Disclaimer: All the terms from Mage: the Ascension are copyrighted by White Wolf.
Thoughts and Questions: A Quiet Day
Raahi sat in his armchair by the hearth, blazing despite the warm season, and sipped red wine. A moment of well earned respite, warmth and safety, after a long and perilous journey he just finished. The rich bouquet reminded him of a bizarre morning adventure few months back. Crooked smile softened his sharp features. If only he was in his room when an almost naked, literally bathed in wine Judith came to use his shower. He had vivid imagination, he could almost see wet hair clinging to her clear forehead and fragile neck, red droplets on her pale skin. How would it taste mixed with her heady scent, he wondered.
But he wasn't there. The fate, he so skillfully commanded, played a trick on him.
He liked to relish in that missed chance. The bitter-sweet longing, guessing and cursing the cruel fate was better that facing the reality. The reality that he couldn't and probably wouldn't do anything even if he were there. He was a psychopompos above anything else. He belonged to the land of the dead more than here. His presence itself tainted anything alive. His touch brought death and decay. No mortal could stand him close. Raahi chose his path knowing the consequences, but he was young. Never did he realize how heavy a burden this loneliness will grow with time. The needs of the body he could handle. He did for so many years. But now it all became much more complicated.
* * *
- Damn it all to hell! - A loud crash accompanied the exasperated curse. Yet another magickal experiment based on her dreams/visions/memories had just gone awry. Another bottle in cue to fly against the wall froze in her hand, as she spotted a curious slightly transparent figure staring at her from a corner.
So, he was back from the land of the dead.
One of his minions poking around was proof enough. It was strange though, how a well versed spirit master like him couldn't control his servants' curiosity. True, she was the only one able to see them here in Raven's Flat (besides their master of course) but still. It appeared almost as if he didn't try to stop them from spying on her hard enough. That thought somehow both infuriated and excited her.
The ghost disappeared instantly of course. Her recent agitation forgotten, Judith put the bottle of green liquid back on the table, absentminded. Then she sat in her rocking chair and lit a cigarette, feeling his presence despite the wall that separated them.
* * *
Looks like our abusive child prodigy has a thing for the deadwalker, thought Laurence, mildly amused if not surprised. Not that he cared about personal affairs of other team members, but this could at some point lead to trouble, taking in mind how immature, fragile and dangerous she could be. He made a habit of monitoring mental state of all members of G.H.O.S.T. Being the most capable among them in the sphere of mind, he thought of himself as not only a tactician but a psychologist in a way.
Of course this was just deduction based on small hints and clues, but he'll be damned if he was going to check it the usual way. Judith was abundantly clear in regards to him poking around in her mind, and Laurence sure as hell didn't want her mad. This black two meter tall professional soldier, was reasonable enough to fear her wrath. He had seen enough to make sure she was on the same side of the barricade, at all times.
This was a sensitive spot, since mind was the only magickal matter she couldn't grasp. And she was a loner, fiercely fighting for her independence and privacy. But there were times when Laurence was certain that there's more behind this phobia.
Judith most definitely was far from mentally stable, or socially adapted for that matter. Sure mages were special in many ways, and he could only guess what awakening in your childhood, if not prenatal phase, ought to do to your mind. Sometimes, when her guard was down, he saw the depths of guilt and self-loathing behind her arrogance and aloofness. Straightening her up could prove quite a challenge. But without her consent, it would be no better that the Technocrats' brainwashing, not to mention incredibly difficult. Besides, breaking ones will when it came to magick-users always lead to disastrous consequences, since it was the will that kept their unimaginable powers in check.
* * *
- The fire-starter is breaking stuff again, if you were interested what the noise was. - Reported with a smirk one of his ghosts. - And she is magnificent when she's angry.
- Didn't I tell you all not to go there? Eventually she'll notice you and get even more agitated. Remember, she can see you now. And, knowing how quick a study she is, for all I know by now she could be able to catch you and do painful things for trespassing. Not to mention how angry she'll be with me. - Added Raahi under his breath.
- Oh, come on. You're as curious about her as we are. - Countered his servant, seemingly unaffected by his threads. - Besides, this can only give you another opportunity to talk to her. Isn't that what you really want, master?
- That's none of your business! - The uncharacteristic burst of anger sent all his servants into hiding.
* * *
Aromatic smoke spiralled around a small form perched on the parapet of a neogothic turret in Raven's Flat. Judith in an old stretched black sweater, thorn jeans and gigantic headphones blaring metal, stared of above the rooftops of Boston, and thought. Only her hair was visible from afar - a vibrant violet splotch.
So, the dance begins anew... - She murmured to herself. - One step forth, two steps back. Will he avoid me like last time? Or will we work together?
She still remembered that fateful assignment. The long journey from that cursed town. His reassuring if disturbing proximity. The charged almost tangible silence between them. And his unreadable expression after that massacre. Was he disgusted? Afraid? Or was it fascination in his constant stare? She couldn't read a thing it this exotic face of his, and it annoyed her to no end.
