Sibling

"Hand of Ma'at," Lady Cinque, the red skinned and black-haired Guard stood quickly, seeing her bow, "We are honored by your show of grace, but you should know, there is never need to bow before us. You are not of our faith, no matter how close those faiths are. Thank you for your respect." She returned the bow, her braid staying down her back, held by several decorative pins to her tunic.

"You must understand," Lady Tre spoke again as Cinque was seated, "We follow the ways of our Order, but expect no one else to. By bowing to one of us, or all of us, you place upon us an honor which we do not deserve. Perhaps I can explain."

She stepped to the second table, pointing to three small girls in white. They stood quickly and followed her back to the main table, as Lady Sharon moved aside so that they could come within sight of all.

"Percy, who was the first Lady, and why did she find the path?" Tre asked.

"Lady, the first Lady was Morgaine, the Mother. She was lost of her parents as a young girl, and left in the forest, alone. She was found by the Forest People, who at that time held power in the woods and wild places. They showed her the ways of the wood, of old magick, and time is different there. When she came out from the forest, many years had passed. She found her people being hunted, driven from their lands by invaders, and the Forest People gave her a choice."

Lady Tre motioned and spoke quietly in explanation, "The Forest People would be called Faery or Sprites in English and Legend. They are real, though." She indicated the girl should continue.

"Lady, they told The Lady she could use her magick to stop the invaders, but she must make a choice. She could lead a life of Glory and Power, ruining the invaders and driving them out, or she could choose to live a long and wise life, helping those who would follow her in peace. This is how she found the path."

"And how did she choose, Mary?" Tre addressed another of the young.

"Lady, she chose to speak to her people, not to fight. But only the women and daughters would follow her, to safety, and the men went to war. In this way did the Order begin, promising never to start wars, never to fight when there were alternatives. So we have followed the rules she made. We shall not harm, if we can help. We shall not take from others, any thing, not food nor gold, when others are hungry. We shall always have an open door to those in need. We do not ask others to do what we will not.”

“Very good, Mary.” Tre’s words brought a blush to the girls freckled cheeks. She was of the age where freckles were still visible, but her face had begun to show womanhood.

“And Katrina, who is the leader of the Order? Who is most important?”

“The leader is one we have not met, and those we meet every day. The Goddess can appear as any person or thing, and even the beggar in the street. We will never know when we are being tested, so we must treat every person as The Goddess.”

“Excellent,” Lady Thorn proclaimed. “Your Mistresses should be proud, and their Ladies again!” The old woman’s eyes sparkled, remembering how it had been when she was that young.

“So, Miss Kitiara, Miss Hand, we try to provide help to those who need it. The Island is temporary refuge for many, not only our Order. They come when they are in need, and we provide for them, becoming friends. This is the tenet of The Sisters, ‘Do Good, Be Well’. The Island cannot be found unless a Sister brings you, and only by boat. If ever you need refuge, or a moment’s peace, The Island can bring these, you have only to ask a Sister, and they will know you.”

“Then it would appear,” Tre stated, “That our beliefs are similar. We also believe that deeds weigh on the judgement, but also knowledge. Our faith teaches that the purpose of life is knowledge, to learn all that you can. When the time comes, if you have learned enough, you are allowed to sit with The Goddess, if not, you return for another life, until you are wise enough.”

She pointed towards Lady Almira, who’s only features were her black eyes, the rest of her covered in robe and hood. “Lady Almira does not speak, and she is also a healer. She does not fight, and this is her right. She is often sought for her wisdom and kindness. You see, we also believe that war is a poor teacher, and the strongest always pursue peace. Those who do evil, or wrong, are simply misguided, or young souls without much knowledge.

“Lady Almira is able to speak with her mind, to some of us. She compliments you on your faith, to being so devout and strong in it, and says that you honor your mother and father. She gives you a high compliment, one which I would echo.” Some of the Sisters nodded, making murmurs of approval. “I believe that if you ever need help, or solace in time of pain, you could seek out our Island and gain it. One like you, like Falcon Kitiara, you are those who seek the right and truth. We provide peace for you in need.”

“This is said,” Lady Anvil spoke solemnly, and all the other Sisters replied, “So it is done.”

"You must have loved your parents," said Lady Thorn, lending her sympathy with her tone. In some cultures, physical contact was discouraged, and not knowing Falcon's beliefs, none of them would violate her personal space. "To be alone at such a young age, would be difficult." Some heads nodded, the table of younger Sisters had grown quiet.

"A tale worthy of greatness," stated Lady Sharon, the darkest skin at the table, perhaps, beside Hand. "Legends tell us that those bound for glory are often tied by great tragedy. The Sisters would offer you our sympathy on your loss, and I would offer you praise at what you have achieved. Your parents must have been strong people."

The two Sisters carrying the trays of food had arrived, and the plates were distributed, serving the Circle first, then the Guard and the blue and white robes in turn. All the plates were the same, except for portions. Simple foods, a small piece of baked fish, rice, lentils, some greens and a bowl of sharp smelling sauce. Bread arrived in several bowls, and water in pitchers, though some Sisters had wine or other juices with their meals.

