it on the table she waited for Lady Almira's touch; on her forehead, right in the middle, there was a big bump with a purple-blackening bruise around it, where the blow had ruptured some blood vessels. A small cut, that wasn't bleeding anymore, rested on top of the bump. An ugly wound.
However, her hair, now free from the metal prison of the battle tiara, revealed itself as very long, almost touching the upper part of her thighs, and some locks descended on her left eye: she shaked her head, almost horse-like, and the locks went back in place.

While she waited for Almira's healing, she listened to the explanation about goats and cattle. On farming, she knew nothing; and she enjoyed learning something new about animals in general.

Thorn's words took her by surprise; a pleasant one. Falcon's eyes widened, and she asked:
"A sculpture of me? I have no experience as a model, but I would be honored to be one for you." she bowed her head slightly, and her wild free locks moved again in front of her eyes. With an impatient gesture, she put them again behind her ears.

[OOC: waiting for your PM with much anticipation! ]

"The Ferrymaster in Talos. Got it."
Falcon Kitiara nodded toward Waspe "If nothing is to be harmed, nothing will be harmed."
Her emerald eyes shone in anticipation, thoughts already flying to the wild woods and their sets of natural wonders.

"If I have understood right, you don't eat of anything walking the earth; do you have cattle or poultry on your island, for milk, cheese and eggs? Or do you only eat what grows from the soil and swims in the sea?" she asked again, her tone interested in the answer but relaxed too: it had been and still was a pleasant evening. Pleasant people to talk to, something to learn, and an interesting conversation too. The warrior slightly rubbed her winged headpiece, to check with the hidden wound on the forehead. It was still throbbing, although less painfully than before; she was rather sure it had stopped bleeding.

"It will be a real pleasure to run with you, Lupa; as soon as the fight against crime is going to give me a short pause, I will be glad to come and visit for a few days."
Her tone became firm: "However, I do want to do something for you, in turn, to repay you for your kind invite. I insist - just tell me what and it shall be done."


[OOC she trusts the Sisters, and believes that they would never ask her something dishonorable or improper. Of course, if they insist in turn that no favour is needed, she won't press the issue to avoid being impolite, but it would make her happy to contribute actively to the little community's wellbeing. ]

"I can." answered Falcon to Lupa, with a smile. She could perfectly understand, and feel on herself the sensations evoked by, Lupa's words. No running on the asphalt of Skyway city could equate to running in the scandinavian woods, no jukebox music could equate to the singing of birds and the sound of wind through the leaves.
How she wished to go back to her homeland, even for a mere week.

"Maybe one of these days you could show me the forests of your island, Lupa."
She didn't know if there were woods on the Sisters' island, but if there were any, she would've liked to again see a pure forest, without circle of thorns cultists and whose rivers weren't polluted with the Paragon City sewage and monsters.

The reference about dancing under the moon naked was wasted on Falcon Kitiara; she hadn't read the magazine they were referring to, and when her parents had explained to her the superstitions about ancient witchcraft they had omitted the sexual part of those slanders; however she had swimmed inside a stream in the middle of the night, under the moon, and it had been almost magical, so quiet and peaceful.
Falcon kept listening all the different voices, the elder and the young, saying the same thing: love could not be evil. Of course she agreed with that.

"Thank you for your answers. They all make sense and have much wisdom. I think they are not shared by the rest of society, though, because there must be a reason I've only seen females hand in hand with males around the streets and in parks... never seen females with females or males with males since I am in this city."
Falcon had finished her glass of cider, and was now substaining her chin with her left fist, again with a gesture more proper for a little girl than for an adult woman.
"And if this doesn't happen because they are afraid of people's reactions and judgement... I feel sorry for them. And annoyed, too, since this is something one can't solve with sword or flight."

Falcon watched Anvil with an expression of both childlike innocence and puzzlement, when the huge Sister made her sneaky remark. Her short stay in the city and civilized areas, and her loss of her parents before they could talk to her about such matters, both explained the reasons beneath her puzzlement; one of the things she hadn't learned about in her life was discrimination against same-sex relationships. The romantic dinner with Steve was as far as she ever went.
"I can only talk hypotetically, since I never had any sentimental relationship, neither with women nor with men... I've only read something about love in some books when I was little... but I don't think I like men more than women. Why should I, is there any reason for it?"
Her eyes went from Anvil's face to Cinque's face, questioningly. Her eyes were now as pure as they had been ferocious before, as she was as expert in revenge as she was naive in love.

