Rocking the feminism before candelabras were cool?

[sws] Post where Tasha craves beads for some reason...

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 03:38:05 GMT

[friending] friend_a_muse post

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 00:12:00 GMT

If you're here, you either read my journal, are a client looking for me, or came here from friend_a_muse. Either way? Let's chat. ;)

[On The Couch] 2.2 - Phobias

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 23:41:54 GMT

Hydrophobia…fear of water. It’s…well, semi-common, I guess, and it’s a known symptom of rabies. And even though I’m currently enjoying the personal company of a werewolf, and have enjoyed his friendship for centuries, I haven’t caught rabies from a love bite yet.

I’ve been afraid of water…my whole life. Since my resurrection, I’ve terrified of water. Not showers so much…that would be difficult, let me tell you. I can handle a shower, even walking in the rain. But you put me near any body of water you can swim in…even just a bathtub that’s full…and I can’t handle it. I don’t know what causes it, why my fear is so selective, but that’s how I live my life.

Put me near a lake, and I can’t breathe. Take me to the ocean, and I have a panic attack. Don’t even ask about the bathtub. It’s totally paralyzing…I know, just know in my heart, when I get near a body of water…I know that I will die. Death follows me to the water’s edge, and in over a millennium and a half, I’ve never been able to shake that. Some part of me…maybe some part of my hidden memories of my previous life…knows that going near the water means that I will die.

Maybe it’s the nightmares…the dreams I’ve always had of a cold, black void, where all I can breathe is darkness…

Maybe the answer’s in that void. I just wish to God that I could see it.

Muse: Natasha Guererra
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 248

[Couples Therapy] 19.3 - What I Offer A Partner

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 22:59:57 GMT

Loyalty. Complete, total, unflagging loyalty. That’s not just what I have to offer in a relationship, it’s probably the single biggest thing I have to offer.

I’m not just speaking in terms of love, either…there’s a great deal of loyalty involved with being with someone. Loving them, knowing them, sharing probably the most intimate part of their life…you have to know they’re loyal to trust them with your secrets, your dreams and deepest desires. I mean loyalty that goes above and beyond matters of the heart.

In combat, you get to know people in the same fashion…you gain levels of intimacy you can’t find in normal life. You see people in ways others don’t, ways others never will. The fear, the pain, the adrenaline…it bonds you together. That said…I’ve shared intimacy like this with countless others. I’ve also had a few affairs, none of them physical, and all of them before I got together with Michael.

I was loyal to every one of them…true to their affection, unwaveringly dedicated. Love wasn’t there in most cases…close in two, but not quite enough. Still, none of the men I was ever with knew my affection was only that. Devoting myself to preserving the heart of another person…it’s something I’m good at. It comes naturally to me…that’s the kind of loyalty I can bring to a relationship.

I’m just lucky, and endlessly delighted by the fact that, by being with Michael, I can have it all: love, passion…and a loyalty from him that can match, if not surpass my own.

Muse: Natasha Guererra
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 257
Partner: Michael Hunter (veritasjusticia)

[Make Your List] 24.1 - Things My "Parents" Liked To Say

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 16:32:26 GMT

- "Delia, mind your tongue!"
- "You are soldiers, not children at play. Behave with a little decorum!"
- "You'd best see to your charge, Gabriel. Her actions are your responsibility."
- "For the love of God, Delia!"
- "Delia, we have an assignment for you."
- "Put your faith in God, child, as we have put our faith in you."
- "Your life, flesh, and soul are sworn to the service of God, Delia...to act so rashly dishonors all grace, all God's fire that burns in your breast."
- "God save us all!"
- "The devil's go hold of you, woman."
- "What hold you have on Gabriel, I do not know...but mark my words, you'll be his downfall."
- "God be with you, child."
- "God be with you both, my children."
- "For man, for God...for salvation."
- "Godspeed, Delia."
- "No! Do it again!"
- "Yes! Your teacher has instructed you well, Delia."
- "Your impudence will not be tolerated!"
- "Remember, child...those who do not surrender to the will of God will be skewered on the swords of the angels...as was your teacher."

Natasha Guererra
Original Character

[On The Couch] 1.1: Why I'm Here

Tue, 27 May 2008 04:19:46 GMT

I’m here because there’s an entire life locked inside my head, a life I may never see unless I’m willing to risk…well…a lot.

I’m here because, for the first time in a thousand years, I’m scared. I’m really, genuinely terrified. My lover knows things I don’t, a man of my own kind that got his life back. The one that came before…the life without me in it.

