just another story in this forum...

[Jennifer]

“Who are you?” asked the man with thinning brown hair and gray eyes behind wire-framed glasses which sat perched on a long thin nose. “Or I should rather ask ‘What are you?’ And how did you get to be this way?”

A seemingly young woman sat across the bare table from him. “I’m what you just saw the other night,” the woman answered. “A person who can not stay dead. Oh, make no mistake…I can die just as well as anyone. But I don’t stay dead. The moonrise after my last death sees me opening my eyes and drawing another breath as a 23 year-old woman, no matter what age I was killed at.” She paused long enough to light a cigarette and take a long, deep drag before continuing. She was hesitant to tell her story, so she decided to keep it short and simple. She did not quite trust this man.
“About 450 years ago, I was a hunter. I hunted whatever needed to be hunted at the time. Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters…whatever evil things that were in want of a good killing. One day I decided to hunt the wrong evil thing…a demon laid a curse on me. Now, I can die, but I will not know death. Ever.” She sat watching the man as the smoke drifted over their heads.

The man sat silently and digested this information. Finally he leaned forward, steepling his long fingers underneath his narrow chin. “This is extraordinary. Such a gift has never been known. For someone of your…supernatural…fighting abilities to be unable to die. If there were a way to figure out the spell that made this happen…” He jumped in his seat as the woman slammed her hand hard on the table.

“Have you not heard a word I’ve just said?” she yelled at him, an accent of some sort becoming apparent in her agitation. “This is not a gift. This is a curse. I’m not unable to die. I have died all too often. And every time, I feel the pain and fear of that death, whether it is from a knife, a bullet, or simply my heart failing of old age!” Her voice took a wistful tone. “But after that pain and fear, I go to this…place. I don’t know if it’s heaven, but it’s filled with light…a place where I finally know peace. Real peace. But before I can truly rest,” – she slammed her hand on the table again – “I’m ripped from that place and brought back. Still feeling the agonies of my last death resonate through my body and mind. No, this is no gift,” she spat that word contemptuously. “If you want to find the spell that did this, you will get no help from me. And if you ever do find that spell, I will kill you before you can curse someone else with it.”

She stood up and left the room, leaving the man to gaze after her thoughtfully.

[Jennifer]

Corinne sits at the piano. The instrument is a thing of beauty, completely out of place in the large spartan studio, sitting, as it is, surrounded by various weapons – things of beauty in their own rights. The weapons watch her from their places on the walls. Her fingers slowly pick out a melody she used to play for Bastien.
- I love to hear you play, he would whisper in her ear as he knelt behind her, making her shiver.
Her fingers stop over the keys as she closes her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the images that appear to her so vividly. After sitting like this for she knows not how long, she abruptly stands up, knocking the bench over. The anger that has been right beneath her skin since her conversation with the Englishman – a gift! – feels ready to explode. Tight, wound like a spring, she walks up to the punching bag that hangs from her ceiling and starts hitting it. At first just hard enough that it swings slightly. Harder as the anger builds. Soon the bag sways back and forth drastically, and she is sweating and breathing hard. She keeps hitting the bag, not noticing that her knuckles have split open and leave bloody prints on the canvas.

The man watches her from the doorway with mixed feelings of awe and pity. His brother had told him about her last night.
-The girl doesn’t realize what a wondrous gift she’s been given! the brown-haired man had exclaimed with some degree of exasperation. She’s an immortal. Not only an immortal, but an immortal with powerful skills. She could be of tremendous use to us!
Seth had listened to his older brother rant on about her for a while, nodding in all the right places. And he knew that Charles would never be able to convince her into fighting with them. He didn’t bother explaining to him why he thought that, though.
Now he watches her pour out her anger, transferring it to her fists, and his heart goes to her a little bit. Seth, although perhaps not as learned as his brother, is a bit wiser nonetheless. He pushes the door open wider and curses silently as it creaks.

Corinne hears the door creak through the blood that rushes in her ears and turns without hesitation, ready to fight this new enemy. A man with ginger hair stands in her doorway, his hands held in a peaceful manner.
-“I’m sorry,” he says. “The door was unlocked.”
-“That’s because I can’t think of anyone stupid enough to actually try to enter without my permission,” she answers, her eyes studying him coldly.
-“Well…I haven’t exactly entered. I’ve been watching you from right here at your threshold.”
-“What do you want?” she asks without inviting him in.
He decides immediately not to evade her questions. Only straightforwardness will win her trust. “My name is Seth, and you spoke to my brother last night. Charles.” He observes her eyes become wary for just an instant before they take on their cold appearance again.
-“And?”
-“And my brother is…very intelligent. But rather stupid, too. He listens without hearing. And I wanted to apologise.”
-“Apology accepted. Now leave.”
Seth glances at her hands. “You’re bleeding.”
Corinne holds her hands in front of her and notices the fact for the first time. Then she shrugs indifferently. “They’ll heal.”
-“Can I come in?” he asks, and he enters without waiting for her answer, not giving her the chance to refuse. He walks to her sink and takes a towel off the counter. “You should clean your hands,” he says as he holds the towel under the running water. Turning, he walks back to the spot where she hasn’t moved from, takes both of her hands in one of his large ones, and puts the towel over her knuckles. “There now,” he says softly. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
Corinne lets him do these things, although she feels uncomfortable with the familiar way he holds her hands and pulls away after a few seconds. “I want you to leave.”
He looks at her for a few seconds more before walking to the door. “Can I come back?” he asks.
-“Whatever,” she answers as she shuts the door in his face.

[Jennifer]

The woman's cries of pain carried far in the humid night air. The villagers gathered outside the hut under a black sky completely devoid of moon and stars. No clouds hid them. For months they had waited for this exact night. For these cries to begin. Women stood with their men, hollow-eyed with a dreadful combination of dull hope and resigned hopelessness. Men held their women in stony silence, jaws tight. Elders stood scattered throughout the crowd, like flecks of mica in granite. Children did not stand restless with their parents. The children were gone.

Another cry sliced the stillness, and it seemed at first like all the cries that had preceeded it. But this one was followed by a different sort of cry. One that hit the crowd and sent a silent ripple through it. The cry of a child just entering the world and not all that pleased with the situation. A breeze accompanied that cry, stirring their hair and bringing them relief from the oppressive air. The cries grew suddenly louder as the door of the hut opened in a wash of firelight.

The people first squinted as the light blinded them, then strained their eyes to adjust as they fought for the first glimpse of their warrior, their champion. The one who would make them safe. The one who would make it safe for children again. The one the promise had said would come on a starless, moonless, cloudless night.

Suddenly, the moon broke free of whatever darkness had shrouded it. The villagers gazed in stunned silence at their warrior, their champion.

Disbelieving.

A girl-child.

[Jennifer]

A dark underground road leads her on to the next step in her life. There's no light at the end of this tunnel for her. Her path leads ever into darkness, and she feels that there may never be an end to this ongoing struggle. There is sometimes a tiny bit of peace between legs of her journey, but it is barely enough to sustain her. Pain is almost all her life has ever been.

There was only one time when the pain lessened slightly. A too short period of relative happiness. There had been music. He had taught her. He favored the violin, and she loved to hear him play. At times she would play the piano along with him. And other times he would just listen to her, and she knew that he, also, loved to hear her play.

But that had been lifetimes ago. And there had been many lifetimes before that. She didn't know how many more would come. All she knew was that they would more than likely be short and violent...