"I guess people can change a lot then."
Falcon Kitiara looked at Gemini with a bit of amazement; Gemini always seemed so elegant, so lady-like, so composed and polite, perfectly in control of her emotions. The warrior just couldn't figure Gemini taking pleasure from someone else's pain, hands and katana soaked in blood.

"And... it is true, all of us seek justice... just in different ways. A lynx, a deer and a wolf are equally part of nature, no matter their differences."
She smiled, looking both the Sisters and Hand of Ma'at. So many different people! In the woods, there were none, just her and her parents and, later, only her. She had never thought before that people could be similar to different species of animals, and that there were so many different paths to reach a single goal. It was a good thing to be learned.

She thought again about Hand's story. Her parents... how cruel they were! Or had been, she didn't know. How could it be possible to treat a child in such a way? Falcon Kitiara, at least, had her parents' fond memories to keep her company while she had been in the woods alone, but Hand... of course, she had had a religious order to care for her, but still she was deeply sorry for the dark skinned woman.

She nodded to Tre "I would be happy to stay a while longer, you are wonderful company."
Falcon's eyes sparkled with renewed curiosity as a question sprang to her mind.
"If I may ask... why are there no Brothers, only Sisters?"

Falcon turned her head toward Lady Gemini, and shook it slightly: "No, no, I never meant to imply that you are afraid of fighting or uncapable to do so. Only that revenge seems something ...rather distant from people such as you, what with your pacific, tolerant tenets, and all."

She tried to explain herself better.
"Sharon didn't feel the need for revenge on Lupa when she lost two fingers. Lupa didn't feel the need for revenge when she discovered that she had become a lycanthrope because of Sharon's curse. Hand of Ma'at didn't feel the need for revenge against her parents, for those years of emprisonment... or at least, I think she didn't feel it, your voce, Hand, was not vibrating with the tones of rage." she nodded toward Hand.
"I admire how all of you reacted in those times, but I am not sure I could do the same thing myself. All of you, you don't seem people that could enjoy bloodshedding and inflicting pain; in your hands, Gemini, I'm sure that even revenge loses its hatred and becomes retribution."

She smiled again.
"But if you think that I am worthy of setting feet on your island, even if I have not yet managed to put my revenge behind me, I will be glad to visit your island, and to fight to protect it should the need arise."
She sheathed her sword again; the runes flickered a bit and the blade reflected their light.

[If some of the Sisters have touched the sword, and have the power to perceive such things, they will probably sense that the sword is somehow alive, partially with a mind of its own, and partially linked to Falcon Kitiara and echoing her memories and feelings.]

Falcon Kitiara chased away her grim thoughts to focus her eyes on the one called Lady Tre, her expression full of surprise.
When Tre had talked about beliefs and the purpose of life, she surely had talked about the Hand of Ma'at. When Tre had talked about Lady Almira, she had probably talked about Hand of Ma'at again, because how could Falcon be complimented for her faith when she didn't have one?
This wasn't a problem for her; she liked to listen as well. Those words, she had carefully listened, as she had listened the words of Ma'at about justice and order, and the oyster plume; believer among believers, faithful among Sisters. Yes, the Ladies of the Lake seemed akin to Hand of Ma'at; the same silent mistery in their gestures and rituals, the calm knowledge of something awaiting beyond death. She admired those aspects of the Sisters' and Hand's behaviour even more, almost like beautiful paintings, since she had never known any religion inside her woods.
So it would seem perfectly normal that they offered the Hand of Ma'at a place on their island. She was just wondering how would it be to fly above the sisters' island, when...