It scares me, knowing that with every memory he reclaims, he might be moving a step further away from me. And it bothers me…feeling this kind of fear. I’ve stood against werewolves, burned dark witches…I’ve slain dragons, literally. And nothing scares me more than the prospect of facing this nebulous unknown.

I was never supposed to remember…that’s what I was always led to believe.

Now I have a chance to take it back…to figure out who I really am, what makes me the woman I am now. Does that life I can’t remember still have a hold on me? Did I love another before Michael? Is the shadow that’s been over my soul since my rebirth something that comes from the life I had before?

And more importantly…where does my power come from? I was a witch before I was reborn…the clerics were honest enough about that: we were chosen because we were blessed by God. Witchcraft was my blessing…

But do they know? Can they be sure?

When I was still human…what kind of witch was I? The kind I am now? Or in my mortal life…was I the very thing I spent so many years hunting?

Muse: Natasha Guererra
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 265

[MakeYourList] 24.2 - List Of Things I Say Frequently

Wed, 21 May 2008 22:34:47 GMT

- Not on my watch.
- We've killed training dummies that were a bigger threat.
- Oh, Gabriel...
- Give it time.
- Ain't that about a bitch?
- I do. ~~Swearing in on the WITNESS STAND in court, you nimrods. ;)~~
- Yes, Your Honor.
- No, Your Honor.
- The photos don't lie, sir/madam/miss.
- I'm so sorry.
- Hell no, I'm not sorry!
- Fold it 'til it's all corners and stick it.
- Thank you, Freddie.
- What brings you to Longshot Investigations?
- Rian, I'm warning you...
- Is Joe screaming again?
- Where the hell did I toss my clothes?
- Gabriel, did you rip my shirt again?
- Baby? When did you say the next full moon is again?...

[Couples Therapy] 14.1 - Fight

Wed, 21 May 2008 22:16:54 GMT

(NOTE: veritasjusticia featured with permission. :P)

Le Procuro Stronghold - Rome, Italy - 516 A.D.

“You’re being a child.”

“You’re being an ass.”

Delia found a great deal of satisfaction in the angry look Gabriel turned on her as he stopped in his tracks and spun around to face her. “I will not be talked to that way, Delia. Regardless of the leniency I show you, I am your teacher and you will respect me as such!”

“I’ll respect you when you deserve it, you arrogant son of a bitch!” she shot back hotly. So maybe he had a point...speaking in terms of the day she was reborn, she was all of a year old, and had known Gabriel only that long. He was her instructor, her mentor, but he also spoke to her far more gently than the members of Le Procuro.

He was made like her, and he looked on her with such warmth as she’d never known in her short, remembered life. Maybe she was wrong to mistake his behavior for friendship...they were all but father and daughter to each other. He owed her nothing, she was due no special latitude...in that, he was absolutely correct.

The only problem with that was the fact that she was red-hot with fury, and not inclined to pay attention to insignificant details like common sense.

“That weasely little tyrant you think to turn my Latin studies over to isn’t worth my time!” Delia protested, stalking right up to get in his face. For the first time in weeks, she paid no attention to how close his broad, well-formed body was to hers, or that she was so close his breath feathered across her face in a caress that would have otherwise put her in a swoon. It worked to her advantage in this instance, being too angry to remember how helpless she normally was to her flights of romantic fancy...

“Brother Jonathan is a good man, if a rigid fool.” Gabriel insisted. “He insists your time is best spent on academia over combat. I’ve taught you all the Latin you need to get by, he can fill in the blanks...if you wish to continue on the path of the warrior, concessions must be made.”

“Like allowing that rat to withhold knowledge from me?!” she sputtered. “Gabriel, he’ll teach me nothing!”

“He’ll teach you how to conjugate a damn verb, being as I’ve failed at that miserably.”

For a moment she lost her voice as her jaw dropped in wordless rage. “You...cocky, condescending, self-righteous, self-important, infuriating toad!!! How dare you insult me or my ability? I’ve half a mind to kill you myself on this spot!! Better yet, you son of a bitch, you can take your damned lessons, Latin to sword, and stick them with all force straight up your--”

“Delia?”

“WHAT?!?!” Damn him...smirking, self-satisfied, acting as if she’d pleased him with her anger...

Leaning in a little bit, she stood there, incensed and shaking as he spoke softly in her ear.

“We’ve been having this entire argument in Latin.”

She blinked, opened her mouth to speak again...and realized the verb she’d been about to use was, in fact, Latin.

And, as much as she hated to admit it...incorrectly conjugated.

