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Arlington, Va 1859 (part Ii); CLOSED TOPIC - DO NOT POST
Topic Started: May 14 2005, 11:40 AM (346 Views)
Isiladura
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Isi nodded and looked at Garith then Dillon. She was getting frustrated. Her passion and temper were mounting and it was only a matter of time before they would explode.

"Oh, hell!" she finally said, stomping her foot on the ground. "This is so ridiculous! He'uh we a'he, grown people, sneakin' around as if we we'uh doin' somethin' wrong! We'uh not!" She sighed and narrowed her brows in thought. "Ah am just..." she began, then stopped. "Nev'uhmind. Let's just go." And she began to walk ahead of the two men, frustrated and upset with society as a whole.

She didn't wait for Garith or Dillon. If they still wanted to talk to her, they'd follow her. She was certain of it. Besides, she needed to cool down. She was tired of sneaking around and being stared out and pointed out. It was all the girl could handle to get to spend some time with the one who had caught her affections without having to deal with the jeers and stares of the other white folks.

She was walking rather quickly and came upon the meeting house rather abruptly. She stopped and looked up, blinking. There was a large sign outside that read, "Tonight, Frederick Douglass speaks out!"

Frederick Douglass?! The Frederick Douglass!?! Isi's countanence softened a bit and she turned around, looking for Garith and Dillon. If Frederick Douglass was speaking, then perhaps they would get something from the rhetoric after all. The slave-turned-statesman was making quite a name for himself and those who were not bigotted would turn up to hear him. She looked about for Dillon and Garith, worried that perhaps they had decided not to follow her after all.

Feeling a little hurt, she turned back around to enter the building. At the very least, she could save two seats for them. She looked at the man at the front door. "I will take your jacket, Miss."

"Ah don't have one and Ah wouldn't give it up, anyway." She pushed past him into the meeting hall. The place was starting to fill up and she began to wonder if, perhaps, she shouldn't leave and find Dillon and Garith. Or, maybe she should just leave and go back home. She wasn't sure what to do. Standing just inside the door, she looked about the hall as if she were a little lost lamb.
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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Tremere Primogen of Dallas
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Dillon halted taken aback by her display but not at all put off. He lowered his eyes to the walk as she spoke. He knew it was frustration speaking, he felt the same, but had learned that such displays did little to change what was.

The Tremere didn’t lift his head until he heard her walk away, then slowly he raised his eyes to watch her. “If it is not wrong, why does society deem it so?” He murmured quietly then looked over at Gairth.

It was the first time he allowed the young cadet to see that he held an interested in the fiery Miss Isiladura. “Is the color of a man’s skin truly reflected what he is inside?” His dark gaze hardened as he thought of Isi’s father. Turning he began to walk again, following Isi’s slowly disappearing form. “I would be beaten should I touch her, I leave it to your imagination want would happen if I were to do as she desires, let alone make love to her.”

He spoke bluntly almost conversationally as his eyes followed the southern beauty. “Yet I would never harm hair on her head, and she would be provided for in the same manner if not more than she currently enjoys.”

They walked in silence for a bit, then Dillon shook his head. “I should vanish from her life now, before things get out of control.” His grin was self mocking as he looked over at Gairth “I wonder if I have the will to do so….”

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Garith Monroe
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Regent-Ft. Worth Chantry
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He was taken aback at the manner in which Isiladura acted, thinking her no better then a spoiled child at the moment, though he kept his opinion entirely to himself, his expression becoming a mask of reserved thought under tight wraps.

Young he was but not without experience enough to know when it best to conceal one's personal ideas. It was a lesson, over the years, he would find Isiladura having a real struggle with.

“If it is not wrong, why does society deem it so?”

The softly muttered question broke into his thoughts and his expression softened as he looked over at Dillon.

Society is not always the best judge of right and wrong, Doct'ah. O'ah meetin's such as this one would be unnecessa'ahry.

He listened in silence as they continued walking, listening to the verbal musings of the Doctor with out further comment. It was plain that Isiladura's affections were not one sided, but the Doctor was right. The white society would never stand for a union such as theirs.

“I should vanish from her life now, before things get out of control. I wonder if I have the will to do so….”

Garith smiled back at the Doctor as he replied.

Ah believe, Doct'ah, you have a very strong will, except whe'ah Miss Isiladura is concerned. If you had nev'ah gazed into those eyes o'ah listened to the lilt of he'ah voice, then pe'haps so. But now they ahr a p'ahrt of you and you cannot escape thei'ah influence.

