Welcome to Gaia! ::

Mur wandered in and out of consianceness. She looked up and found herself cradled by pillows, she managed to smile before slipping out of consianceness again.

Mur felt lines burning over her face, as they passed over a blister sparks shot across her eyelids.

She opened her eyes to see her torturer. She was very beautiful.

"My name is Indira."

"I'm Mur. Am I alright? I couldnt stay awake... how long have i slept? Who owns this many pillows? ARCH THAT HURT!!"

Her face skrewed up in pain as she moved her leg. She wasnt beautiful, not even pretty, her face was too angular and harsh, her skin too pale, her limbs too long and thin. Her long thin dreads were splayed across the pillows.

"Is it broken? I think its just fractured, I can feel my toes."

She talked so fast that the other woman couldnt get a word in, when she finaly feel silent, she looked at the copious amounts of pillows.

Once the doctor and his medics had gone, Indira remained alone with Mur in the room. Currently the girl was resting, so Indira milled about the tent, wondering what to do next. She searched Damon's tent for some clean clothes and placed a pile next to Mur's cot on a pillow for whenever she woke up. She also prepared a large basin with some water and a washcloth for Mur to wash up as best as she could. After bringing some food and water as well, Indira decided to try and wake her to ask the questions Damon asked.

Indira kept vigil over the injured young woman, smoothing out her hair and keeping her skin moist with the cream she had made. At last when Mur began to wake, Indira began her questioning with a calm voice. She didn't want to make Mur feel uncomfortable, but she did understand Damon's precaution- she was, afterall, a stranger.

But at least she is not a prisoner.

"We might as well get to know eachother, since we'll both be here for awhile. What happened to you, Mur? Where are you from?"

MEANWHILE...

A continus high pitch screech bounced around the room and the sound of what could have been shattering glass accompanied the screeched, "What do you mean you lost her!?" Blue eyes glanced down to the shattered remains of his partner before cooly lifting them to stare back at the enraged visage of Lady Antoinette Bastille - the mastermind and head of the Bastille family. Lady Bastille was a drop dead gorgeous woman if you liked the type who had cold beauty and a calculating look in their eyes. However, at this moment, Antoinette was far from beautiful. She was in a rage and looking for someone to blame. Unfortunately, it had been the lowly captain who had stood at Dorian's side just moment's before having been frozen by the cold power of ice Lady Bastille posessed and then summarily shattered by a stupid paperweight.

Dorian sighed, "My Lady, I wish you hadn't disposed of my Captain. Another month will have to be set aside to find a competant replacement for him." A pause, "And yes, the woman eluded us. When we arrived at the Oasis she was reported to live in, it was nearly burned to the ground. Any inhabitants are either dead or moved on to the next Oasis." Before Antoinette could snap a question at him, Dorian continued, "We searched the surrounding area and other Oasis'... there was nothing to indicate she was there, my Lady." Silence then descended upon the room, Antoinette obviously have regained her composure and thinking the situation through.

"Pirates?"

"Most definitely, my Lady."

"...... your brother?" Dorian hesitated in replying. "It's difficult to say, Lady Bastille. Indeed, my brother isn't loathe to use fire as a means of distruction... however, he not always in the habit of destroying an entire village." Antoinette seemed satisfied with his answer and didn't press the matter further. Instead she made a request, "Contact the Head of Section Beta. I am implementing the Delta Project into your tactical teams." Dorian bristled at this knowledge and inquired, "My Lady, is it really necessary to implement the cyborgs? I have heard rumors that they haven't been given field training. I am not a babysitter!" His lip curled in distaste, "These things are nothing more than robots doing work a human should be doing."

Antoinette chuckled, cupping her pale skinned chin in her hand, "Do I sense some hostility, Dorian?" Crimson painted lips smiled, "The test subjects are hardly robots, Dorian. They simply have cybernetic implants." A finely shaped brow arched, her head tilting a bit in study, "Are you afraid of a little competition, General?"

"I-- No, my Lady," Dorian replied reluctantly. Raising a hand to his heart, he bowed in compliance with her instructions, "I will contact Section Beta A-SAP." Straightening, he did an aboutface and left the room.

[--ahems-- So apparently there are some here who have dirty minds --blatant look at Ahlia-- and I would just like to clarify that Damon is changing from his Werewolf form back to his human form.]

Indira had been directed to a location some distance away from the camp by Gerald. She was not stopped when she disappeared into the darkness but it wouldn't be very far when she heard strange noises in the dark. The sounds seemed to be painful, for a distinct cry of pain could be heard before silence fell and the nightly noise of other desert creatures slowly began anew.

Damon suddenly stumbled into Indira's line of vision. At first glance it was apparant the he had exerted himself and become exhausted. His gaze focused on her and then past her as he stared at the encampment before fixing his attention on a stone just in front of her and to the right. A small pile of clothes had been set on it and Damon started pulling on pants while asking, "Gathering from your appearance outside the tent that our unusual guest spoke to you?" He tugged on a shirt then and added, "What did she say?"

((ahh, sorry. -checks post- yea, I mentioned that the ice caves no longer exsisted))
Running. that was all life had been for me. Running. There was no place safe. And once again i was running across the desert. the hot sand whipped across my face. How I hated the dry sand and the hot sun. I belong in the Ice Caves. But now they are gone. And somehow it's my fault. Running, never ceasing, to pay for my error. I fell flat in the sand, tripping over something soft and swishy. I spat out a moutful of grit and held up the object that caused me to fall. It was covered in sand. i shook off the dry specks into the wind and peered at the item. It was a small medalion, golden in color, with strange writing on it. there was a picture of many trees on one side. The trees were huge and in a much greater number than I had ever seen.

The rain had stopped hours ago, but Indira was still moving onwards. She followed the lights that Damon had pointed out to her shortly before the drops began to fall and he forced her into a kiss. She was growing weary in the cold night, and slowly she found her eyes closing and opening as she tried to fight off sleep and its comfort.

She wondered what the members of Damon's crew were doing now. Were they drinking the fresh water endlessly or stowing it away? Perhaps they were using it to wash their most precious clothes, for the water was more than a liquid to them, that night, it was a gift; a gift they believed her to be responsible for.

Indira stumbled to her knees in the sand, coughing from the dryness in her throat. There was no way she would make it to the Metropolis alive, but there was no way she would willingly return to the Oasis either. If she was going to die, she would let the Desert take her, an no one else.

I can't be the woman in the prophecy. It's impossible. I've never had any powers..any special abilities. I'm just a woman..nothing more. Nothing more.

Tears stung her eyes, but Indira wiped them away. Then she wiped her lips, scoffing in disgust. How dare Damon kiss her! That murderous pig. The desperation of fear, thirst, and exhaustion had overwhelmed her so much hat she began to sob as she walked along the sand.

"Pig...I hate you...I hate you.."

Indira failed to see the dip in the dune ahead, and soon enough she was tumbling down hill. She tried to gain her footing, but tripped on rock when her skirts got caught on a branch of dead wood and she tore free from it. She felt an enourmous pain throbbing in her leg and radiating up her body. She stared blankly at the sky, cursing Damon and all of his crew, the desert, the drunken bard, and even her own stupidity. Her last memory before she collapsed was a shooting star streaking across the sky.



((Ahlia: 3))