11-27-2013, 01:02 AM
Tony led the way, stifling the pain and the rest of...whatever he felt. Yes... He would really need Oborev to Heal him again soon. And to think he had thought that problem had been solved years ago...
He smiled at Claire's concern. Whether for him or the potential implications for herself, it was genuine it seemed. "It is not contagious. It was something I brought upon myself."
Ce... He is memory of the name faded, as it so often did, although he could recall the face and that day clearly. The horror when she realised the Healing had gone wrong, wreaking whatever havoc it had upon Tony's body.
As they walked - staggered, he supposed with grim humour - he remained silent. It was not a subject easy to discuss. Tony might know more than many - he had been one of the first to suffer the Sickness - but he had learned that he knew precious little. A drop of water in a sea of sand.
Nevertheless, that drop could be the difference between life and death.
Finally Claire had decided where she wished to start, and her suspicious gaze did not disappoint. He was careful to keep his features as neutral as possible, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth full of restrained laughter.
His tone was careful and precise. ""Hmmmm... Where to start."
How could he answer the question without confusing her more than she already was? "I know because I have known people like you - like me."
He glanced at her face, a quick assessment of age. He doubted she was much older than Michael, in her early twenties. "I do not know everything, despite what I may think."
He essayed a small smile. "But I do know some things about this power we share. I have had a decade to learn, for myself and others. I can't tell you what it is, or why only a few experience it. It is dangerous, but not evil. I think of it as another appendage, like an extra arm. Also,"
he paused for a moment to catch his breath. "in regards to your other...abilities. This power...Well, it is something else, as I'm sure you know.
" He shook his head. "Forgive me, it's not something I can explain easily."
They came upon an innocuous looking alley into which he turned - was it luck that led him to buy a place so close to Jensen, or something else?. The alley was short, leading to a dubious looking wooden door with mould and age wearing it down. It was exactly the kind of image that rich parents showed to their sons and daughters as a place to avoid at all costs.
As he opened the door Tony turned to Claire with a teasing smile - although it was spoiled by a sway and grimace - testing her reaction. He doubted she was the type to be easily phased. Definitely a refreshing change from the cowardly arrogance of the daughters of the rich.
She would be surprised when she entered. Far from the derelict exterior, Tony's...home... was clean and stylish. He was not so foolish as to purchase top of the line furnishings in what was essentially a ghetto, but all of it was of good quality.
It was a small place, consisting of three rooms. The first room was a combination of kitchen and living space. The counters of polished marble were clean. Both the fridge and the flat-top stove he purchased -or rather, Marco - from an old acquaintance he trusted for quality and price.
The living room was simple. A black leather couch - three central seats with two more extending from each end forming something like the letter C - sat in front of a TeleComputer built into the wall.
"I'm afraid I must sit down before I fall,"
Tony said, entering the house without a second look back. He threw himself down onto the couch with a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. "Help yourself to anything you can find in the kitchen if you are hungry or thirsty."
He rubbed at his temples, the pain in his stomach rising. "I may not be able to answer everything, but I will try. What is it you want to know?"
Edited by Tony Soloyov, Nov 27 2013, 01:09 AM.
He smiled at Claire's concern. Whether for him or the potential implications for herself, it was genuine it seemed. "It is not contagious. It was something I brought upon myself."
Ce... He is memory of the name faded, as it so often did, although he could recall the face and that day clearly. The horror when she realised the Healing had gone wrong, wreaking whatever havoc it had upon Tony's body.
As they walked - staggered, he supposed with grim humour - he remained silent. It was not a subject easy to discuss. Tony might know more than many - he had been one of the first to suffer the Sickness - but he had learned that he knew precious little. A drop of water in a sea of sand.
Nevertheless, that drop could be the difference between life and death.
Finally Claire had decided where she wished to start, and her suspicious gaze did not disappoint. He was careful to keep his features as neutral as possible, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth full of restrained laughter.
His tone was careful and precise. ""Hmmmm... Where to start."
How could he answer the question without confusing her more than she already was? "I know because I have known people like you - like me."
He glanced at her face, a quick assessment of age. He doubted she was much older than Michael, in her early twenties. "I do not know everything, despite what I may think."
He essayed a small smile. "But I do know some things about this power we share. I have had a decade to learn, for myself and others. I can't tell you what it is, or why only a few experience it. It is dangerous, but not evil. I think of it as another appendage, like an extra arm. Also,"
he paused for a moment to catch his breath. "in regards to your other...abilities. This power...Well, it is something else, as I'm sure you know.
" He shook his head. "Forgive me, it's not something I can explain easily."
They came upon an innocuous looking alley into which he turned - was it luck that led him to buy a place so close to Jensen, or something else?. The alley was short, leading to a dubious looking wooden door with mould and age wearing it down. It was exactly the kind of image that rich parents showed to their sons and daughters as a place to avoid at all costs.
As he opened the door Tony turned to Claire with a teasing smile - although it was spoiled by a sway and grimace - testing her reaction. He doubted she was the type to be easily phased. Definitely a refreshing change from the cowardly arrogance of the daughters of the rich.
She would be surprised when she entered. Far from the derelict exterior, Tony's...home... was clean and stylish. He was not so foolish as to purchase top of the line furnishings in what was essentially a ghetto, but all of it was of good quality.
It was a small place, consisting of three rooms. The first room was a combination of kitchen and living space. The counters of polished marble were clean. Both the fridge and the flat-top stove he purchased -or rather, Marco - from an old acquaintance he trusted for quality and price.
The living room was simple. A black leather couch - three central seats with two more extending from each end forming something like the letter C - sat in front of a TeleComputer built into the wall.
"I'm afraid I must sit down before I fall,"
Tony said, entering the house without a second look back. He threw himself down onto the couch with a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. "Help yourself to anything you can find in the kitchen if you are hungry or thirsty."
He rubbed at his temples, the pain in his stomach rising. "I may not be able to answer everything, but I will try. What is it you want to know?"
Edited by Tony Soloyov, Nov 27 2013, 01:09 AM.