Sibling

"I hate this part," Diva said again. The binders were inert, only enough to pass a cursory examination. She didn't care, having anything on her hands and legs was unnatural, but they would never get through if she was unfettered.

The plan was for Sibling and Diva to be captives, until they could all get within easy distance of the other refugee/royals. Ekanga and his men could pass for the guards, and from what Par said, none of the royals would know better. Par would bring them all into the residence, and as long as their disguises held, they would stay calm. Diva and Sibling had been totally in agreement about no casualties, the twins could handle anyone scared into acting, and Diva was well able to deal with the royals.

"Just be careful you don't flex, these things would split." Sibling was helping to fit the tubular restraints, but the expandable contraption was barely large enough. The comment was only partially a joke, and they doubted the device would have held the green giantess even if they were powered.

Once they were all settled, the restaint on Diva and similar device on Sibling with the addition of a flashing skullcap, the party started back towards the city. Watching from the cabin, it was obvious that this entire city was ruled with fear.

People in the streets, some well dressed and some in work wear, would not look directly at the carriage. Many more races lived here apparently, besides the elves, dwarves and trolls. Diva saw ogres, long-limbed Runlings, mottled-skinned Hillyards and numbers of others. None would look their way, and scurried to move when the carriage came into view.

Her mood darkened even more. When she had lived here, or at least on the other continent, there were conflicts and some unease, but this looked like a fiefdom, and a few comments from Par over the last few hours confirmed that everyone supported the monarchy. By "recruiting" all the talents, they deprived the citizens of any means to resist, and any way to use those talents to help themselves. This was a Paragon, but ruled by some tyrant.

"Sibling," Diva's voice was low, calm as she tried not to burst the bonds, "I really don't like these people." Her gaze swung back inside, meeting the small controller's green, glowing eyes.

"You are not alone, but there are laws. If not here, in Paragon, and those who will judge them." The twins knew how much she cared, and it was somewhat shocking. Diva had never been quick tempered, but seeing people, she called them "her people", treated like this, they understood her emotions.

"Once we have these thugs back in Paragon, this place can return to the way it should be." The carriage was approaching an immense structure, something like a piece of art, crafted and sculpted from stone, on a huge scale. It also looked old, maintained but carrying that sign of age.

Perhaps five stories high, Troll stories from the look of it, fifteen feet per floor, and ringed with elaborate windows and trellises. The face was worked, carvings, statuary and the like. Sibling noticed one of the powered suits come to the window, and Ekanga's face was there.

"That's the residence. Until the Humans took over, the council of races would have ruled from there. They settled disputes and looked after the country, it was much different then." His own face was drawn, but a glimmer flashed in his eyes. "I think we will start that again," his gaze rested on Par, and Sibling knew that none of the royals would be safe after this. If they did not come willingly, they would be hunted, the crush for freedom would come quickly.

“We’ll have to walk soon, just inside the gates.” He spoke, watching the road shift from the smooth poured stone to a crushed rock, decorative for the palace. Several more guards were standing near the gates, and not all were Trolls.

Par had explained to the council and the heroes, the gifted were placed in schools where they learned that the royals were helping. Build a sense of loyalty and appreciation, and keep them away from the average citizen who might tell them something different. The talented were treated much better than even the guards, and most became very enamored of the life, and seeing that they were special, and should be given privilege. They did generally what they wanted, supported by the working class and citizens. Even in the courts, which rarely held one of them since they were the elite, sentences could be annulled or set-aside by the royalty. The ruling class had a loyal following of enforcers, a typical scenario for a “Protectorate State”.

Par stuck his head out of the window, and the two women had to trust he would follow the instructions. Sibling could control his mind, but there was no way to make him an effective puppet, and they would not do that anyway. Controlling someone would simply look like Sibling in another body, the inflections, language, gestures would all be the same. His part was getting them inside, then getting out of the way.

The group let out a collective sigh as the gate passed behind them. Par had been impatient and imperious, and the guards had happily let them pass. Now a large courtyard yawned ahead: central statuary ringed by the crushed rock for gathering, paths radiating out to various doors in the inner building walls, tall grasses and plants made to soothe the eye arranged like tiny parks. From here, Sibling could see the inner courtyard was a square, a big square, perhaps two hundred yards across, with the building surrounding it.

