3-4-01
TRIO CHALLENGE: Block of ice, horse, umbrella
or
QUOTE CHALLENGE: "A good book is the best of friends, the same today and forever." - Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889)
or
Even though it was written long after the time line in the show, (does that matter?) can't resist how many ways and to many people this could be used:
QUOTE 2: "Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell." -Hornbeck, "Inherit the Wind"
or
ON MONSIEUR'S DEPARTURE by Elizabeth I, Queen of England
I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.
Authors:
Dea, Eliza, JoLayne, Laura, Lisa, Maril, MnD, Anthony
PRODUCE
by Dea
[email protected]
CHALLENGE: horse, block of ice, umbrella
~~~~~
Steadying the basket she held over her arm, Tessa stopped to allow a horse and wagon to go by.
When the way was clear she crossed over to the side of the road where various fruit and vegetable
stalls were set up. A new supply ship had arrived yesterday and there were several things Tessa
meant to get.
Upon reaching the stalls she was delighted to see that several of the proprietors had set up large
colorful umbrellas over them to protect against the heat of the day. Carefully picking her way
amongst the wares she found her first item: fresh lemons. Placing four of the tart fruits in her
basket she could almost taste Marta's famous lemonade. She would mix the fruit's nectar with
sugar and a few secret ingredients she'd yet to ply from the woman and then pour the whole
concoction over a block of crushed ice.
So intent was she on the taste of Marta's citrus brew that Tessa jumped when she heard a voice
beside her.
"Good day, Senorita."
Tessa looked to see Robert Helm standing next to her observing a large basket of apples.
"Dr. Helm," she acknowledged him with a smile.
She hadn't seen him since the day before when she'd faked her little stomach ailment. She was
afraid she might have given herself away when she'd spoken a bit more vehemently than she'd
meant. She'd have to keep her cool today, even though that wasn't the easiest thing to do around
Robert Helm.
"It's a beautiful day isn't it doctor?" she asked cheerfully, placing another lemon in her basket.
"I suppose so, despite this infernal heat," he replied as he picked up an apple, examined it and put
it back down. Then glancing up at the large umbrella he added, "In England we use these things
for rain. I guess that wouldn't be a possibility here."
"Yes doctor, rain showers are definitely rare in Santa Elena," she agreed as she moved a ways
down the stall to the yellow and green peppers. "Sometimes I'd give anything for a bit of a deluge."
Helm watched the young senorita as she smelled one of peppers and placed it inside her basket.
Hefting a few apples of his own, he thought about her visit the previous day. She'd said some
things that made him wonder if she was really the shallow noblewoman she pretended to be.
Tessa glanced at him and his growing supply of apples.
"You should get a basket, doctor," she suggested.
"No, I think I've got it," he responded surely, three apples in each hand. He followed after her as
she moved to the tomatoes. "You know Senorita, sometimes I get the feeling that you only play
the part of a wealthy, privileged land owner."
"Is that so doctor?" Tessa queried as she gingerly squeezed a tomato. Was he going to call her bluff?
"Yes it is," he answered, "In fact when I first met you I thought you were one of the most
self-centered, vapid little rich girls I'd ever seen."
At that statement Tessa's worry turned to anger. So much for keeping her cool.
"Is that a fact, doctor?" she ground out between nearly clenched teeth.
Helm nodded nonchalantly at her.
"Well that's funny, because when I first met you I thought you were an arrogant, self-centered
apple grabber," she replied sweetly.
Helm let out a bark of laughter.
"And what was it that changed your mind, Senorita?" he asked.
"Who says I've changed my mind, doctor?" she answered. Then tossing a tomato in his direction,
she took her leave.
Instinct made him reach for the flying fruit which in turn caused him to drop all his apples in a
pile at his feet. Not to mention the fact that the tomato was overripe and was now squished in his
hand.
Helm shook his head and sighed.
"Something tells me I didn't handle that situation as well as I could have."
END
QUOTE CHALLENGE #7 -- VIPERS, BOOKS, AND SPOTTED CATS
By Eliza
[email protected]
I must apologize, the plot bunny from the first challenge left his little footie prints all over this one before I could shoo him away.--Eliza
JO'S NOTE: To remind yourself or to catch up, the first response of Eliza's is found on Cobbler under 1-22-01 Challenge Responses, the second one in the file.
~~~~~
Grisham loitered by the office door. He could hear the voices on the other side but couldn't quite make out the words. Dr. Helm was becoming increasingly angry and Colonel Montoya, increasingly smug. Grisham had heard that tone of voice often enough to know that the colonel was amusing himself at Helm's expense.
The captain moved from the door as it was forcefully opened. Fortunately, the men on the other side were still too involved in their discussion to notice him.
"You are sounding like a jealous lover, Doctor. If I have impinged on your territory, I can only say that you should have taken better care of it."
Grisham watched Helm's face tighten but he could not say which of Montoya's barbs had hit home. There were times when he truly admired the colonel's way with words, particularly when they weren't sent in his direction.
Helm collected himself before he responded, "I am worried about her. As I would be for any innocent playing about the edge of a pit of vipers." He didn't leave the colonel time to rebut as he quickly left the office, barely nodding to Grisham as he passed.
Final point to the doctor! Grisham chuckled to himself. He made sure the smirk was off his face before entering Montoya's office. He didn't have to worry. Even though Helm had landed a final blow, Montoya obviously felt he had won the match.
The colonel was at his desk, his freshly bandaged hand resting on his copy of Don Quixote. The self-satisfied expression was highlighted by a grin, though Montoya seemed to be trying to suppress it. Grisham returned it, hoping that the colonel would share the joke.
Montoya obliged. "The good doctor feels that I am taking advantage of an innocent. Have you ever heard such a ridiculous thing, Grisham? Both you and I know that I have nothing but the most honourable intentions toward Senorita Alvarado."
Grisham's grin became wider, the term "honourable intentions" with regard to Montoya struck him as funny. He was glad to have some good news to cover his amusement, for the colonel was starting to get a reproving look in his eyes. "The gold arrived without incident, Colonel. There's been no sign of the Queen of Swords in over two weeks. I wonder what's scared her off?"
"It could not have been the guard, could it, Captain?"
Grisham didn't bridle at he comment as he usually would have, for it had been delivered with such an amicable tone that he felt like he was being teased. That thought was very uncomfortable. He looked for a distraction, a change of subject, and his eyes landed on the book.