He turned his attention to where they were headed, to the hall whose doors Isi stood just inside of. When he heard who the featured speaker was to be, he was tempted to bid his friends good evening on the spot and leave them to enjoy each others company in the public setting without him.

Fredrick Douglass, freeman, outspoken Abolistionist, prominent speaker for the northern based American Anti-Slavery Society, and friend of William Lloyd Garrison, also a member of the same society who in the early to mid-1840s had advocated and even pushed for secession of the Northern united States from the South, siting slavery as the sole difference between the two sections. Douglass had also been a prominant figure in the first women's rights convention in '48, a meeting that was alledgedly arranged as the beginning of the demand for women to be given the vote, an aspect of that first convention that never came into being.

And there was the rumors of Douglass' association with the militant "reformer", John Brown. For while Garrison advoceated peaceful but immediate change, Douglass ahd begun siding with the proposition of violent, imposed change, something the young Cadet from VMI was loathe to consider. Taking up arms against your neighbors was not a means to beneficial resolution of differences except as an absolute last resort and where men's rights are being completely disregarded.

While he had definite ideas in regard to the injustice of slavery, the practice was still under discussion and debate by men far more learned and wise then a lowly Cadet and the matter had by no means been settled...justly or unjustly!

The one thing that made him consider listening to Douglas was that the man was known for speaking out against the racism of the northern cities and people with equal passion as he spoke as an abolitionist.

Little did any of them know that they were only a few short months shy of an event known as the Rising at Harper's Ferry and the actions of a young colonel who would later become the Commanding General for the Army of Northern Virgina and later the entire Army of the Confederate States, and under whom Garith would serve by way of his appointment to General Longstreet's staff.

Pausing at the door of the hall, he greeted the men milling around the entryway, several of them recognizing him and immediately greeting him jovially, casting furtive glances to his Indian companion. Garith took the time to introduce Dillon to several of the men of varying ages who warmly welcomed the Doctor into the midst, before Garith drew Isiladura into the small gathering of gents milling around with them and introducing her to them as well, adding in his introduction that she was "of like mind" with the ideals of the group.
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Isiladura
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Steam was rising off her head.

At least, she felt that it was. She was highly aggitated, both at her current situation and at herself for her behavior. Now, she was alone in a strange place with a bunch of men--was that one just leering at her?!

She shot him a disgusted look then turned away from him, only to be caught by the arm by Garith and dragged into his social elite circle. She tossed him a quick, warning glare then smiled sweetly and behaved in a Southernly civil way towards the gentleman. She looked to Dillon and smiled then to Garith and forced a smile.

When the greetings were finally over, Isiladura dropped her left hand to her side as she stood between Dillon and Garith. Her right hand held the fan. Her left hand casually and imperceptibly reaced over and hooked itself via her little finger around Dillon's and gave his finger a quick squeeze before releasing it just as casually and quickly.

She turned to Garith and studied him a moment. Her insides were boiling and he was the closest person to lash out at. But, she knew she could not do such things in a public place. Perhaps she just needed to sit and cool her head, her thoughts, her heart. She looked back over to Dillon. Was he staring at her? Her heart jumped a bit and skipped a beat at the thought he could be admiring her. She smiled slightly and folded her fan, holding it to her lips and winking at him, then turning back to Garith.

"Whe'uh do yew p'uhpose we sit, Cadet?" Her voice was rather sharp in tone. She was wholly unhappy with everything. Not necessarily Garith. Even as she spoke, a twinge of guilt ran through her at her cruelty. She was, at this point, no better than the others of her race. She had her own prejudices to overcome, but she also had a lot of pride.

She was proud she was a woman. She was proud she had ideals and ideas that were very much outside of "socially acceptible." She detested, however, the slow progress of society. She purposed within herself right then and there that she would have Dillon Cloudhawk and she would make sure no harm would come to him.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment as she looked at Garith. She pulled out her fan and fanned herself lightly. She'd worked herself up and had no where to explode. She looked back at Dillon quickly then to Garith, hoping Garith would play the part of a person in her position--wanting to be near the one that he held dear--rather than the part of the interfering chaperone and seating himself between her and the object of her desire.
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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Gairth had the right of it. He had faced many adversities in his life, it had formed who he was, and played a large part in what he had become. He had enough mortality left to love, to care, to need, perhaps not as a mortal male, but the feelings were no less real.

Dillon fell silent as they completed their walk to the meeting, lost in thoughts better left unspoken. He found that the young cadet had a way of looking at things that was mature beyond his years. The Tremere wondered if he was the on, the Regent had spoken of ‘watching’ for a few more years. His speculations vanished as he spotted Isi just inside the meeting all.

