27 Nov 2008

The vibe rater://

She would choose only to flee the months that followed through the townships and never as herself. A myth had consumed her; she fell in love instantly with it's core. Nameless, feet on the cobblestone, brown rags for clothes up some stairs, to her refuge in the house of a monk.

Lendi DiVinci Porotoli, at age 62 stank of books and generally regarded himself as an accomplished man without the need to worry about other's thoughts of him. She sat down, immediately tearing into the bread at the table with water and refilling it once or twice. She looks out of the window. Lendi is in the shadows, the light on the desk.

What could one person know that would cause them to flee from their home before it was burned to the ground? Why would nations spend so much on having weapons of all kinds, only to so religiously pursue, a woman, who "knows" something?

"You are safe here." Said Lindi. "But move away from the window, please sit, have some more water."
"I would love to" She said, pumped so full of energy and all that adrenalin and chaos in her hair and eyes wild as fire. She puts her feet on a chair. Her aching feet, the raw wounds still fresh of course. Pain barrier long since past.
"And you must wash, your feet smell, there is a woman who will come to the-here tomorrow, her name is Markissa she is my sister's niece. She will fix your wounding."

Graciously she sits down with her head in her hands, she looks up, starts speaking in tongues and passes out.

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