"...me too?"
Her eyes were full of wonder. After all she had told about... revenge, about killing, about bloodlust, they still thought she was good company? Not only that, but they were also inviting her on their sacred island!
"I... but..."
She wasn't ashamed of herself, and her shyness was not derived from insecurities, only from the fear of not knowing about Paragon's customs and risk offending someone unwillingly. She was so different from the Sisters, she knew nothing about rituals, hierarchy, rites, ceremonies, she would've never guessed that they could want one as wild as she in their Island.
Then she noticed Hand of Ma'at standing up and bowing with a perfect movement; her first instinct was to stand up beside her, fast! and try and imitate her bow. She suppressed that instinct firmly: the Sisters had offered a place on the island to her, Falcon Kitiara, with her behaviour just as it was, her thoughts, her virtues and flaws. Trying to imitate someone else's bow would've been akin to insulting them. They wanted her inside their Island as much as they wanted Ma'at, two different people; Falcon's strenght was not in rituals, and she decided to act spontaneously, as always.

"Thank you. I will treasure your offer, and your words."
She simply decided to let her face, her eyes and her smile do the talking.

[OOC first time she talks to religious people, so she doesn't know exactly what would please them, hence the hesitation about the bow. She is not religious, but a brief conversation would reveal that she is a spiritual person, believing in nature... in a very personal way.
I like the contrast between Falcon's wild nature, and Hand of Ma'at self-controlled, polite and refined behaviour, it makes things interesting!]

"I loved them very much" answered Falcon to Thorn's words. "Their death was... unnecessary."
She had heard the warmth in Thorn's words; those words comforted her like a tender caress. She had lost her mother too soon, and sometimes she had a strong piercing desire of her mom's arms around her shoulders.
She smiled, thankfully, rotating the upper border of the glass between her left fingers.
"I am proud of the path I've chosen, and of myself as I am today. I just wish I had more time to spend with them."
"Your words are kind" said the warrior, bowing her head both toward Sharon and Thorn "I don't know if I am bound for glory, there are so many heroes in this city and sometimes glory seems a bit diluted. I try to do my best everyday, however. To soar high in the skies above eastgate heights, or watching the sun setting on Talos Island from above the golden clouds, is enough for me to be at peace."

She declined Thorn's offer with a voice sincerely thanking her. Both for the food offer and for the warmth in her previous words.
"I have already eaten, but I will gladly order a pint of apple cider to drink. the night is still young."

Then she listened Sharon's story; Falcon's eyes were fixed inside Sharon's and Lupa's eyes, she didn't listen with ears alone, but with her heart. And their expressions, from a little tension in the lips to a little arching of the eyebrow, could speak volumes. In the woods, she had learned to recognize fear, anger, hunger, curiosity, shyness, friendship and love in the animals' postures, eyes, fur, ears movement.
This was a bit like it.

She meditated on what she had heard. An interesting story. So, the two Sisters had managed to overcome their negative feelings; no doubt they had intense animosity between them in the past, but now it didn't seem to matter to them that Lupa had bitten off 2 fingers of Sharon, and that Sharon had condemned Lupa to such a curse.
An incredible feat. What would've she done to someone biting her off 2 fingers?
Most probably, she would have killed that someone.

She smiled to the second girl, then turned toward Lady Thorn, drinking a bit of cider before answering.
"My mother taught me lots of things that girls living in cities are supposed to know. Math, algebra, geometry, biology, physics, literature, foreign languages... basical culture things. My father taught me how to swim in the rivers, how to climb the highest trees, how to stalk a prey without being seen. I must admit, killing is something I have learned myself, when I was alone. Of course I only killed what I needed to feed myself, or to defend myself against attacking animals... but I admit that the main reason bringing me to retrieve my sword from the waterfall, and to train with it every day, six or seven hours a day, until my hands bled and my arms were numb, was revenge."
She knew that it wasn't a "politically correct" thing to say, but she didn't care, and she knew very little about politically correctedness anyway; it was the truth.
"The murder of my family gave me the drive to seek revenge, and develop the power and knowledge I needed to get that revenge. Without revenge in mind, without my wish to kill, my training would've been much less effective. I don't know how, but I am sure that my sword could... understand me, and wished for the same things that I did. She wanted to drink blood, and much of it. So many years, with only revenge in mind. Every night I woke up screaming, seeing again the bodies of my parents, and every day I daydreamed about what I would've done to them as soon as I could get my hands on them..."
Her red aura intensified for a moment and her eyes flared. It was better to avoid details... her teen years thoughts had been.. graphically intense, to say the least. Ferocious, and outright cruel, would've probably been a better definition.

