(no subject)
Bela fled Flagstaff for New Orleans a few days ago. Her business associate did indeed help her find a skilled curandera to challenge the bruja who had cursed her.
When the curandera, a middle-aged woman called Anais, fought the bruja on a spiritual plane, it was Bela's spirit and physical form for which they fought. Anais won, finally, but by the time it was over, Bela felt as if she'd been beaten from the inside out. The curandera looked even worse than she felt. Bela paid her well over the already ample fee.
Anais warned Bela she'd be ill for some time. She was to keep the Stone of Ixtilton over her heart for a while yet, to ensure healing.
When Bela, back home in New York City, opens her closet door and sees Milliways on the other side, she breathes a sigh of relief. She's so tired, and she hasn't had the energy, or the appetite, to eat properly. She props open the door long enough to put something in the pocket of her long sweater, and then she walks slowly into the bar.
She is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes as she slides into a back booth. Her eyes are glassy. She's taken more Valium than she usually ever does, but it's been a rough week.
"May I have a cup of tomato soup, please," she asks the waitrat who comes by, "and a glass of ginger ale?" She scoots herself sideways onto the booth seat, bracing her back against the wall and stretching her legs out. She watches the patrons of the bar go about their business without much expression. She's never been this completely and thoroughly wretched.
Tiny Tag: Bela Talbot, Cal Chandler
When the curandera, a middle-aged woman called Anais, fought the bruja on a spiritual plane, it was Bela's spirit and physical form for which they fought. Anais won, finally, but by the time it was over, Bela felt as if she'd been beaten from the inside out. The curandera looked even worse than she felt. Bela paid her well over the already ample fee.
Anais warned Bela she'd be ill for some time. She was to keep the Stone of Ixtilton over her heart for a while yet, to ensure healing.
When Bela, back home in New York City, opens her closet door and sees Milliways on the other side, she breathes a sigh of relief. She's so tired, and she hasn't had the energy, or the appetite, to eat properly. She props open the door long enough to put something in the pocket of her long sweater, and then she walks slowly into the bar.
She is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes as she slides into a back booth. Her eyes are glassy. She's taken more Valium than she usually ever does, but it's been a rough week.
"May I have a cup of tomato soup, please," she asks the waitrat who comes by, "and a glass of ginger ale?" She scoots herself sideways onto the booth seat, bracing her back against the wall and stretching her legs out. She watches the patrons of the bar go about their business without much expression. She's never been this completely and thoroughly wretched.
Tiny Tag: Bela Talbot, Cal Chandler