Snow had fallen, snow on snow

[Christine Daye]

Christine looks confused at Helen's worry, Helen's questions. But the music has her. She must sing. She has to finish the song.

"Said "I'll not come with you for I am not done
My arms still hold lovers, my pure heart still burns
My skin glows with red blood that flows in my veins
But lie with me once if it's life that you crave"

And there in the night came a mighty great storm
And Death and the lady held tightly 'till dawn
Deep in the morning they parted and prayed
And then the good lady she went on her way

And then the good lady she went on her way
And then the good lady she went on her way"

The song ends, and Christine smiles, heavy lidded and langourous.

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_xphRnb0qM0)

[annabelle]

There is a strange noise coming from the platform. Helen's reflexes are alert .

She just looks at Christine with confusion and sorrow.

"Christine...can we go back? I think I am afraid of heights..."

Hopefully, her lie will bring her back.

[Christine Daye]

"...oh... oh..."

Like a switch flipping, Christine is suddenly a model of concern for her friend.

"...I'm sorry! Of course we can go back to the parlour! Here, let me help..."

Carefully, Christine offers what assistance Helen might need (or might be perceived to be needing) until they are back on solid ground once more, the boards of the stage reassuringly firm beneath their feet.

[annabelle]

Helen let's Christine "save" her and when they reach a safe place she asks.

"Is everything all right with you? Did anything happened while I was gone?" her tone serious and sober.

[Christine Daye]

Christine regards the Ventrue with a puzzled air.

"... did anything happen?"

It sounds like she doesn't quite understand the question. Then a thought strikes her, and she laughs, pure and joyful and clear.

"...the canopy of my bed got torn..."

She smiles happily, but sobers on seeing Helen's expression.

"...all is well," she reassures the other woman. "I am well, and so is my Trinity. We are well. We are perfect."

[annabelle]

Helen's expression stays puzzled. There is something that is not quite right but she let that pass for now. Time for topic change.

She looks around to see if anyone can hear them and once she makes sure they are alone she asks with a low and hesitant tone.

"What do you know about Guinevere? There is a reason I am asking...I don't know the full tale. Do you?"

[Christine Daye]

They're back in the safety of the little parlour now, the door firmly shut to deter eavesdroppers.

Christine blinks repeatedly in surprise at the question. It's not what she was expecting.

"...I'm assuming you don't mean the Guinevere from the Mallory tale? The Queen of King Aurthur and lover of Lancelot?"

Her brow furrows as she frowns.

"... or do you mean Gwynhwyfahra? ...favoured consort of Vortigern?...for if you do... then I only know a few bits and pieces..."

[annabelle]

Helen blinks once and twice.

Vortigern...
Vortigern's son...
Arthur...
What's going on?

"Guinevere...Gwynhwyfahra..no Guinevere." there is a confusion in her gaze.

"Christine, what do you know about shared dreams? Dreams that you see and someone else saw with you? Like each one had a role in the dream, like a memory from the past that is not yours...What is that?"

[Christine Daye]

Christine sits abruptly forward, regarding Helen with a fierce intensity.

"Helen... are you a Seer? Because that's what it sounds like..."

She relaxes back into her comfy chair. Her gaze goes distant.

"...let me tell you some of the truth behind the tales... though I only see part... through a glass darkly... for I am no Seer... only friends with those who are... but this is history... told to me by those who were there... shown to me by those who remember..."

A deep breath.

"...Vortigern... is remembered as a fifth century warlord. But he was more than that.... a Malkavian... and old... old beyond reckoning... he was obsessed with his mortal lineage... and kept around him a circle of eight Seers... all women... who guided him... these Seers... had mortal descendants... "

"...Hengist... was a Saxon... first came to the lands with his soldiers in alliance... he... wanted Gwynhwyfahra... was refused... was given the embrace instead... but it was not enough for him... for the Saxons.... the Treachery of the Long Knives.... Vortigern's descendants murdered... the Seers hunted down and slain... the lands taken..."

She shudders, sings quietly to herself:

"He who sleeps he does not see
The coming of the seasons,
The filling of a dream
Without a time to reason."

She looks again to the Ventrue.

"...will you tell me of your dreams? And I will share what I know."

[annabelle]

"I am not a seer." she says with a flat tone "I had one dream along with two other gentlemen of our court who are also definitely not seers."

She approaches the wall and stays still. Her eyes closed with a frown of worry and her voice raspy.

"Before my release I was trying to get away from a wave that was about to crash me and now I feel like I am walking on a minefield."

Even the borrowed bloody sword might be cursed. What else I don't know? What else?

She sighs with tiredness and rubs her temples.

"Please... let's take a walk and we can talk about that, it might be nothing."