Survivals

by Shadowy Star

Part 2

Resemblance

"Do you really think he'll find him?" Damien Vryce asked, hope and doubt to equal parts in his voice.

That didn't escape his daughter's attention and therefore she resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. They had discussed this over more times she was willing to count.

"Riven Forrest is the personification of the hunt itself if I got the process of his creation right," Geraldine replied thus, cautiously sipping her tee. "If anyone can hunt down the Hunter, it's him." We've traveled to Jaggonath for this sole purpose after all, she thought. It had taken a few discussions –and all of her patience– before her father had finally agreed to come to this place. Now, knowing his history, Geraldine came to understand her father's reluctance when it came to travels to the East's capital. She doubted he had been here more than two or three times since the Change. Not that she herself had visited the city even just as often. Her father had insisted for her to attend the University of Ganji-on-the-Cliffs back then. Only now she began to understood why.

"Except that we're not looking for the Hunter," he said, and Geraldine's attention snapped back to their conversation.

"Exactly."

"But where's the point in this?"

Geraldine resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

"Dad, think. Mer Forrest will check all the places the Hunter perhaps would have gone to so there'll be no need for me to do it myself. Instead, I can start checking all the other possibilities. You understand? We don't have to ask ourselves what the Hunter might have done. The question is what the man who had been the Hunter might have done."

"Still, I don't think it's safe…"

"Of course it's safe or I wouldn't be suggesting it! Those dangerous journeys of yours must have seriously addled your brain! If not for me you wouldn't have it all figured out in ages!" she spoke and then froze. And then made a double take. No, scratch that, a whole series of double takes.

Setting the tee cup aside, she raised her head and took a long, intent, intensive look at her father. What she saw, made her frown with irritation. He still looked impressive, with his broad shoulders and his hair only slightly woven with silver. Turning her attention to that fact for the first time in her life, she wondered how it could be. He looked younger than he should, she thought. Much younger. She would have judged him to be thirty-seven, at maximum, if she didn't know better. She knew, back then before the Change, it'd been possible to lengthen one's life by using the fae. Lady Ciani of Faraday, the famous expert on the rakh, had done so. As far as Geraldine knew, that woman had to be – what? nearly ninety by now? And looked not quite forty. Geraldine frowned again. Knowing her father's faith she highly doubted he would have done something similar even if he'd been still able to. Which remained lots of questions all of them could be reduced to a single one. If her father didn't then who did? And by using which forces?

"Dad," she said, still frowning but already picking up one of the numerous pencils strewn all over the table. "I need medical consultation."

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" he said, instantly worried and quite confused by the sudden change of topic.

"No. I need your advice about aging processes in human body. Especially how they could have been altered by the fae, back before the Change. Especially what kind of Working was required for. Especially if and in which ways such a change can still be detected."

"What are you intending?" he asked, somewhat alarmed.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking…"

"And about what?"

"Gifts," Geraldine answered, thoughtfully chewing at the tip of her pencil.

"I don't understand," he said, his worries doing quite the opposite to diminishing.

"Nor do I," she admitted though referring to another matter, disappointment ringing clearly in her voice. "Well, will you tell me what I need to know or do I have to consult other ex-Healers?"

"Alright, alright. What's all about?" Damien asked.

"Research," Geraldine answered, her eyes twinkling brightly. "I've started a new project."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Dad!" she said exasperatedly. And broke into laughter at his expression.

The next two hours she spent learning about tissue regeneration, growing and dying of cells, nuclei and chromosomes, biochemical pathways and genetics.

The city center of Jaggonath was as usual crowded with people. She made her way from an antiquarian book shop where she'd bought a copy of 'Late Terran Languages: An Overview'. She truly had intended to go to that 'Hunt Shoppe' but got distracted by the copious amount of books the antiquarian had. Damn it all to the vulking damn Hell, she thought, books were and always would be her great weakness. Especially when it was as rare an exemplar as this. She opened the copy and started to turn the ancient pages carefully, completely lost to the surroundings.

She felt something warm and solid slamming against her and raised her head, suddenly realizing she'd run straight into someone else. Surprised, she dropped her book. Unfortunately, it fell directly onto her opponent's head for he was already bending down to pick up his own belongings that had also fallen to the ground.

