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Remi winces slightly as the bloodied bandanna rubs against his broken nose, and the other biker lashes out incredibly swiftly with one hand, catching Jason's wrist in a firm but not painful grip. The voice is cool, "Easy there, hotshot. Better to let him remove it, if you want to help." Remi sits back on the worn, dusty heels of his boots, and carefully starts unknotting the bandanna. The other biker watches him and adds quietly, "You got any extra water, boy? Got a name?"

Jason winces as he's grabbed, more in sympathy than pain. "I'm sorry. Too eager for answers, I guess. The sphynx taught me that questions are more important than answers... I guess I'm still relapsing." He tries to sit up, figure out where he is and who's around him. Curious, more than anything, if Joe is there... and if he's alive or dead. "Water... with my pack. Canteen has some left. Trying to ration it." He clears his throat, spits a bit of blood to one side. "I'm Jason."

The biker releases his hand and nods once, the bright-blue eyes still cool, but an odd formality to her voice, "I hight Herfjotur; this is Remiel, you've already seen Guthrum. Is the girl with you?" Without looking away from Jason she raises her voice slightly, "Try stealing that mount, girl, and it'll trample you." There's a small, frightened squeak from over by Remi's fallen bike, and the girl whips upright from where she'd been struggling to raise the heavy thing, "I wasn't-! I -- I mean I d-didn't-" Jason can hear a low growl from the truck behind him, where presumably Guthrum still stands.

Jason shakes his head. "I remember seeing her, from earlier on my journey. But no. Her path and mine only crossed here, when the deputy sought to end her life," he murmurs, sad now, solemn. The truck is present... Joe didn't just drive off. He doesn't know how to feel about that, whether or not the man is alive or dead. "Take it easy on her. She's had a bad day." he adds gently.

Remi murmurs softly, "We shall. We will take care of you also."

Jason remembers... he tried to grab the gun. Would he have threatened Joe with it? Would he have killed him in the heat of the moment? In cold blood? How does one feel about a murderer? Perhaps he doesn't know factually that Joe has gone around killing other supernaturals. But he feels it, in his bones. "Thank you. Where's the other one?" he asks, oddly unwilling to give the big man a name.

Herfjotur stares coolly at Remi, "Helping the girl gains us no energy from her, Remi. She's supernatural also." The biker nods once, still picking apart the stubborn, sweat-soaked knot behind his head in his bandanna, and again his voice is remarkably gentle, "True... but it will please this one, who is mortal, and he'll give that much more." He finally gets the bandanna untied, and slowly and carefully pulls it off his blood-sticky face, wincing slightly. Then he smiles -- oddly wistfully -- at Jason.

The biker called Remi has beautiful eyes -- the kind of eyes where later you're not sure what color they were; you just knew you could safely lose yourself in them. Despite the worn leather clothing, he nearly exudes calm, gentleness, compassion, trustworthiness... and then Jason sees why the other man keeps his lower face always covered.

The more recent damage is due to poor Remi getting kicked in the face: blood has poured down from a cut over one eye and the broken nose, painting a garish, sticky scarlet mask across one side. More dramatically, it's clear the biker once took an incredible blow to the face -- and yet has somehow survived. Flesh has been peeled back from muscle and bone, and part of the teeth and jaw can be seen. The entire area is mangled and heavily scarred; it's not clear how the biker can eat or drink any more, in fact.

Jason decides for the moment not to reveal he's a succulent. While their intentions might be good, he remembers what Phyx said: to be careful, to not trust any too much. They will, perhaps, find out soon enough. But when he's just a mortal -- with no training, no weapons -- sometimes the only thing you have over another is what you know and they don't. He is very interested at Herfjotur's comment... are they guardians of various mythologies, working together? Is that why aiding a mortal feeds them? Angels, of course, are well known for being guardians, but Herfjotur is clearly not an angel -- and then he sees what Remi hides, and his eyes open wide in shock... not in fear, but in deep sympathy. "Oh... " he does not say 'God,' at the last minute, "...dear. I can't possibly heal that."