"Then, when the moment came, when I faced my enemies, I probably was able to survive only because of that revenge instinct and the training it has provided me. Avoiding bullets, getting some without caring for the blood loss, that kind of things. Without revenge, I would've died there.
Revenge helped me to survive... even if in the end, I just turned my enemies to the police, without killing them. It's sad to say, but I am what I am now... along with my pride for being this way... only because my parents have died. Were they still alive, I would probably be much less strong than I am..."
And, she somehow implied, if she was proud of what she was right now, she also was proud of the events that brought her to become what she was.
So... was she proud that her parents had died?
This was her greatest doubt. How could she be proud of herself when her parents had died and she was still alive?
Her eyes were a bit tormented, while she became silent again and cupped the pint of cider inside her black, leather gloved hands.

[OOC don't worry Ma'at, one of the amazing things about play by forum is the way we can make 2 posts at the same time, and just assume that in game they took place one after another. So the sisters will be able to answer you and listen me without problems ]

Kitiara thought for a second: there were many stories that she could tell about the sword. She decided to tell the first one, it was a fond memory for her, after all.
She leaned toward, arms on the table, as if whispering a secret to an old friend, but her voice was firm.
"First of all, you will hear many times my voice calling the sword a "she". I will explain the reason for it later."
"My father had put this sword inside a cave for me. I went inside the cave, nothing more than a twelve years' old, frightened and unsure about what to do; my parents... had just died, and I had found a message from him telling me to retrieve the sword from the cave.
I was already frightened before entering the dark cave, and was even more so after I went in; I remember that it was damp, and cold, and the walls were dripping. That wasn't like the banished pantheon and devouring earth tunnels, whose crystals shed light on the paths; it was a regular cave, but it certainly didn't seem so at that time. Sure, my body was stronger and more athletic than a regular 12-years old, thanks to the training I had undergone, but I was a child nonetheless.
I arrived at the end of the tunnel, in a big cavern; the luminescent crystals I have so often seen in Paragon City's caves were scattered everywhere, shedding light on a beautiful little subterranean waterfall. The water from the waterfall collected in a small lake, brightly colored in all shades of green and purple, because there were other crystals inside the pool; and the waves made the light breathe and move as if it was alive."

She had none of the mannerisms of a professional storyteller, but her words were true and felt, a weave of emotions and memories. She wasn't only talking, she was also living again her story.
"I saw something glittering in the pool, just under the waterfall. To reach for it, I had to walk right under the waterfall, getting soaking wet in the process; the sword was caged inside an ovoidal casing, made with the same crystals that were shining all around me. She sparkled and shimmered, her steel blade reflecting every single ray of light that touched her, and amplifying, refracting it like a prism, projecting on my outstretched hands all the colors of a rainbow."
Her fingers slightly moved on the glass of wine, echoing that outstretching movement.
"I removed her from her cage, and the moment my hands touched her metal, I saw the runes along her blade lighting with a fiery glow, and pulsating at the same pace of my heart beat: you can see it even now in the sword you keep in your hands, her runic red pulse is my heart pulse. I felt... No, I knew, from that moment, that this sword was destined to me. I couldn't separate from her, no more than I could separate from an arm or a leg; I didn't have a sheath, so I just held her in my arms while I went out of the cave.
But there is no mercy in nature for a twelve years old, not if that child is wandering in the scandinavian woods near nightfall, soaked with water and scarcely clothed. I was freezing and already my body was becoming numb, I had no more home to return to.
And then I saw the bear."

