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Offline Evie

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Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« on: September 23, 2011, 09:24:59 am »
   Chapter Three

   Rhemuth Castle
   January 6, 1136—Twelfth Night Revels


   Duncan McLain stood slightly apart in Kelson’s Great Hall watching the post-feast revelry, a faint smile on his face.  He was not here in any official capacity tonight, simply as an observer and participant in the general celebration, so he had left off his robes of episcopal purple for the evening and had even managed to avoid clerical black, settling instead for a tunic of midnight blue silk-lined velvet that he rarely wore but sometimes trotted out for special occasions.  Only his bishop’s ring remained to remind those he mingled with of his rank as Rhemuth’s Auxiliary Bishop, and on this occasion he preferred it that way.  There were a few folk, mostly those who only knew him from afar, who felt inhibited about engaging in revelry in a priest’s presence, much less a bishop's, as if they thought the clergy merely showed up at such events to frown in disapproval and stand in spiritual judgment over them for their merrymaking.  And certainly some revelers’ preferred methods of merrymaking might lead to immoderate and even immoral behavior, but it wasn’t Duncan’s purpose to dampen anyone’s enjoyment of the festivities by his presence this night.  No, like everyone else, he too needed a bit of recreation from time to time to dispel the cares and worries of daily life for a few precious hours.

   Across the room, he caught a glimpse of Alaric and Richenda, and as if drawn by his gaze, Richenda turned her head at that moment to intercept his look.  She smiled, turning to say something to her husband briefly before heading Duncan’s way.  

   “You look quite handsome tonight,” she murmured approvingly as he inclined his head in greeting once she’d reached his side.  “I caught a glimpse of you early on in Court during the knighting ceremony, but I didn’t see you after that or at the feast; were you caught up in Schola business again?”

   “Father John and I both, although we managed to make it back in time to change into our Court finery and catch the last few courses served.   I think I’ve managed to keep him from escaping back to the Royal Library, so if you catch him lurking in some corner of the Hall looking lost and out of his depth, have mercy on the poor man and help him find his feet.”

   Richenda laughed.  “I’ll keep an eye out for him.  Do you suppose Father John knows how to dance?”

   Duncan grinned.  “I haven’t a clue.  I certainly haven’t danced with him.”

   Her eyes sparkled with mischief.  “You and Dhugal should teach him the Bordermen’s sword dance sometime.”

   He shook his head, his grin widening.  “Dhugal could, mayhap.  I’ve not tried it in so long, I’m likely to chop off my feet at the ankles!”  He glanced towards the center of the Hall as a swirl of movement caught his eye, and he realized a new dance had started.  Richenda’s firstborn son flashed a brief smile in their direction as the steps of the dance brought him closer to where his mother and the bishop stood, but the lady in his arms soon recaptured his full attention.  “Is that one of the Earl of Jenas’s daughters?” Duncan asked Richenda as they moved past.

   She shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  As far as I’ve been able to make out, Brendan’s intent is to dance with every pretty maiden in the Hall before the night’s out, and possibly half the matrons as well.  Jesú, I don’t know where he finds the energy!  Alaric and I are half dead already, and we weren’t the ones holding an all-night vigil!  Don’t look for us to stay through the end of the revels.”

   Duncan grinned.  “No, we’re old enough now to have the good sense to catch some sleep when we can.   I have a present for our newly-knighted Earl of Marley, by the way, but I suppose it can wait until tomorrow evening, once he’s recovered from tonight’s festivities.”

   “I’ll let him know,” Richenda said.  “Is it that lovely R’kassi hunting saddle you pointed out to Alaric a few weeks back? “

   “It is, but don’t breathe a word about it to Brendan.  I want to surprise him.”

   Her cornflower blue eyes twinkled up at Duncan.  “I won’t say a word about it.  Though I’m sure it will look quite fine on his new horse.”

   Duncan laughed.  “Alaric did buy it for him, then?”

   “He did.  And you’ve not lived until you’ve tried to hide a horse from a young man who visits the stables almost daily!”