Remi's smile remains quietly wistful, "Quite all right, mortal Jason -- I do not expect it to heal for a few more decades yet." He sighs softly, his smile fading a little -- then he clearly pulls himself together a bit and smiles more brightly, "A bit of water would be very kind of you, however. I'm afraid we had to use quite a bit of it to help the mortal that hates us." Herfjotur's eyes narrow coldly at Remi's statement, and she turns her head and spits over one shoulder, as if clearing something bitter from her mouth.

Jason does not miss the gesture. "I don't blame you," he comments to the angry woman. To Remi he nods. "Whatever I have is yours. If you hadn't been here... I don't know what would have happened. The man... is he awake? Does your large, angry friend guard him?" He twists to look, remembering he heard a growl behind him.

Remiel looks first surprised, then very pleased, "Why, thank you, Jason! It is much appreciated." He also turns to look behind Jason, nodding once, "Toss his pack over here, Guthrum, if you would, please?" Behind Jason is the big white truck, still parked and silent. Sitting inside it, slumped against the headrest, is Joe, both unconscious and bound. Leaning against the open door is the enormous biker with flame-red hair. He grunts once, then reaches into the truck to toss Jason's pack to Remiel. As he does so Herfjotur also rises, striding over to the truck and starting to go through the various boxes and bags Joe has in the back. The biker snorts amusedly, at the same time there's a startled hiss, and then simultaneously the biker snarls at the girl, "Little sneak thief, eh?" as she hastily cries out, "I wa- no! I was just looking!"

Jason finally gets to his feet, brushing himself off. "Find it hard to be angry at her, if she's looking for some payback for almost joining the bodies of her brethren by the butte," he murmurs. "Already feeling like we should break or bury his guns before we head off. I don't feel like making it easy for him, making a second try." He tilts his head at Herfjotur. "If you can't though, because it's against your rules, I'll do it. Hell, he's practically my responsibility."

The cold-eyed biker glances at Jason, one hand closed on the wrist of the struggling girl. "We have little left but our honor. We are not cowardly thieves!" The girl is trying to peel Herfjotur's leather-gloved fingers off her small wrist, frustratedly hissing, "Let me go, dammit! I have to go!" Guthrum is watching impassively, and Herfjotur's mouth opens for another comment -- which is cut off by Remiel's startled exclamation, "Blessed heaven above! What is this?!" He's got Jason's pack open before him, staring at the young man bemusedly. In one hand he holds Jason's canteen; in the other, an apple.

Jason understands where the sharp-eyed woman is coming from, and is about to respond himself, when Remiel holds up his canteen -- and the apple. Jason stares at it dumbly for a long moment, confused. He knows he didn't buy apples... and then, out of the corner of one ear, he hears a happy 'yarf!' He laughs then -- a delighted laugh, in spite of himself. "Oh, my. I see. No, Remiel... it's not from the Tree of Knowledge. I don't think. But there is an old woman in a church somewhere with a happy dog, reminding me that unselfish charity has its rewards," he murmurs, once he brings himself under control.

Herfjotur snaps, "What is it, Remiel?" The biker glances down at the objects in his hands, clearly awed. His voice is soft as he asks Jason, "You... you do not know what you carry?"

Jason looks utterly confused now. "Well, I don't know about the apple... but the canteen is just a canteen, isn't it? I bought it in Las Vegas for twenty bucks. Unless... " Jackalope? Did he do something to it? "One moment." He opens himself up to his Sight, to see if he can understand what Remiel sees.

As Jason stares at the objects, the biker looks down at the canteen and the apple, murmuring softly, "This mortal has been gifted two truly amazing treasures. He carries a connection to the sweetwater source... and an apple of Healing!"