She drank her wine and tried to find the right words to describe what her eyes had seen.
"Well... He was a great male brown bear. Probably upset that I stumbled on his territory; he roared, standing on his hind legs, but I was too frightened to run away. I had no place to run to.
Then he attacked. It was all a blur from that moment: his fur; my hands, stilll holding the sword, held up in front of my face to protect me from the impact; the sword cutting the bear's skin, his muscles, lacerating him a lung and the left side of the heart; a spray of blood showering me and the bear almost falling down on me.
This was the first time I have ever killed, and it was... against my will. I held up my hands just to brace from the impact, never thinking I would have been able to kill him; he was so big and powerful, I couldn't believe I was still alive.
But his death meant life for me. I used my sword to take the skin of the bear, cloaked inside it, ate his raw liver, and found his lair, where his female was still sleeping, lethargic. I passed my first night alone there, lying against the side of the she-bear; I think she didn't wake up because she smelled her mate on me, since I was covered in his skin."

"The following morning I went out of the bear cave; I was more confident, because I had managed to survive the night, and to kill a prey so big just when I thought I would've become a prey myself. The first thing I did was going back to the bear's corpse, so frozen from the bitter cold of the night that I found it perfectly conserved, and I sliced his meat in thin strips that I put on a green wood fire to dry and smoke; it lasted me for many days, and I ... am grateful to that bear, without him I wouldn't be alive today.
From then on, I focused on surviving, living of nature and inside it, as much a part of it as every other beast of the woods - and learning to wield my blade every day better than the day before; sometimes I wonder, if I managed to eviscerate a fully grown bear when I barely had the strenght to lift my sword toward it, what could I do to a human body, now that I am fully grown and developed my strenght, if I hit him to kill, instead of simply wounding and stunning.
But needless killing is murder, and I don't want to become as bad as the criminals I fight."

She breathed deeply, letting the memory go, and wetting her lips with a glass of apple cider. Her eyes were focused on Sharon, and her missing fingers; she was sure that behind that wound there had to be an interesting story as well. Perhaps it was her love for weapons that brought her that wound?

Falcon Kitiara watched the creation of a new chair with genuine amazement; this wasn't simple botany, this was magic! She had seen lots of heroes using their magic powers to create elemental forces. Fire to hurt, ice to freeze, electricity to stun, energy to maim, but this was the first time she saw magic used for something different than battles.
Maybe this was the reason why Thorn's magic seemed to her much more "magical" than the purely destructive ones. It seemed so... natural; not so different from the simple growth of a flower in a meadow. And yet, there was magic in both.

"Protocol knowledge is not my best asset, I must admit... So I'm glad to be able to talk with you as an equal, as well as being able to share what I know, little as it may be".
She handed out her sword, still sheathed, to the Sister admiring it.
"Of the crafting of this sword, I don't know much. She... no, it, is the legacy of my father, and he never talked about it; he only told me about it when it was too late to ask any questions. My knowledge about crafting is limited to the basic skills to keep her in top shape. I would never want it to rust or lose its edge. Another sword wouldn't do... It's this sword I feel tied to."
She sipped the wine, then went on, fighting between the wish for detailing and the shyness to avoid talking too much (if there was such a thing here). Falcon was aware that she was sometimes calling her sword a "she" instead of a "it", but it was her instinct to do so. She felt that, somehow, it wasn't wrong to call the sword a "she".

[OOC: Sibling, give me a hint about the sisters' desires. Should she go into details (thus giving me the opportunity for a good story, albeit perhaps a bit long) or should she resume the story in 5 - 6 lines? I ask because it wouldn't be cool for her to tell a long tale while the sisters' aren't willing to listen to it, or for her to speak one or two lines when the sisters' are really wishing to hear more from her. ]

Falcon followed Lady Gemini to the table; at first, she had wondered if her sword would've been seen with suspicion or hostility, as if she was implying that she didn't trust the Sisters' group. So the tension in her muscles melted away when she saw that it wasn't so; not only that, but their glances seemed appreciative as soon as they heard that she had a blade with her.
Kitiara looked at the women with a hint of curiosity in her eyes, but also a slight wild shyness, like a wolf adventuring inside unknown territory; she took the chair that was offered to her, thanking the group with a silent nod.
"Thank you for your invite. I'm pleased to meet you... all of you."
She quickly looked behind, to see if Lady Thorn had found another chair for herself.