   A movement beyond Richenda caught his eye, and Duncan glanced past her to see Princess Rothana approaching them.  It took him a moment to be certain it was Rothana; he hardly saw her anymore wearing any other garments than the customary gray cowled robe and white veil favored by the Servants of Saint Camber while they were on Schola grounds, but that night she had exchanged her scholar's robe for a luxuriant gown of plum-colored damask.  Beside her, chatting animatedly, was an woman of middle years who appeared to be closer to Richenda's age than Rothana's, though no less lovely than her more youthful companion.  She looked oddly familiar, although he couldn't quite place her.  Her gown of sapphire silk offered a cool contrast to the thick braid of dark auburn hair held in place by a caul of golden netting beneath her veil.

   The woman in blue turned to face him fully, and he realized why she'd looked so familiar.  He'd seen that face nearly every day, just never without its usual frame of linen veil and wimple.  Helena's blue eyes lit with recognition as her gaze caught his, and a smile blossomed.  He stood rooted in place, unaccountably nervous for a moment, before recovering his senses and silently chiding himself.  I was just caught off guard, he thought to himself, that's all.  

   The women reached Richenda.  Helena offered her a deep curtsey in greeting and a whispered “Thank you” before turning to greet Duncan.  “Happy Twelfth Night, Father.  I hope your business went well this evening?”

   He had to think a moment to realize what she meant; all thoughts of the day's earlier business had fled his mind completely.  “Oh, yes,” he assured her after a few heartbeats.  “Quite so.  I'm sure John will be eager to show you the newest Library acquisition sometime tomorrow.”

   Helena's lips quirked.  “Are you certain he'll be in any condition to?”  She tilted her head towards one of the Great Hall's shadowed alcoves, where the younger priest stood surrounded by several of Dhugal's Transha men.  “Have you noticed what Sir Jass and his party are up to yet?”

   The bishop tried to peer through the crowd and the torchlit darkness of night to see more clearly.  “No....”

   “They're giving the poor man shots of Ballymar whisky, supposedly to educate his palate, but I suspect their ulterior motive is to coax him out into the dance floor.  He's been hiding from the ladies, claiming he's got two left feet.”

   Duncan gave a startled laugh.  “Jesú!  And getting him drunk is supposed to change that?”

   “Oh, I rather doubt that, but at the moment I suspect he's a wee bit beyond caring how well he dances.”

   He shook his head, amused despite himself.  “I'd better go rescue him.”

   Helena's eyes danced up at him beneath the front edge of her silken veil.  “I'm sure his aching head will be grateful to you in the morning.  Not to mention his sense of dignity.”

   Duncan prepared to rescue his friend, but his son, noticing what was happening at roughly the same time, got there first, deftly confiscating the bottle with one hand while looping his free arm around Father Nivard, gently steering the intoxicated priest away from his Transha retainers under the guise of engaging him in conversation.  The bishop heard a quiet snicker behind him and turned to see his cousin Alaric.  “Neatly done,” the Duke of Corwyn murmured, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners with amused approval.  As they approached the hearth, Dhugal deposited the priest into the keeping of a matronly looking woman in religious habit.  Despite the distance between them, Duncan readily identified the woman as Sister Therese, the infirmarian.

   Alaric claimed his wife, sweeping her into the throng of people gathered at the center of the room in preparation for the next dance.  Princess Rothana was next; she laughingly attempted a refusal, but her would-be dance partner was young Sir Corin of Llyr, exerting every ounce of his not inconsiderable charm to coax the lady onto the dance floor, and since she was well aware that the newly knighted son of Llyr's Ard-Tiarna had no interest in pursuing her for any other purpose beyond the pleasure of a shared dance or two, she eventually allowed herself to be persuaded.

   Duncan found himself standing next to Helena, who favored him with a quick smile before turning her gaze back to the gathered dancers, now taking their places in the set as the musicians readied themselves to play the opening notes of the next dance.  While he was still trying to decide if it would be appropriate for him to ask her for a dance or not, the decision was taken from him.  “Sister Helena,” he heard a familiar voice say, “I believe there's a need for one more couple to make up the final set.  Might I have the pleasure of your company for this dance, Magistra?”