He could see her agitation, and her ire, as she looked around. He nodded his gratitude to Gairth who immediately took charge, introducing them to those around. Dillon was pleasantly surprised to be so well received. He kept a subtle watch on Isi, noting that she was like a coiled snake ready to strike but uncertain at who.

He was young, ideal, and had yet to truly comprehend you could not force change, nor would anger do more than cloud the real issue, distracting from what you wished to accomplish. A tiny frown appeared between his brow at her short manner with Garith. He didn’t acknowledge her touch, nor her flirtatious way, both of which were not appropriate in public.

Dillon realized if they were to continue he would need to talk to her, really talk, and hope that she would be willing to reign in her impulsiveness. “Miss Isiladura.” He murmured softly so that only she could hear. “I would be honored if you would join me for a small walk after the meeting tonight.” He paused then continued “We have much to discuss you and I.”

His eyes then turned towards Gairth who had been watching quietly. “If you would be so kind to see her back to the hotel after our…talk.” He asked knowing that Gairth would. Then he glanced around the room looking for a good spot to sit. “How about over there.” He raised and eyebrow to Gairth.

Suddenly he found he very much wanted to hear what was going to be said this evening, and he wondered if it would really make a difference.
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Isiladura
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Isiladura fanned herself as she began to boil and fidgit. She turned her head slightly as Dillon leaned over to whisper to her about a walk and a discussion. She smiled slightly, then frowned as he asked Garith to escort her home. She wanted Dillon to do that. She growled lowly and then looked at Dillon then the direction which he had indicated. There were three seats available and she just knew she was not going to end up where she wanted to be...unless...she sat in the middle.

Which is what she did.

Make a mockery of her, would they! She'd show them. As the two men found their seats, Mr. Frederick Douglass took the stage. He was presenting a speech he'd made a few years earlier regarding the Fourth of July. Isiladura fanned herself and listened intently.

Let me give you a word of the philosophy of reforms.

The whole history of the progress of human liberty shows that all concessions, yet made to her august claims, have been born of earnest struggle. The conflict has been exciting, agitating, all-absorbing, and for the time being putting all other tumults to silence. It must do this or it does nothing.


Isiladura glanced at Garith first, then Dillon. Dillon seemed to be intently listening. Garith, she was unsure about. Could it be he held slavery in a somewhat "alright" category? He spoke out against it, but secretly, was he harboring feelings of adoration for it? She looked back up to the black man speaking.

If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightening. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.

This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. Find out just what a people will submit to, and you have found out the exact amount of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them; and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress.


Isiladura wanted to stand up and shout "Amen!" to his words. He was saying what she had been trying to say to Dillon and Garith since yesterday night. If change was going to happen, they needed to make it happen. A small smile creased her lips and a faint blush jumped to her cheeks as she looked over at Dillon. She dropped her eyes quickly, then lifted them and focused on Mr. Douglass.

His oration was beautiful. Isiladura felt that all her ideals and points were driven by the man standing before them. He was truly the embodiment of his words. As he wound down, his last statement struck out in Isiladura's head.

Men may not get all they pay for in this world; but they must pay for all they get. If we ever get free from all the oppressions and wrongs heaped upon us, we must pay for their removal. We must do this by labor, by suffering, by sacrifice, and, if needs be, by our lives, and the lives of others.

Was she truly willing to risk her life to be with Dillon? She looked at Dillon, then looked at Garith, then returned her adoring gaze to Dillon. Would she die if she had to for one night alone with him? The answer came to her heart without reserve or hesitation.

Yes.
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Garith Monroe
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He had hoped to find a seat behnd his companion rather then tothe side of either of them, but the seats that Dillon had selected had instead been three adjacent. He had almost cringed when he saw them and Isiladura had done exactly as he had expected-taken the middle seat.

His expression was a carefully controlled study in neurtality, giving away neither agreement nor dissension with Mr. Douglass' empassioned words. From time to time, he would glimpse Isi or Dillon to gauge each of their reactions, although he had no doubt that Douglass' words, where Isi was concerned, were comparable to throwing lantern oil on an already raging fire.

"Men may not get all they pay for in this world; but they must pay for all they get. If we ever get free from all the oppressions and wrongs heaped upon us, we must pay for their removal. We must do this by labor, by suffering, by sacrifice, and, if needs be, by our lives, and the lives of others."

It was not the first time this evening that Garith had thought the man was advocating change through violent means. That did not sit well with the young military cadet. Violence-the forfeiture of lives-was not the solution to this particular problem and he found himself silently praying that more level heads would prevail and that this particular struggle would not culminate in the bloodshed advocated by the speaker.