"A glass of wine would be fine.. thank you."
While they handed the glass to Falcon, she said, after a bit of uncertainty:
"Lady Gemini has already stated my name, and, as you probably have guessed, my specialty is sword fighting, although I can handle myself with fists if so needed. I don't have a formal knowledge in botany, but I am very fond of trees and can recognize many since I grew up inside a wood." she turned toward Sharon, and smiled, a bit less shyly; she wasn't sure what to talk about with these women, she knew nothing about their order and their customs, what if she would unwillingly offend them? She hoped it wouldn't came to pass, they seemed to be very interesting people, and she didn't want to blow out the conversation.
But her sword, yes, this was something she knew well and could talk about.
"Do you like swords too? A lot of people I've met have said that it's a heavy weapon, and some people I've fought with have even suggested I swap it with a katana, but I find its weight to be just right for my arm; I tried an undead-slaying axe some weeks ago, and (after my sword) it was the better weapon I've ever wielded."
She brought her hand to her sheath.
"Would you like to see it?"

[OOC ah well, I was slower to answer this time. Must be getting old :P ]

When Hand of Ma'at arrived at the table, as stranger to the Sisters' as she was judging by the way she was looking at the robed women's faces, Falcon turned toward her and offered her her right hand. No long formulas, nor formal greetings. Just her right hand, a timid smile and a "Falcon Kitiara."

Falcon stood beside the table, looking at the woman near her table. Her accent, and the almond eyes... she didn't know many people with almond eyes, but could this one be the japanese lady she dined with two evenings before? Perhaps the mask was meant to keep her identity secret.
She extended her left hand too, to take the one offered to her, and nodded.
"If my presence is wished for, I will gladly come."
Her eagerness was mirrored by her eyes, but her gestures remained graceful. She adjusted her sword on her shoulder, and followed the other woman...

[OOC oh thank Gaia, Falcon will be able to do something even if she is not the prying type ]

Falcon Kitiara nodded to Gypsy: "I am happy to see you too, with Gal away you must be very busy in the kitchen. I hope I'll see you later, to thank you for the Goulash."
Then Gypsy went to greet her... friends? Her fighting group? Or something else? Falcon couldn't really figure out. They didn't seem exactly friends, what with the genuflexing and bowing. Looking at the group of robed women, she putted in her mouth a piece of Goulash and started chewing it. Her eyes watered a bit: it was tasty and saucy, but it sure was spicy! She decided to eat the stew in smaller pieces, accompanying it with bites of bread, to dilute the spiciness.

Other women kept arriving, all with robes or tunics, white or blue, plus there were the green ones that entered before the others. Somehow, it didn't seem... proper to go and disturb them, or even to stare at them too insistently; both the clothing and the ceremonial revealed how those women were part of a group, perhaps a religious one, an order. She wasn't part of that order, simple as that.
She enjoyed her meal: the mushrooms were delicious, as always. She had already decided they were a fixed dish for her, something she just couldn't eat when at Gal's. The Goulash was tasty and juicy as she had heard from various sources, and the bread helped her with a spiciness she wasn't used to.

She had drunk the first mug of light beer, and had just started the second one, when she thought that was a good moment to go to the toilet and check the wound. She stood up, and with an automatic gesture she took the sheathed sword with her.
Inside the ladies' room, she leaned toward the great mirror, and after checking that no one was around to see, she removed her headpiece.
Her hair fell down her back, her shoulderpads and her bosom like a red waterfall, surpassing her belt of a good 5 inches; Kitiara removed her gloves and soaked her hands with fresh water, then passed them on her hair to keep them far enough from the wound and to be able to see it.
She grimaced again, this time because of the wound's aspect. Well, at least it didn't seem to be infected. The color of the skin around the little cut was a deep violet, somewhere already turning to black, a bad ematoma. The wound itself was a mess of dried blood, and the inside of her headpiece was too.
She sighed, shaking her head. Good thing she hadn't removed the headpiece in the pub. She soaked a paper towel, and used it to clean the headpiece until no trace of blood could be found on it; she then bent over the sink and washed her face, until her face was clean of all the old blood.
Falcon dried her face with another paper towel, then she putted her gloves on and her headpiece back on her head: the metal pressure on the wound was annoying, but not really painful, unless she directly touched her headpiece pressing it against her forehead.
With some locks still wet from the sink water, Falcon carefully washed the sink to remove any traces of blood, and went out of the ladies' room again; a bit relieved (it wasn't bad as a fractured skull would have been), she strided toward her table.