   She gave the newly-knighted Earl of Marley a graceful curtsey, offering him her hand so he could lead her out onto the dance floor.  Duncan felt a small pang of regret, but it was swiftly forgotten as a touch of a hand on his arm distracted him.  He glanced down to see Sophie smiling up at him.

   “I almost didn't recognize you, Father Duncan.  You're not swathed in purple or black, and there's not a single book in sight.  Are you having an enjoyable evening?”

   He was, he realized, now that he thought about it.  “Yes, quite.  Are you?”

   “Deliriously happy,” Sophie assured him.  “You'll note, of course, the absence of small children clinging to my skirts at the moment.”

   He laughed.  “Is that what's different?” he teased.  “And where is Seisyll?  Why isn't he rendering you dizzy with dancing?”

   She smiled.  “Oh, he did earlier in the revel, but now he's sidetracked.”  She gave a tilt of the head towards the section of the Hall where Seisyll stood having a quiet conversation with Prince Nigel and a man who, once he turned his head slightly, Duncan recognized as Sir William FitzEwan, the Schola's new fighting master.  “They're going on about battle arts,” Sophie explained.  “I can't hope to compete.”  Her hazel eyes rolled with fond exasperation.

   “Ah.  Well, maybe I can make it up to you.  Might I escort you in the next dance?”

   Her face lit with surprised pleasure.  “I should like that very much.  Thank you, Father.”  She gave him a mischievous grin.  “Are you certain you remember how?”

   “Vaguely.  I’ll try to stay off your feet if you promise to stay off mine.”

   The promise was easily enough kept, as the next dance turned out to be a circle dance, with the men gathered in a circle facing outward while their partners surrounded them in a slightly larger circle facing inward.  As the music picked up again, each set of partners dipped and twirled through a series of steps before moving to the next partner, the circle of men rotating clockwise as the music repeated while the ladies remained in their original places.  Duncan found himself linking arms with a variety of dance partners in rapid succession as the music continued to pick up speed, until the dance ended with a musical flourish and the spent dancers collected their breath.  He found himself facing Helena once more.

   “You dance, Father?”

   “Of course I dance; I was a Duke's son.”  He smiled down at her.  “Why do ladies always sound so surprised when they ask that question?”

   She grinned.  “I don't know, perhaps because you're usually tactfully sidestepping them instead?”

   He felt himself blush slightly.  The jest had more than a grain of truth.  Even now that he'd been a bishop for a dozen years and a priest for even more, there were a few women who seemed to consider his vow of celibacy more of a challenge than a deterrent.  He'd learned not to give them encouragement, rarely dancing at revels anymore unless perhaps he found himself in the company of some near relation like Richenda, or some other perfectly safe dance partner such as Duchess Meraude.  He'd hoped that as the years passed, the interest of those more predatory females would wane, but instead he'd simply found himself pursued by more matronly widows than young maidens these days.  He wasn't at all sure that was preferable.

   The music started up again, and Duncan realized with a start that they were still standing in the middle of the dance floor as the other couples began to take places around them.  He cocked his head inquiringly at Helena.  “Shall we continue, then, since we're already in place?”

   She smiled, extending her hand, her open palm meeting his in the opening position for this new dance.  As the music began to play, he stepped forward, tapping his wrist against hers before clasping her hand, circling her slowly as he walked through the stately steps of this pavane.  As they switched hands, Helena followed suit, now circling him in the opposite direction, mirroring his previous actions.  They continued following the music, Duncan's body falling into the familiar steps and patterns he'd learned in his youth.  He studied his dance partner, seeing her as if for the first time—the familiar arch of her brows over lowered eyes, echoing the dark fire of her heretofore concealed auburn tresses, the soft curls beginning to escape the braid tucked inside her net caul to form soft ringlets at the nape of her veiled neck, the faint flush of exertion adding color to her cheeks.  He found the change disconcerting, found himself wishing for a moment for the comforting familiarity of her drab gray habit instead of the vivid jewel-toned allure that set off her natural beauty in the same way that a velvet lined box set off the sparkle of precious gems in a jeweler’s shop.  It would be easier for him not to think of her as an attractive woman, simply to think of her as a bright mind and a gentle wit, somehow discorporated from this vibrant female joining him in the steps of the dance.

