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Arlington, Va 1859 (part Ii); CLOSED TOPIC - DO NOT POST
Topic Started: May 14 2005, 11:40 AM (347 Views)
Dillon Cloudhawk
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Tremere Primogen of Dallas
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It was pre-dawn when he returned to the hotel. This time it wasn’t’ the ‘doctor’ making a call, but the Tremere, intent on but one thing and one thing only. Dressed in all black, his hair now loose from its confines, flowed about his face and over his shoulders, upon the index finger of his left hand a simple silver ring, the symbol of his clan intricately woven in it, his feet were clothed in moccasins, his movements fluid and silent.

Dillon dropped the southern gentleman, dropped the stoic Indian, and gave in to his kindred calling. He could hear the beat of the man’s heart; almost see the blood that flowed through the blue veins that lined his hands, neck and arms.

Entrance into the room where the man slept was but child’s play. His snores echoed through the room, as did the obnoxious odor of his previous drunken state. He stood silently at the side of the bed, staring down at the older male, casually noting the signs of his debauchery were etched upon his face. It was weathered, almost leathery in appearance, while the lines and wrinkles that decorated the white flesh, only added ‘age’ to the man, making him look older than his years.

Dillon continued to stare down at him, deliberately willing him to wake up. The man was going to know why he died this night, and would feel the full terror, that he himself had inflicted on his daughter through the years.

The snore turned to a snort and a murmur as Isi’s father rolled over to his side. Slowly his lashes fluttered, and then his lids opened, before closing rapidly several times as he tried to clear his vision.

“What? Who…” He growled out as he realized someone was standing over him. Antonio Divicci never had a chance to say more than this, for as he struggled to sit up, he found one hand harshly grasping his arm pulling him in an upright position on the bed while another was firmly clapped over his mouth.

Fear filled him like none he had ever known as he met the cold black eyes of the Indian he vaguely remembered being with his daughter. One knee propped upon the bed, Dillon shoved the man against the headboard his face but a breath away from Anton ion’s as he spoke.

“Tonight you will understand true fear. Never again shall you raise a hand to your daughter or wife. Welcome to hell Divicci….” The words were but a low whisper, filled with a promise that had Isi’s father squirming and trying to cry out and escape. Dillon laughed softly then grinned displaying his descended canines for the first time. Horror and disbelief filled Divicci’s eyes just before his face was shoved against the headboard his neck exposed.

Silent screams filled him as the teeth snuck deeply into his jugular, terror paralyzed his mind, and with but a whimper he passed out. Dillon immediately released him and lifted his head staring down with degust at the unconscious kine.

“No, you do not escape that easily.” He murmured reaching in his pocket for smelling salts. For the next hour Dillon kept his promise to Antonio, he did indeed experience terror that the human mind could not begin to comprehend. He felt no remorse, no sorrow, no pity, as he lifted his head for the last time. Slowly his tongue came out and ran across his lips, as he eyed the horrific expression frozen for all time upon Isi’s fathers face.

Satisfied he stood, then carefully repositioned the lifeless body in the bed and covered him. It would be a few more hours before he was discovered, hours in which Dillon could not be there for Isiladura, but he knew Gairth would. He had to be satisfied with that.

With one last lingering look upon his fallen enemy, Dillon turned and slipped from the room. Sunrise was but an hour away, and it was time to seek shelter. That evening would not come soon enough.
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Isiladura
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As the first morning rays of sunswept fire caressed the floor boards of Isily's hotel room, she jerked a little and her eyes fluttered. She took a deep breath. Still alive. Her left cheek was on fire. It felt as if a beetle had crawled within and light a bonfire inside her head. And then, there was her arm. It throbbed and stung. She closed her eyes and flipped over onto her back. Tears ran out of the outside corners of her eyes to her ears.

"What happened...?" she queried herself as she stared at the ceiling. She was stil in her dress from yesterday. No servants were around to dress her. She would have to do it herself. She sighed. Sitting up, the room swam around a bit before finally coming to a halt. She wasn't home. She was in a different place. She didn't like it.

Swinging her legs to dangle over the side of the bed, she placed her feet solidly on the floor and shakily stood, tottering to her luggage case. Opening the trunk, she pulled out a dress of light blue with white ruffles and lace. A very lovely day dress and one fit for seeing the sights of Arlington. It had a scoop neck and off the sholder sleeves that were made of lace and more like flounces than sleeves. She found a pair of lace gloves to cover her upper and lower arms and then grabbed a very elegant necklace of the finest silver. The stones that decorated the piece were raw stones of a light blue color.

Seeing a water basin, she bathed herself quickly and began to dress. Having gotten her clothing on, she then began the process of brushing out her long, raven black hair. As she did so, she looked out the window at the rising sun.

"Dillon..." was all she spoke--and even that word came in the form of a sigh. She smiled slightly, but still felt very ashamed of herself for behaving so brazenly. She hoped she had not scared him away. He said he'd see her tonight. She lived for that moment. She would have to change. This dress was a day dress. She would need to find her night dress to meet with him. Unless, she saw him during the day...her mind ran circles aound itself.

She pulled her hair back into a loose bun, but left the bulk of her hair hand loosely from her head. Tendrils framed her face as she put away her things. Sitting at the vanity, she now had a greater problem to deal with.

Her bruise was purple.

She looked--gawked at the mark. "Daddy...how could yew!" She reached into a case and pulled out a tube that had some sort of paste in it. Applying it with her fingertips, she gently massaged the stuff into her skin and found that the bruise eventually looked like just a slight discoloration to her skin. She applied cheek rouge and some eye shade in a very light blue color and considered herself ready for the day. As she walked to the door, she stopped and grabbed her bustle and fitted it to herself, picked up her lace parasol and grabbed her lace hat. She affixed the hat to her head, then smiled at herself in the mirror. Right pretty she looked. She opened the door and practically ran into the Cadet Dillon had requested watch over her. She blinked.

"Ah-Ah-Ah really must apologize f'uh last night. Yew must think me a ha'uhrid woman. Ah assu'uh yew, s'uh, Ah am not. It's jus--"

But she didn't have time to finish. Screaming was heard from one of the women--Annie, the one who stayed with Mrs. Divicci the night prior. She turned quickly from the scene before her, shaking. Isiladura looked at Garith in horror. "Th-that's my Father's room..." She quickly turned and ran over to the door.

"Dad--!?"

She froze. There on the bed lay Antonio Divicci, a horrified look on his face. Isiladura stared, mouth agape. She tried to recall what she had said the night prior. She looked over to Garith, paled. Rushing over to him, she threw her arms around his neck and spoke softly, barely above a whisper. "Oh, Garith...he did it...he really did it..."

She burried her face in the Cadet's shoulder then turned her head to glance back toward the room. Her mother came out of her room upon hearing all the commotion. Both women were in complete shock. Mrs. Divicci looked over at Isiladura and Garith. She had forgotten the Indian of the night prior. All she saw was her daughter in the arms of a white man. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she sank to the floor.

"Miss Divicci, are you alright?" Annie asked, concerned.

"Yes, dea'uh. I'm fine. I just...can't believe he's gone..."

"I can git you some water, if you'd like."

"No, dea'uh. I'm fine."

Isiladura lifted her head and turned to look at her mother. Her mother smiled lightly. "Go on, now. Yew a'he free, child."

