Elwen

"Little Shop of Horrors" is rather expensive for a high school to put on (all the living plants and stuff), though a local school is doing that where I am: my school just did "Peter Pan", but that's also hideously expensive. Let's see...Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret, Follies, The King and I, Kiss Me Kate, Footloose-I can name you a whole bunch. Footloose is a very common one: I was a Cappie critic (high school theater critic) last year, and I saw two different "Footloose" shows, one after the other. But I don't particularly care, either. So it's OK with me. (Ignore the detail-obsessed half-demon elf behind the curtain, please) As for friends, Lia is a theater person. While his forte is in acting, he is one of the very few actors who understands that the techies are the backbone of the show (he takes both an advanced acting class and a technical theater class: enjoys both greatly), and usually mouths off at anyone who says otherwise, which has not earned him any friends among the Actors Are the Best crowd. (Basically, Lia has my attitude about theater, except that I know jack about tech, don't take a tech class because there's no room in my schedule, and I'm not a theater-obsessed genuis who is also something of an abrasive asshole. Lia doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut.)

Lia glares irritably at his stubborn locker, startlingly violet eyes slightly annoyed. "Why does this always happen to me?" the drama student muses to himself in a less than pleased manner, throwing in a few virulent curses in Japanese, Chinese, and Spanish for good measure. "Good Goddess..." Annoyed, the pretty teenager stalks off down the hall, long black skirt swirling about him and waist-length black hair floating behind him, mentally running through his lines in his mind.

Ne, Vahktang, just out of curiosity-why did you suspect Rosalie? Was it the fact that she never spoke up to accuse anyone but simply went along with her sister on everything, or was it the fact she was so quiet?

Since the delay of a week puts the start of this game after the most intensive week of exams, I should be fine...and I actually have a decent idea for a character this time. I'll play Lia Littrell, androgynous drama geek. He is quite open about the fact that he is bisexual and a transvesitite-and doesn't give a damn about who knows and who he makes angry. ((I've never played a character so uncaring about inflaming public opinion before...*sweatdrop*))

Rosalie paces back and forth, long red-gold hair whipping loose of the braid, and feels something breaking inside her. This is the end. she thinks sadly. Even if we live through this...we all will have something broken inside. Doubts plague her mind, about the rightness of their course... But the silent sister has been faithful all her life...and she will be faithful to her sister, even unto the end. OOC: Vote for Blondie/DeantheAdequate

((OOC: No, you're not bumbling, Merelas. Bumbling would be me on any of the Kenzerco games, or on the first game I played...you're doing a very good job.)) Rosalie paces back and forth, long red-gold braid whipping behind her, disturbed by the wild accusations flying back and forth, and sorrowful over Cat's disappearance. There is something here that she is missing...some clue. But what? "May God forgive us if we are wrong." she finally says, apparently calmly but with the hint of the slightest tremor to her voice, and adds her voice to those of her kinsfolk. ((OOC: Abraham Cartwright))

Rosalie nods slowly. "I have always trusted your instincts, sister." the silent woman says, finally. ((OOC: Charlotte/Lady Celes))

((Sorry! *winces*)) Rosalie sits quietly by the wagon, watching over little Nell at the same time that she is silently observing Amanda and Nathaniel as they speak. Her sister of blood and heart, and her brother of soul...the two people she trusts most in the world. If it comes down to it...I hope things do not go so far...I do not know who I will have to choose. Rosalie bends her head briefly, the shimmering mass of red-gold hair-her best feature-tumbling loose of the bun she had pinned it in to keep it out of her way.

Uh...I'll be one of your sisters, Tanuchan? If that's OK? If I messed up in the background, please tell me? Rosalie Tannisson Second-oldest of the five sisters, she was always somewhat of a dreamer, and not very practical. All her life, she tried to get as much education as she could, for she loved books and learning. Rosalie trained as a schoolteacher and is going West, like her older sister, for better opportunity. Haven't the slightest clue about the other setting.

I'm in. I don't know which one I like better.