"If you have not yet eaten, you are welcome to share ours, or by your choice. We do not eat red meats or any creature that walks the land, but understand there are those that do." Lady Thorn said to the two as the meal was distributed. Once the plates had been laid, Lady Sharon spoke.

"I notice you look at my hand," she held up the hand missing fingers. "It is no embarrassment, and your tale deserves repayment, so." She spoke English, but the accent was not easily placed, and her sentences tended to end abruptly. Her dark face and eyes were clear and perfect, her lips and nose not typical for African. "I come from Kenya, and my tribe were warriors from long before any colony came there. We worshipped the Gods of the land and animals, who brought us food and gave us shelter. My mother was one of the healers of our area, and my father a respected man in the village, wise. My family could trace the healers back into history, my mother being one of the less talented. It was expected that I too would be a healer.

"Then colonists came to our village, and this when I was very small. A family of missionaries, coming to bring aid and medicine. They were untrusted and treated badly, considered foreigners, but they persisted. Our tribe warred with others, but we survived well and many were happy to live as we always had.

"This family had a daughter, almost my same age." She stopped in the telling, just paused, until the one with the strange ears sighed. An espression between exasperation and enjoyment crossed this woman's canine features, and her smile showed long teeth.

"You always leave it to me, don't you, Sharon?" Her tone was bored. "This daughter was named Clarissa, and the family tried to teach her that the natives were friendly. By this time, both girls were in their teens. The young native woman however, she did not care for the family at all, and one night, she prayed the some ill would befall the daughter, hoping to drive the family away. The Gods heard her, and fickle they can be.

"The young woman awoke at the next full moon, not a girl, but a leopard. A red leopard, which is a potent omen for that tribe. The leopard appeared in the village, and began to attack them. Only the duaghter who asked for the omen could see who the leopard truly was, and the beast knew her as well."

Sharon took up the tale, "I saw that the girl was tormented, and knew this was my doing. She would attack someone, then run in fear, as though she knew it was wrong. I had grown into a strong woman, running with the tribe and hunting, and wanted to atone for so terrible a deed.

"I ran into her path, she sprang. Somewhere in the fight..." she held up her hand again and flexed her remaining fingers. "Let us say that Lupa has very sharp teeth."

"I spit them out!" Lupa half-shouted, bringing laughs from several of the Guard. "The spell was broken, but I am still Were, half woman, half leopard. We have made up our differences, but my parents thought it best to place me with those who understood more about my condition." She motioned to Lady Thorn and Anvil.

"They have strengthened my discipline, and now I control my rage. Sharon 'protects' me, she sees it as her duty," there was a friendliness in her tone. It was apparent from the way they spoke that rivalry was between them, but not animosity.

"On an island, you do not carry grudges or anger. And you should know that war and fighting are not what we do." Shraon moitioned to the other table, and two girls in blue stood.

"Keisha, Madeliene, what do you study?" The first girl was pale brown but had striking blue eyes and dark, tightly curled hair; the second alabaster skin and reddish locks.

"Lady Sharon, I study metals and poems with Lady Gemini." Spoke the curly-haired one, quickly and matter-of-factly.

"I study architecture and math with Lady Tre, lady Sharon." The second girl had a gleam in her eye, smiling shyly at Falcon and blushing. They both sat down, turning away and giggling. They would have been 13 or 14 at most.

"You see, Miss Kitiara, we expect our daughters to be skilled in many things, least of all war. Killing is a poor teacher." She turned to her meal, watching how Falcon would react.

"Another woman of faith," Anvil's baritone rumbled, "welcome to our gathering. I believe that you will be hauling water Lady Waspe." Her smile hinted at some private delight, and the blonde Lady that had spoken earlier grinned. The one named Osmella pressed one elbow into her neighbor, savoring some joke.

"Indeed Mother, O seems to get the better of many wagers. I would expect her to, being a Mind Controller, but I continue in my wicked ways." A few of the women chuckled, even some at the other table, listening intently. "Do not be offended, Hand of Ma'at, my Sister and I regularly bet on odd things." She offered a small bow in contrition, hoping not to offend.

"I have not experienced this faith. We learn that all who follow a path, no matter the name or destination, follow their belief, and this is sacred. The name you call your faith means little, if you believe in it enough. The Lady teaches that none of us," she swept a hand at the Sisters, not including the two newcomers, "know the truth, we seek it as we can. Do not be shy here, we are all Sisters. What would you tell us? What would you teach us?"

Interested eyes gazed from all corners, a total lack of scorn or judgement. These women did not know the truth, they only followed their hearts, and that path led to truth.

((OOC: No judgements, and they will answer any questions you have about them. They are quiet in their devotion, do not seek recruits, but always trying to learn about others. Maybe there is wisdom in other's beliefs?))

"Please, go on," Lady Sharon pleaded. "Our history is of stories. PLease." Others took up the chorus.