Free?

Free!?

Free of what? Free of the bond of slavery her father had tied her to? Free of the bond of his imposing will? Not really. She still was forbidden to marry the man she had chosen. She looked to Garith. "Please....yew have to take me to 'im...."
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Garith Monroe
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He had accepted the responsibility for Isi's well-being the moment his Father had released him from the present duties and responsibilities to the business that would one day be his. Isiladura did not give them, or at least him, a chance to bid her good night but he did have the opportunity with Dillon.

And after the Doctor departed, he walked a little further down the hall to his own Father's room and knocked softly on the door. The door swung open and light from the lantern within poured out the door as his Father, still dressed stood in silhouette in the opening. David was also in the room as the hotel would not issue a room to a black man on his own.

Fath'ah, Ah will be passing the evenin' keepin' watch at the Lady's doo'ah. If Ah could use the chai'ah?? And David is welcome to use m'ah room as Ah won't be usin' it.

As he spoke, he slipped his hand into the trousers of his uniform and passed the room key to his Father who in turn handed it to David who had brought the mentioned chair to the door.

After speaking with the two elder men a few minutes in the doorwa, he wished them a good night, took the chair and positioned it to one side of Isi's door. Taking up the seat, he pulled the newly acquired book from his cloak and settled in for a night of reading with Augustine.

Evidently, he nodded off during the night as he was awakened near dawn by the sound of light footteps on the stairs. Not being a heavy sleeper had its advantages and one was that it was very difficult for much to escape his attention. Rising quickly, just as a young boy emerged on the stairs, he smiled at him as he stretched a bit.

The boy cheerfully though quietly greeted the Cadet as he scampered on down the hall to stop at a door further down and knock. The door was quickly opened and the boy informed the tenant that his buggy had been made ready as requested. Gratefully accepting the coin handed to him, the boy darted back down the stairs as quietly as he had arrived.

Picking up the chair, he carried it up the hall to set it outside his Father's room and then returned to stand outside Isi's door, the book once more opened in his hands as he stood erect as a soldier on guard duty, not leaning on the wall behind him, and read further in The City of God.

When Isi rose and began moving around the interior, he heard the faint shufflings. With his ears keeping tabs on her movement, he continued reading until he heard the delicate footsteps approaching the door. By the time she opened it, he had tucked the book securely away and was ready to start the day with the woman whose high-spiritedness had certainly made for a lively evening the night before.

He snatched his cap off as soon as the door opened, but had little chance to greet her as she launched into an apology.

"Ah-Ah-Ah really must apologize f'uh last night. Yew must think me a ha'uhrid woman. Ah assu'uh yew, s'uh, Ah am not. It's jus--"

She was cut off by a scream which caused them both to turn in that direction. Before he could stop her, Isi had raced past him to the room,the Cadet following on her heels. The next instant, Isi had thrown herself into his arms and buried her face against him. He wrapped his arms around her in an effort to both shelter her from further shock and to comfort her as his eyes rose from looking at Isi to look into the room. The expression of sheer terror on Antonio Divicci's face was like nothing he could recall seeing before, yet he could not take his eyes from the corpse, not until Isi' spoke quietly again.

"Oh, Garith...he did it...he really did it..."

Who did she think had done this? Surely not the Doc....But who else could she be refering to??

As she tried to look back toward the room, he judiciously turned away so she could not look at the horrid corpse again. Whatever the relationship had been between Father and Daughter, one's last image of their deceased parent should not be one so gruesome.

Ah'm sorry fo'ah you'ah loss, Miss, Isiladura.

He looked up quickly from Isi to her Mother as the elder Divicci woman spoke.

"Go on, now. Yew a'he free, child."

He thought it an odd thing to say to a child and yet, in light of the previous evening's events, it wasn't perhaps so odd. He looked back down at the beauty still enfolded in his arms.

"Please....yew have to take me to 'im...."

Miss Isiladura, Ah have no idea whe'ah the Doct'ah may be found. Ah, like you, am a visit'ah to A'lington. Doct'ah Cloudhawk said he would see you this evenin' and he strikes me as a man of hon'ah who will keep his word.

He glanced back up as a lawman and the undertaker both arrived simultaneously. Drawing Isi aside, he pushed her slightly back from him, and bent his knees a little to put him at eye level with her as he cocked his head to peer into her face.
Quietly, he whispered to her.

Miss Isiladura, Ah have to know what you meant when you said 'he really did it'. Do you think the Doct'ah had somethin' to do with this?

His tone was earnest, his eyes sincere and reflecting that same earnestness. He HAD to know if that was what she meant. It would not take the local law long to jump to that conclusion after what had happened the previous evening. That and Dillon Cloudhawk had said in a public place that he was going to check on her Father during the night.

Personally, he doubted the Doctor had it in him to be both healer and murderer. If Isi, the woman who seemed last evening so determined to have possess the good Doctor's affections, now thought him capable of murder, did that mean he had misjudged the man?

He doubted it. Unlike her, his vision was not clouded with feminine ideas of family and marriage and the consequent emotions. Moving Isi a little further away from the commotion toward her own room, he spoke quietly to her.

Ah want you to return to you'ah room and stay the'ah until Ah come back fo'ah you. It will only be a few minutes but Ah must see what Ah can find out about what the law thinks happened...if they think the Doct'ah....

Concern shone in his eyes, both for Isi's wellfare and for the tenuous position the Doctor may now be in. The urgency was still in his voice and his expression as well.

Would she comply?

And if she did, would she keep her word to remain in her room until he returned for her???

Annie was busy fussing over the mother who seemed almost relieved to have her husband gone. She was allowing the young maid to help her to her feet and escort her back to her own room. He glanced in their direction and then turned back to Isi awaiting her reply.

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Isiladura
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Isi clutched the back of Garith's shoulders as if he were now her comforting teddy bear. She looked up at his face and for an instant, the image of Jefferson flashed over his face. Her stomach pitted. She'd forgotten--well, almost--about him. He would be livid when he found out what happened the night before.

"Miss Isiladura, Ah have to know what you meant when you said 'he really did it'. Do you think the Doct'ah had somethin' to do with this?"

Everything was happening so fast. The corridor was now abuzz with commotion and Garith was hustling her off to the side. It never occurred to her that she shed no tears of grief for the loss of such a man. She realized Garith had asked her a question. Her dark, brown eyes looked up at him. What could she say? Dillon had told her she would never worry about her father again.

“Oh, no, not at all, Garith, s’uh,” she lied. “Ah simply meant my Fath’uh was hell-bent on killin’ someone an’, Ah reckon, he decided to kill himself. Ah just can’t believe he did it. But, Ah need to find Dillon an’ let him know…those law men may come to git him.”

She stood next to Garith, her brown curls flouncing about vigorously as she spoke. She hadn’t expected her hope and wish to actually come to fruition. If need be, she decided, she would lie yet again and say that it was herself who killed the man. She had motive—and opportunity. That is…if Garith would back her story. She thought about it a moment then turned, her mouth open to speak. She was met, however, with pleading words from the young cadet.