"Ouch," he said, straightening himself, and raised his hand to rub his head.

"My apologies," she said but couldn't help smiling.

The man was young, of her age maybe, or one or two years older. His short-cut hair was dark brown, his features fine. Eyes, clear green as emerald, met her gaze. Looking in those eyes, she immediately sorted the man into the dangerous category. Well, dangerous to her peace of heart. The look in his eyes was … irritating. Kind and warm and with a hint of seductiveness at the same time. She couldn't put a finger on it but somehow that young man seemed familiar to her. Where again had she seen that face?

"Accepted," he said, and Geraldine was that occupied with her thoughts she had to ask herself what it was he'd accepted before it hit her.

"I'm Geraldine of Sheva," she introduced herself.

"The archaeologist?" the stranger asked. "My… my pleasure, Lady Geraldine," he said hastily, as if just in time remembering the correct title of a female loremaster. "I've read your essay about artifacts after the Landing. It's brilliant!"

"Thank you very much," she said, trying to keep a smile of delight from her lips. "Which part exactly did you find brilliant?"

"Um… All of it." And the somewhat sheepish look in his eyes told her all she wanted to know.

"Indeed?" she asked, smiling and then rising of her brows to hint she didn't believe a word.

At that he broke into heartily laughter. "All right. I should have known better. My father says it's brilliant. As a seismologist I don't know that much about the matter to judge your work properly."

She looked at the book lying on the ground. 'Seismic Patterns of the Western Continent, Part Three: Fae Influence'.

"And your father does?" she asked, curiosity rising it's head and trying to tell her this was somehow important.

"Yeah. But where's my manner?" the young man said, his warm voice cutting off the train of her thoughts. "Please allow me to introduce myself, if somewhat belated. My name's Damien da Silva."

"Nice to meet you, Mer da Silva," she said. Da Silva was a very old name in one of the ancient Terran languages, meaning … what? And speaking of names… How odd, she thought, he has Dad's given name…

She would have given that fact much more attention if she hadn't gotten so distracted by the man's good looks and kind green eyes. God, but was he handsome! Though quite contrarily to what was her usual expectation on male beauty, he simply took her breath away.

Concentrate, Geraldine! she kicked herself mentally.

She realized they had been exchanging meaningless pleasantries for a couple of minutes now.

By the look Damien, ahm… Mer da Silva, was giving her, she herself must have made quite an impression.

Time to turn tables, she thought wickedly and gave him one of her famous bright smiles she used to break upon unsuspecting victims of her charm.

His eyes widened and he offered an almost shy smile of his own which was so sweet it instantly melted Geraldine's heart. Her soon-to-be lover, she decided quickly because there was no way in all eternity she could let go something that good, looked at her as if there was nothing else to look at, and she smiled again. Soon, she thought.

They decided to have a coffee to go and ended up in a small café sitting at a table and drinking their coffees there which was followed by discussing nearly every topic possible and eating two slices of caramel cake each which, again, was followed by more coffee and more discussion until they finally realized neither of them wanted the other to leave. They talked and talked and discovered even more things they had in common. Of course then, they had to disagree on the matter whether or not the Church should be the only institution of government on Erna as it was now. Damien happily proclaimed the pros when Geraldine just as vehemently discussed the cons. Neither succeeded to convince the other but they found they could live with that. From there to religion it was just a tiny step. They both didn't give a damn about religion despite their fathers' best efforts to have it otherwise. Of course, from there to family the step was even tinier and again they discovered one more thing they had in common. Both were raised mostly by a father, with their mothers having died long ago.

The more they talked the more something grew between them and so when they finally stood to leave the small café their bodies 'accidentally' touched. Quite pleased with that, they looked at each other. Of course then, that could lead to the only possible conclusion and when their lips met they were lost to the world.

"You know I'm a loremaster," Geraldine whispered. "Do you want to know what's my specialty?"

"What?" he breathed against her lips.

"Old languages and communication," she answered mischievously. "Would you let me teach you?"

"I'm a quick learner," he smirked. "Want to know what's mine?"

"Yes," she smiled against his mouth and kissed him again.

"Volcanoes," he said after he was able to breathe again.

Ohh, she thought, if that isn't an explosive mix…

So the next only possible conclusion led them to a nearby hotel and to hours of pleasant activities.

