<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><div class="floatright">(http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k132/BriBla/454a23a1-68d1-4e94-80cf-f6831337e4f1_zpstunwppnx.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:  Maria Lucia  (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11550235#msg11550235)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: A small village in Italy near the sea<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: N/A<br/><strong>Content</strong>: Prologue[/size]<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">The dark haired woman who rather seemed to be nothing more then diminutive doll perhaps brought home as a reminder of a time spent in a more exotic locale settled into her chair. Hands seemed uncomfortable as they smoothed the the dove grey trouser line giving the perception that perhaps she had exchanged bright colored home spun skirt and blouse for the outfit just to not look so stunningly out of place. The tapered fingers raised as she swept the line of dark hair back, to lock behind one ear as if to hear the man she was settled across from better. Lips curved into something that whispered of a smile, but was the furthest thing from it as nostrils gave such a light flare, as if the scent of his breath offended her delicate sensibilities.<br/><em><br/>"You have mastered the art of circumlocution, Father Ignacio."</em> The intonations of her voice met the air, with the faintest trickle of accent, as those eyes met the Father's own blue ones. Fingertip, just the nail of index finger played along the line of the teacup tracing back and forth as if the idle motion soothed some perturbed part of her brain. <em>"Perhaps it is my fault and you feel you can. Perhaps I have inadvertently lead you to believe I wish to to assuage my impious proclivities towards your beliefs."</em> the lightest rotation of her wrist brought the tea cup to her lips so that a small sip of the bitter liquid she preferred to tea could coat the tongue in acidic bite. <br/><br/>Only when the cup was laid back to rest to saucer and eyes had turned to gaze not at the Father whose jaw tensed as the veins slightly pushed out on his forehead, would words come from her lips once more. Of course, the fact she turned her head to look past him to the smaller park where children played their games brilliantly happy in the sunlight and air, was far from lost upon him. <em>" I believe the term you were looking for is mercenary. Don't you find it a bit amusing, Father, that it holds merce in it? And while I have an understanding that what I am demanding seems to you as a rather large bit of effrontery  to your system of beliefs that leads you to believe.."</em> A pause there, as a dark brow knitted before smile warm retook the lips, and yet never reached the eyes. <em>" well to be polite, that leads you to believe whatever it is that brings you comfort from the offal you know is spewed out like truth, and swallowed down by those so in need of something to hold fast too</em>." <br/><br/><em>"May God find it within his heart to.." </em> The raise of the woman's body from the chair before the good Father even had time to finish the words that were flowing so naturally to his tongue as if they were their own 'magic' spell to be cast when he needed to steel his own belief. Just a few steps of comfortable shoes to the ground and she was beside him, her hand reaching to touch the black cloth that covered his shoulder. Eyes closed as she pulled in breath tainted with the burning bitterness of her drink, letting her own small shoulders pull back as she pushed just a bit, just enough for him to feel the slow display of 'something' within. Man of the cloth, and one who knew the Pariah's talents shuddered as his head turned and panic made eyes widen just a bit. Sign of the cross, oh he made it with calloused fingers as if to ward off some brujah, or some other primitive evil. <br/><br/>The sadness in the doll's face as she slipped her hand from his shoulder to his pocket almost bittersweet in it's reflection. "<em>You are good man, Ignacio. And I know that the things I need will be delivered to the arranged place before weeks end. In return you can tell your superiors that I will see to assuaging Frau Aster's regrettable heaviness of heart." </em>The sweetness and warmth that accent gave to her voice as she lowered her head could be seen as tenderness even as the Priest shuddered when her lips brushed his brow and allowed her fingers to pluck the small envelope coded just for her.<br/><br/><em>"Go with your God, Ignacio, and may he be strong enough to protect you. Out of all of the ones they send to speak to me, you are my favorite. I think it is that inside, somewhere you don't even want to admit too, you know the truth. And it scares you, as it should. Or maybe it's because you do not treat me like a mad dog, on the short chain never allowed in the house, but kept alive just to drive fear into the hearts of the neighbors. Either way thank you for the company, and the dossier.  </em>" <br/><br/>As if she were merely part of some propaganda set, a random face in a background where everything blended so that the real story could be watched by attentive eyes she moved. A faint sound rising from her lips as she placed scarf over her head so that wind would not muss the line of those dark curls, tied off rather smartly underneath her chin. The children, those sweet darlings at place they received a truthful smile from her delicious and warm. Or perhaps it was the realization that she had played her hand and if everything moved as it should, then she would be not only a thousand miles away, but a few steps closer to where she needed to be. <br/></span>