“Ah want you to return to you'ah room and stay the'ah until Ah come back fo'ah you. It will only be a few minutes but Ah must see what Ah can find out about what the law thinks happened...”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. She narrowed her eyes and drew her lips to the left side of her mouth as if thinking and pouting at the same moment. She regarded the man before her. He was young, but he seemed to be able to diffuse even the most delicate of situations. Letting out a sigh, she nodded and turned to go back in her room. As she turned and the door was shutting, she grabbed it and looked the young man in the eyes. “Yew will tell me what yew find, right?” She was incredibly serious, but there was not much she could do. Men didn’t seem to listen to women—especially those with actual ideas and opinions.

The door closed and she was alone—again—in her room. She sighed. She caught a glimpse of her form in the mirror and she examined it. She looked at the mark on her upper arm and the lightly-appearing bruise on her cheek. Relief washed over her that she was free from his oppression. Terror washed over her that she would have to face Jefferson when they returned to Savannah—which now may be sooner than originally anticipated. The horror of having to make that drive alone with her mother to face the diabolical Jefferson made her freeze and tremble. Why, oh, why could it not be night! She wanted—no, needed—to see Dillon again.

Quickly, she snatched up her diary and began to write furiously.

Dear Diary,

Daddy is dead. Really and truly dead. I think my doctor must have done it. He promised me that I would not have to worry about Daddy’s abuse ever again. He promised me. I do hope no one else suspects him! I couldn’t bear to have him locked away from me forever! I shall simply have to tell my mother that I will not leave Arlington until the man is released, should he be taken prisoner.

I do not think my love understands—not truly. White men are cruel. They are evil and must feed their own egos and pride by striking out at those who seem unable to defend themselves. They think it sport to beat those of a different skin color or those of a different belief…or even those they claim to love and cherish.
She touched her cheek and looked at her arm. Angry tears of sadness stung her eyes. But not him. Never my Dillon. My Dillon would never raise a hand to anyone that didn’t deserve it. Especially not a woman. I admire and love him for that. That white boy, however…Garith Monroe. He scares me. He acts all proper and forthcoming, but I’m sure deep within his chest lies the same demon that plagues every man of the white race.

Love,
Isi


She ended her entry abruptly for she heard footsteps outside her door and a light knock. Jumping to her feet, she failed to grab the diary, but left it open upon her bed with the pen between the pages. Gently turning the knob, she opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Yes? Who is it?”
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Garith Monroe
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He thought she was going to protest, or put up some argument when he asked her to return to her room. The look in her eyes and the set of her mouth told him that she had something she wanted to say. So he was relieved when she agreed easily and went without resistance.

“Yew will tell me what yew find, right?”

He was in a hurry. He wanted to get back to the room as quickly as possible in case the Doctor's name came up or the man was implicated. Just because a man was different didn't automaticly make him a killer and that was exactly what Garith was afraid would happen.

He paused long enough to offer Isi a nod and a firm, sincere, "Absolutely, Miss, everythin' Ah find out Ah will relate to you in as much detail as you wish."

Leaving Isi's room, he replaced his cap on his head as he returned to the scene of Mister Divicci's death, knocking softly on the doorframe before entering the room.
He did not walk far into the room, but watched as the lawman stood near the bed, watching the mortician measure and examine the body. When the lawman finally turned his way, the young Cadet spoke up.

S'uh, Ah stopped by to off'ah whatev'ah assistance Ah could.

"You know this man, Cadet?"

Ah am acquainted with his daught'ah, S'uh and was witness to an incident involvin' him last night.

The lawman nodded.

"Thanks but don't need your help. Seems a local redskin had it in for 'im. We'll track the savage down and see that he faces justice for this."

Garith grew silent a moment as the lawman turned back to look toward the bed with the mortician calling his name. Motioning the lawman closer, the mortician pointed to the man's neck and Garith drew closer cautiously in an effort to see what the man had discovered.

He couldn't see the two small marks but could more clearly hear the subdued conversation between the two men who were bent on pinning the man's death on the Indian Doctor.

"Looks like something stuck him, alright. Look kinda like a snake bite cept its strange seeing that on the neck."

"Kinda big but it might coulda been a doc's see-rynge. But why two places? That don't make sense."

If Ah may, S'uhs, Ah was keepin' watch all night in the hall and Ah would have seen o'ah hea'd if someone had come in Mist'ah Divicci's room. No one did.

"Keepin watch? Expectin a siege Cadet? What were you doin keepin watch?"

Briefly, he covered the salient details of the events of the evening before from hisw perspective. The gunshots, his running into the hotel from outside in time to see Divicci holding his daughter with a gun to her head, the Doctor's intervention on behalf of the Lady, his attention to her wound and request that the Lady not be left without recourse due to her father's heinous actions.

The lawman had started out looking skeptical, but evidently it was not the first time he had heard at least part of the story,for as Garith related the events, the look faded as the lawman nodded.

"That doesn't mean the injun didn't sneak in here and kill 'im."

Garith knew he was on thin ice. The only reason the man had listened to him thus far was probably because he was still in his uniform and VMI was a prestigious institute with a certain reputation. He let the silence between them grow for a moment before he stepped closer to the lawman and tried one more time.

It doesn't mean he did eith'ah S'uh. You said you'ah self that the marks looked like snake bites. And have you ev'ah seen a dyin' man with a look like that on his face? No, S'uh. I don't think you ahr lookin' fo'ah any human killer but some kind of creatu'ah. Maybe a snake, maybe some insect. But not human, S'uh.

The conversation continued for quite some time, longer then he had anticipated and he silently offered a prayer for Isiladura's patience and that she would keep her word and remain where she was.

Not until he was convinced that the lawman was no longer considering an Indian, ANY Indian, as a possible suspect in the death did he finally excuse himself and return to Isi's room. His soft knock was met with the doorbeing opened only slightly and her inquiring voice.

He hadn't had much time to think about it earlier but he had noticed a very different attitude about her this morning then he had witnessed the night before. He had no doubt she was still quite opinionated, outspoken and head-strong. But she had shown more good sense in her actions this morning then the previous evening.

It's me, Miss Isiladura, Garith Monroe.










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Isiladura
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Her heart sank a little, hoping beyond hope that the person standing without the door was none other than her beloved Dillon. Alas, it was the white man sent to be her "protector." She closed her eyes a brief moment, then opened the door and bid him enter, taking care to make sure her door stayed wide open.

"Do come in. Ah was just...thinkin'." She smiled to the cadet and turned to walk over to the window that overlooked the busying street below. "What did they say? They think Dil--uh, Ah mean Doct'uh Cloudhawk did it, don't they." She watched Garith's face from a distance. She was still uncertain of him and did not want to allow herself the relaxed feeling of friendship she had allowed herself with Dillon the evening prior.

"Oh, do make yo'self to home, Mist'uh Monroe." She smiled again, then turned to look out the large window, forgetting entirely about her open diary upon her bed. The parasol she had was laying across the bed as well. She stood staring out the window looking much like a china doll--at least from Garith's vantage point. The other side held the horrid truth of the night prior.

"Ah s'ppose Ah am stuck he'uh f'uh the day," she began. Then turning to him, she smiled and spoke sweetly. "Would yew show me around the town? Ah noticed somethin' very int'restin' about yew, Mist'uh Monroe, and Ah think yew a'he the p'uhfect p'uhson fo' the job." She held out her lace-gloved hand to shake his. "Do let's fo'get last night an' sta'ht ou'h friendship ov'uh." She was sincere in her desire. But, she also knew she could use this cadet to get what she most desired.