Aidan hesitates, torn between wanting to throw his lot in with Kerri-after all, he knows what it is like to have the heart and soul torn from you, but your body still live-but he is unsure if Ed is the right person to accuse. Golden-flecked blue eyes briefly come to rest on Heinrich, the security guard. He is suspicious of the man for some reason. I'd better keep an eye on him. Aidan thinks. There will be time enough to accuse him later should this prove wrong. After all, he's never trusted his 'hunches'. "Kerri." he says softly. "I follow your lead." All the time, his eyes rest on Heinrich. There is just something wrong about him. I know it... ((OOC: I'm voting for whoever Katzaniel did...I think it was Ed Smith/Eyremon, but I don't remember for sure.))

"I'll try, if I can find anything to hold it steady with." Aiden replies, walking over to Kerri. God, I need a cigarette! After several minutes of looking through things, he finally finds something that can be used as a makeshift cast. "This is definitely going to hurt...but it would hurt worse if we just left it like that." ((OOC: And I have no idea how to put on a cast, so I'll just leave it like that for now. Sorry for not being around...*whimper*))

Part Two: Darkening Shadows Two girls had their heads bent together over the scroll on the table, too absorbed in the poetry to notice the disagreement outside the room. Or, at least, one of them was too absorbed in the poetry to notice the argument just outside. “’Soka-chan…” the taller of the two finally asked, raising her head and noticing the raised voices, one female, one male. Actually, the man was shouting and the woman had kept her temper in check, though her voice was as icy as the heart of winter. “What’s going on?” Slender shoulders shrugged in apparent apathy, as the other girl continued reading over the poem again again, obviously trying to find some flaw, some dissonance in the melody of the words or an imprecise brushstroke, in her work. “I mean it, Hisoka. What’s going on?” the first girl asked, hoping to at least get her best friend’s attention. It was a vain hope, she knew, for once Hisoka got a scroll in her hands-especially one of her own-, she would be occupied for hours-while the actual *reading* didn’t take her long, she spent *hours* on different interpretations of the poet’s words, or in searching for flaws in the work. Now was one of those times. There came no response from the other girl. Exasperated, the first girl snatched the scroll from her friend’s surprisingly lax grip. “Would you just answer the question?” she asked, sapphire eyes flashing with a hint of annoyance. “I did.” Kyodai Hisoka replied in her typical dry manner. “I do not know.” Obviously, her shrug had been both ‘I don’t care’ and ‘I don’t know’: but how was she supposed to tell the difference, best friend or no? The only one who could read Hisoka like a book was her twin, Shizuka: but then, twins /were/ two halves of a soul, as she herself knew only too well. With a sigh, Hisoka’s best friend handed back the poetry scroll. “It sounds bad, whatever is going on out there. I don’t like the sound of it…” “Nothing will happen.” Hisoka predicted, rolling up the scroll, obviously finished at last. Either that, or she had gotten the message concerning her friend’s attention span. “At least not while you are here.” Sumeragi Saya raised an eyebrow at the smaller girl. “You sound sure of yourself, my friend.” The onmyouji replied, suddenly very serious. “Are you sure that you do not have the Gift your family is famed for?” Irritably, Hisoka flung the poem on the table, and while her voice was calm, her annoyance was obvious in her gesture. “I am sure, Saya. It does not take the Sight to know that even Lord Toriyama, as much as an arrogant, overconfident fool as he is, would not dare try anything while the heiress to the Sumeragi stays under this roof. He may not fear two of the most powerful Dreamgazers to live in these times, he may not fear even the Oracle of the Void, but even /he/ fears the Sumeragi clan.” Saya’s lips twitched incredously with sudden, inappropriate, but entirely too funny amusement. “He fears a curse being placed upon him? Or some ghosts being set to haunt him, the fury of the unquiet dead?” “Precisely.” Hisoka said crisply. Saya burst out into giggles at the thought of setting vengeful ghosts upon Lord Nekura Toriyama, pleasing as it would be to do so. Green eyes fixed coldly on her, and Saya immediately settled down, knowing that it was Hisoka’s subtle reminder that she was being too undignified. After all, she *did* have her station as heiress to a clan that was rapidly rising in importance to consider. “Gomen nasai, ‘Soka-chan, but that was too funny.” Saya finally managed to calm down. Hisoka, of course, had never dropped her mask of complete calm and serenity, and Saya greatly envied her for that. The Kyodai girl also had her own station to consider, as eldest daughter of the Oracle of the Void, and she always acted in the manner befitting a clan heiress. Silent and serene, with not an emotion leaking out. “But what is Lord Toriyama here for /now/? Did Akari-basan not do a good job of chasing him away last time?” “’Kaasan did the best she could…the wrath of the Oracle of the Void, or that of any of the five Oracles, is not one to be risked, but he risks it. All I know is that he is interested in Shizuka-chan.” Hisoka