Herfjotur stiffens -- then nearly whips over to stand next to Remiel, still kneeling in front of Jason's pack. "Eat it, Remi!" When the kneeling biker slowly shakes his head, murmuring, "Didn't you hear him? It must be gifted," Herfjotur says tightly, "He gave it to us, Remi -- you heard him! He said whatever was his is ours!"

The biker looks up at the taller one, murmuring gently, "But Herfi, dear one... it would not be right." The taller biker turns an almost burning gaze on Jason, clearly frustrated and biting back on an immediate response. To Jason, the canteen is exactly that -- a cheap green plastic canteen with a screw-top that's chained to the canteen itself. The apple, however, looks small, a little wrinkled but still sturdily there... much like the old woman, in fact.

Jason is looking abashed and flummoxed to have been given gifts as such, suddenly feeling unworthy. "You can thank Jackalope for the water. In fact, I would recommend it. Decent fellow hasn't earned his fingers yet... maybe you can encourage the mortals you meet to Know of him?" It seems, sometimes, that the only way to keep sane is to take these things completely in stride. Which means that sometimes his comments run right over the tops of the heads of others, who haven't been through what he has. "But the apple... explain to me? It can heal anything? Where does it come from?"

Remiel smiles warmly, "Thank you, mor- er, Jason." He hands the canteen to Herfjotur, who immediately starts filling another canteen with it, then hands it to Guthrum, who drinks thirstily from it. As they do so, Remi sets the apple very gently -- almost reverently -- on the rumbled, half-emptied backpack. He studies it, clearly still awed, as he replies to Jason, "I will be happy to include friend Jackalope in my prayers, Jason, and speak of him to those mortals we meet who are in any condition to listen to gentle proselytizing." He looks up at Jason then, smiling ruefully again through his shattered, bloody face, "You do not remember where your apple came from? Surely you must. They are not gifted without reason."

Herfjotur mutters something grim-sounding about "undeserving," and Remiel lays a gentle hand against one of her thighs, murmuring a quiet, "Hush, please. It is a different time, Herfi. Knowing one's worth is no longer valued." He sighs softly, his voice regretful, "Nowadays it would seem humility taken to groveling or self-abnegation is what is desired. Such a shame... there was a time when researching and reasoning were the goals, too." Wistfully he adds, "I remember then best... " He shakes his head, his ruined smile rueful again, "Forgive me, Jason. Do go on, please -- you were saying?"

Jason shakes his head. "There was a dream, many weeks ago. A dream where I was tested in my sympathy and charity, and when faced with a force of darkness, others gave back to me as I had given. One was the tree burdened with apples, which I helped a girl collect. The dream, I thought, was meant to teach me. I expected no gift in return other than the lesson learned... and the apple was not there when I set on my journey... I do not even remember it being present when I unpacked while taking refuge from the storm. But it seemed that I had given a companion to the one who taught me. Perhaps this is her gift to me... or perhaps it is another test."

He looks at Remi solemnly. "If you wish it, is is yours. I am not so selfish to deny you the healing of a grievous wound. But... " He clears his throat. "Well, perhaps it is not my place to say... " He shifts where he stands, suddenly feeling self-conscious faced with the attentions of these worthies -- worried that they judge him.

For a moment everything is still around Jason. All four entities are silent, and all those he can see are watching him intently. Jason is quiet, feeling the silence stretch out like a knife. He knows what Phyx would say to him now: 'get out of your head, and ask!' "Explain to me, please. What is the power of the apple?" He's looking at Remiel, since the angel was the one who identified it.

Herfjotur's headshake seems more amused than not, as the biker accepts the canteen back from Guthrum and moves around making sure everyone's canteens are filled from Jason's miraculous one. Remiel's face lights up and he says, "Ah, certainly -- a story!" Herfjotur murmurs quietly, "Elsewhere, Remi, aye? We need to leave this trollspawn behind." The scarred biker nods, laughing softly as he rises to his feet. He staggers slightly, then rights himself, murmuring ruefully, "I do tend to overcompensate for mortals, true."