The ability to recognize and utilize people to attain positions of power, or merely positions of desire is a qualitiy that her vampiric family would recognize and capitalize upon. It would be one of the qualities that would launch her to her position of Archbishop.

Another quality was her bold and brazen personality.

She turned and took several decided, purposeful steps closer to Garith. Taking up her parasol, but leaving the diary--still opened upon the bed--she walked to the door and exited. "Ah will be right back, Mist'uh Monroe. Ah am going to check on my Moth'uh."

She turned and walked down the hallway to her mother's door. Knocking gently, she entered and shut the door behind her. No angry words flew. No shatterings of vases occurred. Just two women, civilly talking. Isiladura poured out her heart to her mother. For the first time in 24 years, she felt she could do so. And her mother agreed.

She did not like what Isiladura said, but she did not discourage her child. "Ah have always wanted yo' happiness. IF this doct'uh makes yew happy..." She stopped. Her mother did not like the thought of her daughter with that savage. But, if she said no, she'd lose her daughter. If she gave her blessing, her daughter would always be there. It was a tough decision for the widow to make. See her daughter happy with a savage and be ridiculed and mocked for all eternity, or protect her from the scorn by forcing her to be unhappy in a marriage similar to her own.

Maggie Divicci looked at her daughter. "If it makes yew happy to be with the sa--the Doct'uh...then yew have my blessin'...Ah would rath'uh yew be happy than lose yew fo'ev'uh."

Isiladura was elated. She hugged her mother and kissed her on the forehead. She stood up and turned to leave. As she did, her mother offered her a warning about being seen in public with one such as Doctor Cloudhawk. It could bring her shame and possibly death.

Isiladura just smiled. "Ah will, Momma."

And with that, she re-opened the door and headed back to her room and the cadet from VMI.
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Garith Monroe
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He snatched off his cap as she opened the door wider, her evident disappointment not hidden from the younger man. Stepping into the room, he remained near the open door, glancing around only enough to orient himself with the layout before his attention returned to Isi.

"What did they say? They think Dil--uh, Ah mean Doct'uh Cloudhawk did it, don't they."

He recounted for her, as he had promised, every detail of the conversations held in her deceased father's room, leaving nothing out.

Ah am not completely ce'tain the law won't take a look Doct'ah Cloudhawk's way, but fo'ah the moment at least, he is secu'ah from thei'ah pryin'.

Even as he recounted the dsicussion to her, he had the feeling that she believed Dillon Cloudhawk had taken the older man's life. But to what end?

Dillon did not strike him as being as enthralled with the Lady as the Lady was with him. So what her parents thought or didn't think was likely not a serious consideration for the Doctor. At least not serious enough to commit murder.

"Oh, do make yo'self to home, Mist'uh Monroe."

He remained where he was.

Ah'm fine, ma'am, thank you.

However when she held out her glove-encased hand to him, of necessity he stepped further into the room, toward Isi, where he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips where he brushed the knuckle softly with a kiss before releasing it back to her.

"Ah will be right back, Mist'uh Monroe. Ah am going to check on my Moth'uh."

Before he could comment, she had swept out the door and he had to smile.
No, she was not so much different then he had first imagined. Still the strong-willed woman who made up her mind and then went for what she wanted with determination and gusto. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Its just that her forward manner was sure to get her into trouble yet.

While she was gone, he took a moment to more fully look around her room. On the bed was an open book and, being a lover of good books, his curiousity demanded he see just what she was reading.

Moving a few steps closer to the bed, his eyes fell on a feminine script. "I do not think my love understands—not truly.White men are cruel. They are evil and must feed their own egos.... " As soon as he realized the book was Isi's private journal, he averted his eyes and moved back toward the door, although the small piece he had read he found interesting. Did she truly believe the men of her own race to be evil?

He spent the remainer of the time waiting for Isi standing in her doorway, cap still in hand, while he considered the book on her bed. He knew his sister kept a journal. He had made the mistake once when he was much younger of reading some of what she wrote. If he had hoped to gain some unusual insight into the female mnd, he had been sorely disappointed. But he had learned a valuable lesson in regard to respecting the privacy of others.

It was that same lesson that had prevented him from reading any further in Miss Isiladura's journal then what he had accidently seen. Still, it had given him a bit of insight into Isi. And he purposed that by the end of the day, he would hopefully have convinced her that not all white men are as evil as she seemed to think.

When she emerged from her mother's room, he adjusted his stance slightly and smiled warmly at Isiladura.

How is you'ah Moth'ah holdin' up, Miss Isiladura?

She had expressed a desire to see the city. And he had no objection to walking the streets of Arlington with such an attractive woman as his companion. Besides, it gave him the chance to evaluate his previous observations and see if they were justified or far from accurate.

Was the'ah some place specific you wanted to see? O'ah just the city in general?




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Dillon Cloudhawk
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Tremere Primogen of Dallas
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His father was the first one he saw that early evening. The expression on the older mans face spoke volumes. Dillon halted in the doorway and silently observed the man that he had learned to love. He had been a hellion the first few years, giving Dr. George Whittalle and his wife Margaret more trouble than either deserved.

He resented them for a long time. He had his own prejudices to overcome, the loathing for their white skin, their money, their ways, which were foreign to him. Even their god, which had told them to adopt him, it was the ‘Christian’ duty.

It wasn’t until later that he learned Margaret had been unable to have children that her three pregnancies, ended in miscarriages and one stillbirth. His father told him that one look and Margaret had fallen in love with the seven-year-old Cherokee boy. It had been his eyes, they were filled with so much sadness and pain, that this whit mother couldn’t help but herself. She understood that pain, and the sadness, and the need rose in her to try and make it better for him.

Twenty years later he now stood silent before the man that made all of it possible, for his deceased wife, for his Indian son, and never once asked for anything for himself. “Good evening father.”

Dillon said softly entering the room. Dr. Whittalle looked up but no welcoming smile graced his weathered face, instead fear and worry etched it. “The sheriff was here today.” His eyes searched his son’s unchanging face then he sighed. “What is going on Dillon. Why does he want to talk to you?”

It was moments like these that brought the reality of who and what he was to forefront. He was Indian, but he was more, he was one with the night, a creature that even his own white father would try to destroy should he know.

The Tremere placed a gentle hand on his fathers shoulder. “I am sure I don’t know.” He murmured softly. “There was an altercation at the hotel last night. I had to …subdue a white patron.” He saw the weary understanding in Whittalle’s eyes before the man nodded. “I will take care of it. Everything will be alright.” He could tell the elder male wasn’t reassured but there wasn’t much he could do about that. If the worse should occur, Dillon would ‘vanish’ and reappear later after all were long dead and gone.

“Father.” Dillon said softly. George’s head turned from the low flickering fire in the fireplace to look up at his son. “Thank you.” It was a close as Dillon had ever come to saying the words “I love you.” Those two simple words however had tears forming in the doctor’s eyes. He nodded and turned back to the fire, not moving again until he knew his son had left the room. Then with shaking hands he removed his spectacles and whipped his cheeks, brushing away any evidence of the tears.