((OOC: Descibe to your hearts content, we have all night! ))

Lady Thorn did not look for a chair, and no Sister made to get up for her. Placing one hand on the floor, and bending quickly for a woman who looked to be well past prime, she slowly drew her hand up. The floor appeared attached, a shaft of wood rising to stay in contact. At the height she wished, she curved her hand, making a circling motion. The wood spread and formed a seat. None of the others even spared a second glance, they were already speaking, in turn, to Falcon and Hand. Thorn settled and leaned closer.

"The introductions are made," started the one called Tre, seeming to be one of the more forward Sisters. "If Mistress Narshawn serves her Mother well," the look in her eyes said she expected this would be true, "you have some idea who we are, of the Order.

"Normally, there would be ceremony, the Mistresses and Initiates would serve the Ladies, as has been for centuries. We observe many protocols, but do not expect those not of the Order to do so. Tonight, however, we are a village, and all are equal." She motioned to the other table, where the blue and white attired sat.

"We are a family, every Sister knowing another, but of all cultures. Lady Osmella and Lady Thorn come from the North of Europe and bring customs, as I bring my own. We each have something to teach, and much to learn." This brought some murmurs of assent, heads nodding, even among the Guard.

"So, when you sit with us, you bring your customs, your wisdom, which can only make us wiser. Observe your native lessons, tell us of your homes and family, as you will. I am certain we can learn from you, and the Sister's friendship lasts a long time."

She smiled around the table, raising her glass of a yellow juice in salute to the two visitors. Each Sister raised their own glass. One Sister gazed longingly at Kitiara's sword, she wore two on her back, much shorter.

"Will you tell me of your blade, of the crafting and wielding?" She spoke softly after the toast, and Falcon would notice that she had only three fingers on her right hand, the two middle ones missing. Her dark skin was scarred where they had been, but the wound was old.

((OOC: They will ask you questions too, Hand, as soon as I know how you would react. The conversation is light, this is not an interrogation. ))

Now Narshawn's brows rose, a faith she was not familiar with. Her field of study was language, and somewhat faiths, since the two were closely related. She dropped to the floor, barely tall enough to see the top of the bar and waved Hand to come along.

"I would be as interested in your faith, and you will find several Sisters as well. We focus on knowledge, learning and trying not to judge. So long as you believe in goodness and honor, we will agree on many things." She could see that Lady Gemini had another woman with the Sisters, the one who had eaten with Mr. Broady. It would be a night of stories, a good time to be near the Circle.

"These women are known as The Circle, the leadership body of the Order. You see only nine, but there are ten, the oldest of The Sisters is The Lady. She leaves The Island almost never, and she is the most powerful, and respected." Her voice was reverent. They came close to the table, two of the Guard on the way to the kitchen.

"Mistress Narshawn," one of the women addressed her, she was very pale and very blonde, the green of her tunic stark against her northern features, "you bring a welcome guest. I admired her posture from the moment we arrived, and hoped she would find opportunity to come closer. I have a wager to settle with O," she placed a hand on her neighbor's shoulder. Several of the Sisters turned to see the newcomer.

"Lady Waspe," pronounced whas-pey, "please meet Hand of Ma'at, and Hand of Ma'at, please meet Lady Waspe..." she introduced several others. The neighbor was Lady Osmella, both of the Guard. Lady Gemini, Thorn, Beatrix the fire blaster, Anvil the Tank and Almira, who had not spoken yet.

"Lady Almira does not speak, do not take offense." As each was introduced, they held out a palm in greeting, not indicating touch was accepted. It seemed that each of the Circle had a Guard, and that they all complimented each other's powers.

"Be Welcome, both Falcon Kitiara and Hand of Ma'at. You are welcome in the Circle for this evening." Rumbled Lady Anvil, her voice deep and resonating, her smile slow but warm.

"This is my Mother, Lady Gemini," Narshawn introduced the veiled woman with the katana, who had to look up into the dark woman's face. Her smile or frown could not be seen, but her eyes bore greeting and her words as well.

"Do not be put off by my Sisters," she spoke with a noticeable accent, glaring at the light-skinned woman who smiled back. "Some of them are rather...uncultured. Be welcome, as Lady Anvil says, and at ease."

((OOC: Hand, in your court, but I would like to hear your story as well. The Sisters have no need to convert anyone, and will not push their views. Everyone is right, if they believe they are, and the Sisters truly seek knowledge and story. ))

"I suppose it's the twenty-first century, so I'll say it," she rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, "I'm off on Thursday, and if you are coming in anyway, will you have dinner with me?"

She rushed it out, growing red near the end. He had walked her home, so he knew she didn't live high, he came to see her night after night. She knew he was a hero, she had seen his ID, but he still seemed more interested in her than in the more exotic people.

She leaned over, both hands on the table, get it over with.

((OOC: Ha, women's rights and liberation!))

As Lady Gemini approached Falcon's table, Beth waved with one hand. "Good evening, Miss Gemini."

"Child," the taller woman nodded in her direction. "Be well," and continued to meet Falcon, returning from elsewhere.