Montoya must have followed the gaze for he gently caressed the cover and said, "A good book is the best of friends." Grisham was bemused by both the statement and the action, but the colonel must have taken the expression for puzzlement, for he continued, "It is the same today and forever."
Since Montoya seemed in such a good mood, Grisham decided to push a bit, to find out more about his commander - to even the balance. Also, whenever he saw that book a question still nagged at him. "About the inscription, Colonel..."
Montoya's eyes narrowed, but his tone of voice was indulgent as he cut the question short. "Curiosity killed the cat, Captain."
"But satisfaction brought it back."
The joyful smile that briefly lit Montoya's face as his gaze moved back to the book, was not what Grisham had expected and he almost missed the phrase the colonel said under his breath. "I certainly hope so."
There was a small noise at the doorway and when Montoya looked up again the smile was very different. It was the smooth, charming, calculating Colonel Montoya that Grisham was familiar with, who rose from the desk to greet his new guest. Grisham felt as if he had found a pearl only to have it drop through his fingers back into the ocean depths. He had been shown something about Montoya but he couldn't recognize what it was. Now, with the arrival of Tessa Alvarado, he was not going to find out.
"I am sorry to interrupt, Colonel," the lady said. "I saw the doctor leave and it reminded me of your wound. I was concerned and wanted to check if things are all right."
"Thank you, my hand is healing well. It is always a pleasure to see you, Dona Alvarado. Although, you are here again without your servant."
Montoya's gentle scolding brought a slight blush to Tessa's cheek as she took a seat on the couch. Montoya moved a chair closer, for himself. At her slightly disappointed expression, he gave her another pointed look. Again she dropped her eyes in embarrassment, but this time there was a small smile on her lips.
Grisham saw that his presence was not wanted and quickly made his withdrawal. On his way out, he had started to pull the doors closed behind him, when Montoya stopped him. "Leave them open, Captain. Since the senorita is being so casual with her reputation, it must become our duty to protect it."
END
QUOTE CHALLENGE #7 - OUT OF THE FRYING PAN....
By Eliza
[email protected]
When this muse says, "Write!" I keep him happy. -- Eliza
~~~~~
"Hello, Devil. Welcome to Hell."
Robert Helm registered the English words through the haze that he had been having difficulty
shaking, but at the sound of the voice his mind snapped into sudden clarity. The last thing he
remembered was the feeling of his horse's back legs sliding in the soft soil at the edge of an
arroyo. No, he also remembered letting out a string of curses as the two of them got caught in the
landslide. After that was a blank.
Now he was lying bound, Bound! within the heat and light of a campfire. His clothes were still
wet, he must have hit the water, but the warmth of the fire had kept a chill from setting in. He
could make out a figure on the opposite side of the fire, just out of the reach of the light. He
thought he had recognized the voice, but the one he knew would have had a Spanish accent, not
sound as if its owner had been born on English soil.
"Devil, am I? What brought you to that conclusion? Is that why you have me tied?" Helm was
desperate for some information as to his situation.
There was a chuckle from the other side of the fire, not a comforting sound. "To survive a fall
like that you would have to be either an angel or a devil. Since I am the one that found you, God
is obviously not on your side."
Helm was beginning to reach the same conclusion. "And is that the reason for the ropes?"
The figure across the illuminated circle stretched out and Helm got a good look at a pair of well
worn boots complete with a nasty set of spurs. "No. I'm a cautious man. I had no idea who I had
fished out of that very wet arroyo. But an Englishman this far from home was too interesting a
fish to throw back." The voice paused for a moment before continuing, "There were also other
considerations."
Helm wasn't sure if he wanted to know what his 'savior' meant by that. His trepidation must have
been easy to read for there came another chuckle. The tone of the voice from the other side of the
flames was light, conversational, and set Helm's teeth on edge. "You bear a striking resemblance
to someone I used to know. At least you do when unconscious. I wanted to see if that also was the
case when you were awake."
Helm cleared his suddenly dry throat trying to keep his voice sounding normal. "And is it?"
The man leaned into the circle of firelight. More than the voice was familiar. But where as
Montoya's grin of self-satisfied glee would turn his stomach, the one on this face stopped his
heart. Maybe it was the fire reflected in the light blue eyes. Maybe it was the 3 days worth of
stubble or the vertical scar bisecting the right side of his face. Maybe it was something else
altogether but Helm knew he had been welcomed to Hell by Hades himself. The only small
comfort he had was in the man's comment, "If it was, you would already be wishing you were
dead."
END
TRIO #7
By JoLayne
[email protected]
Takes place just after Montoya's Lucky Guess, my trio challenge #6.
TRIO CHALLENGE: Block of ice, horse, umbrella
~~~~~
Marta and Tessa rushed into Tessa's bedroom and could do nothing but mutely look at each other. As Tessa started pulling off her Queen costume, Marta shut the door and pulled the curtains closed. By the time Tessa was in a robe, Marta had lit the oil lamp. The prospect of the last half hour or so since the Queen had returned home had been eventful to say the least. Not only had Colonel Montoya been waiting in the dark after taking a guess at the Queen's identity, he had also tried to squeeze the life out of Tessa. He had seen Maria Teresa Alvarado in the flesh, with the lace pattern of the mask still imprinted on her face, while wearing her Queen uniform. Marta had almost made it possible for Montoya to fly with the angels--or conspire with the devil--because of a quick slam of the hefty Alvarado bible to the back of his head. To top it all off, he seemed to have lost his memories of not only where he was, why he was there, who Tessa and Marta were, but also who he himself was.
"Okay," Marta whirled around to say. "What in the world are we going to do now? He's alive, sure he doesn't know up from down--or wants us to think that--but he saw you in your Queen clothes. What are we going to do?!"
Tessa only paced, once in a while stopping suddenly, thinking she had heard something. Not hearing another follow-up noise, she continued to pace.
"Well?!"
Tessa shushed Marta and ran her hands hard across the top of her head. "I'm trying to come up with something. I can't even tell him that I'm a fencer and those were my practice clothes. Ladies aren't supposed to do that."
"Only the Queen does. I don't believe for a minute that he doesn't know anything," Marta said, lost in her own thought. "We shouldn't even be talking. He can hear us. I know he can hear us."
"He's on the other side of the casa."
"Diablo knows all, sees all." Marta joined her charge pacing and saw Tessa's umbrella leaning against the wall in the corner. She picked it up in a threatening matter, making Tessa step back. Marta commanded with a wild, almost happy look on her face, "You distract him and I'll whack him on the back of the head again. This time I'll do it right."
"Marta! Montoya is just a man, he's not Diablo."