   On second thought, no.  Why should she—why should any woman—have to hide her light beneath a bushel just because some man happened to be in no position to pay proper court to her charms?   The gown was modest enough for all of its beauty; there was certainly nothing objectionable about the lady’s appearance.  Nothing even particularly remarkable about it, considering their setting, aside from the fact that it was Helena standing before him like some priceless treasure on display and not some other woman whose charms, though perhaps noticed, nonetheless left him unaffected.  

   The music ended, and he escorted Helena back to the sidelines.  Brother Everard made his way over to them, requesting the favor of a dance with the lady, and with a gracious smile at the lay brother she allowed him to lead her back onto the dance floor, this time for a more lively country dance.  Duncan smiled back at them both briefly before withdrawing to one of the window alcoves to observe the other revelers from a slight distance, lost in his own thoughts.

#

   Helena had no desire to remarry, that was for certain, but ever since her maiden years she'd loved to dance, and she was glad to have an opportunity to step away from the cares of daily life for a few blissful hours and lose herself in the movement and the music.  Despite what Gaston had forced her to endure as his wife, she held no grudge against men in general, knowing the whole sex could hardly be blamed for the offenses of a few, and so she enjoyed the courtly attentions of her dance partners this evening.  Still, there could be too much of even a good thing, and after several dances in a row, her energies were beginning to flag.  At the end of this one, she thought, she would need to take a break.  There was no shortage of ladies for the lords to seek out, after all.  If anything, most revels had a surfeit of ladies and not enough lords willing to escort them to the dance floor.  If she left to find a quiet corner, she would hardly be missed.

   This was a lively dance, a country dance from the Kheldish Riding, and she found herself changing partners frequently.  Sometimes she found herself facing a man she knew, sometimes not.  At the moment it was Prince Nigel smiling down at her as if she were the loveliest woman in the Hall, but in a few more moments that would change.  She'd be whisked away into the waiting arms of some other man, repeating the steps with him and perhaps exchanging polite courtesies while the Prince moved forward to match his steps to another lady's, as generous with the Haldane charm with his new partner as he'd been with all the others before her.

   The minstrels in the gallery played the musical phrase that signaled a change of partners. Prince Nigel swept her a courtly bow before moving forward in the circle to face his new partner.  Another man stepped up beside Helena from the queue behind her, and she turned to smile up at him.  It took a few moments for full recognition to dawn.

   “Bon soir, ma chère.   I never imagined to see you here of all places.”

   Her stomach lurched as his voice registered even before his face did, but they were moving again, her feet propelling her through the motions by rote even as her mind whirled even faster than the dancers around them.  The music continued, though she no longer heard it.  What was he doing here?  The edges of her vision started to fade into darkness, and she thought for one horrified moment she was going to faint, but she focused instead of continuing on, steadily on—no, don’t look at him!—just try to pretend this wasn’t happening and eventually it would be over.  It had to be over soon, just like before, like the other times before when Gaston had insisted that…oh Jesú, she couldn’t think of that now!  Her skin crawled beneath the thin silk that was all that separated her from this man’s touch as the measures of the dance brought him back into contact with her again, his hands spanning her waist, this unwanted invader who shouldn’t be here at all, not here in Rhemuth, but in Joux, back in faraway Joux where he belonged.   He lifted her into the air as he pivoted, and the momentary loss of grounding, of control, nearly made her cry out in remembered terror and loathing, but she stifled the sound, and her feet touched the Hall floor again in a moment, continuing the steps, going through the motions mindlessly while her soul screamed.  There was a sound, a quiet one that was louder to her ears than the music nonetheless, and once it registered, she knew it to be a soft whimper.  It might have been her own, she wasn’t sure, but now they slowed down, stood still, the music changed once more, and he swept her a low bow, eyes mocking her above his smile before he moved forward…oh God, please let this be over soon!...and the pattern resumed once more.

