Lydia was relieved that he didn’t require a blood oath. Her blood was unique and sometimes forces wanted it for more nefarious reasons that simply binding vows. She smiled at the fluid manner in which he slid to the floor and then the sensuous but innocent way with which he looked up at her.<br/><br/>He seemed to know more about her mind that she was used to others knowing and it unsettled her to no end. With great effort, she forced on the water dripping from the stones and the tender splashes from the waterfall on the walls by the entrance.  These worked to ground her to the energy found around her.<br/><br/>He had a right to understand her bloodline and what she was, Lydia thought, when he asked. What right did he have? Another voice in her head demanded, but Lydia trusted him. Creatures borne of magic were rare in this day when people were too busy to seek the old gods. Society ran scared of the changes they did not understand and ragged by the day to day existence to survive. Starvation and predation preyed on their minds until no one had time for meditation<br/><br/>Putting her hands in her lap and staring into the pinprick of light on the other end of the cave, Lydia began to intone her life’s tale.<br/><br/>“I have lived before in many lifetimes. I am not immortal for I die if I am burned. I hate burning for it hurts like nothing else. But  my soul is old and I have been burnt several times. As soon as I die, a body is waiting for me to be born once more. I come as a babe and grow into an adult but as you see me now, I do not age more. Where I differ from the mortal child is that I come with all my knowledge of my power and all my magic. I do not have to relearn my craft any more than a bird has to be taught how to build a certain kind of nest or fly south for the winter. Unlike the bird, however, I continue to build on my knowledge. I am usually born into a family of witches so all they have to teach, I add to abilities.<br/><br/>My blood is poison to the nobles, but if they knew this, they would only see it as a challenge to seduce my affections. In one of my life times, I loved a noble. He was mighty and powerful. His mother was a noble, but his father was a high ranking demon. In my love for Malachai, I developed a potion that would render my blood non poisonous and I could be kept forever as a food source, never to change and never to die from this treatment.  What I understand is that in their tomes is the  legend of Isolde of Fiery Hair. And from what my Grandmother said, it is told in their ranks as encouragement for a quest among the Lords of the nobles. She could see happenings her in her gazing ball.<br/><br/>I look nothing like that cycle of life, “ she explained, pointing to her raven black hair and delicate white skin. “ so there is nothing to give me away.”<br/><br/>Color crept into her face. Perhaps she had said too much to this man, this creature. How did she know he was not a scout for the nobles? How did she know if he was a mercenary answering to the highest bidder? She frowned and turned to Shenyo<br/><br/>“Tell me of the magic that interfers with your powers? I can either avoid using that particular kind of magic or can tell you if that is or is not part of my repertoire of skills.”<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>