Dillon secured his bag on the back of his horse before mounting him. His thoughts were already on what he needed to accomplish that evening. He know the sheriff would be in his office, the man had no family and tended to live there.
As much as he longed to check up on Isi, he knew that wouldn’t be wise. She was under the care of Gairth and Dillon knew that it was for the best she stay there with one of her own kind.

Whatever fascination she had with him, would fade away in the light of day. The death of her father was also bound to wipe him from her immediate thoughts. Dillon ignored the twinge of regret he felt. Perhaps in a different era, things would be different; then again, they could be worse. He could only live for the day, and in this day, Indian and white did not have a chance.

The sheriff was sitting leaned back on a chair outside the small jail, chewing tobacco and watching through deceptively sleepy eyes the people of his town as they went too and fro. He didn’t’ move as Dillon approached, nor acknowledge him as he dismounted and tied the reigns of his horse to the hitching post. They were not friends, but neither were they enemies. Overall the Sheriff had been a fair man, but Dillon wondered if that would be the case this night.

“I understand you wanted to see me.” Dillon greeted the law officer quietly. He didn’t squirm or flinch under the cold hard stare of the man. Silence reigned between them. The Indian doctor was very comfortable with silence, more so than many whites he knew. Whatever the sheriff was searching for, he wouldn’t find it, not on this night, or ever.

“So why did you kill him.” The sheriff said still not moving. The next twenty minuets were some of the most interesting Dillon had experienced in a long long time. He could tell immediately that the sheriff had his doubts, but was doing the ‘obligatory’ roust the Indian routine. He didn’t have a choice really, since Dillon had been there and was involved.

It was a relatively painless conversation, with only a few tricky moments. He offered to examine the body, which was immediately turned down. Dr. Conroy had already assumed responsibility. The final verdict, death by vermin, unknown, which apparently satisfied the deceased wife, who for some reason stood firm in her belief that Dr. Cloudhawk had nothing to do with her husbands death.

Dillon almost lost his stoic expression on that one. His mind raced as he tired to understand how the woman that seemed so upset the night before could suddenly become his advocate. Apparently, between Mr. Monroe’s support, and Isi’s mothers’ along of course with his own fathers, the sheriff had little option but to accept that he had nothing to do with the death.

It was ironic. Had he not had such backing he would shirley be in jail awaiting to be hanged. Trial or no, the final outcome was guaranteed. Despite all his good intentions, Dillon found himself heading towards the hotel. He had to see with his own eyes that she was all right. He had to see if the night before had been the ‘typical’ reaction from a white woman, or was there truly something more.
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Isiladura
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How late was it, Isi wondered as she returned to her room. She smiled warmly at Garith. It was the least she could do. She may as well get used to the fact that this man was going to be in her life whether she wanted him or not. It was God's way of punishing her, she was certain. It was His fault she was the way she was--He, after all, created her.

"My Moth'uh is doing as well as can be expected, thank yew. Ah do believe she will be headin' on back to Savannah soon, though. Ah will not be accomp'nyin' h'uh, howev'uh. Ah will spend a few mo'uh days he'uh and then leave. An' befo' yew ask, yes, she knows an' has given me h'uh blessin'." She smiled again to Garith with a sort of triumphant look on her face. She walked to the bed and picked up her parasol, but still forgot about her diary.

"Was the'ah some place specific you wanted to see? O'ah just the city in general?"

She rested the parasol on her shoulder and turned to face Garith, a slight smile on her face. "Now, see, that is what Ah wanted to speak with yew about." She took a step closer. "Ah have noticed yew are seemin'ly dif'rent from oth'uh boys yo'...col'uh." She took another could decided steps, then turned. "It seems Ah have a problem. Ah am in love with someone that Ah shouldn't be." She began speaking in vague terms. Her door was still wide open and there was a myriad of people bustling about taking care of her recently deceased father. She may have been bold and brazen, but she wasn't stupid. "He is a wond'uhful man, but he has a condition that medical r'sea'uhch has yet to find a cu'uhe fo'." Glancing over her shoulder slightly, she half smiled. "Ah know yew do not find it as...distateful as the rest of society does. So, what Ah ask of yew is to show me some places whe'uh the two of us cin meet privately." On the last of her sentence, she turned to face Garith fully. She smiled at him, knowing he would understand her request.

Judging from what she knew of the man, she could tell that he, at least on the surface, was different from other white men. Why, he'd actually kissed her hand! Most men just took her fingers and shook them gently for fear of breaking her. Even Jefferson had never kissed her hand. He'd smacked her with his hands on occassion, but he never treated her with the kindness that suddenly had been showered upon her from not one, but two gentlemen.

Still. She did not trust white men.

Resigning herself to a day spent with the cadet, she looked around her room quickly to make sure she had everything she would need. On her dresser sat a small satin purse. "Oh!" she exclaimed and went to the dresser to retrieve the last accessory to compelte her striking outfit.

She rejoined Garith at the door and slid her hand between his arm and side, resting her hand on his forearm. "Shall we proceed?" She smiled sweetly and waited for him to take the lead.
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Garith Monroe
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As Isi joined him and slid her arm though his, he brought his arm up slightly so it was bent at the proper angle for her hand to rest on. He was concerned about her request and the propriety of it. Any gentleman would take issue with the idea of meeting privately with a woman whose honer he did not wish to see impuned. Still, he certainly was not slow to catch on to what Isi implied. She was in love with the Doctor and she was correct. Society would not take kindly to their being together. Not at this point in history. Maybe never.

He was not so sure the Doctor returned her affections, based on what he had seen between them the previous evening. But he kept his observations to himself as he reached back long enough to close her door.

Ah believe, Miss Isiladura, that we might find some places that ahr to you'ah likin' and within the realm of decorum and propriety fo'ah you'ah assignations.

As he spoke, they had begun walking toward the stairs, the Cadet smiling warmly at her, careful not to be to judge her too harshly. She was, after all, a member of the fairer sex, subject to her emotions rather then her mind. And while he was still considerably puzzled by women in general, Isiladura certainly was a puzzle unto herself.

He could have done worse then to spend the day in the company of the lovely Georgia peach whose curls bounced with an energy all their own and who he discovered was actually quite conversant on many topics and did not mind sharing her opinion of politics, religion, or anything else for that matter. And while their opinions did not always agree, by mid-day when they stopped in a pleasant eatery for lunch, they found they could discuss their difference with as much passion as they felt necessary and not feel threatened or intimidated by the other's equally passionate response on the opposite side.

In some ways, he found she was much like his elder sister: animated, articulate, emotional yes, but she actually could use the brain God had given her for logical thought progression and stimulating discussion.

In their tour of a fair section of Arlington, they had found a few places where Dillon and Isiladura might enjoy each other's company while not compromising either of their reputations or honor, something that for Isi would not necessarily mean her death but very easily could mean just that for Dillon.

The private balcony seating at the theatrwas one possibility. The parlor of a well-to-do Arlington merchant who regularly held tolerance and emancipation meeting was another, but it also meant they would have to endure the rhetoric of such a meeting. And there were a few other places they had discovered that might afford them the chance to get better acquainted.

The Cadet and the Southern Belle were returning to the hotel just before dusk, Isi impatiently persistent that she did not want to miss Dillon's return. He accompanied her into the dining hall, suggesting that they should take the time to have a bit of dinner while they waited for the Doctor to join them.