said, folding her legs neatly beneath her. “But *why*?” Saya realized why as soon as she spoke. Kyodai Akari, the Oracle of the Void, had always refused to share the contents of her visions with Lord Toriyama or any lord she felt was not to be trusted with the knowledge of the future: her husband, Kyodai Akira, who was also a Dreamgazer, used his knowledge of the Past-for he was a Dreamer who saw mostly the Past, not the Future- to help her enforce the prohibitions she had laid on those lords. His visions of the past had the potential to show him every dark secret and every corruption that those lords had to hide, and the kami have mercy on their souls if word ever got back to the Emperor. The very *threat* of such a damning vision kept most corrupt lords from seeking aid from the Oracle of the Void, for fear of her wrath and the Sight of her husband/adviser. Nekura Toriyama, on the other hand…Akira hadn’t yet had a vision concerning him, and without certain proof-or a vision-Akari could not move against him. //Lord Toriyama must believe that Shizuka, as the apparent next Oracle of the Void, would be more pliable to his will-especially if he was away from his parents.// Saya thought. “Because he is more…pliable then your mother?” “*Lord* Toriyama mistakes frailness of body for weakness of spirit and will.” Hisoka stated gravely, and while her voice was properly serene, she still managed to make a mockery of that lord’s title. Saya almost snickered. Obviously, the lord had encountered Hisoka upon one occasion, and mistaken her for some fragile butterfly with no will because of her apparent delicacy. Delicate or not, the elder of the Kyodai twins was strong of spirit, and her brother was much the same. “Hisoka…you should be careful. Twins often share the same Gifts, though they may be late to awaken, and you may be a target.” Saya found herself saying. “I have not the Gift of Sight.” Hisoka repeated dully. “Hisoka, you have been right on so many occasions about so many unpredictable things-you even knew exactly how I would show up and how I would be dressed and how I would behave the very first time I came with my father to visit you and your parents, and-“ A small, black-haired girl, dressed in formal kimono-deep green silk, embroidered with golden butterflies- stepped shyly up and bowed. “Ohayo gozaimasu.” She said quietly, and formally. “My name is Sumeragi Saya.” The girl’s bright eyes were the color of the sky, flecked with small motes of gold, and she had a smile bright as the sun Herself. As she smiled, the entire room seemed to light up. Hisoka was already shaking her head. “Echoes from one of Shizuka’s visions, not more. You came to visit when we were eight, and he had first started Seeing when he was six.” Saya blinked. Hisoka and Shizuka were so closely linked that she should see echoes, bits and pieces, from one of his visions? That was…rare. To say the least. “Echoes in themselves are-“ Saya began, and abruptly cut herself off as Hisoka gestured for silence. “You will not see my son now, Lord Toriyama. He is ill, and your presence will only make his illness worse.” Kyodai Akari hissed, her soft voice growing louder. “Furthermore, you will *never* see him. Ever. Get out. Now.” Lord Toriyama suddenly stormed into the room, and glared at Hisoka. “Sick? The boy looks perfectly healthy, if you could call wide-eyed paleness healthy, to me!” Saya would have burst out laughing, if the situation had not been so serious. Hisoka stubbornly refused to listen to the fact that she and Shizuka looked as alike as two peas in a pod, and now she would have to admit it. However, the Sumeragi clan heir’s amusement quickly heated into outrage as she saw Lord Toriyama grab Hisoka by one slender wrist and roughly pull her to her feet. “Get your hands *off*-“ Saya growled, losing her temper and reaching for an ofuda. How dare that bastard manhandle her best friend! How /dare/ he come in here at all! “Or I *will* do something /very/ painful to you!” “Threatened by the likes of you? Do you think I am scared?” Nekura Toriyama obviously had no idea who she was, otherwise he would have been considerably less arrogant. Hisoka simply stood still, her wrist still painfully caught in his grip, not twisting or struggling-overtly-as Saya herself would have done in that situation. Her face was frozen in a mask of ice, even as Toriyama twisted even more painfully, obviously trying to haul “Shizuka” off with him. //Where’s Aunt Akari?!!// Saya’s eyes flickered back and forth, as she began chanting a spell- The onmyouji might actually have done something very foolish, had not the timely arrival of her adoptive aunt prevented her. “That is my *daughter*, not my *son.*” Akari made her stately, yet angry, way into the room, green eyes snapping sparks. “And you *will* release her this instant and leave this place at once, or else.” Toriyama released Hisoka-obviously having no interest in the Sight-blind twin-and turned to face Lady Akari. “And why should I do that?” he said, straightening to his full height-he was much taller than the Oracle-and placing one hand on his katana hilt. “Not until I get what I came here for.” “For two reasons. The first is that you will /never/ use my son as a captive songbird, singing songs of the Future to benefit you and your ceaseless ambition! In fact, you will *never* use either of my children to further your ambitions!” Akari’s voice snapped like a whip in the sudden silence. “Second, the Lady Sumeragi is standing right behind you. And you have made her angry.” The lord backed away slowly, keeping a wary eye on all three women. //At least he’s leaving.