The carriage coasted to a programmed stop, and they stepped out, in Par’s “custody”. Ekanga and his men made it apparent they were in charge, two on each hero and one of those holding an arm. Several people, mostly elves and dwarves, came from one of the porticos, dressed finely, heading for them.

“No need for the welcome, I need to take these to see the King.” Par played the spoiled brat well, gesturing to Diva and Sibling. “Do not touch them, they are talented.”

The greeting party stood back, but their eyes were sad and withdrawn. Sibling could sense that at least a couple truly wanted to see foreigners that could save them. Dressed finely did not equate to being treated finely.

*Diva,* Sibling sent, *these are victims as well.*

*I know, Sib. When we find these people, you’re going to want to leave me alone with them.* Mental conversations tended to be flat, monotone. Diva’s thoughts were not, and Sibling’s reply felt the same.

*D’, you are our friend, always have been. For all that we hold to the Order, and Angela abhors violence, Cliff thinks there are some things we should do together. We will stay with you.”

There was no challenge inside the palace either, which was also the greatest vulnerability for despots and tyrants, the lack of real loyalty. In a free society, such as the Sisters had, any initiate would have stopped them and asked what their business was. There would have been questions, or at least someone to notice. Here, the halls were empty, the reception committee had seemed grateful to abandon them, heading to another portion of the sprawling place.

Long halls, decorations befitting royalty, expensive furniture and shows of wealth seemed the norm here. Sibling, Diva and their guards knew there could be no discussion here, so they followed Par silently. The binders were inert, so Sibling could monitor the prince’s thoughts, and besides anxiety and fear, they sensed anticipation. Whoever they were going to meet, it would make Par happy to see them defeated. Even the royals disliked their Lord.

“The guards have to stay outside,” Par finally whispered as they approached a set of wide doors. There were more powered armors on either side, trolls and dwarves, watching as they approached. The guards at the doors stood aside, not even challenging the group, and Ekanga and his men slowed, Par giving them an audible order to stand until he returned.

((OOC:…to be continued, but for now, I’m out of time.))

"Lass, ye' could nah' bore me," Steve said, listening to the sound of her voice.

((OOC: Post as much as you like Falcon, it's all part of the stories here. I look forward to it!))

Crey is evil. We've been inside their facility, so we can speak from experience, so if you wish to ally with a "good" organization, stay away from Countess Crey.

SERAPH and DATA would be likely candidates, depending on your hero's type. There are also smaller groups, mentioned in the comics and asides by the contacts. Try the Red Nines, the Five Points or Markers, if you want a rather obscure but mentioned group. The Nines and Points are mystical and the Markers are mech and tech.

Minutes passed, the couple engaged in a lively conversation, while the restuarant started to fill for the evening. Martin spoke to Beth quickly, and she left the podium, passed by Manion's table again, a rather pasted on smile showing, then on to the hallway near the door.

Hardly a minute later, she was back, and spoke quietly to Gypsy as she passed, the dark-skinned woman nodded, also passing through to the Bar. With the comings and goings, it was not at all out of place. When she returned, she carried a small basket of steaming bread and two wine goblets of fine work. She wore a loose fitting tunic and long pants in deep blue, tucked into worked leather boots. The outfit was stitched and embroidered, as all of her clothes were, with a muted pattern of glyphs, part of her heritage.

As she approached the table, she felt somewhat worried. Her skills were still being trained, but her mentor had given her a task.

"Good evening," she said in her thick accent, meticulously pronouning the words. "Bread and wine is for you, and your menus. I am Gypsy's Queen, your server this evening." She handed the menus to the lady first, and the man second, opening them and pointing to the specials on his. "We cater to all types of tastes, I will recommend the Goulasch, it was my mother's recipe, but some do not have the stomach for it."

She smiled pleasantly at the lady, taking in her face and body, and comparing to the occult features sher knew. Her natural magickal abilities were also working, telling her certain things.

"I may leave you? Or would you like to be ready?" Her English was good, but not perfect yet.

((OOC: Jasper would see the following if he decides to look at the menu using his Capt. Spiffy magic decoder ring: "Sir, Gypsy has seen, she knows the race. I can arrange a setting she will understand. She will know you intend equal partnership, not bondage."))

((OOC: Lady, this is open, you need not even ask. Please...))

