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Author Topic: Coins of Memory - Chapter 6  (Read 1659 times)

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Online Laurna

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Coins of Memory - Chapter 6
« on: April 02, 2013, 04:39:33 am »

Previous chapter: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=1054.0

Chapter 6 - JK 9.18.985  3rd Coin 


Jessa Keryell sat under the ancient oak tree, in the main courtyard grounds within the walls of the Convent of Saint Clair.  The novices were enjoying the early afternoon breeze on this hot, late-summer day.  They listened to the sweet musical voice of Sister Desiree.  The poem she sang was in Latin of far earlier times.  The dulcet soprano carried the melodic theme that surrounded and caressed the group of young women resting under the tree.  It was after the Sunday noon prayer, and it was the one time in the week that Jessa could call her own.  All the young girls were dressed similarly in cream-colored habits, with sky blue scapulars, and soft muslin veils.  Some put needle and thread in hooped cloth, embroidering red songbirds and green thistle onto the white ground for the winter Twelfth Night celebration.  A few choir sisters lounged on shawls upon the fallen leaves, humming harmony with the main singer. 

Jessa, the oldest of the novice girls, sat far behind the others, their backs before her.  Of the close-knit group of six friends that she had grown up with, she was the last to remain a novice.  Two friends had taken their vows and found residence at the Cynfyn Cathedral.  Two had married knights of the realm the year before and her closest friend, Ida, had been bound in marriage to Titus, the Earl of Carcashale.  The last spring had been a joy of sewing Ida’s wedding gown and trousseau, her family having gifted her with yardage of soft, light blue silk for her wedding day.  The wedding had been one of the happiest days in Jessa’s memories.  The glory and splendor of seeing her closest friend married to a strong young Earl of Gwynedd had been the stuff of dreams.  She wondered if ever there would be a day like that for her.  She knew better than to make hopes of those dreams.  She came home to the convent the following week, realizing she was once more alone in her life.  She made peace with herself and turned all her energy to the study of the talents that were to be her destiny.

Jessa watched the backs of the young novices that hoped to make their vows soon.  They did not know Jessa well, and none of them understood why Jessa, at eighteen, remained in their midst.  All the girls of nobility would be married by this age, and all the others would have taken their vows.  The younger girls did not know of Jessa’s Deryni heritage; they did not know that the abbess denied her the solace of joining with God.  To them it appeared to be Jessa’s choice not to complete her vows, and in quiet ways, they shunned her for it.  The abbess enforced Jessa’s silence on the matter, frightening the Deryni girl with horrid tales of other’s Deryni fate.  As the one recompense, the abbess offered Jessa the book she now balanced on her extra-long sleeve.  The sleeve deliberately covered the deformity of her left hand, which led some to believe that this was the reason the girl felt tainted and impure, enough so as to keep her from taking her vows.

Paying little mind to what others thought, Jessa turned her thoughts back to studying the open page of the book in her lap.  The top of the page was titled ‘Mending Fractures of the Extremities.’  It was a Deryni healer’s dissertation on using specific mental abilities to pull splintered bone fragments back into place and to realign the bones.  After reading the neatly penned discourse several times, she realized why in her childhood she could never have managed this advanced healing technique.  She tried to imagine using the necessary principles of control, but without actually going into the proper healing trance, it was difficult to separate her conscious thought from the focused workings required.

Jessa finished the page and looked up at the blue sky with a soft smile.  It was not likely that she was to come in contact with broken bones anyway, she inwardly mused.  The Reverend Mother Phyla Mary rarely let her use her healing abilities except during moments in the birthing process.  She had been taught the knowledge of midwifery like all the sisters within the walls of Saint Clair.  The convent frequently functioned as midwives to the towns and villages within the northern Lendour Mountains.  The sisters were assigned to the cathedrals in the towns of Cynfyn and Drellingham, but often the convent sisters would have to ride out at a moment’s notice to help the pregnant women of the smaller villages and farms.  It was also frequent that women nearing their time came to the convent for their confinement.

Jessa was nine when the abbess summoned the orphaned girl into the infirmary.  At first, she had been excited to experience what the sisters often discussed in the halls, only to arrive within a room where a woman lay crying in pain.  The abbess had looked straight into Jessa’s eyes and told her to ease the woman’s birthing pain, or else the mother and the unborn baby might die.  How the abbess knew Jessa was Deryni, when she had meticulously kept her secret, Jessa did not know.  That was the day she used her healing abilities for the first time in three years, and that was the day the convent learned they had more than just a Deryni within their midst.