"Oh," she turned back to Manion, "I don't think it will be much busier tonight, and the women in the skirts serve all the food and drinks for the Sisters. It's weird, and I've even heard Gal wonder at how they figure who orders who around.

"Pie? Is that an offer, Mister Manion? Now I've stood here babbling about them and you haven't said much of anything! Did you like the food?"

Beth was hoping that on one night off she could actually sit and talk over dinner with Manion. He was so sweet, she felt embarrassed that he had to come in for dinner to talk to her. Then she blushed, maybe he was coming in just to talk to her!

((OOC: Oh, swoon. Who's fighting crime while Manion is wooing Beth? She'll ask for his story, but doesn't want to be rude.))

"I am Lady Gemini," she spoke in greeting, "and you are Falcon Kitiara. I know of you....by another." She did not outright state that they had met, but implied it. From her experience with this woman, she expected that Falcon was very quick-witted and would make the connection.

"My Sisters and I, we come to celebrate this day," she turned and guided Falcon to the group. There was apparently some ongoing joke between several of the women, they bantered back and forth while the rest listened and smiled.

"...and I say to you again, he was skilled in more than one kind of magic." The speaker quieted as Gemini and Falcon approached, but several of the ladies at the table snickered and the one she spoke to blushed through her pale skin.

"I come with a friend, one who wears a blade," this met several appreciative glances, but the comments stopped. Everyone centered in their chair, presenting a proper face for someone not of the group. "Miss Falcon Kitiara."

She uttered a few words not in English, and this caused some exchange of looks. One woman dressed in a simple shirt and heavy pants, rolled over the top of sturdy boots, moved her chair back and stood. At the other table, one of the blue robed youth instinctively stood as well, only Lady Tre's motion with a hand caused her to sit again.

"Of the Wilds, she calls you. You have the look of the forest, but I'd dare say you look poorly used. You should be enjoying some hospitality." The woman spoke frankly, a lilt in her voice and sparkle in her eyes. Her face was weathered, with the marks of years in the sun, but could have been Mediterranean. Squint lines webbed out from her bright eyes as she smiled.

"Gracious child, sit! Few of the Sisters will bite," this drew laughter from one or two, and an actual growl from one in a skirt. On closer look, her long, reddish hair barely covered ears set high on her head, wolflike. "No need for offense, Lupa. Take my chair," she motioned for Falcon to sit, holding the seat back.

"I am Lady Thorn, but only Sisters use the 'Lady' part. Botany and plants are my specialty." Her tone and manners were those of a grandmother, kind and gentle. You could almost imagine her insisting you have another piece of cake, or stay and talk another ten minutes. Her grey hair was neat and combed, framing her wizened face.

"Lady Almira asks if you would spare a moment, share a glass of wine, and Sharon admires your sword." She pointed to two women, the one called Almira wore a hood and face veil of a solid green material, obscuring everything below her solid black eyes. The other woman, Sharon, had two decorative short swords hung on her chair.

When Sharon stood, recognizing Falcon's invitation, the swords rose with her, actually in some sort of harness. She had a wild look in her eyes, shining even in the dim light. Almost tar colored skin, long arms with corded muscle and a skirt barely long enough to be decent in public, she was the image of an Amazon in black.

"Finally," she smiled wide, "someone with taste in weapons." Her accent was peculiar English, clipped.

((OOC: Sharon is modeled on Grace Jones and Thorn is very grandmotherly. She let's the young get away with things, a balance for Gemini, who does not. If Falcon wants to sit down, there will be conversation aplenty, if she prefers to dine alone, the group will understand, but she seems very much like them in her actions.))

"I've been learning from Martin, he can sneak up on the wind. Oh, and don't thank him, that's one of those things, he'd probably just put her on your table again. He's a sort of twisted humor." Her mouth puckered, drawing her face in imitation of the Maitre 'd's sour expression.

"Gal's one of them, and her partner Sibling. Have you met Sib yet? They haven't been in lately, not since open," she thought for a moment, not willing to get into that arrangement. "I honestly don't know a whole lot about it, they don't speak about it a lot, but anytime a Sister comes in...Sister, that's what they call each other. Anyway, when they meet, there's usually some formality, bowing and greetings. It seems very traditional.

"The ones with the skirts, I've seen one of two of them before, they come by the Mission and talk to Sibling. This must be some of their leaders. Narshawn and Gal wear blue robes sometimes, and I've seen Gypsy in white once, Sibling wears green. I think that means they are high ranking, but the one with the cane I recognize from a photo." She thought for a moment, hand on chin as she watched the woman in question laugh with several of the younger women at the other table over a joke.

"I think her name is Anvil, she was in the Rikti War, along with the masked woman. I know her, Lady Gemini. She's related to Narshawn somehow. You almost need a program to figure some of this." With the arrival of the large party, most of the room seemed to be sedate, and Beth could spend some time at Manion's table. She would mention something germane to dinner now and then, bring water, make it look like she was working.