As he drew back, his thoughts touched her mind, breaking the barriers of language and simply existing, understood in their purest form. //I’ve taught you all you need to think in the language. That’s the first step to fluency. What words you need, Brother Jonathan can teach you...and if he won’t, I will.//

“I hate you.” She meant the words she spat out as much as she didn’t mean them, stepping back to glare at Gabriel furiously.

//And I you, so long as you fight me needlessly. I’ve a great deal more respect for you than you may think, sister, but don’t believe for a minute that our friendship gives you the right to speak to me the way you just did. I am not Le Procuro’s man...I am Vindicis. Just as you are.//

Friendship...he’d said the word. Her heart tightened with it as she held his gaze. “How is that so different?”

“They are men, and they are mortal. We are not.” he replied aloud, speaking in her native tongue again. “We follow their rules and their laws because they are as just as the laws of flawed beings can be. Because we must follow some law or become savages. But never doubt for a moment that you are more than them...you are eternal. You are a warrior, and you serve the light, whatever form it takes. The Holy Spirit we petition, the Lord and Lady the white witches make offering to...the blood of Adam and Eve burned from you the day you were brought back.”

He paused, looking her over with a disdainful sneer...and a softness in his eyes that assured her he wasn’t truly angry. “You are chosen. You are Vindicis. And you are too much the spoiled brat to bear that name.”

“I still hate you.” she sniffed, folding her arms petulantly.

“That will change with the wind, little sister.”

Scowling, Delia turned on her heel and stormed off, hating how childish she was acting...how childish she felt.

So what if he was right...just because the bastard knew what he was talking about didn’t make her hate him any less.

Muse: Natasha Guererra
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 899
Partner: Michael Hunter (veritasjusticia)

[Couples Therapy] 11.1: Loneliness

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 23:09:49 GMT

When I’m lonely, I tend to skip a lot of meals. Weird, right? Still, I’ve caught myself doing it. When I’m alone, feeling the sting...it’s usually around the same time I realize my stomach’s growling in protest, or I’m dizzy from a combination of too much magic and not enough calories.

I don’t know why I do it, it’s just always been a thing for me. Ever since I was reborn...although to be honest, it’s probably a psychological thing. I mean...mealtimes are a very familial thing, even in the most casual of circumstances. My life is all about memories, maybe because I don’t have so many of the ones that matter.

Dinners with my Vindicis bretheren...meals in town and on the road with Gabriel, even evenings in the canteen or mess hall in South Korea. There’s laughter, companionship...warmth. No solitude. You get a lot more than just nourishment for the body there.

The Eagles had a really good point when they wrote that song...eating lunch all by yourself is a perfect image of what I’m talking about. We all hate it...it’s uncomfortable, lonely, and off-putting.

So when I’m lonely...for anyone...I just don’t like to do it, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

If I can’t nourish the soul...I don’t feel like nourishing the body, either.

[Make Your List] 20.2 - List of Apologies

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 21:31:56 GMT

- To Joe, for hanging up on you last week. I was in a mood, but that's no excuse.
- To Brother Johnathan, Gabriel and my former custodian, for not forgiving you for more in your later years.
- To Le Procuro's Council of Elders, for forgiving you for too much as I got older.
- To Rian, for letting you anywhere near that cute redhead in New York
- To Karla Mondragon, a gypsy seer that lived in Vitara for a time, for never helping you more. I know there wasn't much I could do for you and yours, but I feel like I should have tried...if nothing else, to help you find some measure of companionship in your life.
- To Sgt. Milton Howard, USMC, for not being able to do more. I couldn't save your life, but it doesn't stop me from wishing I could have done more than just hold you in my arms as you died.
- To Ella, a woman I saw die when I was in Korea, for not having a chance to baptize your baby like you wanted.
- Last but not least...to Gabriel, for being such a pain in the ass when I was growing up...and for never telling you enough just how much I love you.

Natasha Guererra
Original Character

[Make Your List] List of Crap To Clear Out

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 17:01:10 GMT

Stuff to send to Sotheby's:

- Enamel and table cut diamond ring, circa 1604

- British LT Cavalry Troopers sword, circa 1797

- Diamond earrings, Spanish Colonial, circa 1452

- European Smallsword, gilt brass hilt and oval cup, circa 1780

- Gold pendant, peridot and seed pearl Victorian lavalier, circa 1837

- German Landsknecht two-handed sword, mid-16th century...bought it in 1845 because it reminded me of a weapon given to me by a fellow Vindicis...he was heir to the throne of Germany before his mortal death.