"How many opportunities are we going to get? I say we get it over with and everyone will be better off."
The two women stared each other down as they both went over the possibility and all outcomes of what such an act as killing Montoya would do. To make herself more comfortable, Tessa grabbed the umbrella from Marta's hands and tossed it on the floor, far away from her. She'd seen Marta upset before but her reaction now was overboard. Marta suddenly told her, "He tried to kill you, Tessita. I can not allow that to happen."
Tessa smiled when she realized that her duenna could actually read her mind. She softly laughed and said, "With Montoya out of the way... dead... it would solve a lot of problems. I wouldn't have to dress as her anymore," as she looked at the black clothes in a pile on the floor. "I wouldn't have to pretend. I could get on with my life. It would be so much easier. You're right, Marta. I would be easier for everybody with Montoya dead."
Marta shushed her, placing her fingers on Tessa's lips. "I am sorry I filled your head with that nonsense. You can't kill him."
"Why not?"
"The devil you know is better than what may take his place," Marta replied. "I am going to go back out there and have a little chat. If he is faking the fact that his mind is a blank slate, I can make him falter."
"You? How?"
"He is infatuated with me."
"Oh," Tessa replied. As Marta reached the doorknob, she curiously asked, "When did this happen?"
Marta turned and smiled, "It was chocolate... in his office... things... never mind. Stay there. The less he sees of you the better."
A thought came to her, Montoya's horse had to be around there somewhere. If it wasn't, that meant that the Colonel had been brought there, which meant that the hacienda was surrounded! Even though she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary when she returned home, she also didn't expect her enemy to be in her living room. Tessa blew out the lamp and pulled back the curtain to see what was out there in the dark. Tessa was feeling faint, this time for real. Things happened so quickly, so unexpectantly, she was almost murdered in her own home and now Marta--with murderous thoughts in mind--was alone with Montoya!
"Tessa!"
Marta's voice startled Tessa, and made her rush to the living room, grabbing that umbrella in case a weapon was needed. What Tessa saw was Marta standing with her hands planted on her hips before Montoya reclining on the sofa. As Tessa cautiously neared them, Marta gestured to him. "He's out like a little baby."
Tessa looked closely at him. "He's not dead, is he?"
"No," Marta disappointedly said. "But if I get the rest of that block of ice in the pantry if it isn't completely melted yet and just hold it up over his head and then accidently drop it because it's so slippery..." She saw Tessa's expression that it wasn't an option and then shrugged. "Okay."
Tessa leaned close to Montoya and lifted his hand, then dropped it. He curled it under his cheek that rested against the velvet pillow. Tessa told Marta, "You're still dressed. Go out and look for Montoya's horse. I didn't see it earlier. If you find it, let it go free. It may help with whatever story we have to devise. He fell off his horse and after hearing a ruckus went out to find him laying out there and brought him inside. Oops, he doesn't remember anything. You know what? We have to take off his clothes."
Marta paused and then slowly looked over at Tessa. "I know you are going to expect me to ask why on earth we would need to do that."
"If he fell outside, his clothes would have to be dirty. We can't take him outside and throw him on the ground."
Marta looked at the Colonel and couldn't help but remember her encounter with him in his office, just that afternoon. He was certainly a study in contrasts. One minute he could be the most charming man who ever walked the earth, the next he could be calling for the execution of a criminal charged with trumped up or non-existent offenses.
"Since neither of us are jumping at the chance to disrobe him, why don't you go out to find his horse?"
"I don't think I should leave the two of you alone."
"Why?" Tessa smiled. "He's not infatuated with me."
"No, he wants to kill you."
"Look at him, he wants to sleep. Go."
As Marta hesitantly went to the door, then outside, Tessa stood on guard in front of the man who had almost killed her that evening. She poked him on the arm. He didn't move. She shook him. He only ground his mouth and lifted then dropped his head. With his hand under the pillow, the light smile on his face, Luis Montoya looked so at peace. Tessa wondered if she had ever seen him so relaxed. "It's now or never Tessa," she told herself. But she didn't move. "Any day, Tessa."
Finally she took a deep breath and started to unbutton the Colonel's black uniform jacket. When all the buttons were undone, she checked to see that he still hadn't moved. She quickly unbuttoned his trousers, then stepped back to see if he was awake. "My! He could sleep through a cyclone!" She poked him again and he didn't move. She checked his breathing again and he was still in the land of the living and wondered if the knock to the head had anything to do with his comatose state.
~~~~~
Marta found Montoya's horse tied to a mesquite tree a good distance from the hacienda. If the stallion hadn't been neighing, she never would have found him that far away in the dark. She mounted the horse and rode it back to the hacienda before dismounting and hitting it on the behind to make it take off into the night. A figure came out of the house and run toward her. Marta dodged the running silhouette.
Tessa, wearing Montoya's jacket and trousers flopped backward on the dirt as if thrown from a horse, rolled a bit, grounding the soil into the fabric. Marta walked over and offered a hand to help her up. Tessa and Marta both dusted some of the dirt off, then walked into the house again.
QUOTE #7
Continuation from Trio 7 response...
~~~~~
Luis stirred on the velvet sofa and felt the scratchy fabric of the afghan on his cheek. Waved it away and opened his eyes to see the sun streaming in a strange window of a strange room. He tried to sit up, but as soon as he lifted his head from the pillow, he flopped back down. The dizziness was strong and there was a dull pain on the back of his head. He laid back and waited until his mind cleared.
Looking off to his left, he saw a woman's dress. A long, curly haired beauty was hunched down on the chair across from the sofa on which he laid. Her head was facing him but her eyes were closed, her chin settled on her shoulder. She was the most magnificent creature Montoya had ever seen in his life, he was sure of it. He figured that the strange house was hers. He tried again to rise and made it into the sitting position, but leaning heavily on the back of the sofa to look at her. Suddenly, another woman--a young woman--rushed into the room. "He's awake," she said.
The woman on the chair awoke and both of their eyes were stared at him. Luis realized that they were probably waiting for him to say or do something, but at that moment, he couldn't come up with anything. Or maybe he had food on his clothes or something. He looked down at himself and saw a white shirt and untied ascot. His hand rubbed against his leg and all it felt was the scratchy fabric of the afghan. He lifted the blanket to see that he was only wearing underwear below the waist. He quickly covered himself and looked back at the women.
The older woman with long, curly hair had stood up from her chair and along with the younger one with long, straight hair, moved closer to him, scrutinizing him so intimately that he didn't know what to think. What did they have in mind? What had he done? Where was he? "Good morning," was all he could think to say to ease the tension along with the silence in the room.