After that, when they lay as close to each other as possible, with their limbs entangled and their breaths still ragged, neither was eager to end that perfect moment. When reality entered the scene again, demanding them to be where they had been supposed to be this morning –which had progressed into late afternoon without them noticing–, Geraldine had a feeling to wake from a dream. A dream she didn't plan to let go again.

Thus, reality had little chance and Geraldine's suggestion to visit the 'Museum of Archeology' was met by Damien's complete and utter enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, Nature seemed not to approve of their plans because they were half the way to the museum when Geraldine registered a sudden change in the smoothly flowing currents of earth-fae.

"Stop!" she ordered.

"What?" her lover asked.

"A quake," she explained. "Where's the Cathedral?"

"You have Sight?" he sounded perplexed.

"Where?" she urged, cutting off whatever he'd intended to say.

"That way," he pointed to the right.

Geraldine took his hand and run.

They felt the first light trembling under their feet when they reached the Cathedral. Fortunately, it hadn't been that far. They entered and stood there in the atrium, gasping for breath.

"You have Sight?" Damien repeated when he finally was able to speak.

"Yes," Geraldine's breath was still more gasps than regular. Dammit, she thought. I'm a scientist, not a sportswoman.

"And you brought us here because it's the most stable building in the whole of the city. But how did you know it would be?"

Geraldine shrugged. "My father was a Priest of the Church before his stunning career in cardiology," she explained. "He told me in case of a quake the Cathedral or another Church building would be safest because of the faith once put into that."

"And those Workings still function to some degree," Damien nodded agreement.

"Exactly."

It was then that the quake struck.

More people came running into the Cathedral and the two were forced to stop talking when dust and small pieces of stone rained down from the ceiling. Damien immediately took her into his arms and pressed them both to the wall. In a quake ceilings tended to collapse first.

When the quake ended, the Cathedral still stood proud and arrogant, with ceiling paintings being the only thing damaged.

Geraldine coughed and raised her head from its comfortable place at her lover's shoulder.

The fae was still hot and blazing with raw power but the currents were smooth again. There would be no after-quake, of that she was sure.

"There shouldn't be," Damien agreed when she'd related it to him.

Apparently, one of the priests seemed to have Sight as well because the old man told the people crowding the hall they weren't in danger anymore.

Reluctantly, they started to leave the Cathedral, silently and swiftly returning to their work. People of the East were quite used to quakes, after all.

Geraldine smiled up at her lover. And was captured again by his emerald green eyes which shone with all the emotion she'd never felt before.

Their kiss made them oblivious to anything else.

Maybe that was the reason they didn't notice someone approaching until a stern voice spoke almost into their ears.

"What are the both of you still doing here?" the old priest, that one with Vision, said, frowning sternly at them.

Reluctantly, they drew back out of the kiss but maintained the contact of their bodies. Geraldine looked at the old man, then at her lover again.

"Aaah," the priest said. "I understand. You want to get married!" And a bright smile cracked his until then serious expression.

"Umm.. Not exactly… but it may be not that bad an idea …" Geraldine said, all of a sudden developing an immense interest in the bright, now no longer intact ceiling pictures.

"Not yet …" Damien said. "But if you think," he added hesitatingly, casting a cautious glance at her.

Their gazes met, separating them from the world, creating a world of their owns, and into the sacred silence of the cathedral, they spoke in unison.

"Yes."

The old priest himself and two young priestesses to witness the marriage were enough for the ceremony.

"There might be a little problem," Geraldine pointed out. "We do not have any rings."

"Not a problem at all," the old man said, waving off. "Fortunately we've got a great donation of gold and jewelry last week. I'm sure of having seen lots of rings among it."

And not quite half an hour later they were standing in front of the altar, listening to the old priest's soft voice that bound them together. Looking into her lover's –her husband's– eyes, Geraldine felt an intense happiness and the absolute certainty of her choice being a right one. He took her hand, and his smile was an equally happy one.

With that kind of internal Sight that always had been part of her inborn abilities she suddenly knew that in this very moment, deep inside her body, a new life had begun. Still, she would buy a pregnancy kit later, just in case…

They left the Cathedral, their hands still joined, not willing to let go. Looking down at the rings, Geraldine started to laugh violently.