- Victorian rose gold and seed pearl ring, circa 1889

- Indo-Persian watered steel chakram sword, circa 1228...trust me, Xena wasn't the only one who favored this one.

[Couples Therapy] 5.3: Shopping With My Partner

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 19:39:02 GMT

When I go shopping with Michael? I essentially own him. He lets me do as I please, within reason, he’s infinitely patient...and usually bored out of his skull.

Granted, I haven’t really been out shopping with him since the 11th Century, but that’s one thing we used to do a lot. See, we lived not in Rome proper, but a province...it was this little township just within its borders, a merchant’s village called Vitara. It was the village that was our true home...our haven away from the church and from Le Procuro. They had no power over us there...not my behavior, not his management of my training. We were just...free. To be with each other, enjoy each other, enjoy living.

His favorite stalls were the smithy and the tanner...I was usually done at both within a half an hour whereas he could freaking have lived there. I’m a total chick, but my favorite shops were the dry goods and the tanner, for an entirely different reason. Mike loved his weapons, and I do love mine as much as the next girl...but the cloth and the leather were what interested me.

Yes, I’m a closet girl. Mike hasn’t complained ~~much~~ yet since we got together.

Anyway, we’d make our usual stops at the smithy for new weapons, or to get old ones fixed...and then I’d ditch Mike if he was longer than fifteen minutes because he’d start talking shop with the smith. He had his own forge back at the church, and he is, if nothing else, a rabid workaholic and loves to wallow in it.

I would get my stuff and go...hit the tanner next, usually. He’d find me there, and start in with the merchant about what he had in the way of material for some new sheath, where the new stuff came from...I’d pore over the selection for whatever I was driven to make. I actually made the first of those wicked looking coats he loves to wear...the first was brown, but he destroyed that in a couple of weeks. Werewolf, obviously...he rarely wore the one I dyed green for him, but he adored the black one. Time’s long since destroyed it, but he still wears a mockup of the thing.

He even wears a copy of that stupid hat to go with it.

Anyway, he’d go with me to the dry goods shop after that...so I could peruse some notions and bolts of cloth, things like that. Bored him to tears, but he indulged me. I used to think it was like a father with his child...but I know better now, because he still does it. The smiles, shrugs, and “whatever suits you, Delia” remarks are something else entirely.

He puts up with my shit because he loves me...and it pleases him to do it. Not put up with me...I drive him nuts and I know it. But being able to put up with me out of love...it pleases him.

And I know this without asking him...because it’s the same for me. All of it. Right down to the last stupid minute he’s spending talking about his day at the office.

I listen and I smile not because I’m interested...although sixty percent of the time I am...it’s because I can do that for him to show him that, even after a thousand years...I love him more than I thought I ever could.

Muse: Natasha Guererra
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 586
Partner: Michael Hunter (veritasjusticia)

[Make Your List] List of Calls

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 16:57:46 GMT

List of calls from the office during vacation:

-- Hal Fowler, re: surveillance on Mrs. Fowler

-- LAPD Accounts Payable, re: payment for consult on San Fernando Mission Cemetery investigation

-- Freddie Washington, re: extra personnel for Aniston

-- Amazon.com, re: order #53533-255

-- Public Storage, re: new space is available

-- Public Defender's office, re: availability for upcoming homicide case, trial date 7/15/08

-- Michael, re: pls. call ASAP

[MakeYourList] Things I Don't Leave Home Without

Wed, 12 Mar 2008 17:38:50 GMT

-keys

-gun

-wallet

-bottle of holy water

-dagger

-crucifix

-rosary

-favorite ring (Gabriel gave it to me the night he left.)

-pack of chewing gum (I started smoking back in 1945...quit when all that stuff about secondhand smoke came out. Gum helps...I have an oral fixation, so sue me.)

-stopping to say a prayer for guidance and safety...hey, I survived this long with it. Who am I to turn my nose up at divine providence?

Natasha Guererra
Original Character

[Meme] Looks like you're getting a hell of a deal on me, Gabriel...

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 16:57:02 GMT

nicked from _call_me_snake_

Powered By Adult Toys

Not worth as much as a gunslinger, but still not bad.

I've tried a lot of things in my time..never did try prostitution, though...

Gabriel, that's your cue to ~~come and get me, tough guy~~ talk me out of it.

[MakeYourList] Intro Post - List of Vital Stats

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 22:29:54 GMT

1) My name is Natasha Guererra...now.

2) I wasn't born. I was made.

3) I'm going to be 1,493 years old this summer.

