<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/a16483c2858f862945634d46b9ad41b9/tumblr_mh480oybdg1r64urio1_500.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Jaelyn Scot-Jones<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>n/a<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>dusk<br/><strong>Location:</strong>stagecoach trail<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>driver (Guardian Angel), stranger (Priest)<br/><hr/><br/>“I can't see him at all,” he snapped.<br/><br/>Simple disbelief arched two feathery brows.  "But...  errmph!"  Too slow to avoid the viper's grasp, Jaelyn was caught again, her shoulder smashed into the solid man flesh as his motion twisted her wrist .  There was no care for her tender flesh, in the heat of the moment, then, concern for her was never really part of the mission.  Jammed up so close to the man, she could smell his sweat.  And his fear.  It was puzzling to know the small inexperienced hand gripping the pearl handled derringer was tight but steady enough, while the man who wore a holster like a second skin shook to his knees.  There was more to this blindness, to this ready willingness to gun down a man of God.<br/><br/>“You have been deceived.”  More to this bullet dodging moment she was witness to.<br/><br/>Jaelyn struggled to break free from the shackling appendage, needing to put some distance between herself and the unfolding scene.    The holy man continued his approach, determined with his own task, it seemingly more pressing than explanation.  She felt the growing anxiety of Grimm's man under his crushing grip, smelled...<em>urine?</em>There was no time to ponder the possibility of this hulk of a man pissing himself, there was her own growing terror in the face of...  what?<br/><br/>Coherent thoughts ceased as her mind only registered what her senses took in, cataloging it for possible later examination.  Because at the moment, there was no understanding the sights and sounds.  The sudden smell of burning flesh and sulfur had her thinking she was dreaming, so similar it was to a reoccurring nightmare.  Jaelyn knew she was awake because of the pain running in stripes down her forearm.  It was the burning kind that only comes with deep abrasion.  She had stumbled backwards when the thing that was no longer a man gave her up for a bigger fight, its scream tearing through her eardrums.<br/><br/>The stranger's words filled the air around them, gibberish to her ear, but commanding none the less.  She found herself then, literally coming back to some tangible awareness of the unfolding event.  Jaelyn was on her knees in the sand, skirt further battered and bunched up, arms stretched in front to come together with the precious little pistol firmly in hand.  Her questionable aim waivered from the thing on its back to the priest over top of it.  She had no idea how long she was in the purgatory of shock and awe.  Mere seconds, she hoped, as adrenaline surged through her body.  She gave a quick shake of her head, then blew an errant tuft of hair out of her face.<br/><br/><em>Demon?  Warlock?</em>It was hard to believe either.  Still, her gut told her to trust the holy man.  Could it be that Grimme didn't know his man was something  evil?<em>He knows, Jae.</em>Her gut was certain.  Still, it was hard to believe her eyes and ears.  Wide eyed and pale, the frightened and confused young woman was as ready as the immediate situation allowed, while she weighed the potential outcomes of running into the Maze.<br/>