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Onyx and Ivory (CA - Melinda & Diane)

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At the corner of Honey Lane and Fifth, the air stirred differently.  The trees stood like silent sentries, quiet and ominous though they were well-maintained.  The lawn was a coifed venture of ever folding green.  All on behalf of the stones.

Some stones stood impressively, a reflection to their owner’s life of profit if not virtue and memorialized for generations to come.  In other stones there lay a humbler presence, no more than an engraved marker denoting  a name and immediate family.  In each the stones whispered of a life long extinguished and lay waiting for the living to remember them.

A cemetery would always be a somber place.  Yet in this, the landscapers had placed care it would not be an unwelcoming one.  Torches lined a narrow pathway so that at even at night, it would not feel hostile.  Summer flowers bloomed in beds, small fountains trickled, and dark benches were interspersed between tombstones in the name of earthly comforts.

Melinda had followed the torch-lined path to its very end.  Her passing would not be seen as strange, for in appearance she would not seem any different than another mourner.  She had come in a soot dress bearing a bouquet of white roses and larkspur.  When she arrived to the end of the path, she regarded the sight like a familiar friend.

The prim women had never been one to be taken by a flight of fancy.  She did not believe the stones could speak the lives of their former hosts.  Yet for the spectacle before her, she could not resist the colorful thought of what this stone might say.  A mausoleum towered before her, the stones a glistening bone-white scrubbed of any lichen or moss, and carved within it were the noble busts of wolves with ruby, sapphire, emerald, and carnelian eyes. A crescent moon was engraved at the door. It outshone even its brother in Reknab Bend, its voice a shout: Don't you dare ever forget me.

Amused, she set the bouquet at the feet of an ivory wolf with emerald eyes.  Melinda could not proceed past the door, yet felt certain in her choice.  She had noted some of the wolves along the wall were older by judgement of the wear on the stone.   The emerald-eyed she-wolf was unworn and bore uncanny resemblance to that which she sought.

In truth, Melinda was not a mourner.  She did not wait for the dead, but for the living.  She found a bench and settled beneath the shade of a tree.  She withdrew a notebook from her purse and proceeded to work while she waited as she had every day that week, unperturbed if she would meet her mark.   Melinda was a creature built on patience.  If it was not today, then it would be another.

So simple to take for granted the chiming of an old clock, yet when the gears turn and each piece does its work, tis a a wonder indeed to behold! Evenso, like clockwork that day Melinda's plan would chime, and the tick-tick of her patient waiting would at last be gratified on the hour.

Up the winding way, slowly and alone came the blue-dressed princess. Her graceful stroll was one step directly ahead of the first, her heels gently clicking on the stone. Coming to the corner of Honey Lane and Fifth, to stand under a dark parasol before the decorated tomb.

She stood in silence, her back to her unassuming surveyor.

"You are quite cunning." The woman's deep-ocean voice broke the silence like a gentle wave on the shore. "To come here, day after day... I can see you from my balcony. Quite clever."

Diane lowered her chin and her bright green eyes came out of the umbrella's shadow.

Melinda continued to scrawl a moment more into her notebook as Diane spoke.  Like a grand magician who had planned her next act with the utmost care and had just met her audience, she could do no more now than see how it might play out.  She shut the notebook without a magician’s flourish, yet with her own sense of impeccable timing nonetheless.  She mustn’t begin too soon or too late lest she loose her enraptured audience.

“It is a good place to work,” she peeled her steel grey eyes upwards, meeting the emerald green ones in turn.

She held the humility a moment longer, then permitted it to drop.  It was her old song and dance, to work in the shadows of those who had cast them, but no longer.  Now was time for the show.

“You will find me as diligent as I am patient, Miss Betine. I do not mind waiting nor do I mind working towards a worthy goal.  I had noted our paths crossed by circumstance far too often, and thus saw fit to make our next appointment by design rather than chance”.

The woman stood, “I do not amuse much to chance, if I can help it.  Would you not agree?”

A soft, delicate laugh curled Diane's lips. Her dark lashes turned away from her mother's tomb to meet the eyes of the shrewd woman as the black umbrella spun over her left shoulder.

"You leave so much to chance." Diane said, unwilling to flatter the other woman any further than her original compliment allowed. "So far, it has rolled in your favor, though, if not in part than completely by my design."

Her bright emerald green eyes scanned Melinda's form from head to toe.
"Well, you have my attention. So tell me why I am here." She said, still smiling. "I am certain my interest in you far surpasses your interest in me."

Melinda’s lips pursued faintly as Diane spoke, as though she had heard a joke she could not bear to share in mixed company.  She allowed the emerald-eyed woman to continue without interruption, and Diane would find herself an attentive audience.

“Truly we are fortunate it has all gone to your plans,” Melinda continued, without hint of irony in her voice – yet the phrasing surely betrayed it.

“I cannot imagine your interest in me, for I am by far your least impressive of prizes that you might dangle along your claws.  Yet if it is as you say – and your interest in me exceeds mine in you – then perhaps you might have a guess on why I have come to visit the graveyard today?”

The woman’s fingers shifted along the edge of a pocket in her blouse. The pocket themselves did not betray much from the exterior, yet the curious effect was not so veiled; the air might seem to waver to those of attuned senses and grow dull.  Once Melinda stopped disturbing the garment, the air grew still again.  The woman could notice none of it, of course, her own senses only human.  Though the effect had been intentional enough.

