<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5a/Agatha-avi.jpg) </div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Agatha Dunwich<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>August 11, 1875<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bodega de Goni<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Agatha twirled the simple garter around her finger watching the pirate gypsy queen’s approach, doing her best to stifle a giggle at the queen bedecked in a fabric worth more than the remaining underclothes Agatha wore, she was doing a poor job of it.  The flicker of harsh reality was hidden by gossamer cloth and Onneca’s infection laugh.  She slipped the garter over both wrists, loose silken bonds easily tightened with a twist of a captor’s wrist.<br/><br/>“I surrender.” She managed between laughter.  Much of the ribbon had fallen from her but for a rich deep blue strand draped across her shoulders.  A simple glance about the bodega would reveal the extent of “damage” of their girlish game.  Ribbon and yarn littered the shelves and bolts of cloth.  Agatha herself stood in a puddle of color, deep and rich in the darkness of the shop.  Onny’s smile was bright and happy and reflected in Agatha’s eyes and lips.  She had needed this, much more than she realized.<br/><br/>“It has been a long time since I felt like myself.” She admitted realized with a hint of sadness that the game was now over.  “I think I had forgotten.  Thank you Onny.” Agatha said feeling soft fingers take her outstretched hands.  The garter slipped up her arms fleeing fingers curling together with her own.  For Agatha Gomorra was a final hope, a place where maybe she could stop running from herself.  A place where a strange young Irishwoman could be allowed to live how she wanted, in the way she wanted.  Like Onneca did.  But did she dare too?<br/><br/>The touch of the cross was warm from its resting place and heavy like the wearer bore a bit of the weight of the savior on their shoulders.  Agatha remembered the cross and Onneca’s father.  He reminded Agatha of her own father, stern and rough, with much love for the little girl he brought into the world.  She stepped closer when Onneca covered the cross in their hands and her head bowed in silent benediction, her forehead coming to rest against Onneca’s.<br/><br/>Onneca’s words shocked and surprised her.  The moment broken by another giggle at the thought of them sneaking out onto the mesa in nothing but there unmentionables. “That would be very bold.  Someday I am going to hold you to that Onneca de Goni, but I think it is time that we clean-up your wonderful shop and there is the issue of my attire, or lack thereof."  Agatha said stepping back but not letting go.   She had ideas for something functional and elegant and she knew Onneca could come up with something Agatha could wear at work and still look beautiful.  Her friend seemed to always make her feel beautiful.<br/><br/>(End Scene)<br/>