He could tell Isi was far more intent on seeing the Indian Doctor then on a meal. However, she joined the Cadet at a table situated so she could easily see the entry to the hotel.

They were more then half way through their meal and he had been relating a particularly humorous story to Isi that had them both laughing, making it difficult for them to eat or for him to continue telling the story at the moment. Just then his eyes fell on the figure of the doctor just entering the hotel lobby.

His smile remained as the laughter subsided and he tapped the table to get Isi's attention and inclined his head in the direction of Dillon, who was now walking toward them.....
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Isiladura
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She had to admit that she had enjoyed a wonderful--nearly relaxing--day with the young cadet. She still, however, did not trust him. He was too perfect. Too much of a gentleman. He had to have some dark secret--some tragic flaw. Yet, her scathing eyes were unable to dect such a thing at the present time.

She did note, however, that he would bend to her will on some few issues of minor importance--like her wanting to see Dillon again.

That was something, in her mind, she needed to do. She needed to know that he was alright--that he was not upset with her or that he was not otherwise detained. She knew Garith had told her he was not being implicated, but she knew better than to believe anything anyone told her. She had to see it for herself.

As she sat down to dinner, she started thinking that perhaps Garith's tragic flaw was jealousy--jealousy that she would not have him. Jealousy that she would rather chase a man unattainable to her than take what was considered acceptable that was placed before her. Fortune had brought she and Garith together as nearly friends. But Destiny was drawing her toward the good doctor.

Her thoughts, however, were soon displaced as Garith began regaling her of tales of valor and bravery frought with humor. She'd never laughed so hard in her laugh--in fact, she had never laughed about anything before. It was very foreign and new to her. She only smiled as a matter of good manners and flirtations--never out of a pure desire to do so.

Except when Dillon was around. Dillon made her smile. She couldn't help herself. He was so handsome and so kind and treated her with respect--despite all her efforts to test and try his kindness and patience. He never once raised a hand to her in the whole evening they'd spoken. Lovesick, indeed.

As dinner progressed, so did the lightheartedness of the conversation and soon, Garith was at it again with his humorous tales. This time, however, she thought her ribcage would burst. Her sides hurt as she held her stomach and laughed, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. As her laughter began to subside, Garith sat watching her with a warm smile on his face. Once he caught her eyes, he gestured to where Dillon had just entered.

She turned her head to see and the blush leapt to her cheeks again and her smile broadened, she smiled widely and waved to him, then turned to Garith.

"Ah do wish people would just leave him alone! Why do they sta'uh at him like that? They act as if they ain' nev'uh seen a man befo'! Why, Ah do decla'uh, Garith--the Bible does say the'uh is only "one flesh fo' man. An' if the White men think they a'he su-perio' to the rest, well, they will be so'hly disappointed when they stand at the Judgement." She smiled, quite proud of herself. She had noted the book Garith had been reading and figured he would know to what passage she referred.

Still. She had issues with the hypocricy of the White Man's religion--a fact that she had let Garith know early on. She believed in a God...she just left it at that. Turning back to face Dillon, she smiled again, her heart beating faster, hoping he would come to join them.
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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He had been quietly watching the two of them for a bit before Gairth noticed him. A reluctant smile graced his lips as Isi burst out into laughter at whatever the cadet was saying. They looked good together. Very good. Dillon ignored the sweeping sorrow that filled him to know he had been correct; he had been but a novelty for the moment.

She had found common ground with this Gairth; he was white, of a social status that would meet with any mother’s approval, and a gentleman that would treat her well. Dillon was aware of the stares he drew, some from curiosity, some of distain, others just noting his presence. It didn’t faze him, he was use to it, what he did find interesting was those same people were staring at Isi. Her laughter was heart felt, deep and real, and it drew varying emotions from those around.

It didn’t surprise him to see disapproval from some, it seemed everyone had an opinion on what was proper and what wasn’t. For himself, he was thrilled; it meant she had found peace in her father’s death and freedom. Dillon knew he would have to be satisfied with that. He was actually going to leave without letting his presence be known when Gairth looked up and caught his eye.

The decision out of his hand he headed towards their table masking his expression to no more than professional courtesy as he drew near. All his good intentions and thought flew out the window as Isi turned and spotted him, he almost stumbled in his walk at the sight of the obvious joy and pleasure that lit up her face as their eyes met.

Could he be wrong? Did she truly care for him as she had said? Confused Dillon continued forward. “Good Evening.” He murmured with a nod to Isi, then looking over at Gairth. “Thank you.” He didn’t say more, knowing the young man before him would understand. “May I join you?”

Dillon pulled out a chair and lowered his frame into it before addressing what he knew would be foremost on everyone’s thoughts. “I just came from the sheriffs.” His dark eyes fell upon Isi’s face and softened. “I am sorry for your loss Miss Isiladura. If there is anything I can do for you or your mother, please let me know.” His gaze lingered on her for a few moments before turning back to Gairth.

“I owe you another debt of gratitude. I understand you stood up for me with the sheriff. That was…risky…I do thank you.” He grinned a bit sarcastically. “Apparently I will not be held responsible for the death of Mr. Divicci.” He shook his head, “Between you, my father and….” He glanced back at Isi. “Mrs. Divicci, the sheriff thought it unlikely I could have been involved. So he let me off with a warning.”

Something to the effect of , stay away from the white woman here injun, and you wont find yourself staring at a hangman’s noose. Dillon was still wondering how he maintained an expressionless face after that comment.
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Isiladura
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She was giddy, yet she was trying to hide that almost obvious fact from her gentlemen companions.

"May I join you?"

Isi began to laugh, "Oh, of cou'uhse! Don't be silly!" She chuckled a little, then realized the tone of the evening was going to be serious. She stopped laughing and cleared her throat, folding her hands and placing them on her lap. She stared down at the table.

"'Scuse me. Ah's just tryin' to have some fun."

She sounded almost hurt by the whole ordeal, but still she sat calmly, her eyes only tearing off of Dillon long enough to look over at Garith so he would still feel included in their conversation.

"I am sorry for your loss Miss Isiladura. If there is anything I can do for you or your mother, please let me know."

Isi smiled. Her mind raced with possibilities, but she nodded her head in acceptance of his condolances and spoke softly, putting her fingers very lightly on his forearm. "Ah assu'uhe yew, Doct'uh Cloudhawk, yew will be the f'uhst one Ah call." She smiled and leaned back, removing her hand quickly, then glanced around at the people. Some were still staring and watching. She was growing sick with anger.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What business was it of any of them how she acted and who she was seen with? What place was it of theirs to judge her for crimes she did not commit? What right did they have to condescend her and dictate her happiness. She was growing quite angry. She kept her eyes shut and kept breathing deeply.

As angry as she was with the situation, she still knew that an outburst from her would put Dillon at risk--the only thing helping her keep her cool. She opened them again and focused on what Dillon was saying. She caught the last part of his words: "...Between you, my father and…Mrs. Divicci, the sheriff thought it unlikely I could have been involved. So he let me off with a warning.”