He knew several of the men in attendance, some were his contemporaries. Some were his father's contemporaries. Some shared his and his Father's views of emancipation, while others may possibly agree with Douglass' assessment, even with the call to arms the man advocated.

Once the speaker was done, he found himself approached by some of those same men he knew and whisked aside where sentiments were shared in less then hushed tones, the Cadet remaining stoicly quiet though his attention drifted between the conversation and his friends.


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Dillon Cloudhawk
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It had been an enlightening speech, one that he wasn’t fully behind. His people had suffered much at the white man’s hands, suffered and died. He didn’t advocate violence as a solution. He had witnessed many atrocities in the name of ‘freeing’ the red man.

Dillon wasn’t’ unaware of Isi’s glances, nor the emotions she was feeling. She had yet learned the value of not being an open book. He wondered if it was something she would ever learn. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t. His dark eyes were unreadable as he stood, and moved down the isle.

He wasn’t surprised to see Garith caught up in the flowing conversations around them. The young man’s self confidence and somber way drew both peers and elders to him. Dillon waited until Gairth looked over his way and nodded towards the door.

Then he looked down at Isi, and murmured softly “Let’s go for that walk.” The hour was growing late, and he didn’t’ want to keep her out too much longer. Even with Garith as her escort back to the hotel, her reputation could be harmed if it was at an unseemly hour.

As he exited the meeting hall he paused slowly scanning the street noting areas where they could stand and talk without attracting undue attention. This was a conversation he approached with some trepidation. He knew what was best for her, and for his own safety, he just didn’t know if he could truly walk away.
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Isiladura
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She furrowed her brow and looked up at Dillon as he spoke. Why is he so rude?! she thought to herself. She couldn't help but think that. She was quickly realizing that she was fighting for more than just her freedom to choose who she was with, but also the freedom to speak. She stood from her seat and smiled and nodded to a few gentlemen who watched after her as she walked out the door.

She swept into the street and turned to wait for Dillon. He, after all, had been the one to suggest this little encounter, but she had a feeling he wasn't going to listen to her. He'd just inform her of the consequences of her choices and blah blah blah. She'd only known him two nights and already he and Garith both sounded of broken phonographs. She was well aware of the consequences that could befall her and her choice of men. She accepted those consequences, but in her mind, if something is worth doing, one does it all the way.

"Dillon, befo' yew sta'ht, let me say sumthin' please?"

She had a feeling she'd be declined her request. He looked very intent. She began to worry that he was going to walk away from her. That her impulsiveness had served to push him from her. As that thought struck her mind, she lowered her head and turned her back to him, tears welling in her eyes.

Sometimes, she hated herself and how she was, but it was who she was. At this moment, she was just so happy to be away from the oppression of her father and Jefferson that the last thing she cared about were consequences.

Obviously, there were some who did not have the option or luxury of "forgetting" the consequences. Deep down she knew that. Every time Dillon mentioned consequeneces, however, it cut her deeply--thinking of Mavis and Ashanti. Would Dillon believer her if she told him that story now? Probably not. She heard him murmer for her to continue, but she waved it off and shook her head.

"Nah, yew go f'uhst....Ah think Ah already know what yew a'he gonna say...An' if Ah'm right...what Ah have to say becomes moot." She kept her back to him, tears softly flowing over her cheeks. She'd been horrid. She felt horrid. Maybe Jefferson was right about her--she was a heartless monster.
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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He heard the tears in her voice, and a heart felt sigh was forced through his dead lungs. “If you feel that way Miss Isiladura, then perhaps its best I retrieve Mr. Monroe to escort you back to your hotel.” Dillon responded coldly to her comment.

There was no satisfaction in his face when that statement had her turning to face him. He couldn’t ask her to be other than she was, for to be less wouldn’t make her Isi. Neither could he become for her what he was not. He would always be cautious, for many reasons, one of which she couldn’t’ understand, for she had no idea vampires existed.

Almost against his will one hand reached up to cup her cheek. His thumb ran gently across her lips as he continued as his expression softened. “You are free now Miss Isiladura, from your fathers tyranny. Don’t let what he…did; cloud your vision or emotions.”

His hand dropped and he took a step back. “There are many ‘suitable’ white men in the world that will love you and treat you as you deserve to be. “ There were thousands of things he would love to tell her. Things like how beautiful she looking under the soft glow of the moon light, how here eyes truly were doors to the soul, hers filled with a rare innocence that drew him.