"Good morning?" The curly haired one firmly asked, "Is that all you have to say?"
"I am sure, madam, that I have many things to say. One of which would be, where are my clothes?"
The woman with long straight hair motioned to a military jacket and trousers lying over the back of another chair. Luis could see a gold insignia, brocade and fringes on the jacket, along with a lot of dirt. The younger one said, "You had an accident last night, Colonel." She leaned in close to him and put her hand to his forehead, which wasn't an unwelcome intrusion for him at all. "Do you feel well? You gave us quite a scare."
"Accident? What happened?"
"You don't remember?"
"Sure he--," the older woman said, to which the younger woman stopped her from getting too close to Montoya on the sofa. The older woman's eyes had taken a different tone since she had awaken. To Luis' mind, she was much more attractive asleep. He got the feeling that she didn't care much for him. As much as he tried, he couldn't figure out why.
"Colonel," the younger one started again. "Last night, you fell off your horse not far from here and we brought you inside to lie down. Then you said the strangest thing." Her light smile intrigued him. "You didn't know me. Or Marta. Or even... yourself. Are you feeling better this morning?"
"I feel..." Luis paused. The back of his head smarted, he didn't know where he was and wasn't wearing any pants. "Those are my clothes?" He indicated the dirty clothes on the chair. They both nodded, although the younger one's nod was much more cordial. "Why am I over here and my clothes are over there?"
"We didn't want to get the sofa soiled," the older one spouted. "Even though you are on it."
Luis asked the older woman, "You don't like me, do you?" Before she could answer, he asked the nicer one, "I fell off a horse?"
"Yes." The younger woman who smelled of lilacs sat next to him on the sofa. "We heard a horse's neigh and rushed out and your horse was galloping away and you were lying on the ground. We found a rattle snake, Colonel. It was a good thing there was a shovel in the courtyard. Marta here rushed out and killed the snake that spooked your horse before it could bite you."
Luis looked up at the older woman and said, "Marta." He turned to the younger one. "And you are?"
"Colonel, I am Maria Teresa Alvarado."
Luis looked back at Marta. "You saved my life."
Marta smirked. "Yes, but there is no need to thank me."
Luis unsteadily got to his feet then bowed his head to her. "But I should. By the sound of it, I would not lived to see the glorious sun this morning if not for your... beating a snake over the head with a shovel. May I see the snake?"
Tessa uneasily laughed. "Why on earth would you want to see the snake?"
"To see the face of my enemy."
Tessa frightfully asked, "Excuse me?"
Luis realized that when he had stood, the afghan hadn't traveled with him as Tessa was sitting atop it. He sank back down on the sofa and covered himself with the blanket once again. "To see the face of the creature who would have taken my life."
"Tessa," Marta exclaimed. "Why don't we go in the other room so our guest can dress?"
As soon as Tessa stood, Marta grabbed her hand and moved to the door. Luis could have swore he heard her continue in a whisper, "The sooner he is dressed, the sooner he will get the hell out of here."
Luis was disappointed. How could that older woman hold such hatred for him? He stood again and went to his clothes. He picked up the jacket and was sure that he had never seen it before in his life. But he put it on. It fit like a glove. He brushed dirt off the sleeves and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror above a dresser. He straightened the coat and lifted his head with pride. It did look good on him.
~~~~~
Marta and Tessa stopped in the eating room. Marta had hurriedly cleared the table of the tarot cards earlier that morning, along with the blood tipped quill pen and the pages of the letter Tessa had been writing to a friend back in Spain about the dictator Santa Helena was stuck with. The only thing she hadn't cleared from sight was the bible. In the daylight, Montoya's blood was clear for all to see.
Tessa was looking off in the direction of the living room and said, "You know, I almost feel sorry for him. Can you imagine losing everything in your head?"
"To see the face of my enemy?" Marta spat on a cloth and started rubbing the blood off the golden Alvarado insignia on the front of the bible. "That was a Colonel speaking. He knows it all, he's just faking. I don't know why you didn't call him on it."
"Marta, he looked so lost. His shoulders were slumped. When have you ever seen Colonel Montoya slump his shoulders? Never."
A sudden knock, then another, made the women jump. The front door opened and from the other room, they heard Montoya loudly ask, "Who are you?"
They rushed back into the living room to see Captain Grisham and two of his men enter her home. Tessa moved forward to demand, "Whatever happened to waiting outside until someone has allowed you entrance?"
Grisham tipped his hat to her and said, "My apologies ma'am, but we've been looking for the Colonel all morning. His horse was found galloping into town, riderless. We followed the tracks and it brought us right to your door."
"Yes, Capitan," Tessa told him, then repeated the lie they had prepared and tried out on Montoya to Grisham.
After he heard the tale, he looked at his superior, standing off to the side. Grisham walked to him and looked closely at his eyes. "Colonel?"
"That is what they have been calling me."
Grisham smiled. "You lost your marbles?"
"I lost what?" Luis scratched his head. "I do not seem to remember having marbles."
Without dawdling, Grisham bowed to Tessa and said, "Ma'am? Sorry for the intrusion. Thank you for tending to the Colonel last evening. My men and I will make sure he gets back home in one piece."
"You'll call on Dr. Helm to check him?"
"Yes, senorita." Grisham grinned. "Colonel Montoya is safe in my hands."
Grisham took Montoya's arm and steered him to the door. Luis looked back at the woman and smiled, nodded his head, then stopped. "Thank you for taking care of me. And you," he indicated Marta, "for killing that snake. I owe you one, even though you do not like me."
They watched Grisham get Montoya on one of his men's horse and mount his own. They rode off, the two other soldiers sharing the third horse. Marta mused, "Well, he's out of our hands now."
"As long as he doesn't say anything about seeing the Queen last night. Right here. Me."
~~~~~
Grisham lead Montoya up the stone stairs to his mansion after he had complained of being dizzy again from the ride into the pueblo. One of the soldiers asked, "Should I rustle up Helm?"
"Nah," Grisham said over his shoulder down on the soldier at the bottom of the stairs. "Colonel Montoya will be all right."
Luis felt secure with the young Captain and seemed to feel better when he so handily found him and was bringing him home. A home he didn't remember, but a home nonetheless. Luis couldn't wait to get inside to see his own things. Maybe something would make him remember.