There seemed to be a lot of things that annoyed her about him. And fascinated at the same time. Like the gloves. He always wore them, even indoors. Almost as if he was afraid of physical contact. She could only guess the shape of strong masculine hands with long fingers beneath the black leather. And somehow it was important to know what his hands were like. Come to think of it he was always covered head to toe with warm dark clothes. Only his stoic face visible. (And his long curly black hair, usually tied back in a ponytail or a loose braid.) But why would he dress like that? Was it some strange taboo, where he came from? Or was he simply cold all the time? It wouldn't surprise her, being in the Underworld once was enough for her to shiver for days. Or maybe he hid underneath some terrible scars, or ritual markings? Magickal tattoos? He remained a mystery, an Judith was incredibly inquisitive.
The ghostly servants were another issue. At first they scared her a bit, appearing out of nowhere, like that demonic female figure, with a big smile full of razor sharp teeth and abyssal black eyes. Or the gigantic reptile. But quickly she regain composure. She knew they didn't mean her harm, though they could be dangerous, she was certain. Now they were just another reason for annoyance. But deep down she almost liked them. As lively, nosy and wickedly mischievous as their master seemed indifferent. Were they so unlike him to compensate? Or did he just hide his true self so well beneath that impassive mask?
* * *
- Why would you stalk her of all people? Don't you have any self-preservation instinct left? She's dangerous. - His companions emerged from their hideouts lured by true care in his voice.
- You are lonely, massster. You need a mate. - Hissed the Serpent, coiling around his arm.
- And she is fitting. Fearless, strong, and capable in magick.- Added Aakash, levitating in lotus position by his side.
- You all know well I can't get close with any mortal. I'm to tainted with jhor.
- She's no mere mortal.
- I know. She is different in many ways. But she's still so young... - Deep in thought he didn't even notice it was an admission.
- Her body maybe...
- And what a body it is – interrupted the Banshee, smiling hungrily.
- ...but not her soul. - Finished Aakash patiently.
Yes, her Avatar was old, maybe even ancient. Sometimes Raahi wondered how many incarnations did she carry with her, how much she remembered. He could sense this strength and bitterness in her of one never allowed to be a child. They were the same. He too awoke early, if he ever had been a sleeper at all. His destiny was written long before he was born. His magick defined who he was. And so was she. She was the flame. She was anger, destruction, revenge. Dreadful to behold when she mercilessly scorched her enemies to ashes.
Her magick was strong, if unstable. It seeped out of her constantly. She was so confident in her power, magick deeds seemed as natural as breathing to her. Only once did he see fear in her eyes - when she stepped into his domain. For the first time in her life she was out of her element, defenceless. And she called for him.
- Of course she called me, am I not the G.H.O.S.T.'s ghost-specialist? - Raahi asked himself bitterly. But he had to admit to himself, that being able to help and protect this fierce, self-efficient creature did feel good. Since then she have learned quite a bit of the spirit. Judith was indeed very gifted. At the age of sixteen knowing all the spheres was really a feat. All but one. Thank gods she couldn't read minds.
* * *
Frigidheart rose her gaze from her monitors, hearing voices in the open kitchenette adjacent to her workstation. It was Jud fixing herself another coffee – like the hothead needed more caffeine in her system. Raahi was there too. Frig didn't know he was back. He never used the front door. Those two seamed oddly comfortable together for a pair of loners and weirdos.
Judith she came to accept, despite her wild magick, her attitude, and her sarcastic remarks. She kind of grew accustomed to their witty banter. Even the ever-present cigarette smoke didn't bother her anymore. But Raahi creeped her out. Frig always felt cold around him, and could swear someone or something watched her from every shadow, it made her short-cropped hair stand on end. Besides he was awfully quiet, no-one knew what he thought. The fact that he was a Tanatos didn't help matters. All this, combined with his Hindu descent, made her think of Kali worshipping assassins, whenever his tall lanky figure loomed silently above her. Of course she knew what was his real speciality in G.H.O.S.T., even if all this spiritual crap didn't quite fit in her rationalistic paradigm, but this knowledge didn't help. So being as grounded - mentally and physically, she thought dryly patting her wheelchair - as Frigidheart, the only thing you could do not to run screaming was to avoid him.
Just look at that, Raahi is smiling, laughing even. That's a first. My my, that smile changed his whole face, as if it broke a frozen mask. What a fascinating man - Frig caught herself thinking. White teeth contrasted with his swarthy complexion. Sharp features softened. Dark almond- shaped eyes gleamed with humour, Frig never suspect he had. Looks like Jud didn't bring out only bad things in people after all.
Author Note: That's sort of an introduction of dramatis personae. Not even all the members made it here. I'll try to update soon. This is my first story here, so I hope for some feedback.