Martin breezed by at one point, "Taking care of the customers, Beth, very good." He slyly nodded and walked away, never approaching the tables of Ladies. When something was needed, one of the women in green uniform would rise and make her way to the kitchens returning with it.

((OOC: Suspense? You think it's hard for you, try having a whole table full of stories and no one asking! Actually, thank you all for playing to my ego, I don't want to monopolize the thread, lol. This is so much fun...))

"Those are my Sisters, and we are all part of a group. Do not be bothered, tonight is a celebration of Spring," she placed the bottle back on the shelf. "I am sorry for the distraction, they understand my having duties here."

She could see that some of what he had said was painful, and had no wish to pry. Sometimes, a good listener knew when to do just that, and let the other go on in good time.

"Among them, there is always family and acceptance. They are all the family I have here, and anywhere, at any time, I can depend on them. Gal would say, 'Find love where you can, and be damned the bigots'," she blushed deep blue. "Gal has little patience with the small-minded."

She hovered between several patrons, never totally leaving his space, being ready to listen if he chose to speak. One of the important points the Sisters believed in was that everyone deserved acceptance, as their varied appearances spoke.

((OOC: Magnus, please read the short discussion Nar and Gertrude had, otherwise I will get hate mail for filling up space. Pretend he overheard the conversation with Hand, but don't worry, there is more info coming! Suspense is killing me....))

A woman, from the group, stood near Kitiara's chair, apparently waiting for her return. When she saw the warrior returning, she held out one open palm in greeting, the almond eyes above the half-mask penetrating. Something in her accent seemed familiar...

"You carry a sword, and I know you." Asian from the inflection, hair in tight buns held by wooden pins, her scarred left hand held out if Falcon wished to grasp it. "I do not wish to disturb you, but one of my Order asks if you would spare time to speak. A moment, no more." The was a question in her tone.

((OOC: She only asks for a moment of Falcon's time, and will accept no for an answer.))

"Well, that must have gone well," Beth caught Manion's attention. "Gypsy's back in the kitchen, and I don't think I have ever seen her sweat like that." She smiled. "Martin stuck Candice in the bar, she screwed up two orders already, and he won't have her being near the Sisters.

"You look puzzled. Is it the group?"

Gertrude paused in pouring a mug of beer, looking up from her concentration. Narshawn had a way with tap beer, keeping the head just so, and Gertrude did not. Her attempts were pour and stop, pour and stop, apparently this was not her arena.

"I can tell you a little, but Narshawn would be the expert. They are The Sisters, formally Ladies of the Lake, and you're right, they are religious. What that means, well, that I can't say, but I know what has been in the papers and what was reported during the War. I know this much because Nar has talked a little about it, but they don't recruit or proselytize.

"From what she's said, they have lived in Talos, on an Island, for over a hundred years, and came here from somewhere else. She makes it sound like the their faith has been around a long time, long time," her expression changed for a moment, considering, but this woman appeared to be interested.

"I'd never heard of them until the Rikti War, at the time I lived with my Ex, still married to him, about six blocks from the Medical Center in Talos. The aliens," she used the word with scorn, but that same term could apply to half of the heroes in the city, "came fast, most people were just getting up when the ship appeared. News reports went ballistic, emergency sirens and all, then most phones and radio went out. Police say they were jammed to prevent coordinated resistance." The woman delivered a beer down the bar, and made some drinks for a platter that Candice was now carrying. Apparently, Martin had reassigned her.

"It was chaos, the police running around and heroes coming out of everywhere. The news had just reported what was happening and the front door came down, two women in green and most of our neighbors in the apartments were standing in the hall. That was the first time I ever saw a Sister, the two of them rounding up civilians to get them safe."

She pointed to one of the women at the tables, a taller lady wearing a long Katana on her back and a semi-transparent mask. "That Lady, called herself Lady Gemini, she was one of them, she saved all of us. It wasn't five minutes after we got out of the building that some stray fire from the battle knocked our houses flat. Took us to some mine shafts near the shore and got us inside."

She was watching the woman she mentioned, a touch of sadness in her eyes. "As we went down, I swear I saw an island out in the middle of the open water. Never been there before, all sparkley. Over top of it was one of the ships, and big suckers those things are. She, and some others, watched that ship rain fire on the island, trees burning, steam rising where lasers and stuff hit it.

"That Lady, the big one there," she pointed again, drawing Hand's gaze to the giant woman with the cane, "she was there too. She must have been the leader, because some wanted to go to the island and she told them all to stay. I'll never forget what she said: 'Watch the people, protect the children.' Sent some of the others into the tunnels to guard us."

She looked up from her reverie, catching sight of Narshawn as she moved back to the bar. The small ice woman smiled, even laughed to herself. When she arrived at the bar, Gertrude motioned to Hand and mentioned that she asked about the gathering.

"Indeed," Narshawn continued, Gertrude making her way on her rounds, and pausing to give Candice a hard stare. The other waitress had been chatting with a patron while others looked around for service. Not long for this place, Gertrude would prefer to work alone rather than carry someone else.

