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Meeting Michael; Netherlands in early 1800's
Topic Started: Nov 13 2006, 06:20 PM (74 Views)
Elisabeth Turner
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Sweat slid down her spine and soaked her hair. It had yet to slide into her face, but it was only a matter of time and she had to end this before that happened. There were people around, she didn't spare a thought for them but she could feel their eyes on her as the sweet chime of steel meeting steel rang out in a deadly song.

She knew what they saw.

A boy of indeterminate age, slim and light on his feet with eyes that were cool with concentration and fought as though his life depended on it against an opponent that had longer reach and the muscle behind it.

Yet she held her own.

Until, for no discernable reason to the watchers, she stumbled.

A stray sunbeam glanced across the blade as it came down and her saber fell from fingers suddenly gone numb as her opponent's sword fell across her forearm with a loud crack. Pain flowed up her arm, dropping her to her knees in agony and her breath came harsh from her lips.

Curses rained down upon her head as she cradled the broken arm close and her opponent ripped off his mask, dropping it to the ground.

"Chris! What happened there?"

Finally someone approached, annoyance and concern warring in his eyes as he spoke to her and she looked up, giving him a wane smile. "I mis-stepped." Waving off helpful hands, she managed to get herself to stand and keep her feet. If she were to do otherwise, she would draw uncomfortable attention. Her arm was in agony, but she knew that if she made sure the bone that had snapped was in place the pain would soon fade and she would be good as new.

Disapproval came uppermost to the older man's eyes as she bent to pick up the blunted practice saber. He didn't say anything, but she knew he was thinking that she was better than that, to make such a novice mistake. If the sabers had been sharpened, she would've lost her hand. "Leave it. You get changed and I'll come look at your arm."

Nodding her agreement, she tried not to show her relief as she walked back to where she had left her clothes. Gathering them up in one arm, she made her way to the changing area which was thankfully empty. Pulling off the padded jacket was awkward, but she managed to wrestle it off and not whimper too much.

Cradling her arm to her stomach she caught her breath and was startled when a deep voice spoke. "Let me look."

Gasping, she looked up.. to see the man who had entered with the master swordsman, and the reason why she had stumbled. The buzz of another immortal had started as soon as he'd walked in, and unexpected as it was it had caused her to falter and now resulted in the broken arm.

Fear mingled with pain and she tried to scramble away from him only to tangle her feet in the discarded jacket and bump the wall, causing tears to rise to her eyes from the jar to her arm. By the time she'd caught her breath, the stranger had closed the distance and grasped her arm in his hands. At his touch, she trembled like a bird caught in his grasp. Unsure if he would help or harm and only slightly less helpless at the moment.

With a sure hand, he felt her arm where the break was and brought tears to her eyes before he did something and she bit down on her tongue so hard she tasted blood, unwilling to show more weakness than necessary before him.

"If you'd left it much longer it would've healed like that." Still holding onto her arm, he looked down at her and she felt something other than fear stir within her, something new and almost as frightening and she pulled away quickly.

"Thank you sir. I'll keep that in mind."

Stepping away from him, as a way to gain space for her own peace of mind and self preservation, she was grateful to note that already the pain was less than it had been though it still hurt. "If you'll excuse me. I must get dressed now and return home."

Turning from him, she picked up the jacket she had left and hung it up with her good hand, never turning her back to him. Expecting him to leave, it surprised her when he didn't. Instead he stayed where he was and watched her with his inscrutable sapphire eyes. To her surprise, he spoke again, his voice soft.

"Do any of them know you are a woman?"

Spinning around, she knew her face had gone pale and she started to protest.. but what could she say? He had found her out, spotted it on moments acquaintance where men she had fought against in the salle hadn't noticed anything strange in months.

A smile played across his lips as he watched her and his next words threw her off balance even more. "I won't tell them your secret.. if you have dinner with me tonight."

"I.. I.." She couldn't think of what to say. It was blackmail! But his handsome face appealed to her, men had hardly showed interest in her in the time she had been alive and none at all since she'd taken to being disguised as a boy.

"Do you have feminine clothes?"

It was all she could do to dumbly nod. A dress, out of fashion by several years, but still feminine and serviceable. As he named a small café that was not extremely fashionable but still a step up from where she usually ate, she could only stare at him dumbly as he left.

Carefully changing her clothes so as not to bump her still healing arm too much, she tried to assimilate what had happened in her mind and soon she was out on the street heading back to her small boarding room.

Now she had to decide whether or not to meet with him.
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