4) I was created by a holy order called Le Procuro. When they found me, I was a body in a forgotten grave...long dead, without even a name of my own. Through a combination of science and mysticism, they raised me from the dead.

5) I have no memory of my life before I was reborn.

6) After growing up with swords and arrows, I've developed a real fondness for firearms since their creation.

7) I love candy. Maybe it comes from not remembering what it was to be a kid...but I love candy. A lot.

8) I am immortal.

9) I run a private investigation firm called LONGSHOT INVESTIGATIONS. We do a little of everything, and we do it well. We also do a lot of really top quality pro bono work.

10) At the moment, I'm dating Michael Hunter, a PI with the LAPD. When I was reborn, he was called Gabriel Veritas. He was the first of the Vindicis...he was also my mentor and best friend.

11) The firm isn't on FORBES lists yet? But I still got asked to participate in a spread for Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue called SUITS IN SUITS: THE GIRLS OF FORBES. I was going to do it...until Michael and I finally hooked up. He's the jealous type...I find that I'm enjoying it.

12) Along with being immortal, I'm also a witch...I can only assume in my mortal life, I practiced the craft. I've become an adept spellcaster since discovering the ability back in my youth.

13) As a Vindicis, I am also a warrior. Call me a tin-can prototype of the genetically engineered soldier: I was created to fight evil. Pure and simple.

14) I'm trained in swordplay, knife fighting, hand to hand combat, and thanks to ~~Gabriel's~~ Michael's fondness for the crossbow, I'm also a good shot.

[SixWordStories] Best boyfriend ever.

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 22:18:44 GMT

[My boyfriend's *adorable* when he's furry.]

[RP] It's now or never...

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 21:25:12 GMT

OOC: Based on events outlined here.

She'd handled a lot of difficult cases in her career...delivered a lot of bad news in her life, but never anything that hit so horrifically close to home. Never anything of this magnitude. It all sat on her desk in a neat and tidy little manila folder...not a spot of dirt, not a trace of the blood that the information was covered in.

Natasha was pacing her office when she felt him enter the office building...his worry, his fear, his animal drive to protect that which belonged to him. She hated the fact that her short, abrupt phone call asking him to come to the office had upset him, but it was necessary. She couldn't go to the station, and she couldn't discuss it on the phone.

Either way, Artie might hear.

Walking over to her desk, Natasha leaned over and hit the intercom, buzzing the front. "Shayna?"

"Yes, Miss Guererra?"

"There's a gentleman that's about to have a run in with security...tell them to let him up to my office, will you? It's Michael."

"Wait...you mean *the* Michael, Miss Guererra?"

Smiling slightly in spite of herself, Natasha answered. "Yes, Shay...that one. Just try not to stare *too* hard at his ass when you see him in, will you?"</i>

Her reward was a laugh from her receptionist as the intercom went dead.

Ten minutes later, she was still pacing when the door to her office opened. Turning on her heel and spotting Michael, she sighed in relief as she walked over to him, reaching up to wrap him in a fierce hug.

"Thank you for getting here so fast." she sighed, drawing back to meet his gaze. "I just...I have to talk to somebody. C'mere, sit down...I'll tell you everything."

Once they were seated on the small couch on the other side of her spacious office, she took a deep, steadying breath. "Gabriel...you know Artie's granddaughter, right? Rian Baxter?"

[SWS] {locked from Michael}

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:58:37 GMT

[The man I love's a moron.]

[RP] 'Cause there will always be heartache and pain...and when it's over you'll breathe again...

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 00:40:27 GMT

"Now take that...there you go! You did it!" Artie crowed with a grin as he "helped" the toddler in his lap fold a paper airplane.

Little Arthur Jackson Baxter squealed in delight and held up his creation triumphantly. "I do it!"

"You sure did, baby." Rian laughed from her perch on the edge of Artie's desk, leaning over to retrieve her son. "So what do you say, Grandad? Will *you* do it?"

"Not on your life."

"Grampa!!"

"Rian, I love you, I'd kill for you, but I will *not* do THE TODAY SHOW for you." Artie replied flatly. "You want to do a print article about NETS in vampires, I'll give you a quote, but you'll have to pick a new victim if you want to move to telejournalism. Go ask Michael for a scoop...do a story on rabies in lycanthropes or something."

"Jacko? Shaddup. I do not get rabies. Besides, if I did, you would know, I would bite you first," Michael deadpanned, smirking into the file he was reading, flipping through the pages absently.

Artie merely flipped off Michael as a look of keen interest crossed Rian's face.

