Alex nodded to Iain as he left.  "See you in a bit.  Enjoy your shower."

Watching Johnny head out again, she stood and followed him down to the kitchen.  "Hey...  I need you take out those stitches for me.  It seems they're not needed anymore."

   Setting down the glass of jam, Johnny eyed Alex with a most incredelous glance. "Unless you are going to confess some supernatural powers of troll regeneration, there's no way on Earth I remove those stitches. Had I thought I would've gotten my way, I would've tried forcing you to stay in bed today." Placing the bread on the table, Johnny seated himself and started eating.

“I better go make sure Dren is semi-conscious,” Raven said as she set the book down and picked up her coffee. “See you all shortly.” She strode out of the room and headed for the stairs.

Alex shrugged and watched Johnny as he took a seat.  "They're not my supernatural powers of regeneration, and I'm fairly sure there was no troll involved..."    She trailed off, smiling slightly and lifted the sweater to show him her stomach.  "Now will you take them out?"

Pieran stepped into the kitchen with ghostly silence as Johnny was busying with the chores of morning breakfast. Wearing only his caftan and carrying the wastepaper basket from his room, he paused through bleary eyes to seek the larger kitchen trash can. Spying his prey he shuffled over and dumped the enigmatic contents of his basket into the larger vessel with noisome clatter.

His first order of business complete he moved wordlessly to the second, searching for and then pouring a cup of coffee. He sipped it loudly, rolling it around his mouth, and then swallowing with an audible gulp. His lips smacked a bit, keeping time to his eyelids.

Still wordless, he rummaged a few of the tins and canisters he found nearest the coffee maker. No first-class place would house “instant” coffee. There they were, at last: the coffee beans and he breathed deep their heady aroma.

Next, he rummaged through drawers and cupboards until he found some sandwich bags. Opening one he gently poured about a quarter cup of beans into the bag before carefully and methodically sealing it tight. He then returned everything into its ordered place. All except, for the sandwich bag of beans resting upon the counter.

Stepping up to the counter once more, Pieran stood above the bag of beans like the ominous raven that perched upon the pallid bust of Pallas, perched above the chamber door. Then, with a mighty and fiercely fast strike, he brought his solid fist down hard and decisively upon the helpless baggie, fairly pulverizing the beans inside with an explosive crack.

He opened the slaughtered baggie and deftly, daintily poured its shattered contents into his coffee cup, topping it with a second hit of the fresh, dark brew from the pot. He swilled his cup around like a miner panning for gold, and took another loud sip. His back straightened a bit from its morning slump and the first sign of intelligent life crept slowly across his face in the form of a satisfied smile.

He nodded approvingly and walked out of the room, pausing at the door briefly. He turned and looked Johnny up and down. He was wearing grey sweats. Everybody was wearing grey sweats.

Pieran shrugged and raised his cup in tribute. “Morning,” he said, vaguely cheery. And with that, he made his exit.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

   Despite close inspection, Johnny had to admit there was no reason to keep those stiches in place. No reason, except that it was standard procedure and people weren't supposed to recoved that quickly. However, facing defeat, he said: "Well...um...okay." Awkwardly clutching a kitchen knife, he recalled they had their very own medical bay. "If you'd just go on ahead to the clinic, I'll be there shortly. Oh, and you might want to get some iron suppliant, to make up for the bloodloss, but then again, my college medicine doesn't seem to apply to your body."

Alex watched Pieran leave with an amused look on her face.  He was not a morning person, it seemed.  She looked back to Johnny and nodded.  "I'll meet you up there."  With that, she left him to his breakfast and headed to the clinic, taking the stairs two at a time.

Dren turned sharply to head down from the second level when he spoted his partner in crime, "Figured you t'be readin' th'paper by now." he closed in on her and glanced around looking for anyone else behind her, "Y'know I've been thinkin', there's somethin' strage goin' on 'ere. Check this out." he turned his head not unlike one would when expecting a kiss on the cheek, but before Raven could make any comments he poked the side of his jaw, "Just yesterday a vampire punched me, right 'ere. T'day no bruise, an th'cut in m'mouth is gone too! Not only tha' but if t'day's the 8th and it was September 30th when we went inna tha' tomb, that means in what seems like 1 day we've lost a whole week! Dinna that seem strange t'ya? Wonder if anyone else is missin' 7 days o'thier life?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:51, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

"I know I said I'm a pragmatic man..." Iain commented entering the kitchen. "But I really need to talk to Mr. Hornsby about... This."