"My family was from Jerusalem, and moved around a lot." Janice looked at her clasped hands, resting on and hiding the box. "We were all faithful, but my father was also an intelligent man, so he tried to make sure we learned about other cultures as well. I am the smallest one, here," she pointed to a girl barely older than Wadi, mostly hidden in the traditional robes.

"When things went bad, and so many started suffering in the Middle East, he brought us the America. When I was old enough, I joined the military." She did not go into all of her life, some things just were not for this sort of conversation, and this was about the girl anyway. She noticed that Wadi sat, listening intently, not fidgeting as most children would.

"I spoke Arabic, my mother was also from the tribes, so I knew several dialects, which helped with what I ended up doing. I had been in your village for several months, basically spying on Iraqi troop movements and monitoring Whopmuds with my team."

"Pardon," Gemini spoke, as interested as Wadi. "What is Whopmuds?" Racial slur perhaps, she thought.

"Umm, Weapons of Mass Destruction, double you em dee. Troops call them Whopmuds. We didn't find any, never saw them, and sent a lot of news to the forces about that. The village was peaceful, people just trying to live. We actually felt like friends there, and since I spoke like a native, I could help cover when Security Forces rolled through. Everything was good until January sixteen, five AM."

She stopped, looking up at the young woman, seeing the features of her father and mother there. People she had come to care about years ago, friends. This girl was what was left, and now she was becoming a woman, and in a way, Janice felt it was her own daughter.

"The Army attacked the town, and the propane and fuel tanks were hit. Wadi," she reached across the table to the girl's unresponsive hand, "your parents died, your mother was only a few feet from me. The impact threw her against me, and she was holding you, it was sudden. That was why you survived." The girl's face was drawn, but she was not crying.

"I woke up to your crying. I had a piece of steel sticking out of my leg, but something about the chemicals had changed me. I healed faster. There was little left of the village, but you were there. I carried you for two days, until we reached the front and Allied troops. Six months in the infirmary. I fought for custody of you. The Army kicked me out," she smiled ruefully, again not saying why.

The young girl's hand had softened. She was still young, but there were things she understood better now, why this woman had been absent, and now wanted to talk to her. Janice did not seem like the Sisters, she was distant but solid, not like a mother or like a blood sister.

Food arrived, and Wadi stood, startling Janice.

"I serve the Ladies." She said, which made Janice feel somewhat awkward, but the look the young girl returned gave her some peace. What had been cold and distant, was now clear. The girl placed the meal in front of the tall blaster, after Gemini and then Sharon, returning to her seat for her food last.

"I...need to see to some of the other guests," Beth said quickly, leaving behind the menus and heading past the large planted dais, out of sight of their table.

"Well," Osmella began, her manners changing as she warmed to her idea, "I've never seen the Portals before, at least not the mechanical units that your company uses." She amended, smiling at a small inner joke. She moved some of the items on the table around, setting up her theory.

"After we camped in the control room, I spent some time looking around," she hurriedly added, "but I didn't alter or manipulate anything. I just observed, your engineers and techs are fairly skilled." She was looking between Sibling and Ada, then at the table and back again. "It appears that your equipment uses magnetic resonance fields and high-order harmonics, probably using Gaussian field-space for distorting the bonds in atomic attraction."

Sibling smiled wisely, proud that this young woman, who they had actually seen as a child, would blossom into this. They had no clue what she was talking about, physics was not their study, but she was very bright. Ada's eye quirked, and Sibling nodded, out of Osmella's sight.

"By using magnetic fields, you are also subject to the flux caused by other events, like quantum variations, which is why the barrier is never truly solid, but also never totally at rest and stable. The equipment has to constantly adapt to the environment. So any large scale variation could cause a change in the field, and possibly a change in destination." She was moving objects on the table, engrossed.

"Let's say that here, you have a portal," she moved a salt cellar. "And here you have the exit zone across the galaxy," a small vase, "that link is tentative on the specific harmonic of the field, and a change will move the exit point. On Diva's world, the Guardian was in need of help, we now know. It is possible that she could have created a flux, pulling a portal's natural gravitation, to her destination. It would have been crude, and not well targeted, but would work."

Gypsy arrived, carrying menus and a platter of juices. Osmella paused, looking directly at Ada, as if for approval or understanding.