Isi smiled and blushed. Her mother knew what is was to be bound to a man you didn't love. She thought about the things she'd written in her diary just that morning. There was something she wanted to share with Dillon from out of it. She reached into the pocket of her dress, but the diary was not. A look of confusion crossed over her face. She checked the other side. No diary. She looked at Dillon, then looked over at Garith, her eyes narrowing--not out of anger, but out of recall.

"...Oh!..." she suddenly exclaimed, then realized she was in the company of the men and they did not know she was looking for the diary. Biting her lip, she sank back into her chair, blushing slightly. "Uh...well, Garith, now that Dillon is he'uh...maybe we can go to one of those places yew showed me today...." She smiled sweetly. "Ah will, of cou'hse have to change. This is a day dress, not a dress f'uh the evening." She batted her lashes at the two, lingering longer on Dillon. "Ah promise it won't take but a few minutes..."

She looked back at Garith--turning her head first, then her eyes--and smiled to him. She didn't care so much about her clothing, but she did want her diary. She wanted it nearby in case something were to happen to her--like she were raped and/or killed by a White Man. She would tell Dillon to open to the last entry about how cruel they were and lay it on her breast.

So dramatic she was.

"Well, if yew two want to sit he'uh and chat, that's fine, but Ah would like yew to accompany me. Ah have a changin' area in my room, so no one will think ill if yew came in for a spell. Ah'll even leave the doo'uh open." She smiled and stood to her feet, waiting to see if the others would join.
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Garith Monroe
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He had merely nodded when Dillon expressed his gratitude for his watching over Isiladura. Growing quiet, he returned to eating what was left of his meal while Dillon and Isi spoke. And though he was quiet, he was hardly removed. He studied both of them as he ate and listened, noting the obvious joy in Isi's countenance, and the aloof distancing the Doctor seemed to be attempting to pull off.

“I owe you another debt of gratitude. I understand you stood up for me with the sheriff. That was…risky…I do thank you. Apparently I will not be held responsible for the death of Mr. Divicci. Between you, my father and... Mrs. Divicci, the sheriff thought it unlikely I could have been involved. So he let me off with a warning.”

Garith set his fork down and waved off the thanks, shaking his head slightly as he finished chewing the last bite before speaking.

Ah did what was right, Doct'ah, what any self-respectin;, God-fearin' man should do if they found themselves in simil'ah circumstance. Tell the truth vehemently.

He looked across at Isi then back to Dillon, then back to Isi as she spoke, a slightly mischievous tone in his oive as he spke again, a half smile trying not to erupt on his lips.

"Uh...well, Garith, now that Dillon is he'uh...maybe we can go to one of those places yew showed me today. Ah will, of cou'hse have to change. This is a day dress, not a dress f'uh the evening. Ah promise it won't take but a few minutes..."

The Cadet laughed softly and nodded as he shifted his gaze back to Dillon.

You say you owe me a debt, Doct'ah. Ah'll call it even, Doct'ah if you will esco'ht this lovely Lady to the theat'ah o'ah the Emancipationist meetin' this evenin'.

"Well, if yew two want to sit he'uh and chat, that's fine, but Ah would like yew to accompany me. Ah have a changin' area in my room, so no one will think ill if yew came in for a spell. Ah'll even leave the doo'uh open."

As soon as Isi had risen from her seat, both men had done so as well. His smile faded quickly as he shot a surprised look at Isi then looked back at Dillon. Her suggestion was most unconventional in regard to him, let alone incuding the Indian Doctor in it! Had she already forgotten that while the three of them had no problem with the way things were headed, the society around them certainly did!

Looking back at Isi, he began to speak.

Miss Isiladura, I don't think....

"No, I'm sorry. We can't."

The soft-spoken, firm voice of the Doctor interupted him and Garith shot him a grateful look as the Doctor continued.

"You have no one to fear now, Miss Isiladura. We'll remain here and you may certainly take all the time you need. "

The Doctor was correct. And Garith was incredibly grateful the words had come from him to the lady instead of from the younger Cadet. He knew Isi simply had not thought out her request, had simply spoken freely her wishes without taking into consideration the potential consequences for the Doctor.
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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Despite his best intentions, his eyes did follow her as she left their table and headed towards the stairs. It wasn’t until he saw other watching him that he dragged his gaze away and looked back at Gairth with a rueful smile. “She is…. impetuous.”

Both men resumed their seats, the Tremere with some trepidation as he wondered how wise he was truly being in remaining and not vanishing into the night allowing Isi to remain with Gairth, where she truly belonged. He met the white man’s eyes, and was deeply satisfied in what he saw. This young cadet would indeed treat her well; he had moral fortitude, which he was not ashamed of. By far Isiladura could do far worse that the man before him, far worse indeed. Yet that very thought filled Dillon with anguish, which he had not experienced since the days of old, as a child upon the trail of tears.

He blinked then lowered his head. After a few moments of silence he looked back up accepting that he couldn’t walk away, that he had committed himself to Isi the moment he decided to kill her father. She was his, she just didn’t realize what that truly entailed. “This Emancipationist meeting, do you really think that is a wise idea?” He asked softly a slow gleam entered his dark gaze. “Miss Isiladura is…quite emancipated at this point, I almost hesitate to consider what ideas she will take away from such a meeting.”

Though his tone was light, a part of him was serious, no matter how progressive the society was, he wasn’t sure it was truly ready for one Isiladura Divicci
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Isiladura
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Impressive.

She had to admit that Garith was impressive. She smiled a little coquettishly at Dillon and left the table, her hair flouncing as she walked. She walked up the stairs and glanced back down to the table to see if Dillon was watching then then entered her room and closed the door behind.

She leaned her back against the door and sighed, a smile spreading on her lips. She was uncertain that Dillon would show. She was both excited and nervous. She giddlily changed her dress into one of a darker fabric. Dark burgandy trimmed with black lace. The sleeves were very short and slightly off her smooth, pale shoulders. The neckline was flattering and not at all Victorian. She wore what she liked, and she liked an open necked bodice. She pulled some tendrils down to frame her face and touched up her make up. She smiled at the results. Her father's last mark still threatened to show through, but she kept it covered very well.

She pulled on the black satin gloves and grabbed her diary off her bed and her black fan and exited her room. Closing the door behind her, she looked down at the table where sat the man of her attractions and the other one. She was still not certain how she felt about Garith. He was a little too perfect for her. He had to have a weakness somewhere. She would find it.

As she came down the steps, she could feel the hotel bar fall silent and dozens of pairs of eyes fall onto her form as she moved. She did look particularly radiant this night. The darkened color of the fabric against her fair skin made her pale even further. A maidenly blush kissed her cheeks and the curls about her face bobbed merrily as she walked. She felt she was in quite a predicament, however. She was going to be joining a group containing a person not very well liked by the White people within the room. She pulled out her fan and flicked it open, fanning herself slightly as she took slow, measured steps toward her table.

She kept the fan close to her heart as she looked at Dillon--a sign that he had captured her heart. She slowly lowered the fan to her side as she turned to greet Garith. "Ah am ready. To whe'uh shall we be going?" She smiled and glanced quickly at Dillon. She could feel her cheeks become hotter with each passing moment. She wanted to be nearer to the one who had swept her from her feet, but she did not want to cause undue attention to be brought to him.

She knew he was uncomfortable in groups.

