Another dream

Another dream last night, again involving mike. This time I had handed the phone to my sister, and for some inexplicable reason she felt it was necessary to tell him that he was the last person on a list of 'would be suitors' etc etc.. and then that started a big fight. I don't like fighting, but I will if I have to. The ending result? I dressed up like some leather-clad she-warrior and began swinging a huge sword, with the reminder from my mother 'straighten your back dear, push those puppies out.. ' I keep having day dreams about a possible story I want to write. I always have daydreams about stories, but they only ever get half written.

Here's the story that's been in my head. This is chapter one. Now, the prologue is about 3 chapters long in my mind, because the main characters have met before.. but this is what came to me while working. Let me know what you think, and if has a future. :-)

Smoke drifted in lazy curls around the seated figures, the clink of ice in glasses breaking up the monotonous sounds of breathing and low murmuring. Elly peered speculatively at the figures opposite her, fingers curled around the playing cards she held. It had been hours since she had entered the establishement, hoping against hope she would find a way to win back the money Uncle had squandered. Now, the endless drone of other club members seemed to drown out the conversation around her, until she felt the trickle of sweat slide down her shoulder blades.. and pool at the nape of her neck.

"Your go lad.." a rough, whiskey laden voice called, bringing her back to the present. With a start, she looked down at her cards, drawing upon a blank expression as she glanced at what she had been delt.

Garbage.. it was all garbage. For not the first time that night, she felt panic well up inside her, but she tapped it down with years of training, fixing her lips into a brief smile for show. The gravel and paint that was smeared on her cheeks, felt stiff when they moved, though it all went with the disguise of being a young lord. What ever it took to gain entrance to these gaming hells, she vowed, peering again at her card mates. Carefully, as she had done before, she opened herself to the energy around her, feeling a vortex of whirling chaos bombard her from every direction. It made her senses reel, so much that she was quiet for some time as she sorted out where everything was coming from.

There, the man to her left.. Lord Crowley, his dissatisfaction rolled off him in waves. To his left, a young runner with milk white skin, his smugness seemed to grow with each card he wad delt. She'd have to watch him. Turning her face carefully, she picked at the emotions that came from each opponent, her uncanny ability to absorb and interpret the emotions of others letting her know when to bluff, and when not to. Of course she would never have gotten in, if not for the help of her friend Jacob, but where had he gotten to?

Biting off a sigh, she displayed her cards, hearing the groans as a sound of satisfaction. Of course, she wasn't a fool, and tried to convey a sense of fair play to each of the players, so they didn't grow anxious or angry with her apparent winning streak. Cheating? Of course, but she thought the dire straights her family was in called for every arsenal she could muster.

The beginnings of a headache began at the edges of her vision, signaling an end to her dealings. That was fine, since she had more than enough to pay off the house debts and buy food for the next month. Waving off, she stood, pulling the thick overcoat across her shoulders to shadow most of her features and lanky form. That's when she felt the pecular sensation of being watched, a feeling so intense her neck tingled, and the hairs on her forearms warned in warning. Discreetly, as she waited for Jacob's return, she maneuvered herself into the shadows, glancing through a haze of pipe smoke at the thinning crowds of gentleman and rakes that patroned the establishment.

Well, she couldn't see anyone directing a stare at her, so carefully, she opened herself up again, trying to pin point any interest or hostility directed her way.

Nothing.. Nothing.. There! Her eyes flew open, glancing towards another corner of the billards room. Straining forward, she kept within the boundaries of the shadows, brows furrowed in study.

The man reclined on a high backed chair, a glass of what appeared to be scotch sitting on the side table besides him. Glancing at his shoes, just about the only thing visible from her vantage point, she noticed the expensive looking gleam they sported, as well as tailored grey trousers cut in the latest fashion. The torso itself, while trim looking beneath a white shirt and waistcoat, was half in and out of the light, so she only got a 'sense' of the way he filled out his jacket.. and the casual grace in which he reclined. Lifting her eyes, she noted the faint outline of a strong, masculine jaw, though the rest of his face receeded into shadows.

Tapping her fingers upon her folded arm, she pursed her lip, somewhat perplexed in what his interest in her.. well, him was.

"Ready then?" Elly heard the spirited tone of her companion, and started, so deep in concentration she had not sensed him arrive. Turning her head, she winced, feeling the headache renew it's vigor.

"Yes, most assuredly. " she murmured, handing him the notes that would be transferred into currency by one of the [manager of a hellclub]. Standing, she half turned, trying to gain another look at her 'admirer' while Jacob began to usher her towards the door.

That is when she had the luck to see the man lean forward, and two things occurred at that instant as he face came into focus.

One, Jacob began to argue with the [hell club manager] about transferring the notes into currency; apparently guests of members were not allowed such a privledge until they signed up for member ship.

Two, Elly gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as recognition and an sharp pain sliced through her brain, the raised emotions of those around her cutting her in two from the inside. Closing her eyes tight, she felt the floor begin to buckle beneath her, or were those her knees? As darkness began to descend, and she faintly realized she was going to faint for the first time in her life, she dimly saw the figure stand.. all that masculine power and beauty she remembered so well moving with a predator's grace straight at her. Her last thought before she slipped into an unceremonious pile on the floor? ; How beautiful his eyes still were, and how cold.