// Saya thought with a trace of satisfaction, though she was annoyed that she didn’t get a chance to hurt him. Then something hit her. Something Akari had said. //*Lady* Sumeragi?// Nekura smirked, and made a mocking bow towards Saya. “Your father finally got just what he deserved, *Lady* Sumeragi.” Blue eyes went wide, and Saya couldn’t move. She was…frozen. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be…could it? No. She wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. Akari turned, green eyes flaring silver in her beautiful face. The power of the Void made manifest, in her-and about ready to strike against the Toriyama lord. And the sound of a hand hitting flesh echoed in the room. Saya looked up through tear-drenched eyes, to see Hisoka, hand upraised as to deliver another blow. The girl lacked the magical Gifts of her mother and best friend…so she was forced to resort to physical tactics, against a man both much taller and heavier than her. “Mitani-jisan was an honorable, kind…much *better* man than you’ll ever be!” Hisoka said, her voice dangerously cold. “And may the ancestors have mercy upon your soul if you insult his memory any longer. I know that Lord Sumeragi rests with his ancestors, for he was a good and true man…and when you die, may Enma-sama grant you eternal torment!” Toriyama looked down at her. “I will remember those words, Kyodai Hisoka.” He said menacingly. “And I will make you regret saying them.” He looked straight at Akari. “This does not end here, Oracle. We will finish this…one way or another.” The man exited the room, before Akari could either turn the power of the Void itself against him, or before her daughter could hit him again. Hisoka quickly crossed the room and helped Saya sit down before she collapsed. “My-my father?” Saya asked dazedly. “Is-is what he said…true?” “Gomen nasai, Saya-chan.” Akari said sadly, crossing over to her adoptive niece. “Your father is…your father is dead. You are the Lady of the Sumeragi, now.” In that moment, Saya felt her whole world fall apart. The onmyouji did not hold back, but let the tears fall, racking her slender body in harsh, tearing sobs, until it felt like she would break in half, and she still had tears left to weep, both for her mother and for her father. Tears that she had saved inside for what felt like an eternity, and now could be denied no longer. “’Tousan…” Saya wept, sobbing brokenly. Hisoka knelt with her, holding her gently, as Shizuka entered the room, fragile body wrapped in a blanket, eyes bright with fever. Completely ignoring the fact that he was sick, again-and should be in bed-the Dreamgazer knelt with his twin and her best friend, refusing to let Saya be alone in her soul-deep grief. “Did you…did you See his death?” Saya finally managed to get out between the sobs. It was a question directed to both Akari and Shizuka. It would be a difficult question for them to answer, and she already knew the answer, deep inside her heart, though she wanted to hear it from their own lips. “Hai.” Akari finally said, sadly. Shizuka nodded as well. “Then why didn’t you do anything to prevent it?!” Saya flared up in anger, though she knew that it was too much to ask, that not even a Dreamgazer could prevent everything. ”Some things cannot be changed.” Akari finally said. And in that moment, Saya at last understood the burden of a Dreamgazer. To know the future, and to know that while some futures may be changed, others cannot be. Some things could not be changed, no matter how hard one wished it to be. ~End Part Two~ Elwen’s Notes: Sorry for the long delay! I couldn’t decide what event to put in this chapter, I had so many ideas, so I finally jumped ahead to the last days of the Kyodai as a clan. (After all, *something* must have happened. They *were* a well-established and highly important, if very small, family, and their head, Lady Akari, was the highest-ranking of the Dreamgazers, as the Oracle of the Void. However, by Werewolf (Hisoka/Shizuka are sixteen: it’s only three years after this part), the Kyodai as a family no longer exist, all five elemental Oracles-Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Void-are gone, not just Akari, Hisoka is a geisha, and Shizuka is a Dreamgazer assassin in the service of the Emperor, NOT Oracle of the Void, and neither of them have a last name. So, what do *you* think happened? Comments welcome!) Glossary: Gomen nasai-I’m sorry. More formal than “gomen”. -basan-“Aunt.” While Saya is not-by blood-Akari’s niece, she has been raised to regard her an aunt. Kami-god/gods Ohayo gozaimasu-Good morning. More formal than “ohayo”. Ofuda-paper talisman used in onmyoujitsu (yin-yang magic) for many things: often used as a spell focus Jisan-“Uncle”. While Mitani Sumeragi was not Hisoka’s uncle by blood, she and her brother were raised to think of him an uncle. Enma-Japanese god of the underworld: responsible for judgment of souls. -sama: suffix used to refer to deities, rulers, or someone held in the highest of respect. ‘Tousan-father ‘Kaasan-mother Akari-light (Name translation: Kyodai Akari=Light of Reality) Akira-brightness (Name translation: Kyodai Akira=Brightness of Reality

