DATE:  Thursday, October 22, 1998
Place:  Silverton Apartments, Apt. #101


---- Recall start ----
Andrea Wyatt raps on the door in the wee hours of the morning.
Nigel answers the door with a quiet murmur, indicating where J.J. is seated 
   watching "Tomorrow Never Dies" on the TV, before clearing his throat 
   nervously and saying, "I'm going to take a walk. That's it." He closes the 
   door behind him. J.J. looks over as Andrea comes in, turning off the TV, 
   DVD player, and sound system, then tossing all three remotes to the side of 
   the couch. "Please, come in, Andrea. Sorry the place isn't cleaned," he 
   says mock-flippantly, bitterness underscoring his words.
Andrea Wyatt watches J.J's face. "Nigel told me." Her words are sober, if not 
   pitying. "Will you let me look?"
A number of emotions chase each other across the ahroun's expression, refusal, 
   submission, the prevailing bitterness, flippancy. Finally, he settles for a 
   barely visible nod, adding with a quietly resigned tone, "Yes, 
   Andrea-rhya." His sunglasses are off, and there is a fatalistic look in the 
   yellow eyes as he looks at the Gaian. "What would you have me do?"
Andrea Wyatt answers, "Lie still." Her tone has not the slightest trace of 
   irony, and she moves toward the ahroun in order to inspect him.
"Back up, I assume?" he asks, beginning to lever himself out of his seated 
   position, trying to comply. He winds up handwalking himself down to the 
   floor in a reverse push-up.
Andrea Wyatt nods. She lets the ahroun do all for himself that he can before 
   she begins to touch and inspect his lower body. Her hands are slightly 
   rough and cool when she touches any part of his skin that has sensation.
The scars from the fight at Turner Enterprise's blossom like an ugly red 
   flower about six inches up from where the spine meets the pelvis, centered 
   almost directly over the spine, in fact. Skin twitches above that area; 
   below, it's like clay losing its firing.
Andrea Wyatt pulls away when she finishes. Her voice is quiet, but direct. "I 
   think Nigel's knowing is right, rather than his hope. This looks like a 
   scar that will not heal without intervention beyond my power."
JJ Malone grunts once. "Nigel is an optimist, something I've never been 
   accused of." He shifts to glabro, then wrestles himself to his side, 
   pushing himself back into a seated position on the floor through sheer 
   strength, and with little grace. Once back in a more decorous position, he 
   shifts back down to homid again. "You'll help me, then?" he asks, a slight 
   hint of hope betraying him.
Andrea Wyatt finds a seat. "The ritual you asked for?"
JJ Malone nods once, then laughs brittily. "A little more honorable than the 
   alternative. Although, I suppose there is that if you won't." A sudden look 
   of shame flashes into being, and he averts his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, 
   sounding sincere. "That wasn't fair."
Andrea Wyatt just nods at the apology. "I will do for you anything I can, JJ." 
   She meets the ahroun's yellow eyes squarely. "We haven't always gotten 
   along, but I have never lost respect for you. But I don't know the rite you 
   seek, and the last that knew it left months ago."
JJ Malone flinches at the end of the theurge's second sentence, eyes coming up 
   and jaw clenching at the last. "No one at this Sept knows it?"
Andrea Wyatt shakes her head. She then offers, "I know other theurges, at 
   other septs. after the moon reaches full, I can go and speak with them. See 
   if they will come, but it is more likely they will pass the ritual on to 
   me." Her look holds empathy, if still no pity. "I would not have chosen to 
   have you wait several weeks. Waiting is always hard, and triply so for 
   this."
JJ Malone's hands clench into fists, anger paramount in his expression now. "I 
   went through the last full moon healing from this. And then I realized how 
   bad it was. I don't think I can make it through another one."
Andrea Wyatt's lips thin as she nods twice. "So few survive to be as badly 
   wounded as you are, Shades. But I understand. Are there any that you know 
   that might come? I will allow any ritualist of rank to do this for you, 
   even at the caern itself."
JJ Malone opens his mouth as if to speak, then clamps it shut again, sudden 
   anger flooding his face along with color. A stubborn set enters his jaw as 
   he shakes his head vigorously. "No," he says in denial, although a little 
   too vehemently. With a surge of angry energy, he puts his hands on the edge 
   of the couch behind him and hoists himself back into a seated position 
   there.
Andrea Wyatt's sharp black eyes note that, but she says only, "Then you must 
   wait as long as you can. I know your sense of honor will hold you to this 
   life as long as your mind can take it. And that is likely farther than you 
   believe. I will handle things as quickly as possible." The angry fostern is 
   unlikely to notice her faint hesitation on the word 'handle.'
JJ Malone responds lowly, looking down and away, so it's not entirely sure 
   that he is talking to Andrea directly or not. "I'm not sure how long I will 
   be able to wait," with a quiet certainty.
Andrea Wyatt waits a few minutes, not answering that. She then asks, "Is there 
   anything I can bring you, before I go back to the woods?"
JJ Malone shakes his head, not looking up at her. "No." A pause. "But thank 
   you," he gets out politely, flashing Andrea a brief, somewhat cringing look 
   of someone feeling guilty and expecting to be punished for it, before 
   looking away again.
Andrea Wyatt's look turns sad, and she says quietly, "The least I can do, JJ. 
   Mother watch your dreams." She then stands to let herself out.
JJ Malone opens her mouth as if to say something to the Gaian's retreating 
   back, then doesn't, and loses the opportunity as Andrea exits.

---- Recall end ----