"What's so funny?" her hisband asked.

"I just imagined us breaking these news on our families."

"Oh NO," he groaned.

"Oh YES," she said cheerfully.

"My father will kill me," he explained.

"Yes," she confirmed. "If my father doesn't do that first."

They parted very reluctantly. The decision not to simply stumble in on their families and proclaim their marriage hadn't been an easy one to make but, sadly, also the only possible one. And so they parted, each already waiting desperately for tomorrow to come.

Back on her way to the 'Blue Moon' where her father and she had checked in, thoughts whirling through her mind, Geraldine tried to bring some sense into the events of the day. She most surely hadn't expected to fall in love and marry in a single day's time when she'd left the hotel that morning. Though Damien seemed so familiar to her, as if she'd known him for ages.

Suddenly, she froze in mid-walking. Realization came with the force of a giant brick, hitting her right over the head. Of course the man she'd married few hours ago seemed familiar – she had only to look at her father's drawing! Sometimes family likeness was pretty much useful… As for the name… The information came easily to her, dragged to the surface of her conscious by sheer force of will. 'Silva' meant 'forest' in Latin, an ancient Terran language, a dead one – even long before humanity went to the stars. Well, that would be fitting. And suddenly feeling all the jigsaw pieces falling softly into place, she thought, Got you.

Then, she smiled wickedly, a plan starting to take shape within her mind with increasing speed. Where the Hell could she find a good realtor at that late hour?

"Hey Dad!" Geraldine said much later this evening, her smile as bright as the light of sun and Core combined. "I have more great news for you," she went on, still smiling happily, and plopped down into the armchair.

"Should I be worried?"

"Perhaps, but you'll hardly have enough time to since you're going to get very … busy pretty soon," she said, grinning widely.

"I'm not sure if I want to know what that's supposed to mean," he remarked dryly.

"Oh never mind, Dad, never mind." She waved it off hastily.

"Tell me your news, then," he said, steeling himself for the worst. Well, maybe for the worst. His daughter had a quite different definition of 'worse'.

"Where shall I start… Well, I'm engaged…"

"I know you're working hard–"

"Both meanings, Dad."

"You're what?"

"Affianced," she clarified. "That means I was – this morning. In the mean time I've got married. Oh, and did I already tell you that I'm pregnant?"

"You're WHAT?" he repeated disbelievingly.

"I thought you were bored – not hard of hearing."

He stared at her in shock and confusion for a long, stretched-out moment. Then, he sat down rather abruptly as his legs suddenly lacked the strength to support him.

"We-e-e-ll," Damien Vryce said slowly. "I could understand an engagement even if I'd have preferred you asked me for advice first. But married? And PREGNANT?!"

She could practically hear the capitals. "Relax, Dad," she said, smiling brightly again. "And stop yelling. I'm a big girl."

"You're nineteen!"

"What else is new?"

"And I'm not yelling."

He got only a raised eyebrow for comment. "Do I get to know my son-in-law, then?" he sighed, giving up.

"Soon, Dad, soon. I'm planning some kind of family reunion. Consider it as a birthday present."

Something about this statement appeared weird to him but he didn't get any chance to work it out.

Two districts to the south Geraldine's new-made husband had a similar conversation that was likewise going to get out of any control.

"Good joke," Gerald da Silva, once called Tarrant, said wryly. "You should consider to become a comedian."

"I'm not joking, Father."

He never saw his father that astonished before. In fact, he didn't even know what astonishment looked like on this face. That meant, until now.

"You got married today?"

"Yes."

"Well, in that case, I would have appreciated to get informed about your engagement yesterday," Gerald said acidly.

"I surely would have informed you if I knew I'd meet the woman of my dreams today!" Damien da Silva exclaimed.

"Are you trying to tell me you know your wife not even for twenty four hours?"

"I'm not trying," he stressed. "I just do. And what does it matter if I feel like I've known her for a lifetime?"

"Calm down," a cool order came. "And before you burst into a doubtlessly euphoric description for your wife's many qualities, answer me this."

"Whatever," Damien shrugged nonchalantly. It had its benefits to learn from a master.

He met his father's unreadable eyes. Challenging.

Gerald da Silva laughed. Really, unmistakably, laughed.