#

   She looked ill.  Duncan, distracted, murmured an apology to Sir William, excusing himself from their conversation to move closer to the center of the revelry.  No, he had not been mistaken.  Helena’s cheeks were ashen, her eyes darting frantically like a trapped creatures seeking some means of escape.  The change had been sudden, he thought—at least he remembered seeing nothing in her countenance earlier to warn that an onset of illness might be imminent—but clearly something was desperately wrong now.  She looked…no, it made no sense, not here in the midst of a revel, not in the security of Kelson’s Great Hall, but she looked almost terrified.

   The music ended, the couples dispersing, either taking new partners or assuming new positions for the dance to come.  Helena edged through the crowd, heading towards the nearest exit, her steps picking up speed as she reached the less populated area closer to the walls.  Duncan found himself moving in that direction, concerned.  

#

   She leaned against a wall, breathing heavily, her stomach queasy.  She took a steadying breath, willing the nausea down.  After a few moments she felt well enough to continue on, stumbling towards the door into the withdrawing room.  It would be quieter there, out of sight from the rest of the Great Hall.

   “Are you all right?” someone asked, and Helena dimly noted a flash of crimson and the glint of firelight off golden hair, but she couldn’t stop, not there, not while he was still in the Hall.  She mumbled something in answer, she knew not what, and scurried past the speaker, her mind fixed on escape.

#

   Duncan sketched a brief bow to Gwynedd’s Queen, but he, too, was fixed on a singleminded purpose and Araxie, after an even briefer moment to absorb what was happening, took a step back to let him pass.  He Mind-Spoke a distracted ‘Thank you, Your Majesty’ as he continued onward, his concern growing into worry, for his gut told him something was desperately wrong.

#

   There was a corridor off the withdrawing room.  It ran parallel to the outer wall of the Great Hall.  Helena turned blindly, heading towards…towards…she wasn’t sure where.  Refuge.  Safety.  

   She heard footsteps behind her, and her heart lurched in fear.  She dared not look behind her, certain it was him, that he was pursuing her, that he’d force her, force her to return to Joux with him, to return to the home she had fled after her husband’s death.  She gathered her skirts, preparing to flee, but then a hand gripped her arm.  She flinched, tried to pull away, wanting to scream, but her voice deserted her.

   Helena?  The voice spoke directly into her mind, and she sagged with relief.  It wasn’t him.  It wasn’t him, it was Father Duncan—sweet blessed Jesú, it was Duncan!—but she couldn’t stop, not right now, not even for him.

#

   She had collapsed against him when her knees gave way, and he’d acted instinctively to catch her, but now he sensed her starting to struggle again.  He tried to calm her, tried to ease her fears wordlessly through the psychic link he’d forged between them as he’d mentally addressed her, and after a few more heartbeats, her struggles stilled, though her blue eyes filled with tears and mute pleading.

   “I have to go.  He’s here,” she whispered.  The words made little sense to Duncan, though he could easily sense the urgency behind them.  She tried to pull away, evidently making her way towards the door further down the corridor which led out into the castle gardens, but it was bitterly cold outside, the path between the Great Hall and the Basilica quite likely growing covered with ice and new-fallen snow again, though they’d been shoveled clear and strewn with sand earlier in the evening.

   She’d left her cloak behind in her rush to get away from the unknown man she believed was pursuing her.

    “Not that way,” he told her.  “There’s another way back.  Here, let me show you.”

   He led her a different way, a way that led to an apparent dead end.  And there, after casting a quick glance behind them to ensure that no one could see, he sketched a glyph in the air.  An entrance opened in the wall, and he ushered her within, creating a silvery globe of handfire as the door closed silently behind them.