Jason does not argue with the idea of going somewhere else. He doesn't really feel like facing Joe right now. So he's fine with changing the topic. "How should we proceed? We can ride with you? Both of us?" He turns his attention to the younger girl, paying attention to her for once.

The three bikers move smoothly and swiftly, as if they've done this before. All three motorcycles are repacked by Herfjotur and Guthrum, while Remiel gingerly washes his face with the water from Jason's canteen. He nods to Jason, "Of course, Jason; if you wish your little friend can ride along." His voice is gently teasing as he adds, "Don't you think, though, you should first introduce yourself to her -- maybe find out her name?"

Herfjotur pauses next to Jason, gloved hands resting on one of the boxes of ammo in the back of the truck, "You, mortal. Can you read and write the language of this place?"

Jason looks abashed. "Give a guy a chance... between vision quests, sacred apples, angels, crazy gunmen and all, I've got a lot on my mind," he mumbles -- and then, before he can properly address the girl, his attention is diverted again. He hoists himself up to see what Herfjotur is indicating.

Remiel chuckles softly, although it's cut off by a tight gasp when he rinses the more recent wounds. Herfjotur twitches noticeably at the gasp, but doesn't turn around, instead tapping the box, "This is ammunition for the gun things, aye? We are not thieves... but I see no harm in making this mortal take time to retrieve the ammunition while we are making good our departure. Can you write a note stating that the ammunition is... " she looks around, musing -- then nods, "is on top of the butte?"

Jason blinks at Herfjotur -- and then laughs. "I'll take care of it," he assures the woman. He finds writing materials and is pondering what to say. He wants to be angry, accusing. He decides not to be: there's no need to antagonize. But he's still got to be him.

Joe- I hope you don't wake up in too much pain. It's not as if I could control the bikers. You'll understand, though, if we decided not to stay for tea and crumpets. You can follow, of course, but you'll have to use harsh language instead of bullets, unless you decide to take the time to retrieve all your ammo from atop the butte. It's a fitting place for it, don't you think? Jason stops writing for a moment, knowing he's going to say something angry. So he takes a few deep breaths and then picks up.

The tall, slender biker nods, looking grimly pleased. Guthrum is handed off something like five metal army boxes of ammo by Herfjotur, who points to the top of the butte, growling, "As far distant as you can, aye?" The huge, leather-clad biker grunts assent, then turns and heads off in a steady jog-trot towards the butte. Herfjotur seems completely unworried about Guthrum potentially suffering heatstroke in the blistering afternoon sun, instead turning back and frowning at all the remaining goods in the truck. The small girl nervously whispers to her, "C-can I have a drink too? Please?" The icy-eyed biker regards her for a moment... then simply nods, handing a canteen to her. The girl drinks thirstily.

I'm sorry things ended up they way they did. But to be honest, that's more your fault than mine. You should be lucky that these folk are who they are. And if I were you, I'd leave well enough alone. It's not my job to punish you for your crimes. That's between you and the one that is your God, but not mine. Do yourself a favor, and settle down for a bit. Spend some time with your wife, and put the guns away. At the very least, worry more about policing other humans. If you come near me, and the ones that I care about, then I can't be held responsible for what happens. You are getting involved in something much bigger than you. For the sake of you and Betty, stay out of it. Sincerely, Jason.

Jason folds the note, and sticks it in one of Joe's pockets. Herfjotur glances over at Jason, accepting the canteen back from the girl and saying amusedly, "All that to say where the ammunition now lies? Hnh. Here I thought runes took too long to write; it would appear your language is even more idiosyncratic than mine."

Jason shakes his head. "I said more than that. Just a friendly suggestion for the man. I don't care to have to fight him in the future. It's up to him to pay attention or not," he explains. He turns his attention to the girl then, offering his hand. "Hey. I'm Jason. I feel bad now... if I'd offered to let you come with me, back at the diner, maybe you wouldn't have had to go through all that," he says, trying to open up a dialogue with the skittish girl.