((OOC: Answer or not Ada, but I will add more in a bit.))

Martin paused, adjusting the wine in the shelf with the habit of a man tasked with unseen criticalities.

"Sir," he turned with the bottle in his hand, "This would be beyond my experience. I am a simple butler, indebted to Miss Gal and glad of her patronage, but with no knowledge of mystical or metaphysical matters. I do know of someone who could advise on this matter, if you will allow."

Martin was thinking of Gypsy, she was tied to the occult and understood many of those practices. There were also Sisters in the building, but he personally had spoken to Gypsy before. He would need to ask Narshawn, as her mentor, but he was seeing a way to approach this.

"Sir, we should not be gone too long, or raise suspicion. I will consult with someone who understands the occult and then place a message in your menu. A simple order for the house special will suffice as to your acceptance of my arrangements." He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small plastic object, a smoked kind of swatch.

"Hold this over the special sections on your menu. It is a polarized plastic, The specials will read like her menu, but my message will be revealed." He handed the card over and opened the door again, carrying the bottle.

Is Social Sciences still available? If not, maybe some Law, Angela has her Masters. They say two heads are better than one ((See the twins' story)). If you want our resume, read the comic issues 7, 10 and upcoming for Cliff's writing. Or see our threads: Gal's Place
Ladies Closed RP

Oh, we sent an App, but there was no space for Guardian in the server menu!

Be well,
Sibling

"It's no trouble," she said, "it's going to get busy tonight, but I can still get you a menu and talk a little. The Sisters won't let me serve them anyway, so it's pretty much you, the couple in prom clothes and the little girl there." She pointed to the curious young girl and lab-coated man.

"Manny mentioned you, his room mate and sponsor, I think he said. I'm unpowered, so I don't know how all that works with clearances and stuff." She stepped away for a minute, and returned with menus and a drink list.

She was being intentionally obtuse, not really knowing if Manion would want her to say all they talked about. If he was Manny's sponsor, after certain trouble, then he already knew. Whether he would approve of Manion telling her, well, she wouldn't mention it. Apparently, he wasn't any too happy about whatever they had been discussing before she arrived.

"Nothing specific, he doesn't talk a whole lot, but he does listen." She allowed a sweet smile, arms across her waist, more little girl than she was.

"You want me to leave you to decide? Specials tonight are Calamari and Gal's Savory Southern Pie, and we have chocolate mud pie for dessert," she winked at Manion. She was keeping one eye on the podium, with Martin being out of the room.

Beth's voice, louder than normal, came from a nearby table where Sibling and a few other's sat. Manion had noticed the green outfits, Sisters at that table and the other table, with the tall woman wearing yellow skin.

"Sure, as soon as I finish checking on some other tables..." Was all that was easily heard. She looked straight at Manion, seeing that he noticed she was coming and stepped their table.

"Gentlemen, will you be staying for dinner?" She noticed the arm, even as he slid the sleeve back down. She kept her mouth shut, being the waitress, and making the question just what it was.

((OOC: Manion, don't let Beth interrupt, but she would be curious about your visitor, for obvious reasons. If you just want to talk to G, then give Beth the wink and nod, she isn't dense, just curious.))

"Men do foolish things," Gal said to Gilidry, her hand still lightly resting on Manion's shoulder. "'S why the Goddess made them." She smiled, not unkindly.

"None of my business what you two say, and you can talk all ya' like here. White noise and pink, makes anyone more'n a few steps away hear mumblin', tha's all. I don' know much of the 'shades, but I live with Sibling, so tha' makes it a lil clearer.

"You stay nice, Beth or Gypsy'll be happy tah' serve ya'. Won' meddle, jus' stoppin' in ta' make sure ya' know Manion's a friend of tha' house...My house." She finished, emphasizing the ownership. She changed the skillet to the hand that had been on Manion's shoulder and held out the right.

"I'm Gal, welcome to my place." Her grip was firm, even in his armor. He was also glad that there was something between his skin and hers, the heat coming through his gauntlet was intense.

Several heads turned, and some of the conversation quieted around the room, maybe that's what caused both heroes, trained by experience, to turn towards the source.