"No headache, luckily. Just a wound. I'll check with that later." Falcon smiled "Being near the fireplace is a relief when one is cold."

"I think I will have the usual mushroom appetizer, and I will try the Goulash as well. I have heard lots of things about the Goulasch, and it should be very tasty if I remember right. Since I have the feeling I will drink a lot to quench the spiciness of the meal, I would like to have a mug of light beer too."

Before the young waitress went to get Falcon Kitiara's green tea, the warrior whispered, confidentially, leaning forward:
"When you have got time, you'll have to tell me something about Manion - he seems such a fine man! -and I'll tell you something about Steve if you want."

She then turned towards the two green clad women while Beth went to get her tea. The blonde Sister was observing everybody in the pub, and when her eyes rested on Kitiara, the scandinavian woman looked her back, right in the eyes, with no arrogance; just curiosity, and genuine interest in whatever was going to happen.
Almost unconsciously, she started wondering if fighting inside those long tunics was difficult; perhaps these women weren't fighters, though. Mages, or something like that? However, how can one run and move quickly if she risks tripping into such long a tunic?

Kitiara followed Martin to the table, and sat down draping her sheath to the back of the chair, as she always did. She nodded toward the kind englishman, thanking him with both words a bow of her head.
"The green tea will do, I trust your recommendations. I don't have much experience with spices, but I'm sure that everything I'm going to eat this evening will be delicious - as always."
She didn't want to steal too much time to Martin, seeing as he was always very busy. Her eyes, although tired, were also grateful for the personal attention that he had granted her; she wasn't still used to be treated with such courtesy.

While beth neared her table, she carefully touched her headpiece, without removing it. With a grimace, she felt that the wound from the unwanted speed boost was hard and swelling, moderately painful. She was sure that she hadn't fractured her skull, though. It could've been much, much worse, hitting a wall at such a speed.
Perhaps she should've gone to the toilet and check with the wound. She decided to do that later, she was more hungry than troubled about her wounds.

"Good evening, Beth. How are things going?" she asked the waitress as she came. Her eyes went to Manion's table for some seconds, almost with a will of their own, then she looked Beth again.
"Martin will bring me some green tea, that will be a good start. However, I would appreciate your recommendations too: I... let's say I have never eaten spicy dishes before now. What are miss Gipsy's specialties, and which one of them would you recommend?"

[OOC it's not that she doesn't trust Martin's veal suggestions, it's just that she is curious to know about the rest of the dishes for this evening

"?"
Falcon Kitiara's expression was a bit confused as Martin talked about the lovely young women; could he be speaking about her? She was sure she wasn't at her top that evening: even her red aura trembled and flickered around her. Then she noticed the woman a bit ahead of her.
"Oh. Yes, it seems there are interesting people this evening."

She brought a hand to her eyes and slightly, quickly rubbed them. Lowering her hand again she said to Martin:
"A table near the fire would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, Martin. For now, I would rather have a cup of something warm - perhaps some tea? I can ask Beth what varieties of tea are available."
"I'm not waiting anyone this evening - but I would like to reserve a table by the dining room for the day after tomorrow, for 2 people, around 8:30 PM, for me and Steve, if he hasn't already reserved the table himself."
Her smile, although tired, was tinted with shyness.

[OOC: in two days she will dine with Steve, a bit of waiting won't hurt for the first elegant dinner together ]

Falcon Kitiara had awakened in the afternoon's first hour, as grateful (as every morning) for the soft touch of the covers and mattress as only someone having slept for years on hard soil can be; after all she had gone to sleep at dawn's first lights, no wonder she had awakened so late. She had stretched herself, smiling: it had been a wonderful evening. Steve had been a perfect gentleman, respectful and courteous. She acknowledged that she could be wrong and his behaviour could be perfectly common, but somehow she doubted it.
Then something dawned on her mind and she had jumped out of bed hastily, running into the shower and opening the water without waiting for it to warm up: the Task Force! Manticore had asked for her help and the fighting group she was in had agreed to help her with that. She had washed quickly, had eaten two scrambled eggs with bacon, and had ran out of her little house.

