<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/89/Onnecamug1.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Onneca de Goni<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha's House<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Agatha, Open<br/><hr/><br/>She was unharmed. Saints be praised, Aggy was unharmed. All of the blood that she could feel on her own skin and Agatha's did not belong to the woman in her arms. Elisabeth, though-<acronym title="Mother of God">"Made Dios."</acronym>Her arms uncoiled from Agatha, let her stand on her own feet, but she was not going to let her go back alone. It was late. Someone had attacked Elisabeth. Her open-toed shoes scuffed delicately through the rooms of Agatha's house to retrieve her rebozo, her long multicolored scarf. It would keep the evening chill at bay, and it would give her modesty in the Gomorran streets, but perhaps most importantly, it would serve as a tourniquet for a woman bleeding uncontrollably. Elisabeth- Onneca paused at the end of her stride and her hands found her knees, and left bloody handprints in the cloth when she forced herself to keep moving.<br/><br/>It was now that she regretted not taking her holdout pistol to Agatha's. It was a gaudy and decades-old thing, A two-shot pistol with bullets she couldn't be sure would still work. There was an engraving on the handle of a cowgirl unlacing her bodice and winking, slightly worn from many a grasping hand. It had been won in a poker game, and her father had given it to her before he had died.<br/><acronym title="Dad, I don't need to carry a gun"><em>"Papá, no es necesario llevar un arma," </em></acronym>she had told him.<br/><acronym title="When you do need it, it will save your life"><em>"Cuando usted lo necesita, será salvar tu vida," </em></acronym>her father had said. It would be so reassuring to feel the weight of it in her hand, now, even if she were a terrible shot, even if she were absolutely unsure of the weapon. They were two women going out into the wolf's night, into the roads that had just days before claimed an armed and trained sheriff- roads that were now almost lawless. All that she had to propel herself was stupid bravery, and a love for Elisabeth...<br/><br/>...and Agatha, there at her side.<br/><br/>"Where is she?" Onneca moved quickly out the front door, and by the time the path met the shallowly worn road she was racing. The rebozo streamed behind her on the flaying mesa wind. There was a comfort to the night air, a familiarity to the spring chirps and the bugs that hovered in every square foot of sky like fertile pollen, the beetles that clung to man-made structures oblivious to the civilization they had stumbled upon. There was a sweet scent of night-blooming flowers in the air, but all she could smell was the blood.