He was wearing white pants and an azure shirt, and he didn't look too happy about it.

"I mean, really, the fancy room is one thing, but I do have my own style, and this surely isn't it." He sighed: "Good morning, everyone. Is there any coffee left?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:06, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

Raven smiled at him. “With so many books in this place? It’s quite the collection. They’ve got a couple of volumes I’ve been trying to get my hands onto for years.” Catching the look in Dren’s eye she said, “With the surveillance in this place, plus the magical wards – I wouldn’t recommend trying that.”



“Well, I have read about time moving differently in Hell dimensions… A day there could equal a week here. Imagine if we’d stayed longer.”

“I would have been tempted to offer that as an explanation for your healed injuries as well. To keep the space time continuum balanced our bodies may have caught up with this time during the transition between the two dimensions. We may have experienced those seven days and not be aware of it. However, you should see Alex’s stomach.” Raven sighed as she saw a wistful look cross Dren’s face. “I’m talking about her wound!” She rolled her eyes and then continued. “It’s gone, like it never happened. It would take more than 7 days to do that. There isn’t even a scar.”

Dren smiled mischeviously, "Speakin' of perfect skin, 'Ow'd y'sleep last night? I only ask 'cause my bed was great, an I thought y'may want to try it out later t'night. Y'might even like it!"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:42, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

Pieran finished his coffee in Africa. He’d already made his bed, a holdover from his early education. But something was wrong. They were wearing grey, most of them. Now, as he sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the dressers and closet, the problem started to coalesce, to move from his unconscious to his conscious.

He’d not even inspected the room since his arrival. He was still living in “independent” mode, taking what he needed from his bloody great sack.

There was a bathrobe in the closet and grey sweats in the dresser. He held the pants for a moment, keeping them neatly folded, and weighing them for truth until the solid meaning of their fabric spoke at last to his brain. ‘This is it,’ he thought. ‘This is really happening. Once you put these on you’ll be accepting the mantle of a new life, with new responsibilities and manners. You’ll be dressing into a new way of life. You’ll be making yourself at home, nomad.’ He could almost hear those voices of conscience say that they were trying to enlighten him about that last night. ‘But how do you realistically transition from years to solitude to a full householder life overnight?’ he interjected.

It wasn’t an altogether irrational question. After all, Cornerstone wasn’t exactly a hotel, therefore, he was expected to make a life there. A home! But he never expected to find himself living at home with a crew of six powerful personalities, either. He’d never done that before. For years he lived alone, worked alone, and as a result, he’d not fully matured in a social way. Diplomacy he understood. But only in the abstract. He could apply it, like a bandage to a wound. He just didn’t know how to do it. His old habits would have to change. And soon.

‘I don’t know how,’ he whispered, staring into the mirror inside the closet door. ‘Why won’t you answer?’

Like Joan of Arc’s, his voices fell silent when the going got tough.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:22, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

Raven considered Dren’s offer. “I will definitely put that on my list of 50 things to do before I die. Right after swimming with sharks and skiing naked down Mt. Everest. Now, how about we make our way to that meeting?”

Iona and Iain came up the stairs from breakfast and met Raven and Dren coming down the stairs. The four of them then headed into the meeting room.

No one seemed to notice when Hornsby arrived or set up the conference room, but by 10 o’clock, both he and the room were ready. At each place there was a pad of note paper, a leatherette folder, and a nice pen made of oak. Two pitchers of ice water were in the center of the table and a crystal water goblet was set at each chair. Two small crystal bowls held both chocolate mints and peppermint candies.  Hornsby took a chair by the fireplace. A large mirror was above the fireplace and reflected back the room before it. As everyone entered the room, all were visible in the mirror, except Iain.

Pieran was next. He entered where most of them had gathered, in time for the meeting, dressed in heather gray. It matched his complexion. “I apologize,” he said, taking a seat. It wasn’t clear what he meant. His eyes roamed the other faces and a tiny wave of surprise –almost invisible- rippled across his brow as his eyes landed on Iain, Raven, and Dren.

‘There are always answers if you know where to look.’

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling with irritation. ‘Impeccable timing,’ he replied.