"There is no shame in asking, and I would gauge you to be a woman of some faith as well." She made a motion towards Hand's attire and general self. Discipline like hers was often the sign of the devout, some worshipped dieties, some skills, but it was all faith.

"This is The Circle, the intimate close and high of my Order," she motioned to the group in green, then pointed as her words identified individuals. "The Guard, they are the sworn bodyguards that always accompany travels of any of The Circle. They wear the skirts and carry no weapons, their discipline being a weapon. They are a team, live, eat and fight together.

"Those elder women, they are Ladies. The Sisters have many marks of our skills and place, the color of your clothing being the easiest to see. White is initiate, novice; blue is Mistress, learned in powers, but not yet wise. I am a Mistress in the Order, my mentor is a Lady who watches over me, trains me and is called Mother. My Mother is Lady Gemini, the sword wielder at the table. All I know about the faith, about life, about being a hero, she has taught me.

"Lastly, the high rank is Lady, and they wear green to show their connection to the Great Mother Gaia. Every Sister learns and studies throughout their life, not just the faith, but law, or botany, or aerospace engineering, or one of thousands of other skills. A tenet of the faith is that we must 'Do Good', by helping others." She paused, explaining her faith was not so difficult, but there were patterns within patterns, and the whole story would take years. Even Sisters took years of study to grasp how the patterns wove together.

"These are only a few of The Sisters, you see the Initiates with their Mistresses?" She waited for Hand to look that direction. "The young learn many skills, and perform menial tasks for their mentors. This leaves the mentors free to work, since they must provide food and necessities for their 'Daughters". You see, it is all learning, to live yourself and to care for others. Tonight is the first full moon of Spring, a celebration of fertility, when the world begins to bloom again. We celebrate this by honoring our young, and the Initiates and Mistresses are treated as equals, the normal court rules suspended. For what you see tonight, there is usually much more formality and protocol."

She smiled shyly, this woman was striking and curious. Her questions were welcome. "Would you care to meet my Mother? To meet The Circle, it is allowed on such a night."

((OOC: Sorry for the length of the post, this is a subject I have taken pains to create. Based loosely on a known religion, I could get more detailed, but suffice it to say the entire spectrum of The Sisters is represented. There are girls of 13 and women old enough to be grandmothers, all of different personalities. Questions don't bother them, the search for knowledge is what their lives are for. Oh, the faith may be 100% female, but many have husbands or male friends.))

Narshawn moved from behind the bar, hovering out into the hall and on to the foyer area of the restaurant. Gertrude would be making drinks for the next while, until she returned, and the tiny blaster nodded her thanks.

The black-haired waitress paused at Hand's table, placing a small tray with several shot glasses on it in front of her. Under each was a small card, the names of the liquors written in careful script. Brandy, Sherry, and several others.

"I thought you might like a sample, once you decide, we can get you a proper portion." She smiled at Hand.

Gypsy appeared from the kitchens, carrying a tray with Kitiara's mushrooms, and stopped by her table. Her smile was nervous, but she seemed pleased to see Falcon. Her sleeves were down, and she smoothed her pants as best she could.

"I am happy to see you! Good taste, my Goulasch is the best there is. Now, excuse me please, my Sisters have come." With that, she saught up to Narshawn, as they formed a small party near the reserved tables.

For this evening, there was a clear path from the door to the tables. Settings that normally would have been there had been moved, no chairs or tables, which was a feat itself, getting the tables to move. Martin stood aside, making himself invisible as only he could without powers, more like unobserved. A group passed the picture windows on the outside, and a moment later the door opened, letting in a number of women.

Some wore robes, all in white or blue, with hoods pulled back to expose faces form many races, many countries. There were women the shades of black, olive and white, hair from short and curly to long and carefully braided. Some smiled, some looked anxious, but their eyes were all wide. A count would find ten women, five in blue and five in white; the robes apparently some ranking system as the white robes stood each next to a blue, pairs.

As they passed into the room, Narshawn greeted them, and Gypsy stood close behind her. To the women in blue, Narshawn would grasp a forearm and speak a few words, but the comraderie was apparent, equals. The white robed women would bow, as their blue robed partner watched in approval. Gypsy did not bow, or speak, standing still.

Once those introductions were made, Narshawn spoke several words to Gyspy, and she guided the group to one table. As they proceeded, several more women entered, all in forest green, the same uniforms of the two who had entered earlier.

To these, Narshawn bowed low, genuflecting and touching her forehead. The two who had already entered, came to the podium, making greeting to these six others. This was cordial, a meeting of old friends, and was quickly over. The one called Tre touched Narshawn's head gently.

"Rise Mistress, you do not need bow to the Guard. The Circle is arriving, make ready." This woman smiled, and Narshawn walked quickly to the empty table. The women in blue and white had not taken seats, and Gypsy came close to Nar again.

A group of nine women walked through the doors, and into the presence of those that called themselves The Guard. All of these women wore green as well, but no uniforms, just the general color. Some in jackets and pants, some in dresses. One stood out, and scanned the crowd quickly, her face hidden behind a sheer drape.