Gal had just come from the kitchen, setting out some bowls and foods at her own grill. It had been a few days since she got to show off, and it was a secret pleasure for her. Her habit was knowing what happened in the place, and the towering lady noticed Manion and someone else quickly. The tiara she wore, hidden in the thick afro, gave her some measure of premonition. Her eyes narrowed.

"Evening sugar," she spoke to some of the regulars, sharing a quick pat on the arm or handshake. "Good ta' see ya'," to another table. Her path was not direct, but certainly ended at Manion's table.

"Good evenin', sweetie," Gal stopped next to him, laying an immense hand on his shoulder like an old friend. "Was hoping tah' see yah' tonight." Manny, and his companion, couldn't help but notice that she also carried a large cast iron skillet, sizzling and glowing a dull red in her other, unprotected, hand.

"Yah' haven't introduced me tah' your friend." Unseen by Manion, her gaze fixed the armored man like a spear. A deep red glow filtered through her hair where the powered gem in her headpiece brightened. He had to look far, far up into her eyes.

((OOC: See Manny? There might not be trouble, but Gal looks out for people. She's just there to make sure it stays civil.))

Sibling watched Ada, he didn't seem too concerned about the Portal problem. They didn't know exactly what his place was in the company, but they knew he was no mere employee. They also knew he had a collection of mementos from his travels, things like Black Swan's shoes, Neuron's gloves, Malaise's battle mask, so he was also no mere hero.

"Well, Ada," they said quietly around a cup of tea, "you know that anything the Sisters can do is yours for the asking."

Osmella was watching, carefully. The twins and the blaster were old friends, talking and acting with a familiarity that only good friends could. To some it would lead to certain assumptions...

Sibling's smile cracked and a curious tilt of their head towards the younger controller.

"Anyway," they said, "Lady Osmella was our student once, and in honesty a very good one." The pale blonde girl blushed, which surprised even her, Sibling was very spare with praise towards her. "She was even able to deal with Cliff."

Now, Ada's eyebrows lifted and then settled in surprise. He had dealt with the male twin before, and it was an experience. He could only imagine what being tutored by him would be like.

"Some lessons he is better at giving, and while Oz is not a Teek, he has much better battle instincts than Angela."

The blonde controller interrupted, "But I would not want to live with him...again." Osmella smiled and Sibling laughed.

"He has his moments, Oz. Gal has done wonders for his sense of propriety," Sibling paused then smiled wider, "and she says she heard that." Their head swiveled to indicate the kitchen.

"Oz, maybe you could tell Ada what happened to the portal? You have our permission, and we know you have an idea." Sibling sat back, trying to get the two talking to one another, instead of using the twins as a centerpiece.

((OOC: 100MPH is no fun, Ada, keep it under 80 and enjoy holding onto your partner...))

"Sir," Martin , pulled himself to his utmost height, "A woman who would not take an honest proposal seriously is not worth the asking. Since you appear to be earnest, and sincere, I believe we can arrange to impress upon this woman your good will and intent." He walked to a wooden rack, like all the others, holding the wines slightly cork-down.

Each bottle was marked lightly with chalk, indicating how to turn it to keep the wine right. Martin stopped in front of a tower with several empty spots, speaking to the man without turning.

"I would know three things, and then you can be be at ease that the matter will be handled." He was straight to business, like the professional he was.

"First, Sir, what is her favorite color. Second, is the lady likely to become aggitated or happy with the news. Third, and perhaps the answer you should longest consider," he had pulled one bottle from the rack, and a white linen towel to clean it with from one of several hooks. "How will you react if she declines? I would advise that you accept gracefully, as the establishment will still serve dinner and hope for your good opinions. I will do my earnest best, with what you can tell me, but without some idea of her conventions and proper etiquette..." He arched an eyebrow and allowed the comment to hang.

((OOC: Betty, don't sweat the bill, Steve can tell you later about washing dishes besides, Gal has a real soft spot for romance and this stuff...and wedding catering is VERY lucrative.))

"Ye do me a great favor, Miss Falcon. I kinna' ask more o' Miss Gal or Sibling, an truth be told, I find your personality more," he searched for the word. He didn't want to be too forward, but wanted to convey his honest emotion. "companionable, if you'll pardon mah sayin' it."