((OOC: I deleted my last post because I actually thought about it, and decided...nah. Didn't like what I wrote and changing it wouldn't make sense. Disregard my former vote, please.)) Aidan grits his teeth, finally having enough of this. The petite young man gets right into Zach's face. "I don't like your attitude." the punk states challengingly, glaring up at Zach. "Only a coward would make accusations without anything to back them up, especially based on a person's nationality. I have to agree with Albert over there...you're being nothing but a bigot. An IDIOT who is going to get us all killed...not that I care." ((OOC: New vote for Zach.))

Aidan scowls darkly as the wild accusations fly about his head. He isn't quite *that* desperate yet...after all, they were all going to die someday, and now seems to be the time that Death picked. "Honestly." Aidan says, rolling his eyes. "So you accuse the scientist, and then what? Do you believe that we'd be able to figure out what happened *without* her knowledge? You're dooming us all..." The young man looks around at all the others. "Go right ahead. I, for one, couldn't care less if I died, and having you idiots follow me wouldn't make a difference." ((OOC: No vote yet.))

((OOC: Yes, I started off on the bus, for simplicity's sake.) Aidan rolls his eyes listening to Albert ask completely inane questions. Was it enough that he had spent several hours trapped on the bus with this guy? With his luck, he'd end up stuck with him the whole tour! There was such a thing as liking science class-which was why he had taken the chance to come here, not that he'd ever admit he was one for science-but there, babbling to a guard, was a prime example of taking a liking for science too far.

Grr...why do I never trust my instincts? When Ozy asked me for my input on our plan, I suggested a "random" first person. (We had originally planned to kill Dean, but he got lynched...so we needed someone to kill quick) I suggested Deg, but I had decided on him from a list of two: 1) Gnarlitch (hah hah...) 2) Degenero There was that little voice in the back of my head going "suggest Gnarlitch! suggest Gnarlitch!" The rest is another story. The same thing happened to me in the Japan game: when it came down to the last vote, that same voice was going 'vote for Kinjiru! vote for Kinjiru!' Instead, I voted for Mira and ended up jumping off a cliff. Oh, what fun. At least I got to go out with some dignity in this game and that one. I hate not listening to myself...

Oh, a name, a name...I'll be Aidan Laran. That work?

Emily concentrates, and her spectral body slips through the bindings that her fellow ghost had placed about her. She 'materializes' near where the spirits of Wil and Sir Alfred are, though remaining invisible. Hope is fleeting. the noblewoman-turned-assassin says softly to the two. The only true comfort in life is death-the ultimate release from the suffering and sorrow that is the human existence. A small smile curves perfect, illusory lips. Time is not on your side. And this is a game you will not win. Emily smirks at Wil. And before you ask, I believe that living sorcerers, such as an exorcist or Japanese omnyouji, who deal with the unquiet dead, can chain up or trap a ghost-not a fellow ghost.