"No, you don't...but you'd make an awesome public interest story, Mike!" Rian enthused, hoisting up AJ as she stood and walked over to his desk. "If I could get the call from the network, would you do the interview? It'd be totally in good taste, I promise."

"Rian, leave him alone and get AJ to daycare...me and Michael got a case we're working on, and our next witness interview will be here any minute."

"No, Rian. I am not getting in front of any camera, motion picture or otherwise," Michael replied firmly. There was no way he would allow his face to get out there again. That he had gotten away with it the last time was a miracle to him.

"Neither one of you are any fun...and neither one of you have heard the last from me." Rian sighed, grinning as she moved back to Artie and kissed his cheek. "Love you, Grandad...kiss Grampa bye bye, AJ."

Artie grinned as AJ left a big smacking kiss against his cheek and waved as Rian left the squad room. As she did, she brushed by an attractive young woman with wavy chestnut hair, tastefully highlighted, and a strangely somber air about her. Scooting past Rian, the woman entered the squad room and veered towards Artie's desk. "Excuse me...are you Detective Jackson?"

Rising, Artie offered her his hand. "Yes...you must be Miss Guererra."

With a small smile, Natasha Guererra nodded as she shook his hand. "Yeah...you guys still need my statement, right?"

"Yes, yes Ma'am, we certainly---" Michael began, looking up from his file finally as he spoke, his voice catching in his throat as he took her in. Dear God, she looked just like her, but after all these years...

He cleared his throat faintly. "My apologies, you... resemble someone I used to know..."

Natasha's head swung in the direction of the new voice...and felt the floor tilt underfoot. Struggling for some kind of ground, she fought to keep her features calm as she turned to the detective cautiously and offered him her hand, even as she stretched a sense she hadn't used in years to read the man before her. "It's okay, really." She assured him pleasantly. "Name's Natasha Guererra, I'm a private investigator. It's a pleasure, Detective..."

"Michael Hunter," he supplied after a moment, rising to his feet, taking her hand. As he stood at his full height, he had a moment of total deja vu, stunned to absolute silence for a few moments. He found himself staring down at her, his jaw a bit slack as he took in her face. Those eyes. Dear God, those *eyes*. "...Delia?" He found himself asking softly.

The sound of her own name in her ears was alien as she stood there, frozen. Peering at him from the corners of her eyes, she moved forward just a little...and dared herself to hope. "Gabriel?..."

His grip tightened around hers on reflex to hearing the name, and this time, his jaw genuinely did drop. "Oh my God. Is this possible...?"

Natasha couldn't stop the smile as she reached up to embrace him fiercely. "I don't know...but I'm not gonna question it...aw, *Gabriel*....Jesus, it's good to see you!!"

A warm laugh escaped him as he returned the embrace, hugging her to him. "God, Delia, I thought you dead after all these years!"

"I wasn't even sure you really *were* alive, some days...saying goodbye seemed like some kind of horrible nightmare." she breathed, giving him one more fierce squeeze before drawing away to grin at him. "God, let me look at you...I feel like you should be taller or something." she laughed.

Artie, who still stood nearby, blinked in confusion. "I'm...assuming you two know each other?"

Michael smiled broadly, grinning down at her, his hand running through her hair lightly before letting her draw away. Without moving her eyes from her, for fear of her disappearing, he spoke. "Arthur... this is Delia Vitori."

Artie blinked, then gaped. "Oh...wait, not...hang on, is this *the* Delia?"

Natasha laughed, covering her face with both hands. "God...what's he said about me? Whatever it is, it's all lies."

"Sweetheart, he says you do everything but walk on water, and some days I have to wonder if he's fibbing about that. I've been hearing tales...Jesus, damn near the last thirty odd years."

He laughed warmly. "Did I not tell you that story? There was that one time, with the mermaids..." Michael began jokingly.

Natasha pretended to glare at Michael as she reached over and swatted his arm. "Gabriel Veritas, that is *blasphemous* talk!" She paused, then grinned as she flung her arms around his waist and hugged him sideways. "I *missed* you, you idiot." she giggled.

Grinning broadly, Michael threw an arm around her shoulders, dropping a kiss on her temple as he used to.

"Mmmmm...missed that, too." she added with a sigh, leaning into the contact of his lips just a little before she made herself draw back just a little...if nothing else, in order to try and keep her heart from leaping straight out of her chest. For a thousand years, she'd regretted her final chance to tell him how she felt...what was really in her heart...

She had a second chance here...and one way or another, she wasn't going to let it pass her by.

"But as much as I'd like to take you away for myself this instant...I have a statement to give, right?" she sighed with a smile.