She loved doing Task Forces, she always ended up doing great things for the city when she fought for a member of the Freedom Phalanx. However, in the end, she always felt so tired she thought her arms would fall down separated from the rest of the body.
Sword up, sword down, slashing, hacking, jumping and rotating her blade around her like a whirlwind of pain, lifting up the blade and smashing it on the head of the enemies with all the weight of her body and strenght of her arms. Running around, protecting blasters and controllers, then running again to reach the nearest enemy. All this multiple times, a hundred? A thousand? ten thousand times? For hours and hours.
Plus, that stupid heroine had enchanted her with a Speed Boost spell; Kitiara's enhanced reflexes allowed her to go fast as the lightning without need of a boost, so before she knew that, she had run against a wall, hit her head at almost 100mph and almost fainted from the blow, blood running on her face. Her metal headpiece probably had saved her life. Her fighting group's members had sympathized with Kitiara: they knew what a burden could Speed Boost be.

But now here she was. Shining new Manticore badge, shining new ID attesting her new security level, sword dripping blood, pale face showing the signs of tiredness, her leather fighting clothes dripping blood and power armor oil. Luckily the clothes were treated with bees wax to preserve them from water. This made cleaning them much easier.
She lifted her head towards the dark sky: night already. She felt hungry and tired, but sleep could wait.
She had done her part for the day. She could very well afford something to eat at Gal's: all of those missions had left her with lots of influence on her credit card. How much exactly for the task force alone, she didn't know. 500.000? More?
She shrugged. She was a rich woman. Her thought wandered to another rich woman: Countess Crey. She had never seen her face to face, and never cared for her before today.
Falcon had seen the archvillain Hopkins, if this was his name. She was so tired, perhaps she was confusing his name with someone else's. She had collected some infos on this Hopkins before attacking him, to check his skills and his background; she had been amazed by what she had found. He was the second in command at crey's, but also something more for the Countess. He was always at her side, ready to sacrifice his life for the Countess', never getting too far from her; a life dedicated to another person.
Perhaps he was in love?
Plus, he was bald. And she had hitted him with less strenght that she should have, perhaps...
She shook her head: didn't know if it was fatigue or something else, but she should've really stopped with those thoughts. Steve wasn't Hopkins and she wasn't Countess Crey, that's for sure.

However, she was still dripping with blood, and perhaps it would've been better to have a bath before entering Gal's place; an idea came to her mind: she flew to Talos island, taking the Kings Row - Skyway - Talos route, and when she found a place where the water was clean, she plunged headfirst in the sea.
The salty water washed away blood and sweat and oil from her headpiece, her skin, her metal shoulderpads and her clothes; feeling the cold bite of the water against her skin she instantly felt less tired, the shock awakening her. She then flew outside the water and went back to Kings Row, the speed of her flight drying her better than a towel.
Falcon landed in front of Gal's place, and went in, smiling a grateful sigh as the warm air inside the place caressed her cold skin: she neared the Podium, waiting patiently for Martin...

[OOC boy, Manticore TF was funny, but I hate being speed boosted without the caster asking for my permission, really. I always bounce from walls. :P
Kitiara's fighting clothes are the leather ones she wore the first time she went to Gal's place: leather pants, leather brassiere, black cape with twin yellow lightnings, yellow metal winged headpiece, long black gauntlets with yellow lightnings on it. Only change: new boots. The old leather folded ones have been substituted by new combat boots, black, folded as well.
So her clothes are clean, but she seems (and is) cold, and her face remains tired ]

[OOC2: man, but is this post LONG!]

Falcon Kitiara:

Kitiara is her true name. Her first name, her family name she won't tell.
She chose Falcon to underline her passing from simple citizen to fighting hero. The falcon is a fighting bird, its flight is elegant without need of any training (as Falcon Kitiara's moves and posture are, she had to survive in a forest, alone, without equipment, and hunting and climbing and running and still be silent requires an excellent coordination and gracefulness), it is thought of as noble (and Kitiara's motives are noble, helping others, and avenging her parents), and it is alone (as she has been for so many years).

That's it