He took the winelist from Falcon, but folded it without glancing inside. Instead, he gazed across the table at the woman, and allowed a direct, if very brief, look. Her manners and carriage were much like the proper women of his time, the aristocracy that he knew of, and had even had on the trains, but never socialized with. She seemed so approachable, so willing to talk, wher they would have considered him below their station.

"I know naugh' of wine, an' will let Martin decide tha'." The Maitre' D was nowhere to be seen, but Steve knew that he was never far from the podium. "An I think tha' an occassion such as this, mayhap we could have some champagne," then he paused, looking somewhat puzzled, "if they still ha' that.

"An I believe you ha' a story to tell," his eyes briefly contemplated the bandage again, then darted back to her face. He feared that gazing too long at the place where she was injured would send the wrong message, but...she was a very attractive woman.

((OOC: Hey all, back and in one piece. Had a great time, and I highly recommend the Columbia Gorge Scenic Highway and Pendleton if you are ever out this way. Nice Hampton Inn out at TriCities, with a hot tub in the room...The Triumph has it's first 700 miles, life is good.))

((OOC: OK, heroes and heroines, here's the situation. The wife and I are taking the weekend to ride our new Triumph, so we will not be posting. I would say that if you are interacting with the staff, keep them in character, but feel free to run them. Otherwise, I will be back late Sunday and trust the place will be standing.

To the nervous gentleman in green...Martin will do whatever he can, how could he not with so touching a proposal? Memorable it will be.))

"Well, I would hope tha' they ha'nt the attention o' any villains, but findin' them is mah' first task. Scattered hither an' yon, most likely." He would have been frustrated, despondent two days ago. It was hard enough to know he had that responsibility, without trying to figure how not to use his friends.

Now, in less than forty-eight hours, many things had changed.

"Dear lady, you ha' the wisdom o' this life. Bein' a hero an' finery," he motioned to her, indicating the beautiful clothing and her weapon. "I know none o' this. I was born to another time, and e'en if you say it, I am no hero.

"But when I sit here, wi' you, tha' matters none. I'd say, I trust you to help me, an nah' to lead me astray. 'Tis a great boon I ask of yeh', an I'd be a little ashamed ta' ask it..." he paused, watching her face.

"Will yeh' help me to clear mah' name?"

Three of the women at the table knew each other intimately, Wadi lived in the same house as Gemini most of the time, but presently lived with another Sister, studying for upcoming trials. She trained under the Asian woman, and took many lessons from Sharon. Her skill lie with blades, but whether the Broadsword or Katana, she was still deciding.

At this table, Janice was the stranger, and knew very little about any of the others. She had spoken to Gem several times, been on the Island accompanied by her, but beyond basic information, she knew nothing. The dark-skinned woman, she had seen in passing, and knew her name. Even the young woman, who she officially had guardianship of, she barely knew. Such was the life she led, alone.

"Daughter," Gemini's soft, accented voice came, "what do you know of your past? Before you came to the Island?" Gypsy orbited somewhere nearby, waiting for some sign that she should approach.

"I do not remember," the girl said quietly, not looking at anyone. "The first memory I have is riding Horus in the wood."

Not new information to the Sisters at the table, but Gemini was creating the backdrop. The tall woman would not know anything about the girl's life, and describing it would take too long. Janice had visited, as often as she thought necessary, to make sure the girl was well. Beyond that, she had left the Order to raise Wadi, a name she had chosen, and trusted them as a whole.

"We have never told you how you came to the Island, but you know you are not our blood kin?" Gemini watched for the girl to nod, "You know that Miss Sartain brought you to us, and asked that we care for you?" Another nod. "What of your family?"

"The Sisters are my family, the trees and those things that grow..." the girl started with what was the correct, learned answer.

Lady Gemini cut her short, sometimes doctrine was out of place. "No, daughter, I mean your mother and father."

"Oh," she ducked her head, hands clasped in her lap, like she was reciting math tables for a test. "They are dead. My blood family is dead."

"No," Janice spoke, a deep and final tone. "That's not completely true." She lifted the small satchel she carried, Gemini and Sharon both watching. The older Sisters had not heard the story either, but were trained to not show surprise.

"Wadi, whether you remember me or not, I brought you to the Sisters. It's true that your mother and father died," she did not deal with compassion often, and assumed that with women like these, blunt truth was typical, "I was there. I knew them both."

