(no subject)
Sooraya made herself sit and calm down, after returning to the motel. She was in a rage that left her just barely able to realize how dangerous her temper could be, if she didn't rein it in.
She'd thought that the old memories had lost their power over her. Well, they'd not hurt as badly as they might have even a year ago, but...
I will not be driven by hate. If I must fight, or must kill, it will be done to protect myself or others, not out of a wish for revenge.
Let Allah judge them, when their time comes.
The forced halt for reflection took the edge off her temper. For the first time, she understood, though, why some of her teammates seemed to find destruction soothing when angry or upset. If she'd been home, she might have gone down to the training rooms, to work through some of this.
Just now, that wasn't an option. As her anger cooled, she began to realize, soberly, that she might've made a crucial mistake. If the thugs who'd accosted her, should spread rumors of a woman who could become a sandstorm, and the wrong people heard of it--
Her task might be even more complicated now. She had been traveling under a false identity, but her powers couldn't be counterfeited. To her knowledge, there was no one else whose abilities and description would match hers.
Sooraya ran a hand through her hair. Oh, she'd been foolish, and now she'd have to move quickly. The last thing she wanted was official notice taken of
her being here. She'd been trying to avoid leading authorities of either government--American or Afghan--or her enemies, to pay any attention to anyone named Qadir.
There was a knock on the door. She sat up straight, eyes narrowing. ["Who is it?"] she called sharply.
"[Lady, there is a woman at the lobby who says she must speak with you. She won't give her name, but insists that you will want to see her."]
A woman? Confused, Sooraya got to her feet and moved to open the door. Surely it couldn't be Mirah; why wouldn't she have given her name?
She followed the hotel employee down to the lobby.
Her heart sank, though she kept her disappointment off her face. The older woman who stood there was no one she knew.
The stranger was dressed in Afghan clothing, including a veil, but was green-eyed and a head taller than Sooraya, whereas Mirah was some two or three inches shorter than her daughter.
"Asalaam alaikum," she greeted the newcomer formally.
The formal greeting was given a proper response, but the woman didn't offer her name. "[May we speak in private? It concerns your troubles earlier this evening."]
Sooraya laughed mirthlessly. ["I've had no troubles I couldn't deal with on my own, this evening. I'm sure I don't know what you mean."]
The woman chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. ["So I'd noticed. Are you another of those that follow the Ars Goetia? I hadn't thought so. If I'd known any of us were traveling here, I would've offered hospitality rather than have you stay at this place."] She glanced around, mildly contemptuous of the drab surroundings.
Sooraya held a tightly neutral stance. The name that the woman mentioned, as it happened, was familiar to her. In the 'oh, please tell me you're joking' sense. Follows them? As in, demon worship? Why would she think...
Oh, merciful Allah. Did the woman think Sooraya was a magic user or djinn? And, those. Plural?
She needed to know more, she decided abruptly. This might be a worse nest of snakes she'd stumbled into, than she even realized. Better not to leave unfinished business.
She'd thought that the old memories had lost their power over her. Well, they'd not hurt as badly as they might have even a year ago, but...
I will not be driven by hate. If I must fight, or must kill, it will be done to protect myself or others, not out of a wish for revenge.
Let Allah judge them, when their time comes.
The forced halt for reflection took the edge off her temper. For the first time, she understood, though, why some of her teammates seemed to find destruction soothing when angry or upset. If she'd been home, she might have gone down to the training rooms, to work through some of this.
Just now, that wasn't an option. As her anger cooled, she began to realize, soberly, that she might've made a crucial mistake. If the thugs who'd accosted her, should spread rumors of a woman who could become a sandstorm, and the wrong people heard of it--
Her task might be even more complicated now. She had been traveling under a false identity, but her powers couldn't be counterfeited. To her knowledge, there was no one else whose abilities and description would match hers.
Sooraya ran a hand through her hair. Oh, she'd been foolish, and now she'd have to move quickly. The last thing she wanted was official notice taken of
her being here. She'd been trying to avoid leading authorities of either government--American or Afghan--or her enemies, to pay any attention to anyone named Qadir.
There was a knock on the door. She sat up straight, eyes narrowing. ["Who is it?"] she called sharply.
"[Lady, there is a woman at the lobby who says she must speak with you. She won't give her name, but insists that you will want to see her."]
A woman? Confused, Sooraya got to her feet and moved to open the door. Surely it couldn't be Mirah; why wouldn't she have given her name?
She followed the hotel employee down to the lobby.
Her heart sank, though she kept her disappointment off her face. The older woman who stood there was no one she knew.
The stranger was dressed in Afghan clothing, including a veil, but was green-eyed and a head taller than Sooraya, whereas Mirah was some two or three inches shorter than her daughter.
"Asalaam alaikum," she greeted the newcomer formally.
The formal greeting was given a proper response, but the woman didn't offer her name. "[May we speak in private? It concerns your troubles earlier this evening."]
Sooraya laughed mirthlessly. ["I've had no troubles I couldn't deal with on my own, this evening. I'm sure I don't know what you mean."]
The woman chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. ["So I'd noticed. Are you another of those that follow the Ars Goetia? I hadn't thought so. If I'd known any of us were traveling here, I would've offered hospitality rather than have you stay at this place."] She glanced around, mildly contemptuous of the drab surroundings.
Sooraya held a tightly neutral stance. The name that the woman mentioned, as it happened, was familiar to her. In the 'oh, please tell me you're joking' sense. Follows them? As in, demon worship? Why would she think...
Oh, merciful Allah. Did the woman think Sooraya was a magic user or djinn? And, those. Plural?
She needed to know more, she decided abruptly. This might be a worse nest of snakes she'd stumbled into, than she even realized. Better not to leave unfinished business.