Nine years later, the Deryni healer flipped through the parchment pages, absently preparing to close the book.  A heading near the last page of the large volume caught her eye: ‘Double Shielding Techniques to reduce your vulnerabilities and protect your mind.’  The text began with the warning for healers to protect their knowledge, while in deep focused trances, from their patients.  Carefully applied techniques of double shielding prevented the gleaning of information from all but a deliberate Mind-Rip.  Jessa shivered, wondering what the passage meant.  She determined to work through the writings at a later time.  For now, she sighed and closed the book.
 
She studied its worn leather cover in her lap.  The tome was titled ‘The Healers’ Compendium’ from the University of Grecotha.  Apparently eighty years ago, there had been a school where healers came together to be taught their mastery.  Jessa craved such training.  She knew so little of her own abilities.  Unfortunately, the tome’s advanced thinking did more to confuse than educate.  The whole of this tome assumed much about its reader.  Throughout every division was an intense detailing, not just describing the physical techniques of healing, but explaining the focus of the practitioner’s mind and the strengths of power required.  Often these teachings were far more advanced than the novice, Jessa, was ready to grasp. 

When she questioned the book’s advanced knowledge with Sister Vivian, her teacher and mentor, the friendly nun told her to trust in God.  Her abilities came from him, and he would see her to success if she gave herself fully to him.  If only Jessa could tell Sister Vivian the reason for the core of her own beliefs.  To no one did she admit the holy visitations of the cowled angel that would appear before her as he covered her hands with his.  The miracle of his presence sustained the healing novice though the loneliness of convent life.  He was her mystery, her savior, her reason for being.  Her angel sent knowledge and life through her hands and she rejoiced in the rare moments of his presence.

About her angel, she knew of no one to trust with her questions.  Humans could not see him.  No one else had ever seen him.  She wondered if he was the angel of healing.  The healing talent was her own, but the knowledge and experience came from him.  She decided he must appear to all healers in need, although she knew of no other healer to ask if this was so. 

Jessa wished once more that she could talk to the only other Deryni nun whom she knew to be living within the walls of Saint Clair.  She recalled the kind face of the older nun who extended a comforting hand to a terrified child when she first came to this strange place.  Sister Meris had embraced the orphaned girl; she had protected Jessa when no one else would.  For three years, Sister Meris was Jessa’s teacher, her guardian, and substitute mother when the orphan had no other to help fight back the nightmares.  But then sadly they were separated.  I had been just a few months after Jessa had revealed her healing talent, Sister Meris took to seclusion within the inner cloister of the convent.  She sequestered herself away from the world and the nine year old that so needed her love.  The abbess told Jessa that Sister Meris searched for peace and health in God’s will.  Jessa heard the untruths in the Reverend Mother’s voice and she feared it had to do with Sister Meris’s teachings.  She prayed daily for the kind nun, and though they lived in the same walls, she only saw the occasional glimpse of her going to and from early morning prayers.  Once more, Jessa had felt the pain of loneliness. 

It was about then that Ida first joined the novice ranks.  With amazing swiftness, the two girls found a deep friendship between them.  Ida, the daughter of a northern lord, gathered the daughters of nobility around her.  The six maidens became inseparable in their support of one another.  In chores, studies, and prayers they were seldom apart.  They shared the stories of their homes and the dreams of young girl’s fantasies.  They respected Jessa’s secret abilities and sometimes, on late nights, behind locked doors, they would ask Jessa to show them her golden hand-fire that would light the room with the excitement of forbidden magic.

The days of teenage flights of fancy had disappeared with Ida’s marriage.  Jessa had asked to take her vows, and the Reverend Mother had refused her.  Deryni were tainted by their blood and were considered by some in the church to be the spawn of the devil and therefore outside the salvation of God.  To take her vows would place her in the reach of the Abbot of Saint Foillan upon whose lands the convent rested.  It was well known that the abbot desired to eradicate the magical population as a whole.  It was not infrequent that there was news of another tragic person being exorcised from a demon’s influence by burning on a pyre to release his or her tormented soul.  On these occasions, the Reverend Mother assured Jessa of her fortunate status of being protected by the walls of the convent.  As long as she remained compliant and loyal, the Deryni girl could consider herself safe from the intolerances of the outside world.