When he got into the house, up the stairs, into what he assumed was his bedroom, Luis looked it over. There were fine things in that room. Expensive things. More uniforms were hung in a row in the open closet. The bed looked nice and soft. He couldn't wait to climb into it.
The comfort Luis felt disappeared as he was shoved to the floor by the young Captain. The door to the bedroom was shut, the lock was turned. "What is this? What are you doing?"
"Taking over, Colonel." Grisham grinned as he stood above him. "I've been waiting a long while for such an opportunity to do this. Hello Devil, welcome to hell."
~ Jo
ONE OF THOSE DAYS
By Laura
[email protected]
::: Quote Challenge. My first response to these things. I hope you enjoy it. I have works in fanfiction.net under Wolfa Moon in Queen of Swords. I hope you enjoy those and my response:::::
~~~~~
The sun was hanging low in the distance. The day was coming to the end. And at this end the Queen had spoiled another of his plans. So Montoya sat in his garden reading Romeo and Juliet, of all things, to escape from his prison. He didn't mind the book all that much. It was that awful Queen who disturbed it.
Grisham entered, along with others. "Sir," he stood at attention. His uniform was covered with dirt.
"Have a roll in the dirt Captain?" Grisham gazed over at his master.
"The Queen of Swords�" Montoya held up his hand.
"I don't want to hear another word." Montoya flipped the next page of his book. Grisham took a grape off the vine and walked over to the Colonel.
"So what are you reading?"
"Romeo and Juliet." With that Grisham laughed at his superior. The man who was an iron fist reading a tragic love story. Montoya closed his book leaving a finger to hold his place. "Is there something you find funny Captain?"
Grisham took another grape. "Yeah, you reading a love novel."
"It is Shakespeare."
"Whatever." He ate another grape.
Montoya stood up and looked at his collared dog. "A good book is the best of friends, the same
today and forever." He pointed yet jabbed the book in Grisham's chest to make a point." You
should learn. Women appreciate a knowledgeable mind. Look at Doctor Helm. And Myself. So
you should learn a little respect." Montoya sat back down. "You are dismissed, for now."
Grisham walked out of the garden and into the street. "Knowledge. Don't make me laugh. Women know what they want."
A Senorita with an umbrella walked past him with a wink in her eyes. "And I already have what
they want." Grisham walked after his playmate for tonight.
THE END
COUNTERFEITS
By Lisa
A somewhat eccentric response to the third quote option ("On Monsieur's Departure"), the
following vignette may not be to everyone's taste. But how could I let a piece of Renaissance
amatory rhetoric slip by without response? Perhaps, however, I should NOT have enjoyed that
large Mexican Mocha while re-reading Girard on the triangulations of mimetic desire.
Spoilers for "Counterfeit Queen." And depending on the officiousness of your personal
smut-police, this may be a bit PGish--for a sort of voyeurism, a suggestion of fetishism, and just
the slightest hint of sub-subtext.
~~~~~
If he concentrated, he could almost see the intricate patterns of the mask beneath his fingertips.
Ah, sweet, larcenous and dearly, dearly departed Carlotta. The lace was rough to his touch,
crudely stitched; it lacked the elegant precision and silken softness he knew would betray the
genuine Queen's costume. Cheap. Tawdry even. But sometimes, Luis admitted to his reflection in
the mirror, sometimes however ardently one desired the fine and pure, one craved a taste of the tawdry.
Carlotta had been a strategic dalliance, nothing more. Certainly not a lover. They were realists,
both of them. Each had each recognized in the other a willingness to bargain, to compromise;
each knew instinctively to distrust, knew that neither would hesitate to lie, to sell even their
honor, if the need or the profit were great enough. In that, if in nothing else, they had been true to
one another.
There was a poem. . . . He searched his memory. Not Shakespeare, nothing that fine, that
sophisticated: more simple, commonplace Petrarchan ironies merely. An English Queen's tribute
to a once but no longer politically expedient suitor. Dios, but its insincerities echoed truthfully in
his own false heart tonight. "I grieve and dare not show my discontent," he whispered, watching
his reflection pass the lace between his fingers. "I love and yet am forced to seem to hate. I do,
but dare not say I ever meant. I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate."
They all wore so many masks . . . kept so many secrets . . . lived so many falsehoods . . .
He had watched them closely at the fiesta.
Maria Theresa Alvarado had glittered, resplendent in a gown of regal crimson satin this evening, and Robert Helm--well at least his inevitable gray revealed the gentleman beneath his scruffy daytime disguise. She hardly bothered with subtlety as she teased and flirted around him. He, for his part, had been no less obvious in his disdain, his almost arrogant dismissal of the frivolous senorita. But what if, some evening, she should come to him dressed in black silk, a delicate lace shawl thrown about her shoulders? How if guttering candles should cast a tracery of shadows across her face?
Doctor Helm was infatuated with the Queen, of course. How could such a passionate young man,
so wounded an idealist not be? And how could one not forgive, again and again, such tragically
persistent, tarnished innocence?
Luis stared at himself in the looking glass. Already unbound for the night, dark hair hung loose
about his face, just grazing the shoulders of the stark white shirt. Slowly he raised the lace,
pulling it momentarily taut before the cold, knowing eyes.
Did they meet on nights like this, his Queen and her suitor? Were they together somewhere even
now? Did a shaft of moonlight, not unlike the one that invaded his own bedroom, make their pale
flesh gleam in the darkness? Perhaps. And the air would smell of-- Luis lowered the mask. No,
not Parma Violets; that was Carlotta's scent. The air would carry instead the sultry decadence of
summer roses blown just past their virginal prime. He would leave the mask on, of course,
preserving the last pretense of ignorance and anonymity, standing behind her, caressing the strong
shoulders, bending his head to press his lips against her throat and taste the life throbbing there.
Perhaps they would share a glass of wine--musky, scarlet as blood--and then a kiss as pungently
vinous with carnal need. Hands confident and dexterous from swordplay would cup the Doctor's
face; two warm, willing bodies would sink into the linen coolness of the bed.
No. Enough. He would be stronger than this. He would exert firmer control over his errant
imagination. Luis crumpled the shred of black lace in his fist.
"I'll see you in Hell," Carlotta had promised as she lay dying.
And truly, was this longing not as fiendishly just a Hell as the cruelest God might devise?
END
ARS GRATIA?
By Maril
[email protected]
Trio challenge: block of ice, horse, umbrella
~~~~~
Marta picked the umbrella up off the chair and handed it to Tessa. "Let's go. I don't feel comfortable here."