These were things he dare not say out loud. Things that would remain hidden behind dark watchful eyes, that couldn’t afford to allow the world to know how he felt.

Dillon knew he wasn’t’ saying the things she wanted to hear, but how could he. How could he put her in a position to be looked down upon for being with an Indian.
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Isiladura
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The pained expression on her face remained hidden in the shadows. With her back still turned to Dillon, she shook her head "no," at the comment of retrieving Garith--and even more violently when he mentioned the "suitable white men."

Unable to bear the thought of not being with Dillon any longer, she turned to face him. "What don't yew und'uhstand? If Ah wanted anyone else, Ah'd have them! It's yew Ah want!" She lowered her voice and wiped at her eyes and took a step closer to him. "Damn society and they'uh ideas of what is acceptible. Ah lost two friends to my fath'uh's bigotry. Ah don't plan on losin' mo'uhe. Fo' the f'uhst time in my life, Ah am free to speak o' how Ah feel to whomev'uh Ah choose. Ah choose yew. If yew can't handle that, then Ah will stay in A'hlington until yew do."

She folded her arms across her chest, swallowed, sniffed, and looked up at Dillon, a pout on her lips. "Yew think Ah'm naive--that Ah don't und'uhstand consequences. Ah do. Ah pro'lly und'uhstand bett'uh than yew think...but Ah'm just a g'uhl," she scoffed. "No one ev'uh listens t' anythin' oth'uh than the emotions..." She looked to the ground, breathing hard. Her cheeks were flushed and she had several splotches on her chest from the blood almost boiling within her.

She turned slightly, afraid to turn her back to him for fear he would walk away from her to fetch Mr. Monroe and she would never see him again. "No one ev'uh asks my motives..." she mumbled. "No one ev'uh asks me anythin'...they just assume..." She kicked at the dirt on the street with her boot. She swallowed, drew her shawl around her and looked up at the night sky. "No one ev'uh asks what Ah want...Ah'm really beginnin' t' think no one really ca'uhes..." She glanced over at Dillon then looked back to the sky.

He didn't care. He couldn't possibly. If he did, then he would understand....but, he didn't. Did he? She turned to face him. "If Ah promise to b'have the way yew think Ah should--all quiet and submissive to Mr. Monroe...will yew still see me?" It was a chance. A forward chance. But, she had to take it. If Dillon was not interested in pursuing her, then she would leave with her mother. If, however, there was even the slightest flicker, she would go through with her plans and stay on in Arlington for a while longer and get to know the object of her desire. But she would not let him know what her plans were. She had already stated she would stay on in Arlington, and that was all he needed to know.

She sighed. She hated hypocricy and masquerading. But if that is what it took for her to have Dillon, she'd play his game. And she'd play it well...
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Dillon Cloudhawk
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Never had any woman spoken so frankly or openly to him before. He had been raised in the upper crest of society, which lived by certain rules. These rules applied to woman and men alike. Due to his heritage, additional ‘rules’ applied.

For the most part they were unspoken, but they were there. Did he truly think she didn’t understand because she was a woman? Dillon tilted his head and stared at her contemplatively. Perhaps he did. There was an irony in that which didn’t escape him.

The Tremere bowed his head to Isi, acknowledging her comments. “You are right Miss Isiladura and you are wrong.” He finally said softly. “I haven’t asked what you want.” A tiny reluctant smile played about his lips. “You have been forthright on many occasions since our meeting and informed me of what you want. Or so I thought.” He questioned softly.

“If I didn’t care, then I would take you as the savage many believe me to be, and to hell with your reputation. It is because I do care, that I have made sure Mr. Monroe is available to escort you. It is because Mr. Monroe cares, that he accepted this task in my stead.”

Dillon took a step closer to Isi, indecision in his face and eyes. “I have no wish for you to change Miss Isiladura. I….” He hesitated then looked down at the ground for a moment.

When he looked back up nothing reflected upon his continence of his thoughts, desires or dreams. “It would be for the best, if we are to continue to see one another than you have an escort such as Mr. Monroe or your mother.” Whether she realized it or not, Dillon had just made the commitment to her. He still didn't know how it was going to work, not just because of who he was, but because of WHAT he was.

Silently he held out his arm for her to take his eyes caressed her face gently before he looked away. “Its late, you should be heading back to the hotel.” He knew she was dissatisfied with him, his responses, and before she could voice further protest he murmured “Time. We all need time, and patience, for things to change. You can not force the change, but you can encourage it, through subtle actions.”

He hoped she understood, and prayed she would give them both that time.
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