"It seems, I made not that much mistakes while raising you," he remarked.

Damien grinned uncertainly. Was it really that easy?

"You really are married?"

Now why was he sure that wasn't what his father first intended to ask?

"Yes."

"Before the face of the Church, not some kind of pagan ritual?"

"Yes. A priest has bound us to each other in the Jaggonath's Cathedral itself."

"But what the Hell did you think? Did you think anything at all?" his father said. "You know, I've been looking for a good reason to disown you for so long." Dry humor again lurked between those words, turning the statement into their usual verbal sparring. That was something Damien da Silva didn't excel at. Not really. And sometimes he would get an odd feeling his father expected different reactions from him, different words. He'd filed that away along with all those little mysteries that seemed to surround his father like a large cloak. He had, also, long ago given up any notion to solve any of them. Some things you just have to radically accept.

"Father," he said, with emphasis. "Did you ever love somebody so much you could have given your life, have given everything for that love?"

Looking intently into his father's black eyes, he didn't miss that face going paler beneath the olive hue even if the expression itself didn't change. The voice that finally answered his question, was as controlled as usual but strangely sad.

"I did," was all his father said.

"Was it with Mom?"

"No," the answer came with such finality that he realized there would be no way past it.

The silence grew deeper.

Damien had always known his father hadn't loved his mother. Whenever he spoke of her –and always, always he spoke of her kindly– there wasn't any emotion in his voice. He spoke however, readily. As if to make up for other things he never spoke of. Damien always had been curious about where his father had been before he settled in Jaggonath and married his mother. All he knew from putting together those tiniest pieces of information his father somehow had let slip over years, was that he'd been traveling for a time with a very good friend whose name his father never, ever uttered. And yet, something changed in his father's always controlled voice when he'd mentioned that man once or twice.

Damien looked at the living mystery that was his father.

The black eyes revealed nothing. He asked himself for the umpteenth time if there was someone else in the whole of Erna who'd despaired at this just like him.

"Will you tell me her name, then?" Gerald da Silva finally asked.

"Lady Geraldine of Sheva," Damien answered.

"The archaeologist?" And now something like surprise entered his father's eyes. "Well, I think you could have gotten it worse. Even if I don't understand why that brilliantly intelligent woman should have married such a fool."

"Dammit!" Geraldine said cheerfully next morning which met her leaving a realtor's bureau. To find a house in the north that suited her purposes had been the easier part. What now had to come, would be much more difficult. As if she didn't have enough problems already.

She hurried to the inn where her new-made husband was waiting for her.

"Was it bad?" she asked her husband after half an eternity of kissing at her announcement of being pregnant.

Damien beamed. "Well, I'm still not disowned so I think it went not bad."

Geraldine broke into laughter. "And my father still hasn't suffered a heart attack so I, too, think it went well."

"And what are we going to do know?"

She smirked. "Why, I think I should, well, meet family. It's tradition, after all."

Her husband grinned almost evilly. "Poor Father! He's in for a surprise."

She looked at the man behind the desk. She judged him to be in his middle thirties though she knew he had to be older. Long black hair, completely untouched by silver, framed features made even more perfect by passing of time. First thinnest lines around his eyes hinted at his true age but didn't lessen his beauty. Eyes under long lashes, both black as true night, met her gaze. Then, suddenly, turned away hastily as if to hide an emotion.

"What can I do for you, Mes?"

"May I introduce myself," she began, "though I'm a loremaster I sometimes do use my last name. It might have changed yesterday, the day before it was Vryce. Geraldine Vryce." If she had expected some kind of reaction –which she didn't– she would have been disappointed. But then again, she knew who that man was, who he had been. He must have recognized her due to family likeness or simply guessed. "But you've known that. As a loremaster I came to ask you for a tale. But all I want now is to ask you just one question."

Silence lengthened between them.

"Do you know what the inscription on the monument in front of the 'Memorial Hospital' in Sheva runs?" Geraldine finally asked, without expecting an answer. No, of course, he wouldn't know.

With that she turned and went to the door, leaving her father-in-law staring unseeingly at his hands.

Words, barely audible, breathed in a voice that was almost trembling, stopped her.

"'To the ones we lost.'"

Slowly, she turned around.

TBC…