"Nonsense, Marta. You have as much right to take refreshments in the cantina as anyone else," Tessa sniffed, glancing around haughtily as if daring anyone to take umbrage at her presence.
"It isn't that. It's that man over there with the Colonel. He's been sending you looks that would melt a block of ice."
Tessa turned to look just as the man averted his face. "Oh, him. That's Señor Barca, a famous artist from Madrid. Colonel Montoya has commissioned him to paint an official portrait for his office."
"Hopefully, he will put in the horns on Montoya's head too," Marta growled.
Tessa laughed. "Maybe it isn't me he's looking at, Marta." She grinned impishly at her companion then returned her gaze to the two men seated at the far end of the cantina. The man nodded to Tessa in acknowledgment, then spoke to the Colonel. He arose and began to make his way to the women's table.
Marta started to rise, but Tessa took a firm grip on her arm. "Let's see what he wants before we run off," Tessa said, never taking her eyes off the man. //He looks like a matador//, she thought, appreciatively watching his graceful movements as he threaded his way among the tables. He was not overly tall, but slim and darkly handsome. The dappled sunlight in the cantina played over the planes of his chiseled features. The olive tone on his clean-shaven cheeks held just a hint of warmth as a smile began to form on his full lips. But it was his roguish black eyes that arrested Tessa. That and the elegant attire he wore so well on his lean frame - a deep brown velvet jacket under which was a red brocade vest and dazzlingly white lace cravat. His trousers were dark tan and fitted snugly to his muscular legs.
"And just when I was thinking your taste in men was improving. Another peacock!" Marta said in an undertone.
"Let's not discuss taste in men, Marta," Tessa replied with a wry grin.
By this time, the man had arrived at their table. He bowed with great solemnity to each, saying, "I am Rodrigo Barca. Have I the honour of addressing Señorita Alvarado and her companion, Marta?" Tessa nodded.
"May I join you?" At her gesture to a chair, Señor Barca sat down opposite Tessa, and uncomfortably close to Marta.
"I understand, Señor Barca, that you are painting our dear Colonel Montoya's portrait. How much longer until it's finished?" Tessa gave him a brilliant smile to which he responded with a smile of his own.
"Only a matter of a week or so. Then, the Colonel plans an unveiling ceremony. I hope you will attend, señoritas," he said glancing pointedly at Marta.
"Wild horses couldn't keep us away. Right, Marta?"
Marta raised her eyebrows. "Of course. You have always loved the Colonel's parties."
"If I may be so bold, señorita, it would be a great honour if you would allow me to paint your portrait - both of your portraits," he added with a warm glance at Marta. "From the Colonel's table, I could not help but notice the beauty and grace at the far end of the cantina. I could not tear my eyes away. One of the curses of being an artist, I suppose. When beauty beckons, I must follow."
Tessa caught Marta rolling her eyes in disbelief, and nearly laughed aloud. "Señor Barca, I am thrilled that you would want to paint my portrait! I had never thought of it. There is a portrait of my father in my villa, and I think a portrait of his daughter would be just the right accompaniment. Don't you agree, Marta?"
"We will come to the unveiling and see how Colonel Montoya's portrait looks. Then we will decide," Marta said, as she moved away from his thigh which she felt pressing against her.
Sighing deeply, Barca said, "It is too bad you left Madrid so soon, Señorita Alvarado. You missed the grand opening of the Prado. Such a gala affair that was. The music, the glittering ballroom, the royalty. Even the King and Queen were present. I was invited since one of my paintings hangs there. And," he said in a voice hushed with awe, "I met Goya. He complimented me on my work!" Barca glanced down modestly, two spots of red colouring his cheeks. Abruptly, he rose, and bowed again. "Speaking of work, I must return to the Colonel for another sitting. I look forward to our next meeting with eagerness." With a last look at Marta, he walked out of the cantina toward Montoya's office.
OK - you can Round Robin this if you like.
- Maril
ARS GRATIA? Part 2
Sequel or RR contribution of Maril's Trio Response #7
By JoLayne
[email protected]
Quick update on Maril's eloquent response: There's a new painter in Santa Helena, Señor Rodrigo Barca. Reread her fic to imagine how he looks. :-) He's a famous artist from Madrid, whom Colonel Montoya had commissioned to paint an official portrait for his office. Marta was leery of him, Tessa was interested in his smoldering good looks. He offered to paint Tessa's, as well as Marta's, portrait. Marta sagely advised Tessa to wait and see what the Colonel's portrait looked like before allowing the Spaniard into her home to paint.
~~~~~
The painting that Barca had created for the Colonel had turned out to be a wonderful likeness and received the approval of all who had gathered at Montoya's fete, even Marta's. With glasses of wine in everyone's hands, they all took turns looking at the portrait up close as it was resting on an elaborate easel. Vera had commented that Colonel Montoya's eyes were exquisitely blue. Helm had noted that the eyes looked like they were following him. What Marta kept close attention to was Tessa's reaction. She had been overwhelmed and excited by Señor Barca's offer to paint her portrait, but Marta just couldn't think it would be that easy. Barca was a famous living artist. Just the thought that he would come to a backwater pueblo in America was enough to think there had to be more going on in his mind. To work for the Colonel, one of many that Spain had in the New World, could be to negate his starving artist existence, but who paid for the travel expenses? It certainly wasn't cheap to travel half way around the world.
The next day as Marta instructed the Alvarado household staff to make sure it was free of dust and clutter, she paused and shook her head along with a light laugh. She wasn't looking forward to the arrival of the Señor, but she also couldn't squelch that habit of making the casa fit for visitors. Tessa would be mortified if anything was out of place. Marta had even prepared a snack and lemonade for her guest.
Tessa, meanwhile, was in her bedroom pondering the choice of gowns spread out on her bed to wear. As Marta wrangled her to finally sit so she could fix Tessa's hair, Tessa said, "Marta, I just don't know what to wear. The picture will be for all time, immortal. It will out-last me. I want to look perfect."
"They're all beautiful gowns, Tessita." Marta said as she started pinning Tessa's hair up into a proper bun. "Any of them would be fine." Being that her hair was freshly washed, dried, and brushed, the process went quickly. When Tessa looked in the mirror at the elegant coiffure, her smile signaled her approval.
Tessa rushed to the bed and decided on the red silk dress. Marta got her into her petticoat and tried to button up the back, but Tessa was too squiggly. "Settle down, Tessa. He is not to arrive for another hour. There is plenty of time."