Besides, she wanted to be alone with him so she could tell him how she really felt without hearing about the consequences. She grew tired of consequences. Everything had a consequence. It was a law--For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. How true that was.
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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He knew the moment she returned. She had not even reached the top of the stair when he became aware of her presence. His eyes left Gairths and swung back round immediately landing upon Isi. He was very aware of others around them watching her as she slowly descended the stairs.

Without hesitation he rose to his feet, looking only once at the young cadet as he did also. Had he breath to steel, she would have been the one to take it, she was a vision of beauty.
Dillon carefully kept the admiration from his expression as he watched her. He was all too aware of the eyes that studied him. For her safety and his own, he would never openly display anything more than remote politeness when around others.

Relief filled him when she acknowledged Gairth first, she was learning, and that almost brought a smile to his face. Dillon raised an eyebrow at the younger man, it was his choice as to where they went. He still wasn’t too sure about the emancipation meeting, but he was game.

“Perhaps we can begin with a stroll outside and decided there.” Dillon murmured, his voice carrying no further than to the two of them. He turned and led the way. It was better for her to be seen departing on the arm of the young cadet than with him, thus he placed distance between them, hoping all would draw the incorrect conclusion that he was leaving, and the other two were going out together without him in tow.
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Isiladura
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She blinked as Dillon turned and left abruptly, then looked at Garith. "Well, Ah s'ppose that's ou'uh cue to exuent," she chuckled and smiled. Slipping her arm around Garith's, they began to walk outside. She took notice of the people in the bar watching and the people going back to what they were doing.

Once outside, her face lit up like butane torch. Dillon stood outside waiting for them, looking up at the sky. He was so handsome and she wanted to retreive her arm from Garith and run to him, but she did not want to offend Garith--or hurt his feelings in any way.

"Garith," she whispered, "whe'uh do yew think we should go?"

Her eyes looked up at Garith then she smiled and looked to Dillon. She lifted the fan that was in her right hand and held it over her lips, hoping Dillon would catch the meaning--he would be allowed to kiss her.

As they approached him, she smiled and blushed a little, slowly moved the fan from her face allowing it to hang loosely at her side. When they stopped just in front of Dillon, Isiladura retracted her arm from Garith and smiled to him, then stared up at Dillon, mesmerized.

"Whe'uh would yew like to go, Doct'uh Cloudhawk?" She asked, a flirtatious smile curving her lips. "Garith showed me a wond'uhful theat'uh today...as well as anoth'uh place that sounded very...int'restin'. Somethin' to do with emancipations..." She smiled and looked at Garith, then back to Dillon.
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Garith Monroe
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“This Emancipationist meeting, do you really think that is a wise idea? Miss Isiladura is…quite emancipated at this point, I almost hesitate to consider what ideas she will take away from such a meeting.”

The Cadet smiled, noting the glimmer in the good Doctor's eyes.

It ce'tainly can't hu't, Doct'ah. We would be with people who sha'ah many of Isiladura's ideas about society. It may well do he'ah..and you...good to see fi'st hand that not all of ou'ah race ahr as bigoted as it seems.

He paused, glancing up toward the stairs before continuing, mentally trying to calculate just how much time they had before Isi rejoined them. Turning his attention back to Dillon, he continued in a slightly softer tone of voice, aware the ideas he was about to share with Dillon were not entirely without their detractors.

The'ah ahr, among the Southern aristocracy, decent, God-fea'ahrin' men and women who believe the negr'ahs lot in this country is contr'ahry to the best interests of the nation and of the individual. We ahr all fo'ah grantin' them thei'ah freedom to live as freemen with the same priviledges as white folk. Howev'ah, contra'ahry to ou'ah free-thinkin' No'thern Abolistionists, we want the negr'ahs to be educated and to make su'ah they have secu'ah'd positions fo'ah themselves to be able to be self-sufficient, rath'ah then relyin' on the goodness of thei'ah fo'ahm'ah mast'ahs and the chu'ch fo'ah thei'ah sustenance. The Abolitionists think it is simply a matt'ah of handin' the negr'ahs thei'ah freedom and be done with it and that is irresponsible on thei'ah pa'aht. You don't tell a man go fetch you some venison without fi'st equippin' him with the knowledge he needs to successfully hunt. Likewise you don't send a man into the world without maki' su'ah he has the necessary skills to make a go of it.

The Cadet spoke with all the passion of his convictions, yet with a humility that shone in his eyes and in his demeanor.

Just as he concluded, Isi rejoined them and both man stood as she approached. Garith bowed slightly as she spoke and then smiled at Isi, glancing over at Dillon as the Doctor suggested a stroll. With Dillon's turning to leave, Garith moved around the table to offer Isi his arm, which she accepted readily.

Outside, she whispered softly to Garith inquiring as to where they should go. Before he could make any suggestions, Isi was talking to Dillon and solicitingh is ideas while adding to the list with a recital of two of the places they had been earlier that day.

Looking over at Dillon and then at Isi, he could wish for his two new friends that times were different. That the need to sneak around out of fear of what others might say or do was a thing of the past.

The reality, of course, was that it was not a thing of the past but a very real part of the present time in which they lived.

Ah have no pref'ahrence, Miss Isiladura. Whatev'ah you and the Doct'ah pref'ah would be fine.






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Dillon Cloudhawk
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Tremere Primogen of Dallas
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Dillon was pondering Gairths words as he stood outside waiting for the duo. He saw and heard the passion the southern gentleman felt. He knew that rumors of succession from the Union were flowing about, not openly, but almost as a ‘test’ of the waters, to see what reaction would be.

He had little love for white man’s government; he knew where the blame lay for his parent’s deaths and the deaths of many of his people. Their homes taken forced to move from the lands they loved to a reservation three states away, many never setting eyes on this promised haven, littering the trail with their fallen bodies.

While there were similarities ,in so much as, both Indian and Negros were treated with contempt, less than second class citizens, there were many differences too. America belonged to the Indian, it was their land, their home, and they knew it better than the white man who came and conquered did.

The negros were less fortunate, for they were taken from their land, sold into slavery by their own people, or forcibly taken by whites. Brought to a strange country, to do the work the white deemed beneath them.

Gairth’s ideas had merit, if all the they had known was physical labor, and denied the right to education and supplied with the ability to support themselves, then he couldn’t argue, that would only support their success as a race, a freed race.

He turned and smiled as Isi and Gairth appeared. He knew already what Gairth too was seeing, the improbability of he and this gentle southern lady ever finding a place together in this present time. For him other eras would come, but for her, for Gairth there was only the now. His thoughts once again took a dangerous path as he explored the potential of changing that for Isi.

“I think the Emancipationist meeting would be …enlightening.” Dillon murmured in response to her question, ignoring the disappointment he saw flash in her eyes.

The Tremere wasn’t unaware that she wanted some alone time with him, he just wasn’t ready to allow that, not yet, perhaps never. The three of them walked together towards through the Arlington night. Their conversation, quiet, and relaxed as Dillon gently quizzed each of their days activities.


He could tell from Isi’s responses what locations she thought would be good for the two of them, he also was aware of Gairth noting the younger male wasn’t comfortable each time such places where lingered upon. Dillon didn’t blame the lad, he wasn’t comfortable himself, they played at a dangerous game, he and Isi. One that could change their lives forever, little did he realize at that moment he thoughts bordered on the prophetic
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