"That you do...but we'll make it quick." Artie assured her with a grin, tossing Michael a wink. "You didn't do her justice, bub...little lady's prettier than you said she was."

Michael smiled warmly, almost beaming with pride, reluctantly releasing her to pull a seat out for her. As she sat down, he tugged on her hair lightly. "When did you lose the curls, hmm?"

Natasha took the seat, laughing as she ran a hand through her hair, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I discovered the flat iron." she joked. "I straighten it once a week, but it doesn't work very well...you should have seen what I went through to ditch them during the Sixties. Singed my hair more than once trying to iron it."

Michael chuckled warmly, sitting down after drawing her chair up near her. "Yeah, that sounds like something you would do. Probably put that bee stuff on your lips to sting them so they looked fuller, too, not that you would ever need to."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Gabe? Honey? I'm fashionable...not an idiot." she replied, surpressing a chuckle.

"The two ain't always mutually exclusive." Artie pointed out with a smile of his own. "Okay, we gonna do business or schmooze? Save that for lunch, which Mike's taking after this is done."

"Sure...of course. And thank you." Natasha replied, then reached over to poke Michael's shoulder when she saw him give a look that made her suspect he was going to make some kind of argument. "And *you* shut up. That's an order."

Michael looked back at her, flabbergasted for a moment before chuckling outright. "You do realize you are the only person on the planet I would let get away with that, right?" He reached over to his folder, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen. "Alright, let us get this done."

Natasha snorted incredulously, half-joking as she did. "Since when?" she quipped, easing back in her chair as Michael got his things together.

"That's right...you knew Mike here back in the dark ages, didn't ya?" Artie joked. "Remind me to quiz you on this guy...okay. Business. Where'd I put that file...here we go! Okay, so...we got your statement at the scene, but you said that you saw some evidence tampering?"

Natasha nodded. "Yeah...I was the one to find the body, and I called Homicide right away, naturally. When I was giving my statement, though, I saw some stuff get moved around. Now the body wasn't a body when I found it...some of it was the EMT's handling the victim. The pose was disturbed and so on, but I also saw a couple of uniforms messing with things."

Michael scowled at her remark. "That does not comfort me in the least. Did you happen to catch what they looked like? Or felt like, even?" He questioned, knowing exactly the extent of her powers were.

"Wait, felt? Telepathically, you mean?" Artie asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's inadmissable, and you know it, Mike."

"No...auras." Natasha explained. "I'm familiar with procedure, Detective...I can't go on record with anything I heard mentally, but Gabe and I can tap into auras."

"Well, I knew Mike could see them..."

"What? Hell no! We do more than see them...we can do everything but reach out and touch them." Natasha replied. "Like at the scene...only one officer stood out. His aura was black...I mean seriously corrupt. Black aura is evil, but I could *feel* his intent. There was something about that scene that pleased him. If he didn't know the killer and willingly aid him by tampering with evidence, I'll be damn surprised."

Michael nodded in understanding to her words. "Catch what he looked like?" There were a couple of men that could fit that mental description, really. "And were the rest of them on it, or just him?"

Natasha nodded. "I can do better than describe him...I caught his badge number and nametag." she offered helpfully. "And he was the only malicious one I saw...I think the other officers may have been acting on his behalf. Manipulated, y'know?"

"All right...for the record, we can offer you protection for this information, if you feel threatened." Artie offered.

Natasha rolled her eyes with a smile. "I got chunks bigger than these guys in my stool." she quipped. "I'm not worried, Detective."

Michael laughed. "Indeed. She also has me watching her back now. She has no need to be worried," he remarked, leaning back in his chair. "What was his name, Del?"

"Trainer was the last name...badge number is 326." she replied without hesitation. "I'm not sure if he works out of this precinct or not."

"Probably." Artie sighed, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, since they let Paranormals back into the department, the standards on the Null end have gone down...back in my day, shit like this didn't happen."

Michael looked at him dubiously, arching a brow, wondering if he remembered who he was talking to. "Right. Well, we will definitely look into it."

"Cool." Natasha grinned, folding her arms across her stomach. "So what else do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, when you're going to turn over that evidence." Artie replied, frowning at the file again. "Report here says that you picked up some shots of a car you think was involved?"

"You guys think it was involved, too...black Volvo seen fleeing the scene." Natasha corrected. "Yeah, I got some photos before it took off...and I'm not giving them up to the cops. I got cause...department's already got dirty cops on the case, what's to say they won't get to the images, too?"