She did stand still while Marta finished, then went to her closet to put what was left of her mother's fine black lace to use as a shawl. Marta was mortified and pulled the lace off of Tessa. "Are you thinking straight? This is the lace I used to make the Queen's mask!"
"I know, but it is my mother's lace. How will anyone know? I want to wear something from each of my parents in the portrait. I will hold my father's watch and fob in my hands and wanted that lace. It is about the only thing I have left of her."
Marta carefully folded the lace and put it into the drawer. "You do not think that Barca is not going to insist on having the community see his work? What if his skills are as good as he thinks they are and he paints the lace perfectly? Montoya could make the connection between the lace in the painting and the lace on the Queen's mask. Put something else Alvarado in the painting. The family bible, your father's portrait."
"Those are my father," Tessa solemnly said.
Marta told her, "I have an idea," then swept from the room. When she came back, Tessa was sitting sedately at her vanity. Marta put the rose she had just cut from the Dona's rose bushes that Marta had been able to save into her line of vision. "The roses are beautiful now that they've come back to life. They were the Dona's pride and joy." When Tessa nodded, smiled and took the flower and breath in it's scent, Marta warned, "Be careful. I will dethorn it for you."
She looked at Tessa's face reflected in the mirror before them and Marta couldn't help but swell with pride. The young girl had grown into a beautiful and accomplished woman; her parents would be so proud of her. One of the workers appeared at the door of Tessa's bedroom to announce that there was a carriage arriving.
Tessa glided to the window to see two horses pull a black hooded carriage up to the veranda. Marta joined her at the window and caught the smiles that the Señor and Tessa exchanged. As his tall frame stood hunched over to disembark the carriage without hitting his head on the canopy, he tipped his hat to her. Marta studied her face as Tessa excitedly turned and ran from the bedroom. Marta couldn't help but think that this was all a bad idea.
NEXT?
~ Jo
QUOTE 2 RESPONSE #7
by Maril
[email protected]
Disclaimers, etc.
QUOTE 2: "Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell." -Hornbeck, "Inherit the Wind"
~~~~~
Dense black foliage barred her way. Long viscous vines hung in slimy strands that broke off in
long strips that clung to her clothes. As the strands fell on her body, they burned like acid. She
slashed with her sword trying to break out of this hellish forest but as soon as she sliced an
opening more vines grew immediately to enmesh her. Her arm was sore and tired from hacking at
the impossible tangle of lurid black jungle. The smell of rotting vegetation was nauseating and
the sultry thick air was almost impossible to take into her labouring lungs. Tessa looked up
through the web of hanging vines to a red sky that glowered down with a fierce unrelenting heat.
Dread dragged her down as she saw the hopelessness of getting through the snarl of this unearthly
jungle.
A black raven lifted from one of the grotesque trees and flew at her, cutting her shoulder with its
talon as it passed by her with an eerie shriek. Soon the trees were full of screeching black birds
and Tessa swung her sword over and over as the flocks came at her with their deadly sharp claws.
All at once the birds disappeared as a bellow of weird laughter echoed through the jungle. Before
her, she saw a man dressed in black. An aura of evil radiated from him and he smirked as she
recoiled in terror. It was the face of Montoya! He grinned maniacally and said, "Hello Devil.
Welcome to Hell." With a sudden excess of fear, Tessa struggled fiercely against the cloying
clinging vines with that horrible laugh ringing in her ears. "Tessa, Tessa," that evil voice taunted.
"Tessa, Tessa," a voice said as a cool cloth touched her forehead. She awoke to meet a pair of
warm green eyes staring at her. He smiled kindly. "You've had quite a battle with the fever. You
were struggling like you were fighting demons. But I think the worst is over now. The fever has
broken." Helm laid his hand on her forehead and nodded. "Yes, nearly normal. You'd better stay
in bed for another day or so, to be on the safe side." He got up and the bed rocked gently. "Marta
can take better care of you than I can from here on. I'll look in tomorrow to see how you're getting
on." He pressed her hand and smiled deeply into her eyes, then was gone. Tessa closed her eyes
and wondered if she was still dreaming as she drifted back into sleep.
--Maril
PS: You could call this "The Dreamer" or "Fun with Adjectives" <g>
MARY POPPINS-NOT!
By Maril
[email protected]
Disclaimers, etc.
~~~~~
Closing her umbrella, Tessa sighed with relief as she passed from the relentless hot sun to the
dim coolness of the shaded alley. She was taking a shortcut to the harness maker's in the next
street. Chico, her horse, needed a new bridle. As she was about midway through the alley, what
seemed to be a blur of rags launched itself at her from the shadows, catching her off guard and
thrusting her against the adobe wall of a building. For a second, she panicked as a grimy hand
gripped her throat. She felt her purse being pulled away from her arm and a sudden fury took
over. She kneed the assailant in the groin, then stabbed him in the gut with her umbrella, finally
using its ivory handle to clout him on the skull. He fell at her feet with a loud groan. Breathing
hard, she leaned against the building, and looked down at her attacker. He was middle-aged,
filthy, smelly...and unconscious. Tessa hesitated, unsure whether to call for help or just step past
and continue on her way.
A sound at the far end of the alley made her look up...into the astonished eyes of Dr. Helm. He
strode swiftly toward her with an incredulous expression on his face. Tessa felt a mild panic seize
her. What had he seen? In a breathless voice, she exclaimed, "Oh, Dr. Helm. Thank God you're
here. I was so frightened." As he neared, Tessa held her hand out to him and began to fall as if
fainting.
The doctor moved past her to the fallen man and she landed on the hard ground with a loud yelp
of pain. Indignantly, she got back up, fixing the doctor with a look that would have melted a
block of ice. "Well," she snapped, "Chivalry is certainly dead! First, you just stand there while I'm
being attacked, then you leave me, the injured party, to help the attacker!"
Helm turned to look up with a wry grin on his face. "I practice chivalry when I see a damsel in
distress. I saw no one of the particular description around here. As to being the injured party," he
gestured at the man lying inert near his feet, "it's pretty obvious which of you is injured -- the one
who's unconscious."
He continued to look at her closely with narrowed eyes, and Tessa could see the suspicion
forming there. She swallowed quickly and said, "I caught him by surprise and got lucky when he
stumbled."
Helm gave her a skeptical look. "Right. I don't think I've ever seen a more impressive display of umbrellasmanship. Maybe you should try a sword next time." With a derisive snort, he turned back to the assailant who was just coming to. "What do you plan to do with him?"