Her eyes rested on Kitiara, and stayed. Something about the almond shaped eyes, intense and fierce, a recognition. Then she turned and joined the group.

There was friendly conversation here, among these women. They acted like any gathering, mentioning a triffle or complimenting each other on hair. The eight women in deep green never ventured away, they formed a subtle barrier around these women. The whole assembly moved to the tables, one extremely large woman leaning on a cane that looked woefully too thin to support her.

As they passed, one woman of the group paused to glance at a table. She stroked the fine wood, and anyone watching would have been surprised to see it lean towards her, almost as a dog would a loved owner. One of the women in uniform, as that is what the skirts and blouses were, stayed close, not being aggressive, simply protective.

Without ceremony, the women came to their table, Narshawn making great bows and Gypsy sweating about the brow. The tall woman with the cane sat, and then all the others did as well, just like that, a signal.

"Tonight, you know Sisters," her voice carried like a foghorn, even speaking intimately, "is the first full moon of the season. We sit as Sisters, as equals, all the same. Please be well, and let us enjoy this hospitality."

The conversations began, each finding their own. It was like a huge family, obviously bereft of men, but some giggling could be heard, and occassionally someone would speak from table to table.

((OOC: Gypsy and Narshawn will have to return to duties, and anyone wishing to ask could catch them on their way. The Guard are not militant protective, simply watching over their Mothers, so appraoching the table is allowed and encouraged. Gertrude would happily direct Hand to ask Narshawn what goes on. You have to ask to find out what all this is about but if you want to just carry on as usual, that;s good too. Beth and Gertrude will be around to chat.))

Beth blushed when Kitiara mentioned Manion, a little self-consciously. He was a fine man, alright.

"It's going to get busy for the next little bit, the Sisters are arriving, but I will stop back by, I promise." She had returned with a steaming pot, already steeping the tea, and a large glass filled with a heady beer. "Narshawn sends her compliments, the beer is Wienstephaner Pils. Your dinner will be out soon, I think Gypsy will bring it. Please, enjoy, and I would like to hear about Mr. Broady, he seems like a nice man."

There was some noise in the kitchen, then silence. The woman in green had only just cleared the doorway, holding the swinging entry open with one foot. Her back was visible for a moment, then the door closed again.

Beth noticed her motion and grimace, "Do you have a headache, the heat might make it worse." She apologized with her eyes, knowing what it was to have one and trying to enjoy dinner.

"As far as what Gypsy is good at, she would say Paprika is good for every ill, and Garlic can cure death." Beth smiled, the dark woman in the kitchen was constant and earnest, and Beth was fond of her. "She makes an excellent Goulasch, but it has a bite. She made a customary dish, from her country, but I can't pronounce the name. Thinly sliced beef, marinated with oil and garlic, some spices, then cooked at a really high heat briefly. I had some before we opened, it is very tasty, and served with, of course, potatoes and cabbage." She leaned close, conspiratorily.

"When Gal comes back, she'll throw a fit that Gypsy is cooking such different food. From what the people have ordered tonight, some of it may make the menu." She winked, and noticed that Martin was signalling for her to pick up the tea for Falcon. "I'll bring your tea, Martin has his hands full..."

*********


There were two women, dressed in deep, forest green tunics and pleated skirts standing by the podium. They were mirror images, in stance and actions, but obviously of different parents, one with light red skin and braided black hair and the other milk white and blonde. Neither wore a weapon, their body language and height providing intimidation enough. Martin was speaking to them quickly, pointing to the tables where the young woman in blue stood.

Martin showed them to the table, following them, which was not his usual method. The woman in blue bowed low at the waist, touching her forehead as the two approached.

"Rise Mistress, we come to see if all is ready." While one spoke, the other looked across the tables. This looked like a team, moved like one being, two women who spent months together.

"All is ready Lady Tre, all the Sisters here are aware and will come to greet the Circle. I have done all the things necessary, at your leave." The woman in blue stayed rigid, almost like she was reporting to these two.

"Lady Cinque will greet the Sisters, Mistress Felicia, please show her the way." With that, the red-skinned woman stepped behind Felicia and they made their way to the kitchen, drawing many stares. Not one of the people went unobserved, the green clad woman that stayed behind, called Tre, kept her eyes moving.

"I would not presume to say when Ms. War will return," the tone of his voice indicating the thought of speaking for Gal offended him. "I will certainly present the message to Ms. War, when she arrives.

"For dinner, certainly, and Miss Gypsy is in charge of the kitchens tonight. The dining room or more secluded?" He waited for her answer.

((OOC: Martin is not trying to be stand-offish, but he would not speak for his employer. Well, Martin is always stand-offish, but I am not trying to be rude, just in character ))

"Very good, please follow me." Martin pulled one of the menus from the neat stack and swept away, heading to the newly grown tables. He held out the chair for her, seeing that she did not have another to do so.