For all her talk, Melinda knew she would have to play the first card.  Yet the rest would not be hers alone.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly." Diane said as quick as her glance at the little pocket. She looked away from Melinda, in that slow and graceful turn that seemed her constant ally, and took up her 'mourner's air' once again. Her mother's tomb arriving before her eyes, her face concealed behind the umbrella, her voice low and quiet as she said, "Foxes play before the tomb, thither run, and snatch..."

A moment of silence followed.

Diane turned slowly again, this time not entirely to reveal her face, but so that her red lips might appear from beneath the umbrella's rim.
"Do you know what that means? I doubt you do. Though anything is possible to leave the lips of one who sticks their nose too far in." Diane said. Then her bright green eyes reappeared in the shadow of the umbrella. "Have you reconsidered my offer? You would feel less like an intruder... But no, you're too afraid of it. You'd rather have lesser beings take your fall."

With such words Diane turned slowly again and her face was concealed once again.

Melinda watched the woman’s journey to the monolith, her eyes never once faltering.  She did not turn her eyes aside, as courtesy might dictate.  The stones were a shroud to separate the living from the dead, yet in that she would not turn her eyes away.  She found no discomfit, and waited until Diane had spoken.  Again the strange look crossed her features, as though she were faintly amused.

“You still see me at a disadvantage.  Curious, but not unexpected,” Melinda nodded, “I can imagine what culture your kind holds to blood, and mine would be the least of them all.  Yet perhaps it might surprise you I do not share it, and more to the point, have previously found advantage in using it against you”.

Again, her fingers went to her pocket. Yet rather than a meager blush with it, she removed a small, plastic packet with two fingers.  The effect from previous would seem to grow in magnitude, the smells of the air snuffed like a candle flame.  Yet Melinda, of course, would notice none of it.

“Everywhere you travel outside your home, you use this yes?” Melinda held out the object for Diane to receive if she so wished, yet the gesture would likely be found in rhetoric, “If you do not, then another of your kind might know where you’ve been and know who and what you are”.

“Now, however, consider myself.  I am no one, to any of you.  I go where I please and no one thinks much of it.  We humans travel many places, why should I be remarkable? Why would I concern myself of whose territory I’ve crossed into, if I cannot sense it?  I can only be found if you know who I am from my deeds, not my blood.  And let us consider that I have ‘stuck my nose too far in’ for a good deal of time, only now to be known for it because I wished it to be so”.

The packet was withdrawn, if not taken, “I have no desire to give up my greatest advantage, Miss Betine.  Would you like us to start again?”

Diane laughed, a light and delicate thing, but fair and free; twas a beautiful sound if only its purpose had been as sweet.

"You put yourself in a precarious situation to retain that advantage, I should warn you." Diane said, "You are anything but unremarkable, Melinda. Being here makes you remarkable - being in Middle Crest that night - makes you remarkable."

Diane strolled toward her mother's tomb, all the while her back was turned and her face concealed from Melinda. She made no acknowledgement of, neither regarded the packet in word.

"You thought no one would take notice of you?" She said, pausing briefly. "You carry a knowledge you cannot deny. Your air regards it. You are tempted by it. And you find yourself in places where it cannot be concealed."

As Diane turned about the tomb, her lips again appeared just within the shadow of the umbrella as her hand graced the stones.
"Knowledge is a dangerous thing. And you think you're at an advantage?" Diane stopped as she spoke. The glint of her eyes appeared as her hand passed over the head of the wolf on her mother's tomb.
"You should be concerned, not because you lack an irregular scent, or fail to understand the boundaries of my race, but because you walk as one knowing. And knowing... We take notice."

"You're as deep in as your sister is... perhaps even deeper."

“Yes,” Melinda said after the laughter’s sweet notes had finally faded from the tombstones, “Every advantage has a cost, Miss Betine, mine as well as yours. I do not deny mine comes with danger, but I cannot afford to shirk from it”.

“Knowledge is dangerous, but it is power just the same.  To relinquish it, I will put myself at another’s mercy who might pit it against me.  I have few virtues, yet this knowledge is both my salvation as well as my damnation.  I cannot turn it aside.  I have too much work, frankly, to be without advantage”.

The woman twirled the plastic packet in her fingertips, musing over the contents which to her seemed as any other.  The dried, crushed leaves might be thought of as basil to her for all the unusual quality it bore.  She fell silent as she considered, twirling it in her fingers and imagining how the air must twist and spin for Diane as the aroma distorted it.

“I am deeper,” she conceded after a moment, “And while I must congratulate you for noticing, I do not think you have fully appreciated its extent…”

She offered the package again to Diane, this time expectantly, “Tell me.  What do you know of this plant?”

If the packet's effluence had any sway over Diane she did not portray it. She was ever a master of poise and deceit.

Diane turned at last to Melinda, revealing her face from the shadow of the umbrella, and said, "Before we turn to business, it would only be appropriate to establish what the nature of this relationship shall be... And this really is no place for business. Walk with me."

She took a stroll across the grass, the black umbrella on her shoulder, a sway in her step. She walked with a casual air and a long stride, every step falling in line ahead of the other with impeccable precision and grace.

"Now," Diane spoke evenly as she walked among the graves. "You've gone out of your way and endangered yourself and your information to secure this private conference. For that at least, I can respect you. In truth I've been expecting you to come. I gave you all the clues at our last meeting that you would need to find me. Imagine my delight when I should see you outside my window. I assure you, however, that my interest is entirely motivated by my curiosity about you, though perhaps there is something we can do for each other."

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