Tessa shrugged. "If I turn him over to Montoya, he'll be hanged for theft. It seems too extreme for just trying to steal a purse. But if I let him go, he may harm someone else. What do you suggest, Dr. Helm?"
"Lost your zeal for justice suddenly?" At that moment, the assailant leapt to his feet, pushing Helm to the ground and escaped down the alley. Helm laughed while getting up to dust himself off. "Well, I guess he made your decision for you. To be on the safe side, I'd better go with you down this alley."
Tessa blushed and stammered, "You don't need to protect me, Dr. Helm. I'll be all right."
"Protect you? It's me I was worried about -- in case he's still lurking about."
END
--Maril
3/4/01 TRIO CHALLENGE RESPONSE: MINIATURE HEAT WAVE
by MnD
[email protected]
http://maelstrom.ubcomics.com
Vera twirled her umbrella and turned to her friend. "It is very hot today, no? The sun seems to enjoy our company more than the rain clouds." Tessa nodded in agreement and fanned herself.
"Indeed. Oh, there is the Colonel! Shall we greet him?" Vera smiled her concurrence, ready for anything that would distract herself from the heat. "Colonel Montoya!"
The Colonel turned from his horse to search for the voice that called out to him. "Ah, Senora Hidalgo, Senorita Alvarado!" He smiled politely and kissed each chastely on the hand.
"How is your horse, Colonel?"
"It is doing well, thank you for your concern."
"Would you like to join us for some lemonade? Tessa is holding a small fiesta at her hacienda." Tessa rolled her eyes inwardly, but smiled brightly.
"Oh yes, Colonel, your presence would be a great addend to my fiesta."
"Ah, Senorita, I am sorry, but I have business to attend to. While I know that your �Marta, was it? makes very good lemonade, I must work. I know you understand. Good day, ladies." He nodded to them and walked off to the stables, leading his horse.
"Come Tessa, let us move out of the sun, it becomes unbearably warm."
"Well, you could always sit on a big block of ice." Tessa muttered under her breath as she
followed Vera into the shade.
Feed me. (or flame me)
THE RISE OF CIUDAD DEL DIABLO
By MnD
http://maelstrom.ubcomics.com
[email protected]
SYNOPSIS: Santa Helena turns into a war zone.
WARNING: Not a happy fic.
CHALLENGE RESPONSE: A block of ice, horse, umbrella, "Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell."
~~~~~
"Hello Devil. Welcome to Hell."
"Pardon?" The Queen of Swords turned to the doctor. They were standing atop the bluffs, looking down at the carnage below. Encouraged by the Queen's defiance, the peasants had staged a revolt against Montoya. Unfortunately for them, they were simply too unorganized. It didn't help that Captain Grisham had maneuvered a squadron of the Colonel's guard and a cannon into the middle of their forces, leaving them separated and disoriented. After that, it had been slaughter. Dr. Helm shook his head and rubbed his face against his shoulder- his hands and fore arms were covered in blood.
"I blame this on you, you know. If you hadn't encouraged them�"
"Then they would be under Montoya's heel, ground into the land they tilled!"
"Well they still are!" Helm bit back caustically, unable to recreate his usual roar of indignation. He was too exhausted. "Except this time, the taxes have been doubled, and half of the able bodied men are dead!" The Queen fell silent. Helm shifted awkwardly, sorry for his outburst, but unwilling to apologize. After all, I'm right�aren't I?
Finally the Queen lifted her head and set her shoulders stubbornly. "I will help them. I will save them."
She stalked off to where he assumed she had hidden her horse. You, you, you, blah, blah, blah. He turned back to the smoking landscape of tattered cloth and strewn bodies. A group of small children were moving among the bodies, checking each for any possessions of value or scraps of food. Not that they'll find any. He saw one of the older children helping one that couldn't be more than three years old fashion an umbrella out of a tree branch and manta. I came here to escape war. The fighting. The blood. It seems to have followed me. Will I ever be free? Will I ever be able to prevent death instead of causing it? I grieve and dare not show my discontent/ I love and yet am forced to seem to hate/ I do, yet dare not say I ever meant/ I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate. He seriously considered leaving Santa Helena, and his life there, as he clambered down from the rocks.
"Doctor Helm." The voice startled him and he fell. Luckily, he was almost at the bottom already. A strong hand reached out to steady him, then kept its grip, tightening painfully. He looked up.
"Colonel."
"Doctor." They stared at each other for a moment, then the colonel removed his hand.
"This is a dangerous place for a lone man to travel in. Any man. You should take precautions, doctor. You're much too valuable to lose to bandits or vengeful peasants." Montoya's expression was pleasant, and his voice conversational, but his eyes held as much warmth as a block of ice. Helm smiled benignly and took a step to one side.
"Yes, well, I'll just be leaving now." He brushed by Montoya and strode away quickly, anticipating the guards to jump him. Surprisingly, they held their positions and let him pass. Montoya watched the Englishman leave, and narrowed his eyes. The doctor would go free�for now.
END
~~~~~
NOTE: 'Ciudad del Diablo' means town/city of the Devil
~MnD
CIUDAD DEL REVOLUCIÓN...
By Anthony
[email protected]
Sequel to:
THE RISE OF CIUDAD DEL DIABLO
MnD's challenge response #7
By MnD
http://maelstrom.ubcomics.com
SYNOPSIS: Santa Helena turns into a war zone.
WARNING: Not a happy fic.
~~~~~
Vera looked out the front window of her hacienda, past the multitude of soldier-guards who owed
their fealty only to her and Gaspar. The day was sunny and bright, though not too hot out; perfect
for something nice and normal, like a picnic...not the events of late.
Vera sighed. She was fairly well-read, and knew what'd happened to America, France, and -
according to a letter from her mother and adopted father - now in Russia too. Revolutions all over
the place. "Doctor Helm was right," she said, wishing he wasn't; "Revolution is infectious."
Well-learned Vera also saw the parallel between now and the Reformation, with many of the
dons siding with the peasants, if for no other reason as to gain strength against Montoya...but
when it looked like the peasants were going to topple the dons' source of power as well as
Montoya's, many of the dons quickly changed sides, joining Montoya.
But some, like Dona Alvarado, were remaining with the revolting peasantry. There were even
rumors of Tessa allying herself with the Queen Of Swords.
Gaspar had relatives further south in Mexico, people who would put them up in a safe
place...whether until the Santa Elena fighting stopped, or for good.
As her beloved Gaspar came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her, she knew
that there were goodbyes to be said.
NEXT??
OOC: there really was a revolution in Russia around the QOS time - though it was brutally
squashed.