She pulled the package out, carefully laying it on the table in the tribal scarf. One hand let the empty satchel fall beside her chair, her eyes on the patterned cloth. Both hands pushed the bundle to the center of the table, all eyes there, still easy reach for her long arms.

"You know the name of the nomadic people that live in the deserts?" She didn't know how much history or other skills Sisters taught, this could be a long story.

"You mean the Bedoo?" The girl pronounced it correctly, even like she was a native. That caught Janice's attention.

"Yeah," she glanced to Gemini, suspicious. The girl saw the look and continued.

"The Order is founded on knowledge, I also know about the races of Africa and the Americas, Parle' Italiano and can navigate by the stars. Why?" Oh, Janice realized, this was definitely one of the nomads. The girl spoke like a challenge, and a tiny smirk crossed Sharon's features even while Gemini stayed calm.

"This cloth is the tribal head dress of your people." She touched it carefully, revealing the box inside. "Your mother was Bedouin. You were the last of your village," she turned the box toward the girl, "but not the last of your tribe. You have cousins, uncles, aunts that still live in the desert. I have seen them."

The girl sat, eyes narrow. This woman was not her family, but was her guardian, at least as she had been told. Hardly even a teenager, Wadi was trying to grasp all this new information. She knew, from studies, of the desert people and their culture and had considered that she resembled them. The Sisters only said she was from the Middle East, and treated her like their own flesh. Now suddenly, she had family, a history...did it matter?

Gemini and Sharon sat quietly, not intruding, allowing the girl and the giant to talk.

"I was from the desert." Janice pulled a photograph from her pocket, placing it on the still closed box. Her father and mother in their traditional robes and head dresses, two sisters and a brother, and her. Before, when she had been human in proportion and tanned. The women's faces were hidden behind veils, but they stood as a family.

Wadi's eyes went from the photo to Janice, back and forth.

"What happened?" The girl was still a girl, training or not.

"That is where our stories are the same..." Janice took a breath and started talking to the young woman, and it was Gemini and Sharon who were strangers now.

"You intend to propose to this woman?" Martin walked with hands behind his back, erect and still leading the man.

"To be done properly, I would advise that you be reasonably certain she will accept, first. Not being familiar with her, or your, customs, sir, all I can offer is what would be proper in my experience." He might be unskilled in the asking, Martin thought, but at least he had sense enough to ask.

"If you are willing, the establishment could accomodate something...memorable for you." The Englishman pushed open the non-descript door to the "wine cellar", a room specially built for housing the collection.

"Oh, Martin is a softy," her shy smile returned. "It is going to busy though. Until Gal can get some more decent help, it's going to be busy.

"I'll make sure you aren't thirsty, and get the veal on the way. Of course you can walk me home," she giggled, "the city isn't safe for a girl alone, you know, and I can't pick up Gal's warhammer."

"Well, an' thi' is the problem." His smile faltered slightly, not disappearing, but taking on a thoughtful tone. "I am bound, by mah' actions and mah' duty ta' make amends wi' the families. Money canna' do this alone, an ta' be certain, I do nah' know how to make up for wha' was done long ago.

"For meself, my needs be small. I ha' a place tah' sleep, good food, shoes on mah' feet." He paused, looking aside for a moment, the winelist forgotten and Martin nowhere to be seen.

"I think many people, they don' know how well they ha' it. Mah' family, there were se'en o' us boys. Pa worked dark tah' dark. We had no runnin' water, schoolin' were for tha' wealthy. I started wi' the road as a boy, oiler on one o' tha' mountain spurs. Ne'er had money more than enough."

He was still smiling, his mood a little somber but not unhappy. In reality, he was considering how to use his new wealth. One thing Martin had helped him with, was the scope of the wealth, which to him had sounded like a ransom. Times did change, and even numbers followed by several zeroes was not as much as it once had been. The sum in his account had literally stunned him, in his day, he could have built the intercontinental line with less.

"I ne'er wanted more than I had. What should I do?" The few people he knew, he trusted Falcon, Sibling, Gal and Martin. Azuria, he wasn't sure about.

"Aye," he replied, smiling. "Wha' with Martin havin' ta' guide me through the laws today an all."

His mood was good, all the better with Falcon. He always felt out of place, seeing everything new, all that he knew being so outdated. Even the laws were so complex.