Her stitches removed, Alex came bounding in followed by Johnny. They quickly took their seats.

“Mr. Telarwin, I have the T.V. guide for you here. I think this is what you requested. You asked when Smallville was on and you are in luck.” Hornsby handed the magazine to Dren. It was marked with a sticky note. As Dren opened to the marked page, there was a full-page ad of the Smallville Marathon coming up this weekend on the TBS station. A large photo of Ben Affleck dominated the page with smaller images of him leaping; fighting and clutching onto Kristin Kreuk. The ad proclaimed that all 28 episodes were going to be shown back to back on Saturday and Sunday.

“Your timing is indeed fortuitous since it was cancelled in its second season. Contract issues with the cast, lack of ratings and Ben Affleck wanted to get back into movies. Enjoy!”
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:23, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Depositing herself into a chair, Alex took a moment to survey the room and its luxurious contents.  She had never been in a board meeting in her life, but she had the feeling that this is what the interior of one would look like.  Except the attendees should be in smart business suits and not baggy grey sweats.  A small smile crept over her face as she looked at Iain and his outfit.  Somehow she didn't think that was his style.  Thinking further on it, it seemed to her most vampires tended to favour black and variations thereof.  Maybe it was a whole creature of the night thing.

Smiling sweetly at him, Alex gestured at the ensemble.  "Love the outfit.  Really brings out your eyes."  If it wasn't for the impish sparkle in her eyes, you would have thought that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.



She glanced over at Dren, a little confused.  "Ben Affleck was in Smallville?"

Iain grinned at her. "As in 'pop them out with a spoon', you mean? I considered it, to ease the pain... But I thought I'd try talking it out with our host, first."


Iain looked from Alex to Hornsby and then to Dren: "Right... And hadn't it been confirmed for a third season, by the way?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:32, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Dren turned the page, then turned it back, closed the cover then opened it up again. Looking around confused he shook his head, "This dosen't make sense," sliding the TV Guide to Raven he explained "Fer starters Smallville should be in it's 4th season! An' second of all, Ben Affleck isn't even on th'show! But..." pointing Kristin Kreuk he added "I do like th'new girl!"

   "Well...Smallville. I'm starting to think the reason we're here, has something to do with Smallville. Please convince me otherwise." Jonny smiled shamelessly, brushing a hand through his no-longer-dyed hair.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:41, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Iona had been lining up her various pencils in a straight row to the right of her notepad. Now she lifted her head, slightly frowning. "What happened to Tom Welling?"

“Tom who?” Hornsby looked mildly confused, then slowly shook his head and forged forward.   “Well, I never did follow American sitcoms.”
Hornsby turned to look at all of them. “You all look much better. I dare say that you were somewhat of a fright last night. Although, understanding the ordeal you had been through, it was to be expected. Everyone slept well I gather?” It was a rhetorical question and Hornby continued with barely a pause.

“I am glad you all decided to accept the position. Honestly, it is a relief. We have been without a Guardian here for some time and the Dark Forces are beginning to make overtures. It is getting harder and harder to keep them at bay and keep the public at large unaware. If they were to know… the panic would be like … Well, I shudder to think of it.”

Iain shook his head: "Mr. Hornsby, I'm afraid there has been some kind of misunderstanding here... You see, we haven't accepted anything."

He raised a hand to prevent possible protest: "I'm not saying we wouldn't have, we've just never been asked. So, you may want to go into some more details about this... Assignment... We are supposed to have accepted."

Raven took the TV Guide and checked the date. It did seem to be the current one. She looked at Dren and shrugged.



“There’s a surprise,” she said dryly.



“Guardians? Like what Orean was? And, I agree with Iain. I don’t recall signing on any dotted lines or accepting anything.”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Closing the TV Guide Dren slipped it under his note pad "Is this a package deal tha' comes with th'ouse? By acceptin' t'stay 'ere we've agreed t'be it's protector? Sounds like more work t'me. I was expectin' pay out fer th'work recently compleated, without strings attached." looking over to Raven he lowered his voice adding "Explains th'Tripple A security."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:01, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Raven turned to Dren, “I was expecting us to get paid as well, and then we could all go our separate ways. Get back to our own lives. Or maybe we’re just supposed to get our shirts silk-screened to say, I saved the world and all I got was this lousy set of sweats.”