#

   He’d led her halfway down the hidden passageway within the castle wall before she sensed it.  There was a staircase up ahead, and as they drew closer to it, the psychic resonance of previous trauma permeated her consciousness.  There was fear here—fear that had crescendoed to a momentary terror before becoming still.  Her mind recalled the stench of death, although the odor had dissipated long before and her nostrils caught no hint of it.  She shrank back from the place.  She knew what it was, of course—she knew enough about Gwynedd’s recent history to be fairly certain what it was she had sensed in this dim passage—and some other night her natural curiosity might have overcome her distaste for this unexpected extrasensory assault on her psyche, compelling her to investigate further, but not tonight.   Dear God, not right now of all times!

   “I can’t,” she told him, an edge of panic in her voice now as she turned to flee back in the direction they’d come, but he stilled her with a touch, drawing her arm into his, capturing her attention with his steady, concerned gaze.

   “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think.  This way, then.”  He turned aside with her, their steps taking them in a different direction.

#

   Duncan stifled a mental curse at himself as he led her partway back up the way they had come before turning off down a narrow side corridor.  He should have remembered her acute sensitivity to psychic resonances; trying to lead her past the spot where Tiercel had spent his final moments had been unutterably stupid of him, especially while she was in so fragile an emotional state!  Jesú forgive him, he’d not meant to add to her distress.

   He reached the alternate exit, the first retreat that had occurred to him, though now that he stood before the hidden door he wondered if this was truly the best place to bring her.  He suspected it was far from the wisest, but at the moment, nothing more suitable occurred to him.  He just knew she needed privacy, needed someplace where she might feel safe again, safe to catch her breath, to regather her composure, and perhaps to share whatever it was that had driven her from the Great Hall in emotional torment so extreme he could feel it roiling up from her even now, despite having withdrawn from the brief rapport he’d established with her when he’d Mind-spoken to her earlier.

   He opened the door, leading her through it into the chamber beyond.


Chapter Four:  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=761.0
« Last Edit: September 30, 2011, 09:33:20 am by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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Offline Jerusha

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #1 on: September 23, 2011, 10:13:03 am »
Ah Evie, you've done it again.  Just when I thought I was enjoying a nice reunion with many of our favourite characters - whack!  The mysterious and repulsive man from Joux appears!  Well done!   :)

And the implications of his role in Sister Helena's past are disturbing, to say the least.  Thank goodness for Father Duncan.
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Offline Elkhound

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #2 on: September 23, 2011, 12:57:18 pm »
Methinks that Duncan needs to give her a crash course in combative mindmagic, at least the defensive spells.  And perhaps some physical self-defense skills; many don't need much strength, and as a healer she knows enough anatomy to find pressure points and other vulnerable targets.

Offline Evie

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #3 on: September 23, 2011, 01:13:42 pm »
She's learning more about anatomy now, at any rate, and that would help with defensive tactics as well as its more obvious applications in Healing.

It occurred to me as I was first considering the scope of Helena's gifts--which Deryni powers she might be stronger in and which ones she'd be weaker in--that the male Healers we've met so far would have had a decided advantage from the outset when they first discovered their Healing gift than Helena probably would have had.  Dhugal, in particular, was already a trained battle surgeon before he ever discovered he was a Deryni Healer, so he would have had a better understanding of anatomy than most.  Duncan and Morgan had battlefield experience, so they'd almost certainly had to treat battle wounds in more conventional ways before they discovered their Healing gifts, which again would have given them at least some rudimentary understanding of anatomy.  But Helena, unused to being in situations where she'd have had many opportunities to see how bodies are constructed beneath the skin's surface, would be at a disadvantage even once she realized she had the Healing gift, because in order to use that power, one has to be able to visualize what is being done in the mind's eye, even if the damage is too deep in the body to actually see physically.  So she is just now being brought "up to speed," as it were, via Master Janos's classes.
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Offline Alkari

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #4 on: September 23, 2011, 03:57:22 pm »
So even as a Bishop, poor Duncan still has to evade predatory women!  The trials and tribulations of a handsome bishop  :D   And why am I not surprised at Sir Jass's remedy for a priest who won't / can't dance?!