Herfjotur and the girl both blink -- then the woman laughs, "A 'friendly suggestion'? Did you warn him off?" She chuckles, shaking her head, "That should fix him on your trail." The girl studies Jason warily for a few heartbeats... then cautiously smiles and shakes his hand, "H-hello... ?" She licks her lips nervously.

Jason ducks his head a little. Perhaps it will, and perhaps he knew that, too. Or perhaps it was already set in stone. The question, though, is not why Joe does what he does... it's why Jason does what he does -- and he can feel the rage underneath, the part of him that wants to tell Joe to walk up underneath the butte, and kick rocks over his corpse. He pushes it down. "No reason you should remember me. I was just another guy at the time. But if you'll let me, I'll help you out. What's your name?"

The girl blinks again, absently tucking a loose strand of dark hair back behind one ear. She protests softly, "No, no, I remember you." She studies him unblinkingly, "I, uh... I'm... I'm Hepsi?" As she watches him she raises her right hand to her mouth and lightly licks her palm. The girl stiffens after licking her palm, her eyes widening with awe, "Oh! You -- you're-" and then she lunges forward, trying to throw her arms about Jason's neck and give him a kiss.

Jason tilts his head. It doesn't feel like the absolute truth, but he doesn't mind that much. What's important is a name to call her. Trust will come later. "Pleased to meet you. Nowmmmphll!"

Herfjotur raises an amused eyebrow, then continues checking each weapon in Joe's truck, making sure they're all completely empty. For someone who doesn't know the names of the various types of guns, she certainly handles them with complete, calm competence. Guthrum comes jogging back, only the faintest bit breathless as he rumbles, "Done." The girl continues to hungrily kiss Jason, clinging to him as if her life depended on it, and a moment later Remiel's voice curiously asks, "What's going on?"

What happens next is interesting. In most movies, or other literary creations, the guy doesn't usually stop the girl from kissing him -- or at least not right away. But two things go right through Jaons's head when Hepsi lunges in. One is that Hepsi is a supernatural, so her kiss is likely not just a kiss -- and the second was what happened the last time he kissed someone that was not Diana. They're far away now, but that doesn't make him less loyal to her -- or at the very least, unwilling to cause future conflict. He worms his arms between himself and Hepsi, trying to break her fierce embrace. "Hepsi... thissmmm... please stop... "

The slight girl wriggles insistently as Jason gently pries her away from him, and when even her lips can't reach him any more she mutters protestingly, then sighs. Her eyes are nearly dreamy as she purrs softly, "Ohhh... I needed that! Thank you, succulent."

Herfjotur says nothing, but Remiel gasps softly. Guthrum rumbles confusedly, "He's a cactus?"

Jason looks wry. "While I'm more than happy to, uh... well, to be helpful, it's usually polite to ask... first," he starts to say to Hepsi -- and then memory sparks, and his eyes get wide. Her? The muttering one in his dreams is this one? He expected some powerful creature, not this slip of a girl. He recovers then, even as his face is burning. "Were you hurt? Or has it just been a while since you fed?" he asks solicitously.

Hepsi sighs again, almost slumping back against the side of the truck, and Herfjotur speaks, "Remiel, take the girl. Jason, you can ride with me. We can chat later, when we're safe."

Jason looks at Remiel over Hepsi's shoulder, as if to say 'not now.' He clears his throat. "Yes... yes, you're absolutely right, Herfjotur. Leaving now would be wise."

Hepsi blushes, turning her head so Jason can't see her face as she mutters, "S-sorry, Jason. I, uh, yeah." She sighs, grabbing her backpack and muttering, "About five centuries or so!" before she turns to hop out of the truck and follow Remiel.

Remiel tilts his head puzzledly at Jason's look, "Pardon, Jason?"