OOC: *snickers madly* Or at least thought she was really good-looking?

((OOC: Motive? Who says an assassin *has* to be evil? Now that I'm dead and gone, I can actually present my motive for doing what I did. Bear in mind that Lady Emily was completely off her rocker...if she ever had one, that is.)) A chill wind blows in a guest's now-deserted room. It is empty, most of her things having been taken for evidence by Mr. Holmes and the police. The only thing remaining is a strange arrangement of cards on her desk. Not playing cards-tarot cards. It is better to die in hope than live in despair. the wind sings softly, the words too soft to hear. Life is despair and suffering, and death is the ultimate release from sorrow and pain. But you threw away the hope I would have given you...and now, I am the one who is free...

((*falls over flat* The second time in two days that I felt well enough to read coherently, and the first I could reply to a post and not messages, and I get on to find out I'm dead? Just my luck. Oh well...I guess I suck at playing "evil" characters, or this game in general. My sincerest apologies to everyone, especially Tanuchan, because this is the second time the vote's had to have been postponed, and I had a hand in it. I'll just be a good little wraith now...I do want to know at the end of the game what made me so suspicious. Might help me improve next time.))

Emily looks at each person in turn, her left amber eye cold with anger, and her softer right eye, the violet one, veiled with a long lock of loose, pale hair. "All the evidence points to me?" she remarks, her normally soft voice strained. "Then bring forth the evidence. Bring it forth into the light where /all/ may see, instead of mere suspicion." she leans forward, looking intently at Wil. "Is it just because I am one of only a limited number of females, and seem the most young and 'active?'" she gestures angrily at her legs. "Active?!" she laughs bitterly, and her eyes flicker to Katherine. "Mrs. Horton...why would I have a motive against the Garnavon family? What would you suspect my motivations as? And lack of respect for others and life?" As she speaks, her once carefully-controlled voice is no longer controlled, dengenerating into harsh sobs by the time she is speaking to the retired schoolteacher. Her eyes lose focus, as she is drawn against her will into old memories. "That is the absolute last...absolute last...absolute last thing I will lose. Accuse me of anything else, but not of that!" This is a total contrast to her earlier defense of herself: this is not a poised, in control of herself Lady, who seems far older than her barely-sixteen years, but a frightened, half-hysterical child. "I saw my parents die when I was ten years old-and I would never put anyone through that torment!" Emily finally manages to get out through sobs. "I would never hire an assassin to kill a person who was not myself." She takes several deep breaths. "Forgive me." she finally whispers, her calm having returned, but only because her (brief) fit of hysterics has taken a great deal of strength out of her. "My emotions got the better of me." Emily finally looks at Norfolk, her staunch accuser, meaning to say something. An accusation, perhaps, or to defend herself. Her lips open, as if to say something, but no sound comes out. Instead, she falls from her chair to the carpet, unconsious. ((OOC: My vote is for Nave/John Norfolk.))

The aformentioned Lady looks up from her hands, folded demurely in her lap. She has already given Richard her condolences: the memory of her parents' death was still fresh in her mind, and this is grief she understands, though Clarice was killed by an assassin and not an accident. "You accuse me because you have already put me upon the defensive once already, and you do not feel like changing targets?" Emily asks sarcastically, and takes a breath to get some semblance of control back. Lady Clarice's death has shaken her badly. "We should be trying to find the assassin or assassins before they strike again. Not stirring up a witch-hunt." ((OOC: Tanuchan, could you please use a different color besides green? It's very difficiult to read...))

Emily shoots an icy look at the merchant. "I never asked for this face of mine, and I would certaintly never use my beauty to hide anything." the noblewoman says angrily, and gestures to her useless legs. "And how would I kill anyone, when I am confined to bed or chair, unable to walk? Considering how much noise this contraption-" a tiny hand pounds the arm of the Bath chair, "makes, I doubt that I would be able to sneak up on anyone in the night. As to hiring assassins, I do not have access to my parents' fortune until I am of age and married off, and most of my stipend is spent upon medical care, leaving only enough to run my household." By now, tears of frustration and anger, as well as sadness, glimmer in her eyes. "Only someone with something to hide would accuse a cripple who cannot even defend herself. What do you hide, Mr. Norfolk?" ((OOC: Nave/John Norfolk))