Tuesday, 4 November 1800. 1: 54 a.m.
an unpaved path through an alpine forest.
"Hey!" Cathy shouted at the general assembly. "We should take a break soon! The horses are gonna wear out! Not to mention the Gangrel." she glanced at the girl who still jogged beside the horses.
"I'm fine." Micheala shrugged. "But the horses look like they need a break."
"Um...yeah." Cathy stared at her. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been running for how many hours now?"
"I've run whole nights without stopping. And just for the record, this is not running."
"Then....what is it?"
"Jogging. Running is much faster."
"Wow." Cathy was pretty impressed.
"I think there's a clearing up ahead." Sobek called back. "And I think I hear a stream. We can all take a break once we get there."
He stole a sideways glance at the Ventrue riding beside her. He had assumed Sugar's rant last night would have taken her down a peg or two, but he hadn't anticipated anything this bad. While the others in the carriage and even a few on the horses had kept up a banter of pointless small talk for the length of the journey, Carleigh had been utterly silent since they left. Of course, so had Sharma and Michaela (up to a moment ago) and himself as well. But that wasn't too incredible for an Assamite or a Gangrel or a Setite. A Ventrue was supposed to delight in pointless gossip.
That Ravnos ought to think about a career as a public speaker.
After a few more minutes of riding/driving/jogging, they reached a small clearing. And, through some amazing stroke of luck, it had a small stream running through it. This stroke of luck was so amazing that Sugar felt the need to comment on it.
"Now isn't this nice. A random clearing with a random stream right where we need it, right when we need it. You know, you'd think someone had prearranged all this." she shook her head as she led Jack to the stream.
"I like to think of it as a sign from the gods." Ben smiled.
Carid spat in the dust before swinging off her horse. "What would any god want with the likes of us?" she sneered.
"With the likes of you, you mean."
The voice and its source were so unexpected that Carid couldn't even come up with a retort.
Sharma didn't bother to check the reaction to her statement. She simply slid the horse's reins over his head and allowed him to drink from the stream.
Carid stood there stupidly. If it had been anyone else who'd said that, she would have been ready with a biting comeback. But from the Assamite? What did the Assamite care about a god? And why was she standing with her mouth open?!
Carid quickly snapped herself out of her trance and jerked her horse towards the stream, trying not to hear the scattered snickers from the rest of the group.
Carleigh in particular was quietly grinning. It felt SO good to see that cynical Tzimisce embarrassed, especially after all the times she had embarrassed Carleigh.
Sharma ran a hand over her horse's flank. She didn't care that the Tzimisce was shamed, though that was a nice side benefit. The Toreador had been wrong about the nature of God as well. Allah did not go around sending benevolent 'signs' to just anyone. Allah showed favor towards his worthy servants.
And though Sharma was indeed Allah's servant, she did not presume to count herself as worthy. 'God' had nothing to do with the stream or the clearing. All this she contemplated in a brooding silence, under the inquiring eyes of the Nosferatu still in the carriage.
Seldes watched Sharma intently as she went about brushing down and watering her horse. The Assamite had an obsession with honor, that much was for sure. But while Seldes normally believed himself to be very adept at reading people and recognizing their motivations, he was at a loss to decipher the girl who was his roommate. Of course, it was easy enough to apply all the natural Assamite stereotypes to her. Obsession with honor, service to Allah as well as Haquim (that might have been what the comment about gods referred to), rigid discipline, code of silence, dislike for other clans, and high opinion of oneself.
But though he was repulsed at the idea of attributing stereotypes to anyone at all, all of those seemed to fit Sharma all too well. Or maybe he just hadn't seen past her masks and layers of outer defenses yet. That would be something he would have to work on. She wouldn't be as easy as some others he had known... For those, three nights to figure them out would have been massive overkill. But for Sharma? No where near enough. Three hundred nights of study and effort might not be enough to crack her shell.
After about half an hour of rest, Amy suggested they get moving if they wanted to reach Carleigh's factory before morning.