Jason hums. "About the... cactus thing. Later." He gets his things and goes to get himself situated with Herfjotur.

Remiel looks yet more puzzled as he closes the truck door on Joe, smiling at Jason, "Er... that was Guthrum, not myself." He murmurs quietly and quickly to Guthrum as they all head for the motorcycles, simultaneously tucking his now clean and wet bandanna in around his lower face. The larger man nods and grunts once, and shortly thereafter all five of them are on the motorcycles.

Curiously, Herfjotur has Jason simply stand next to hers for a moment before mounting up; the low growl of the engine sounds momentarily almost menacing. Jason stands patiently. To say that Herfjotur's name was clearly remembered by him would be wrong. But he had read the Grímnismál. "Is it difficult for you, warrior?" he asks gently of the biker woman. "In a strange land without your sisters, and Valfreyja?" he queries quietly, sympathetically.

Herfjotur stiffens noticeably where she sits astride the bike, and it snarls again... then she simply says, "We are survivors. Get on." Her voice is muffled by the reflective helmet, but Remiel looks over suddenly, watching them both silently. Jason nods and sits behind Herfjotur, seating himself carefully. Her words confirming his suspicions, he leaves it be.

The threesome ride eastward for an hour or so, but then turn onto a northern road -- much to Hepsi's squealed dismay. Remiel quietly explains to her that they need to throw Joe off the trail, and this is the fastest way to do so. She falls silent again, but Jason can see unhappiness in the tension of her thin shoulders. Guthrum's motorcycle is obviously laboring somewhat, and the others slow for him. Finally, when the sunset is a riot of glorious color off to their left, the bikers pull into the parking lot of a small motel and restaurant. Guthrum immediately pulls off his helmet and opens his saddlebags to pull out a toolkit, settling down cross-legged next to his bike. Remiel sighs as he dismounts, swaying from exhaustion, and Herfjotur nearly teleports over to catch him. The tired biker apologizes embarrassedly, and Herfjotur simply growls, "Into the restaurant, everyone. Now." To Guthrum she adds, "When you're done."

Hepsi lags behind, a worried look on her face. She glances sideways at Jason, whispering, "Do you have any money?"

Jason is about to sidle up to Remiel, clearly concerned for Guthrum's mount, but then Hepsi intercepts him. "A bit. Taking a trip, after all, you tend to need it. Long as you don't want me to buy the hotel, I can take care of it," he assures. "Of course, I'd be interested in knowing more about the girl I'm helping out. What's your story?" He decides, for now, not to confront her about her muttering in his dreams. Let's see what simple friendliness can get him first.

Hepsi brightens in relief, "Fantastic! Trade you a story for dinner?" Remiel chuckles wearily at her tone, glancing over his shoulder at her, "You're a Trickster, aren't you?" The slight girl gives the exhausted biker a wounded look, "Me?! What a mean thing to call me!" Herfjotur snorts amusedly, continuing to firmly steer the other biker into the restaurant.

When the travel-stained group enter the restaurant, there's a sudden flurry of consternation from the young woman there, "Oh! Oh, my; wait, wait -- over here, please!" She looks around anxiously, "Where's Guthrum? Is he all right? What's wrong with Remi?" The angel laughs softly and thanks her gently, reassuring her that Guthrum is outside and will be in soon.

Jason is very curious now. A trickster that gets essence from kissing? Wouldn't they get it more from tricking or teaching? But then he's distracted by the woman fussing over them. "Huh. I take it you've been here before?" he inquires of Remiel. "Safe haven of sorts?"

The woman blinks at Jason, then smiles, extending her hand, "Carrie -- this's my place!" There's a touch of pride in her voice before she adds with fervent earnestness, "The Riders saved my babies' lives, and mine -- they're always welcome here!" She smiles down gently at Hepsi, adding, "Did they save yours too, darlin'?" Hepsi blinks up at her, nodding wide-eyed.