"I will send Beth for your preference in tonight's menu. Sadly, Ms. War is absent this evening on personal business, but the kitchen will do it's utmost to satisfy your needs. I will return in a moment with a pot of green tea, Miss Jiang's favorite, if I might suggest it, for before dinner.

"Miss Gypsy cares a bit more for the spice in her dishes than is my taste, but her veal is, in my experience, unexcelled and is served with lentils. I will leave you in Beth's most capable hands," he continued, as the younger woman arrived, looking somewhat calmer than a few minutes before. Martin bowed slightly, aware that this woman would be royalty in any civilized country, in spirit if not in flesh.

Steve had been most complimentary when Martin helped him to shop. Even now, a tailor on the fourth floor of the exclusive men's shop was stitching pants to fall just so, one crease at the laces of Steve's Italian shoes, they had settled on Fragaicomo for the fit. Martin had already purchased the pawn slip for Steve's watch, to make certain that such an item did not disappear. A handsome price it fetched when Steve parted with it, enough for a decent suit and some.

"Your table has been reserved, all it wanted was the time. Half-past eight, I shall note it." He moved with the efficiency of professional servants, stopping at the podium, then on to the kitchens for the tea.

"Miss Falcon," Beth nodded, "Should I wait for your choice, or bring you something to start with?"

((OOC: Martin misses very little, hence his suggestion for the tea.))

"The Phillipines, Islands these are. I understand that family is very important there, much as it is on my home. Pardon me for interrupting," she watched him drain the glass, but would wait for him to indicate if he cared for more.

She poured several drinks into short glasses, making the tray for Gertrude while still listening.

((OOC: Ooooh, suspense. Nicely done!))

"Miss Isis, Ms. War is not in this evening," Martin stated as the stack of paper with a woman attached moved through the antechamber.

"Can I find a place for you to leave the paperwork?" He did not know what it was all for, but Gal had made clear Isis could some in any time. "I can assure you that she will see them at her earliest opportunity."

"Well, you don't look like the typical whiskey drinker, or scotch," she carefully looked over the woman, but could not get over the deep color of her skin, "and definitely not hard liquor. You look like a refined-drink type, something that is good warm and savored."

She made a show of placing a cork pad down on the table, the coaster to protect the wood. "Take care of the table, it's alive, growing. I'll bring out a couple tastes from the bar, see if you find something to your pleasure. What you smell is probably either the onion soup, zweibelsuppe," she pronounced it 'sweebulsoup', "or the kaesespaetzle, it has sauteed onions on top. Start with the soup, it comes in a BIG bowl, Gal's a big girl herself." She smiled, a laugh just behind her hard, brown eyes.

She stopped close to the bar, and spoke quietly to Narshawn, who did not turn from her conversation with a man, but nodded to indicate she understood. The she was off to the kitchens, to return in a moment with a bowl of bread and oil for dipping.

"Soup in a minute, they warm the bowl," she swept by, carrying some plates to the pool room. "I'll be right back."

((OOC: I am keeping Gertrude moving, she should be busy, lazy waitress that chats so much....mumble... but she will pay undivided attention when Hand wants to speak. Ah, time is so wonderful, she can be in ten places at once.))

((OOC: Well played, Martin would be self-conscious if he knew such a woman appreciated him, except he is dedicated to his work. He is patterned on Alfred, Bruce Wayne's butler/manservant, but without all the special ops and spy stuff. Just a proper English Butler.))

Gertrude saw the woman come in, and waited until she chose a seat before excusing herself from Jack for a moment. Between the exotic and gorgeous heroines coming in here, her tips would be few and small. A quick look confirmed what she knew, most of the male visitors were either staring or trying not to. She would ask if it bothered the tall woman, and could fix it if it did.

"Good evening, miss. I'm Gertrude, the waitress and Narshawn," she pointed to the hovering woman wreathed in frosty air behind the bar, "is the bartender. In case Martin failed to say so, welcome to Ladies by the Lake. We have the full menu in here, just served a little less formal, and pretty well any beverage you can think of."

She admired the way the tall woman wore her attitude, you could feel her confidence. The choice of colors was stark, but with her skin, very intimidating. Gal was African, dark skin, but this woman was black. Gertrude would guess not entirely human, but who was in this town?

"Should I bring you a menu, go over the specials or just admire you for a moment?" She spoke with a genuine smile.

((OOC: Gertrude flirts with men, but still has to try for tips from women. It isn't a pass, think more along the lines of one woman flattering another. She sounds like one majestic lady, hope she tells her tale.))

"Sweet of you to offer yourself as the lamb," Beth said, leaning toward the exchange. "I'll see what Martin says, she could end up in the kitchen, and Gypsy would have a fit." A smile crossed her lips, and a sly squint crossed her eyes.

"There's a group coming in in a while, making some of the staff nervous. Gal's gone, but the group couldn't wait, it's some special night for them. Guests from Gal's home, from what I've heard, and high ranking in the hero business. Don't let them bother you."

She hustled over to Martin, trying to calm the customer.