The East Gate bell rang in a deep tone from its mount on the outer tower.  The novices stopped, all silent and attentive.  They watched as Sister Isabel passed slowly across the courtyard.  No one used the eastern gate.  It opened to a steep descent which, once navigated, led to a worn dirt road that climbed upward to the Festil Pass.  There at the beginnings of the Molling River, the convent road joined the road west to Cynfyn Castle.  It was the long way around.  It was far faster to get to Cynfyn, or just about anywhere else, by the use of the convent west gate.  The walls surrounding the convent of Saint Clair were situated on the highest border of Saint Foillan’s vast holdings of land.  The convent’s west gate opened to the fields of dairy cattle above the Abbey proper.  Below the abbey, for the length of the valley, were terraced fields of grain.  Beyond the boundaries of the Abbey’s lands were two roads that led to the cities Jessa heard stories about but had yet to see.  The north road followed the river all the way to Valoret, and the south road circled the hills to lead to the valley of Cynfyn.

To what mischief was anyone at the eastern gate?  Mischief or not, after a passing of words through the wooden gate’s grille, Sister Isabel appeared reassured as she ordered the gates unbarred and opened.  Everyone about the small convent stepped close into the courtyard as three lathered war steeds in heraldry colored silks huffed and stomped up to the basilica steps.  Three equally out of breath knights pulled their helms from their heads and bowed to the Abbess as she walked out onto the highest step before the church’s bronze doors.  As Jessa came closer, she realized the odd marks of red splattering over the colored silks of the riders and mounts were dried blood. 

“Madam, I am Sir Artimus Cavalien, Lieutenant of the Lendour army.  I request the services of a physician from this house of God,” the lead knight informed the Abbess.  His war stallion pranced under the rider’s tight rein, showing the anxiety that his master was trying to keep from his voice.

“Here are midwifes and apprentices, Sir Artimus.  There is no physician or surgeon as one of men may need in this house,” the Reverend Mother Phyla Mary clearly stated.

The knight bowed his head respectfully, forcing a calmness into his voice.  “I pray that any service of medicine is better than none.  We are fifty knights escorting the Lord of Lendour home from the war.  We have been set upon by the enemy and have secured our victory.  Still, several are wounded and require medical attention.  The army’s battle surgeons are three days behind us.  Our need is more immediate.”

“We are not battle surgeons, Sir.  We are the daughters of Saint Clair and our training is in assisting of women in birth,” countered the Reverend Mother.

“But do you not have pain reducing medicines and clean linens for bandaging?” the knight pleaded.

“We do—,” answered the Abbess.  Jessa could see the head of the convent was not willing to give over even that much to this intrepid knight.

“Then I have been informed by the Earl of Lendour himself to request the convent’s assets in this greatest need.  Lord Muir is camped but an hour from here.  I am to escort what you can offer to my lord there safely.”

“You would do better to travel onward to Saint Foillan’s Abbey and request the offices of Father Harmon and Father Pernal.  They are the infirmarians of the Abbey and would care for war injuries far better than my daughters as midwives,” the Abbess proclaimed, remaining hardened to the needs of the knights before her. 

“Reverend Mother, I dare say that every minute we waste in discussion is a minute when lives could be lost.  The travel to Saint Foillan’s is another half hour to there and back here again, plus whatever preparation time they might require.  Those minutes could be time that might save lives if medication can be gained.  I am especially concerned for Sir Washburn, who is our Knight Captain and our lord’s brother.  Lord Muir said to inform you that this crisis is a defining moment.  He assured me you would offer us the proper assistance in our time of greatest need.”

The abbess looked hard into the eyes of the knight, dismayed.  A nod of reluctance turned the Reverend Mother’s head up to look across the courtyard.  Her eyes fell directly on Jessa for a moment, and the novice knew she would be called upon to help in the knight’s quest.  “Very well, Sir Artimus, I will supply what you have requested.  Go send your men onward to the Abbey to enlist the help of the physicians there.  Rest yourself but a few minutes by the well.  I will have the medical assistance you need ready in but a short time.”

“I will need someone who rides; we have no time for litters,” the knight requested anxiously.

“So it will be,” stated the Reverend Mother, while turning to the nuns around her.

The black haired knight bowed his thanks, and with short quick orders waved his two companion knights out the western gate.  He then watered his horse at the well, anxiously waiting.  His stance showed his doubt that the convent women could offer more than superficial help.  Nevertheless, he was desperate to get any help back in short time.

The Abbess made brisk orders to the sisters under her, and those women quickly disappeared inside to do her bidding.  “Have two horses saddled and geared,” she commanded Father Taft, who tended the stables on the outer side of the convent walls.  It was then that she turned to Sister Vivian, the youngest medical instructor at the basilica.  “I am leaving this task in your capable hands.”

