[Magic sustains life longer than it would usually last, but mages are still subject to the steady forward march of time. Jones grows old.
It's a long life, and one she's proud of. Back in her twenties, they weren't sure if there would be a year 2000 to welcome; now, they're well past that. Among other mages, she is regarded as a wise teacher, knowing all kinds of secrets of the Realms Supernal. She has a Nobel prize that she adores almost as much as her children and grandchildren. The world is not yet perfect, but she can hope. Rome was not built in a day, and true peace and harmony might take lifetimes.
And she knows, as Moros tend to, that her lifetime is coming to an end and that soon death will take her. She has had time enough. But before that time comes, there's some catching up to do with old friends, which is why she has called Anna Demirovna.]
Anna. You came.
[She smiles, and rests a hand on the other woman's cheek. She doesn't look a day older than when they first met.]
gonna go with some hypothetical post-game 10 universe where they got out of Arcadia, I guessfalsejezebelSeptember 1 2011, 05:59:28 UTC
[ It still manages to surprise her, the way mortals age. No matter how many times it happens (and it is always happening), she isn't ready for the way they grow and then shrink into themselves and then fade away. She has to remind herself: she has seen this far fewer times than she might have, and than she will yet. After all, the Kindred have only recently finished considering her "young." (They respect her opinions, though: few know the True Fae exist, much less have escaped their influence and final death to tell the tale.)
So to Anna, there remains something the slightest bit unsettling about the stark reality of the mortal lifespan she has been denied. But it is Jones, and she owes her friend that much and more. They crossed the Hedge together, after all.
Jones's hand is soft and dry against her cool cheek. It occurs to her that the mage probably has grandchildren who look her age. ]
Of course I came. [ She places a hand gently against her old friend's wrist. ] It has been...too long.
[She will always call it life, regardless. Where there is life, there is hope; she reasons it works the other way 'round.]
Hah! I suppose I am rather spry for someone my age, though I chalk that up to all the joint replacements.
[She slips into Russian; it is a little easier.]
I am so glad you are well, Anya. I know we have always had our differences, but I have always thought of you as a sister.
[Her face darkens a little, though not as much as it used to when Justina came to mind. The loss of her last biological sister to the Fae still hurts, but it's an old wound, and if there's one thing that Jones understands it's that death comes for everyone eventually.]
[ Anna's expression softens with nostalgia and relief when Jones switches to Russian. Her own English is fluent and unaccented by now, but Russian will always remain for her a language for youth and beginnings.
So, as good as it feels to speak it again, it breaks her heart a little, too, especially when Jones uses the old diminutive. ]
And to think I wasted so much time, thinking I'd run myself out of family. [ It's true: the way she cares about Jones has the unconditional quality of the love for a sister, but after what she did to the rest of her family she hardly feels she has the right to that kind of connection. ] [ the realization brings an uncomfortable pause ] ...How long?
gogogo 6, 1 oh owstygianmechanicAugust 31 2011, 15:32:46 UTC
[She actually didn't notice until the fight was over, so hopped up on adrenaline was she, that the rogue wizard they'd chased down had managed to cut a huge gash across her midsection with a stray spell before they'd taken him out for good.
They've got her laid out on someone's jacket and someone is trying to bandage her up, she thinks, but she knows death and she knows that her time is short. It's a stomach wound and they haven't got the best medical technologies out here; she's not walking away from this.
Oh, man. @_@ heardmermaidsAugust 31 2011, 15:37:32 UTC
[Sebastian kneels down beside her, taking off an admittedly somewhat filthy bandana and rinsing it with cool water for her forehead. He's a bit of a mess, but not seriously injured.]
Are you thirsty?
[There's a sadness when he speaks, but it's not overwhelming his sense of responsibility. He's been at a friend's deathbed many, many times.]
[Her sister and her brother, if they weren't so far away. Perhaps her only regret is that she won't get to say goodbye, but they have survived so far. They will endure this. Instead:]
A blanket, perhaps. Or a jacket. I'm a little cold.
[He shrugs out of his own jacket and lays it over her. It's ripped and torn with a few scorch marks along one edge, but still whole enough to act as a psychological comfort if not actually able to provide lasting warmth.]
Do you want me to read to you or, or just stay quiet?
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It's a long life, and one she's proud of. Back in her twenties, they weren't sure if there would be a year 2000 to welcome; now, they're well past that. Among other mages, she is regarded as a wise teacher, knowing all kinds of secrets of the Realms Supernal. She has a Nobel prize that she adores almost as much as her children and grandchildren. The world is not yet perfect, but she can hope. Rome was not built in a day, and true peace and harmony might take lifetimes.
And she knows, as Moros tend to, that her lifetime is coming to an end and that soon death will take her. She has had time enough. But before that time comes, there's some catching up to do with old friends, which is why she has called Anna Demirovna.]
Anna. You came.
[She smiles, and rests a hand on the other woman's cheek. She doesn't look a day older than when they first met.]
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So to Anna, there remains something the slightest bit unsettling about the stark reality of the mortal lifespan she has been denied. But it is Jones, and she owes her friend that much and more. They crossed the Hedge together, after all.
Jones's hand is soft and dry against her cool cheek. It occurs to her that the mage probably has grandchildren who look her age. ]
Of course I came. [ She places a hand gently against her old friend's wrist. ] It has been...too long.
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You are kind to ask.
And you! You look... [ she pauses, and her response surprises her ] ...wonderful. You look wonderful.
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Hah! I suppose I am rather spry for someone my age, though I chalk that up to all the joint replacements.
[She slips into Russian; it is a little easier.]
I am so glad you are well, Anya. I know we have always had our differences, but I have always thought of you as a sister.
[Her face darkens a little, though not as much as it used to when Justina came to mind. The loss of her last biological sister to the Fae still hurts, but it's an old wound, and if there's one thing that Jones understands it's that death comes for everyone eventually.]
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So, as good as it feels to speak it again, it breaks her heart a little, too, especially when Jones uses the old diminutive. ]
And to think I wasted so much time, thinking I'd run myself out of family. [ It's true: the way she cares about Jones has the unconditional quality of the love for a sister, but after what she did to the rest of her family she hardly feels she has the right to that kind of connection. ] [ the realization brings an uncomfortable pause ] ...How long?
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They've got her laid out on someone's jacket and someone is trying to bandage her up, she thinks, but she knows death and she knows that her time is short. It's a stomach wound and they haven't got the best medical technologies out here; she's not walking away from this.
Her speech is shaky and quiet.]
H-hey.
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Are you thirsty?
[There's a sadness when he speaks, but it's not overwhelming his sense of responsibility. He's been at a friend's deathbed many, many times.]
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I'll be fine.
[It's not going to matter, anyway. She raises a shaky hand and wraps it around his.]
Just stay with me, please.
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[He takes her hand and there's a bit of a tremor from his old injury - damaged muscles that never did heal quite right.]
Is there anything I can get you? I want to keep you comfortable while the healers work.
[They both know there's nothing to be done but wait.]
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A blanket, perhaps. Or a jacket. I'm a little cold.
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Do you want me to read to you or, or just stay quiet?
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Oh, read to me if you don't mind. It'll help take my mind off... well.
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