Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini
A/N: First pic after a very long time away, please R&R!
VALKYRIE
"I would learn that every single moment is a coincidence."- Douglas Coupland
Chapter One:
The Woman and the Cat
No one paid attention to the young woman with impossibly frizzy hair that had entered the coffee shop.
It was lunch time and incredibly busy due to the location. It was walking distance of the college campus, and a sudden storm arrived, which caused great distress among the student body of Arizona state.
Even though the tables were filled and strangers shared elbowroom she always found a spot within an ill lit corner of the room. The vast majority of students somehow overlooked the tattered maroon armchair. She took her place and adjusted her outfit consisting of the usual scarves, an oversized cardigan and floor length skirt that seemed stitched together from all different fabrics which clashed together.
Unperturbed the woman's thin fingers plucked needles from her tote bag. She began to hum as her thick wooden needles worked the plush yarn over itself in an easy pattern of constant clicking. The patrons sipping their cups of coffee with noses stuffed in books, stooped in laptops, and a few pressed against another's for warmth and affection paid no mind to her.
"Meow!"
"Hush," She hissed at the cat that had appeared from beneath the armchair's legs. "It's almost time."
"Meow?" It tilted its' head with unblinking green eyes.
"I told you already she's…"
The sound of the entrance bell interrupted the woman.
No taller than five-foot-two a very frazzled twenty-five year old stumbled into the coffee shop. The woman in the corner observed her shake her coat, sending droplets over the wood varnished floor, and run a hand through her unkempt hair. The newcomer slipped off her dark grey peacoat revealing a simple black sweatshirt with "CAFFEINE" in bold white letters stretched across her robust chest. She was stocky with thick muscled thighs and calves accentuated by tight jeans. Her brown eyes searched the crowd with a disappointed frown tugging at her lips.
"Meow?" The cat questioned as if to say 'her?'.
"I don't make the rules." She rolled her eyes. "Still you'd think she'd be… taller."
"Meow." The cat agreed.
The calico cat took the woman's spot, settling into the warmth of the seat, while she began towards the young woman now rummaging through her purple backpack. It watched with unnatural attention as she approached her. Until it's paw brushed against the giant ball of yarn, then it was far more preoccupied with a delightful new subject. The older woman approached the younger. She waited as the college student was sill preoccupied with finding her wallet amongst her books.
"I'm Angela." The woman stated with hands placed upon her hips.
The college student quirked an eyebrow and she pulled her bag instinctively closer.
"Oh, uh, hi!" She stuttered awkwardly. "Sorry am I in your way?"
"What an eloquent greeting." Angela smirked.
"I'm sorry… do we have a class together?"
"No." Angela laughed. "I've not had the need to take a class in centuries."
The young woman blinked.
"Oh… Do I know you?"
"No." Angela's smile almost seemed cruel.
She did love to make people feel awkward and uncomfortable. With everyone able to stare into a small screen that connected them to their groups of friends and family the most awkward thing she could do, it seemed, was to introduce herself.
"I'm Cassandra." The stranger extended a hand with chewed nails and chipped navy paint.
"Pity," Angela frowned and ignored her offered hand. "The last Cassandra I knew was called a liar even though she was the real deal."
"Uh, well that sucks." Cassandra laughed nervously, she retracted her hand, and pushed her layered bangs back into place. The rest of her hair framed a heart shaped face in a pixie cut. "Don't think I've ever been like known as a liar."
"Good." Angela tilted her head so that her sharp features were caught by the light of the twinkle lights stapled to the ceiling. "I don't suspect anyone would believe you though."
Cassandra smiled in attempt to cover a confused frown. She wondered if this woman had some underlying mental illness that her outfit hinted at.
"Do you need like… something to drink or eat?" Cassandra's tone was soft. "I can get you something if you're low on cash."
Angela threw her head back and laughed loudly causing others to glance back at the pair. Cassandra felt an embarrassed heat on her neck and ears.
"No, no dear girl."
Cassandra made a face at being called 'girl'. She figured this woman could be no more than five years older than herself.
"I have something for you." She winked.
"Uh… me?"
"Now I don't normally go around giving away gifts but this one was meant to be given, as it appears, to you." She continued as she turned on her heel with a flourish of her skirts. "Come on."
Cassandra looked over both shoulders to see if there was anyone else who was paying attention to the situation. She wondered if the girl had friends who knew her or was part of some sociology major's study about breaking cultural norms. Never-the-less the twenty-five year old biology major hefted her backpack onto her shoulder and her coat within the crook of her arm. She figured better to indulge the odd woman Angela until she had at least seen what she wanted to give to her. A college student was hard pressed to say no to something freely given.
Cassandra followed the woman towards what looked like an empty corner of the shop, a place where the chatter and hum of the shop seemed muffled, when suddenly she noted the armchair. Cassandra's eyebrows furrowed in thought as she has never seen the armchair before in the three years she had been attending the college and stopping in for her chai tea latte fix. What was even more strange was the cat sitting upon said chair occupied with a now tangled ball of yard it was trying to extract from its limbs.