Shame such a pleasant evening suddenly turned nasty for Helena, and look forward to finding out what's behind her reaction.  At least she's in good hands now.

Offline Evie

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #5 on: September 23, 2011, 05:15:29 pm »
So even as a Bishop, poor Duncan still has to evade predatory women!  The trials and tribulations of a handsome bishop  :D 

Yes, I think those women are probably a bit unclear on the concept.  "I absolve you" doesn't carry nearly as much weight if the guy saying it is wearing your bedsheet rather than his purple stole.   ;D
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Offline Alkari

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #6 on: September 23, 2011, 05:48:58 pm »
I'm sure if Duncan was wearing their bedsheet, those women wouldn't worry TOO much about the "I absolve you" bit!   ;)

Offline derynifanatic64

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #7 on: September 23, 2011, 09:01:24 pm »
Can't wait to find out who this--PERSON, THING --is that put so much fear in Helena.  Then having come to the place where Conall killed Tiercel didn't help, but Duncan had to get her to a place of safety quickly.  I'm sure that Duncan will do his best to help Helena.
We will never forget the events of 9-11!!  USA!! USA!!

Offline AnnieUK

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #8 on: September 24, 2011, 03:40:13 am »
Nice little glimpses of all our old favourites.  But did you have to call him Gaston?  I'm going to have that song from Beauty and the Beast through my head all day now!  "...in a spitting match nobody spits like Gaston..."

Offline Evie

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #9 on: September 24, 2011, 11:51:04 am »
LOL!  Well, they're about equally likable....  :D
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Offline Elkhound

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #10 on: September 28, 2011, 04:04:37 pm »
In conventional medicine, drugs can be toxic, and blades can cut to either hurt or heal; accupuncture points and martial arts striking points are often the same.  Might Deryni healing powers be used in reverse also?  IIIRC, we have seen at least one thing like that--when some Deryni woman stopped a man's heart (I don't quite recall the circumstances).

Offline Evie

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #11 on: September 28, 2011, 08:54:36 pm »
That would have been Charissa's murder of King Brion at the beginning of DR.
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Offline Alkari

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #12 on: September 28, 2011, 09:41:20 pm »
It was also the technique used by Kelson / Morgan to put Wencit, Bran and Lionel out of their misery in HD.  

Quote
Might Deryni healing powers be used in reverse also?

As that killing power as used by Kelson and Charissa can obviously be wielded by non-Healers - indeed, Morgan obviously knew about it before he became aware of his own Healing powers - it isn't necessarily a "reverse" of Deryni Healing powers.  I 'could' see though, how a trained Deryni Healer with detailed anatomical knowledge (such as we see in Deryni Magic) might become a very efficient murderer, if they chose to join the dark side, as it were.
« Last Edit: September 28, 2011, 10:03:37 pm by Alkari »

Offline Evie

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #13 on: September 28, 2011, 10:39:31 pm »
As that killing power as used by Kelson and Charissa can obviously be wielded by non-Healers - indeed, Morgan obviously knew about it before he became aware of his own Healing powers - it isn't necessarily a "reverse" of Deryni Healing powers.  I 'could' see though, how a trained Deryni Healer with detailed anatomical knowledge (such as we see in Deryni Magic) might become a very efficient murderer, if they chose to join the dark side, as it were.

It would be a violation of their own Healer code of ethics, but yes, it would certainly be possible, and may well have happened on occasion, just as modern-day doctors might on (hopefully rare!) occasions betray their professional ethics and the Hippocratic Oath to inflict deliberate harm to others.
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Offline Alkari

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Re: Visionaries--Part One--Chapter Three
« Reply #14 on: September 28, 2011, 10:46:51 pm »
Well, in both RL and fictional murder casess, we do see cases of dismembered bodies where the investigators reckon the person musy have had detailed medical / anatomical knoweldge in order to cut up the body so expertly.  Or some other such thing!

 


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