Jason stifles a laugh into something that sounds like clearing his throat. It's the truth, but the way Hepsi looks makes it seem like she's beefing up her vulnerability. "Well. In that case, I'm more than happy to accept your hospitality, Ms. Carrie. We've had... an interesting day, and we all need some respite -- and a meal, please." Jason looks at his new companions. There's enough storytelling to go around for all of them.

The attractive young woman beams at Jason, "Of course, of course! Sit, sit -- I already know what the Riders will want, but what do you and-" she glances at Hepsi, who's curling up next to Jason. The woman smiles, "and your little sister want to eat?"

Jason coughs! Little sis... oh boy. He recovers urbanely enough, and before too long there's food and drink for those that partake. When he's certain they have a modicum of privacy, he pipes up. "Who wants to go first? Remiel and the tale of the Apple? Or, heh... Little Sister and her tale of the open road?

Hepsi has a huge mouthful of food -- she's been putting it away like there was no tomorrow! She looks up and murfles something with her mouth full, which causes Remiel to flinch amusedly from the slight spray, then hastily raise a hand, "I'll go first." He's been drinking his beer and eating with care, cautious to keep his head tilted and his face covered while he's chewing -- it's clear eating is not easy for him. The biker has another careful sip of beer, then looks at Jason with those warm, smiling eyes, "Ask your questions, please? That makes it much easier to know what you're looking for."

Jason spreads his hands. "She called it earlier -- Herfjotur. I don't understand what I hold, but you seem to. I'm trying to understand where the apple comes from, what it does, how it does it. Is it like the sweetwater source, or is it finite? And can it be used in pieces or all at once?"

Remiel looks confused, "Who called Herfi when, please?"

Jason looks wry when he realizes Remiel doesn't understand the slang. "I mean... she was correct. When she said about the apple, not knowing its worth. About me not knowing its worth, that is."

Herfjotur nods silently, determinedly eating her way through a thick steak. Remiel laughs softly, nodding, "Ah, I understand now. Yes, the apple is finite, and yes, it can be used in small slices." He has another sip of beer, then muses aloud, "As to where it comes from and how it does what it does... I have only speculation there, I fear. I know it heals, I know it must be freely gifted without coercion, and I know you must be special to have one." His warm-eyed gaze is wry above the bandanna, "I confess I am somewhat surprised you are quite so... casual about the marvelous gifts you have. Do you have so many that you can afford to be so? Is that what the sphynx did for you? You mean the one in Las Vegas, yes?"

Jason spreads his hands. "She's the only one I know. But no, I don't know why I was given the apple. I know the who, but not the why. But I do know that I'm on an important journey, and that the gift is likely relevant to that -- and it is the mission that is important. The people. Not the things. Possessions are only as important as who uses them. The greatest gifts I have ever been given is knowledge, friendship, and love. Everything else is superficial, even a healing apple -- and if a piece of it will restore you, then I am glad to offer it. Of course, I will likely need your help again before this is all done. So I consider it an investment in a healthy relationship."

Remiel's eyes brighten and he laughs softly, with joy. Herfjotur goes still for a moment, closing her eyes and murmuring something under her breath... then she smiles at Remiel. Herfjotur smiling is a bit of a shock -- there is a sweetness, a generosity and a warmth, that lights her face, softening the harshly uncompromising lines into simple determination. After that she turns her face to Jason, her expression once more simply stern as she says, "Thank you." Pragmatically, she goes back to eating her steak.

Jason is warmed by Remiel's smile. The angel has likely been aching for a long time, hurt by the wound his Lord has dealt him. So Jason is glad to offer the angel the simple joy he can: a man willing to stand with him, and prove that his faith in people is not wrong. When Jason sees Herfjotur smiling, of course, there is surprise that her face does not crack! He clears his throat. "Of course," he says diplomatically.




Last modified: 2009-Jul-27 12:07:55

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