“Yes Reverend Mother,” Sister Vivian responded.

“Gather your things quickly.  You will take novice Jessa with you; her small talented hands will be of the greatest use to you.”  Sister Vivian nodded, understanding the meaning behind the words. 

Sister Vivian was ten years older than Jessa.  She was the most understanding of Jessa’s talent and did her very best to help the healer succeed.  When Jessa was called upon to use her inherent healing abilities, it was always under the guidance of Sister Vivian.  The tolerant nun found ways to cover Jessa’s gift, especially since many would be mortified to find out the truth of a Deryni touching their minds.

“I worry she will not be safe among so many men,” Sister Vivian stated with concern.

The knight overheard.  Misinterpreting her true meaning, his retort held a singular tone, rebuking the offence.  “I will personally guarantee the safety of any woman within my care.”

“Yes, Sir Artimus, I trust that you will make it so,” the abbess stated flatly.  “My two daughters will be ready in a moment.  I will follow more slowly with full supplies.”

It was a short few minutes later when Sister Vivian and novice Jessa found themselves seated astride a pair of sure-footed mountain ponies.  The packs behind Jessa’s saddle were filled with supplies.  Both she and Vivian were well accustomed to the saddle for riding.  It was a required skill to maintain the frequent travels of their midwifery services.  Sir Artimus exhibited uneasy tension, wanting desperately to be back on the trail.  He had obviously resigned himself to an arduous long travel.  Jessa enjoyed the surprise on the knight’s face as both women picked up a trot just out of the eastern gate.  Once down the tricky descending cliff-side road, they steadied their ponies into a looping canter.

The three reached the Festil Pass just over the hour allotted.  It was now two hours after Sir Artimus had last seen the battle site.  His eyes reviewed the forming Lendourian camp, looking for signs that his time was good enough.  Anxiously, he trotted toward the Cynfyn banner flying over a pavilion now standing in the south side of the riverbed, under the shade of oaks.

Jessa pulled her pony up short just behind the tall knight.  Her innocent review of the battle site revealed the gruesome reality of war.  Far up the riverbed, a pyre of enemy bodies was burning in a raging thick black cloud.  Wild horses, not yet all caught, darted up and down the small valley looking for escape.  Piles of weaponry carried by the enemy were mounded on the north side.  Dark red and brown splatters covered everything from sand, to rocks, to trees.  It was amazing to her that so many men appeared to move around uninjured. 

Two men came forward to steady the bridles of the women’s ponies.  Two more men assisted the women down from their mounts.  Unaccustomed to so many men, with all eyes turned their way, Jessa shied back, sliding in close to Vivian.

“Arty!” called the greetings of a tall fair-haired warrior coming out from behind the pavilion’s flap entrance.  “You made good time.  Have you brought a surgeon?”  The knight’s keen eyes, already strained and creased with anxiety, turned with a flare of hope to Artimus’s companions. 

“My God, Dillon, is Wash inside?  Is he...”  The concern in Sir Artimus’s tone kept him from voicing his fears.

“He’s alive, my friend, but in a bad way,” Dillon said with a squeeze to Arty’s shoulder.  “I don’t think there is much time left, though,” he said with a doubtful look at the two women; obviously, neither was a physician.  Losing heart, he turned to the women in hopes their medicine would be enough.  “This way.”  He sighed in defeat.

Artimus motioned Vivian and Jessa to follow Sir Dillon through the heavy canvas opening.  The two women entered the earl’s round pavilion.  The stark inside had yet to be finished; only a single rug was stretched across the center of the canvas-covered ground.  Upon the rug knelt a golden haired man and a brown haired youth.  Both were intent on the recumbent man, whose pallor appeared near death.  The kneeling warrior in chain-mail held his eyes closed in stressed concentration.  His bare hands were placed strategically upon the supine wounded knight; right hand upon the forehead and left hand over the heart.  The dying knight’s features resembled the kneeling man’s; there was no mistaking that the two were kin.  The chest of the dying knight rose shallow and slow, matching the forced breathing of his brother above him.  Deryni magic, Jessa instantly recognized.  The kneeling youth in the Cynfyn livery had tears on his face.  His hands were placed over a wad of blood soaked cloth, which he held pressed deeply into a gash at the wounded warrior’s waist.  Practically ignored, as the least of their worries, was a broken shafted arrow protruding from an exposed wound in the knight’s left arm. 