"I swear," Angela huffed as she helped pull the cat's extremities free. "This is why we can't go anywhere."
The cat hissed.
"Oh shut it," Angela then started to fiddle something around the cat's neck, "Come on cough it up."
The cat meowed back at Angela as Cassandra squinted her eyes. She couldn't visualize a collar but heard the soft tinkering of something. The light reflected off of a sliver of gold. Cassandra saw that Angela was unraveling a thin gold chain from the cat's neck. Cassandra crossed her arms nervously until the woman had unwrapped the chain from the calico coat with angry green eyes.
"This is yours." She stated matter-of-factly.
"Mine?" Cassandra repeatedly dumbly.
Angela held up the chain and there was small black pouch upon the end of it. The woman, with careful and deft hands, pulled on the drawstring at the top so that what looked like an uncut sapphire dangled upon the edge. She stared at it for a moment before looking back towards the disconcerted woman. Cassandra noted that her eyes were misty with tears.
"Not yours, specifically," Her voice now low and husky. "But it is now entrusted to you."
"I don't... I can't accept something like this." Cassandra took a step back. "You hardly know me! I'm a complete stranger!"
"It would be strange to anyone here!" Angela shot back. "You must keep it with you, you must keep it safe!"
"Look, Angela right?" Cassandra placed her hands upwards in a surrendering position. "I really have to be going, I'm sorry, that's quite the necklace but I can't."
"Who says you have a choice?" The woman's eyes turned hard and cold.
Cassandra yelped as her bony fingers latched onto her wrist.
"I'm a messenger amongst other things." Angela searched her frightened dark eyes. "I'll not fail. Not after all this time."
"What do you want!?" Cassandra tugged her hand back and found the woman's grip surprisingly strong.
"It's not what I want!" Her laugh was a mocking cackle. "It's what needs to be done."
"GET OFF ME!"
"Meow!"
Cassandra watched as the woman's hair began to almost crackle and felt something akin to static electricity hum and radiate from her arm. She pulled but the woman's bond was unbreakable. Suddenly a shock of warmth spiked in her hand as the gemstone was now placed upon her upturned palm. The moment it touched her skin she felt an unbearable head blossom across her body and whispers, so many whispers, crowd around her. Her hand instinctively clutched the stone and chain as she fell to her knees with a cry of pain.
"Please!" Her brown eyes looked up to the woman's face through frightened tears. "Please stop!"
"It's only begun child." Angela's face now was somewhat piteous. "Try to adjust."
The young woman watched the world blur into a haze of color as the heat from her hand now scorched her entire being. She registered falling to the ground but did not feel the impact of hitting the floor. Her last moment of consciousness was filled with the mournful whine of a cat.
Suddenly everything burned in a white light.
And then all was lost into darkness.
/~**~/
Angela sat comfortably in her chair awaiting her tea.
She tapped her foot in nervous habit as she pondered the fate of that young woman. After handing the sacred artifact into the startled young woman's hand there was a flash of blinding light that caused onlookers to yell out and arose panic. Angela placed her arms out and drew in a deep breath before speaking 'all is well, return to your business!'. The patrons blinked at her dumbly before returning to their phones, computers and companions as if nothing had occurred. With one last dramatic flourish of her skirt the woman returned to her armchair and sank back within the shadows.
"Here you are ma'am." A worker with a handlebar mustache waited with her tea.
"Hopefully it's warm this time." Angela gave the thirty-something a skeptical glare.
"It is! Have a good one!" He squeaked before scurrying back behind the safety of the coffee bar.
Angela sipped hesitantly and made a face. Ever since the world was content to let machines run their lives she discovered she was hard pressed to find satisfying tea outside of India or Asia.
"Meow."
"Of course it was her," Angela sipped and ignored the cat kneading at her thigh. "It was one o'clock exactly when she walked through that door."
"Meow!"
"Yes it was!"
"Meow, meow!"
"Ouch that's your claws!" Angela batted away the angry feline. "Yes it was, look my watch says its one o' eight exactly!"
The cat hissed and jumped atop the arm chair, it looked up, it's gaze fixed upon the digital clock to the right of an oil painting of Audrey Hepburn. Angela followed it's gaze and felt the color drain from her face. The clock was still on twelve-fifty-nine and within a blink it was now one o' clock.
The doorbell chimed.
In walked a woman, five-foot seven at least, with a duffle bag thrown over slim and strong arms. She had a smile on her face as she shook out her now damp wild blonde curls and green eyes that shone with mischief. A smaller woman embraced her with a running start as the stranger laughed and half picked her up. She was beautiful, strong, and drew everyone's attention with just her presence.
"Meow."
"Fuck!"