"I know of the Sisters, e'en would call one or two a friend. Seem to be good people, a little protective of their own." He changed topics, not wanting to get into how he viewed other's, when he really didn't know that well.

"It seems, the accident which pu' me 'ere...I mean, at the bottom of tha' Danville Trestle, were nah' entirely my own. After the wreck, the road changed hands many a' time, but tha' settlement was placed in a trust.

"Lass at City Hall, she contacted me, seems tha' there were some pay due me. Carryin' interest for near a hundred years." He allowed himself a wide smile, it meant he could be his own man again. As much as he appreciated Gal's, and everyones, understanding, he would not allow debts to go unpaid.

"So, lovely Falcon, not only be this a celebration of my time wi' you, but of good fortune."

Martin arrived, almost on cue, with the wine list.

She smoothed the shirt again, feeling so out of place it hurt. Coming to this meeting, she was also unarmed, not by request but out of respect, which made it all the worse. The clothes still fit her body, but the way she wore them made it apparent they did not fit HER. She had watched several groups go through the doors, from a horned woman in a tiny dress to one in a gown, and men from street clothes to full suits.

*I guess I won't be out of place in the circus*, she thought, stepping out of the shadows and being careful of the fire escapes and awnings. Built for human traffic, seven feet from the ground was still below eye level for her, so many of the building fixtures were hazardous.

She was very pleasantly surprised to see that the door was sized taller than her, but the owner was a Sister, and that meant she would expect guests of large proportions. Huge yellow hands, proportioned to her eight foot plus frame, swung the door wide before one foot stepped in. Old habit, the door rocked against the stops.

Her eyes swept the room, small foyer with one man at the podium, hall to the right leading to another room, obscured from view but small tables, the bar on the side. Hallway with bathrooms, two, doors swing in opposite sides. Main room to the left, tables and booths, back hidden in shadow. Far wall with kitchen doors, bussers going in and out, main line behind the wall with a pass through, four heads in view, maybe twice that in the kitchen. Large central stand with flowers, chairs all mobile, tables not. Eighteen people in the room, not including the two waitresses, flash of a Portal Corp insignia. She snapped her fingers, knew there was white noise in the room.

That fast, Martin saw her walk in, saw her head rotate like a mechanical thing. The snapping of her fingers, well, maybe she was just satisfied she had found the best restaurant in town. She was a large one, at least as tall as Miss War, but less mass.

"Good evening, madam. May I inquire as to whether you have a reservation?" He noticed there were no retinas, no irises to her eyes, just a solid yellow color, very like her skin, sulphur. Her fashion, well, he wouldn't call it that but he wouldn't point it out either.

"Miss Sartain will be dining with us, Martin." She had not missed the woman in green silks when she walked up behind the Maitre 'D. She would have known Gemini's talent simply by the way she moved, fluid, almost like she never reached the end of any movement, just flowed in another direction.

"Lady Gemini, of course." He ducked his head, not looking back. "Miss Sartain, if you will be so kind, please follow me." He pulled another menu from the stack, Beth gliding up to cover the podium for the moment it would take.

"She was not to see me until her eighteenth birthday, we had agreed." Janice spoke low, but her voice carried anyway.

"We had agreed she would not see you until she came of age. Whatever laws are in force on this land, are not necessarily upon the Island." The Asian woman walked with hands in sleeves, short steps that made Janice feel awkward.

"She is a woman now, and our laws state that she must be given permission by her family and also freely request to become a Sister. She has asked The Lady..." They drew close to the table, and any conversation would have to wait.

Sharon stood behind Wadi's chair, the youth already standing and gaping at Janice's height. Gemini was tiny compared to the towering blaster, and the two stood looking at each other a moment.

"Mistress Wadi, Daughter of Lady Gemini, Apprentice to the Order, this is Janice Sartain, your guardian." Gemini waved a hand at them, waiting.

There was a silence, Gemini and Sharon allowing it to form. Janice finally broke the quiet.

"Salam au Laikem. You are much taller than I remember, and beautiful like your mother." Janice smiled, a small motion that caused the girl to look down.

"I do not know you," the girl's still coarse voice swept over the table, stinging Janice.

"That is what we are here to remedy," Gemini motioned to the chairs, Sharon moving to the other end of the table. "Sit, we will talk and then we will see."