Jessa watched Sister Vivian kneel at Sir Washburn’s right side and search for a pulse.  Her frown deepened as she caught Jessa’s eyes.  Jessa knew the meaning of her returned somber gaze.  She would have to do something quickly if she was to save this man’s life.

Jessa froze, her head in pain, her defensive shielding flared up to protect her mind.  She looked up, realizing the gold haired knight was the Earl of Lendour.  His probing mind was searching hers for identification.  The convent novice stepped back, afraid of this high Deryni lord.

“My lord, I am Sister Vivian and the novice with me is Jessa,” the nun said with informal greeting.  “We’ve been sent by the reverend mother at your request.” With concern she saw the earl’s eyes did not leave her novice’s face.  “Do we have your permission to do what needs to be done?”  She turned back to her novice, breaking the girl’s stare from that of the Lord of Lendour’s.  Not understanding Jessa’s hesitation her next words were said as a command.  “Jessa, clean your hands and sit there, at his left side!”  She pointed at the empty space between the earl and the squire.

As commanded, Jessa soaked her hands in a bowl of water, and then let a man pour alcohol into her palms.  She rubbed the liquid over her hands and wrists, using the familiar routine to release the tension of her mental shielding.  She knelt down across from Sister Vivian with a disquieting fear of the earl.  He did not relent from his bombarding gaze as he searched her eyes.  Jessa shrunk away from him, trying to think only of the knight on the ground, and how his life depended upon her actions of the next few moments.

Vivian’s next words were harsh, as she realized an unusual tension existed between the Earl of Lendour and the healer.  “Listen to me!  If you want this man to live, you will both do as I request.  My lord, I know you do not trust us, but we have strengths that can save your brother’s life!  I need you to be completely in tune to your brother’s needs.  Do not be distracted.

“And Jessa, this is no time for timidity.  You must be fully prepared to act the moment the pressure is released.  We must all do our part, for if one falters, than this man will die!”  Both pairs of Deryni eyes turned very serious at the hard truth.  “My lord, can you trust us in this?”  Sister Vivian asked, pressuring Lord Muir to yield.  He was not prepared for such a submission.  His hand reached out for Jessa’s wrist, he pushed on her mind the moment their skin met.  Her shields surrounding her private thoughts stood strong against his surging barrage.

“Are you the one?” he demanded within her mind.

Jessa flinched from his touch, but then she sensed the wounded man’s heart quiver.  She quickly realized she must either stand strong, or let this man die; there was no time to waste in half efforts.

“I can help him,” she declared, fighting back her fear. “I have a gift, but you must work with me.”  She looked up at the strong Deryni man.  Finding courage she did not know she had, Jessa held the lord’s gaze.  “Together, with both our strengths, we can find the means to save his life.”

A desperate spark of hope crossed Lord Muir’s eyes.  He let go of her wrist, returning his hand quickly to his brother’s chest, and reestablished the monitoring of his heart rhythm beneath his fingers.

He was connected with his brother and had control of the man’s labored breathing and heart rate.  Jessa instinctively knew she could not have done so herself; the wounded man’s Deryni shields were weak, but not so she, a stranger, could breach them.  She had never healed a Deryni before, and did not know how those shields might hinder her ability.  Briefly, she prayed she would succeed in this task.  She pulled forth a pendant that hung from the chain around her neck.  She clasped it tight in her disfigured hand, using the aura within the silver to calm her muscles and center her mind.  She found that place where her healing abilities surged with energy.  The needs of the man before her empowered her senses.  Jessa held her right hand against Vivian’s hand on the knight’s side in readiness, waiting for the moment when her untested powers would either save Sir Washburn or see him perish.

“Prepare yourselves.  When I pull the silk free, we all must act quickly.  Ready!  Now!”  Vivian called.

Jessa felt rather than saw the cloth pulled away from the gaping sword thrust.  She drove her right hand deep into the cut, quickly feeling for the sliced vein gushing warm blood across her fingertips.  Her fingers found the offensive breech and she focused her talent to seal it closed.  Sir Washburn flinched and his pulse weakly fluttered.  Lord Muir was there in control.  Jessa realized she had to be faster.  Her mind searched the wound.  The bowel was undamaged, although the kidney was bruised.  This, she could not reach with her right fingers to heal.  Her left hand released the pendant, and she touched the skin over the ribs.  She took her trance down a level and poured healing energy through her disfigured hand.  That was when her angel’s hands caressed her own.  He merged his infinite knowledge through her ability and showed her the way.  Together they repaired the organ’s damage, dissolving the pooled blood high in the left abdomen, and closed the membrane which held that organ separate from the bowel.

Jessa felt the warmth of her heaven-sent angel.  She knew him, and yet she did not.  She once believed he had been her father, but after many years and many healings, he had become her healing angel, the one who assisted her when times were most dire.  He helped her heal what she had not learned.  Here, he showed her where a link of chain mail had lodged under an artery, and how to move it with mental acuity away from the danger of nicking the vessel.  She turned her mind around the offensive metal, moving it as he showed her.  She succeeded in bringing the link up to her right fingers, pulled it out, and then dropped it on the rug beside her. 

Her fingers once more entered the partially healed wound.  Her angel’s mind shared his knowledge with her.  He showed her how to strengthen the body’s tissues to defend against the evils of infection.  As she succeeded in following his unspoken instruction, the deep grey eyes softened with approval.  If only she could talk to him, this apparition of her father’s medallion.  As she sealed the inner membranes of the abdomen closed, he faded from her.  She took in a deep breath, as if she had been afraid to breathe with her angel so near.  Lord Washburn, as well, took a gasping breath, and was once more breathing of his own accord.  She steadied her mind to gain the energies necessary to pull the abdomen muscles together, and mentally knit the wound closed.

She was disrupted in the attempt.  A pair of large, ring-covered hands pulled at her shoulders and moved her aside.  Startled and suddenly dizzy with vertigo, she raised her head to see two monsignors of the abbey bluntly take charge of the situation.  The earl was aghast with protest on his lips.

Sister Vivian stopped his challenge, her face twisting with her own concerns about the new arrivals.  “My lord, your physicians are here.  Your brother is in skilled hands.  We will return if we are allowed.”  Jessa, still swaying unsteadily as she stood, allowed the older nun to usher her protectively from the human physicians’ sight.


Next chapter: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=1061.0
« Last Edit: April 09, 2013, 04:38:59 am by Laurna »

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 6
« Reply #1 on: April 02, 2013, 07:58:23 am »
So much to ponder over in this chapter!  Methinks our dear Abbess knows more than she is willing to admit; how convenient that she supplied the Healer's Compendium.  Or that she had one in the first place!  But she hides away Sister Meris at an important point in Jessa's life.  Hmmm. I am eagerly awaiting the next chapter.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 6
« Reply #2 on: April 02, 2013, 12:49:37 pm »
Good to see that Jessa can keep a good head on her shoulders in an emergency.  And it's also nice to see Sister Desiree again....  (/me grins at Laurna.  Inside joke, y'all.  Moving right along....   ;) )
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Online Laurna

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 6
« Reply #3 on: April 02, 2013, 03:56:09 pm »
ROFL!   ;) Evie, I still have not recovered from that embarrassment.   
Fortunately, I can laugh at my own failings so I will happily tell all.  Sister Desiree unbeknownst to me had been auto corrected to be Sister Disarray. In Evie's polite way of correcting me she asked. Um, did this nun mean to take on a religious name that means "A state of disorganization or untidiness,. I still have giggles every time I  read that part.  :)

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Coins of Memory - Chapter 6
« Reply #4 on: April 02, 2013, 06:58:37 pm »
Ah, then Sister Disarray is the patron sister of my house.  ;D
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Karma: 28
DesertRose DesertRose
Karma: 19
Jerusha Jerusha
Karma: 17
revanne revanne
Karma: 12
Laurna Laurna
Karma: 11

* Online Time

TheDeryni TheDeryni
115d 20h 24m
Evie Evie
105d 13h 4m
DesertRose DesertRose
93d 19h 45m
AnnieUK AnnieUK
53d 22h 35m
Alkari
32d 18h 16m

* Forum Staff

Bynw admin Bynw
Administrator
TheDeryni admin TheDeryni
Administrator
DesertRose admin DesertRose
Administrator
Evie admin Evie
Administrator
Shiral gmod Shiral
Zipper Sister
Unicorn636 gmod Unicorn636
Zipper Sister
Laurna gmod Laurna
Donor
EvilEd gmod EvilEd
Global Moderator
revanne gmod revanne
Donor
KK gmod KK
Our Queen
gmod Alkari
Donor
AnnieUK gmod AnnieUK
Donor
Jerusha gmod Jerusha
Donor

* Board Stats

  • stats Total Members: 620
  • stats Total Posts: 16665
  • stats Total Topics: 1919
  • stats Total Categories: 12
  • stats Total Boards: 126
  • stats Most Online: 181

* Calendar

November 2017
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