"Because we are not ordinary cops? At least let us look at them so we know what kind of car we are looking for. Give us a copy so Jacko and I know what to look for at least," Michael remarked, slinging an arm across the back of her chair.

Natasha smiled at Michael, a note of apology in the expression. "Gabe, I love you...but you can't guarantee the safety of that evidence. Beyond getting stolen or something? It could easily be corrupted mystically. I can tell you it's a black Volvo, I can give you the license number, but those photos will hold up in court. I can't let you have them right now."

Michael chuckled a bit. "Fine. *My* head cannot get corrupted. Let me see it so I can confirm that those are the pictures you showed me now, when it goes to trial."

A laugh escaped her at that. "Your head can't get corrupted? Don't get me started on that dark pixie in Bulgaria." she giggled. "Her influence had you thinking you could fly. Sorry, but pictures are *my* pictures until you shields can sort out your internal crap."

"I could get a court order, kiddo...judge will throw you in the clink for contempt." Artie warned her.

"Least I can take a nap in a cell...trust me, shackles and stocks are a fuck of a lot worse." Natasha replied blithely. "Get the order...warrant, supoena, whatever you want. You're not getting your hands on those pictures."

Michael grew serious, reaching out to slip his hand in hers. "Delia... I know you mean best. But you are just as likely to be affected as I am. And if you are the sole possessor of those pictures, that will not do us a lot of good should that happen. Two heads are better than one, by far, in this instance."

Natasha's smile was patient, but just the tiniest bit annoyed. "Gabriel...I'm not casting glamors to cover scratches or making leaves float anymore. I've acquired a lot of power since I was young." she replied patiently. "I'm not just Vindicis any longer...I'm a witch with weapons, and I know how to use them. I can protect myself, *and* those photos, and I'll sit in the clink until you ferret out your bad seeds, if that's what it takes."

"If I go to our ADA, that's what it will take." Artie threw in, glancing at Michael. "Bub? Think you can talk some sense into your friend here? Because if you can't, I *am* calling Syn."

Michael ignored Artie's words, shifting her chair to face him completely. Meeting her eyes, he looked at her for a few moments quietly, as if trying to gauge how to handle this. "You realize I am not a dirty rat, right Del?" He asked her softly, wondering if her refusal stemmed from something she saw in him and did not trust anymore.

Natasha's features saddened a little as she nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah...yeah, I do." she replied softly, leaning forward a little to rest her elbows on her knees. "But a thousand years ago, you left me alone...I've been alone ever since, and alone is what I know now. And Gabe...I love you as dearly as I ever did, I've missed you so much, and I *do* want to tell you everything I've seen and done, I want so badly to be with you again..."

She trailed off, shrugging apologetically. "But this isn't personal here...this is business. And justice is an ice storm...cold to feeling, blind to all but truth. *You* taught me that. So...unless I miss my guess, you and your friend here have a phone call to make."

Michael remained quiet a few moments longer. "A thousand years ago, I was forced to leave you alone. I know what being alone is..." His tone hinted to something she might not yet know of. "...But we are the same. We always have been. Just as you claim you cannot be manipulated, you know I can make the same claim. I just want to see them, Del. Then Artie needs make no call. That way I can testify in court that *you* did not doctor them to suit the case," he pointed out rationally, his tone even and honest all the same.

Her smile grew a little as she nodded...same old Gabriel. It was a small jab, but it was still a cheap shot and it stung a little. When she was younger, it would have shamed her into acquiescing...which just proved how little he knew her anymore.

And that hurt most of all.

Still, he had a valid point, so she sighed heavily and reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a digital camera. Turning it on, she called up the first of the images and scooted closer, displaying the photo on the screen, slowly scrolling through a series of six shots at various angles, two of which were motion shots of the car pulling away. "You can look, but you can't touch." she deadpanned.

Michael purposefully put his hands behind his back, nodding, his hazel eyes looking at the details as she flipped through the pictures. "Thank you, Del. That is all I needed to see," he remarked, keeping his hands behind him until she had put it away.

"Literal, as usual." she sighed with a roll of her eyes as she shut off the camera and removed the memory card. Putting the camera away, she clutched the memory card in her fist and murmured a spell under her breath, then with a flourish opened her hand shook it, showing that the card had vanished. She had, in fact, put it in a much safer place...but they didn't know that.

Glancing up at Artie, she raised an eyebrow. "We done here?"

"For now...but we may need to call you back." he replied.

Nodding, Natasha turned back to him with a small smile and a raised eyebrow. "So...wanna get out of here? That is, if you're still talking to me, anyway..." she half-joked.

Michael's smile returned, broadening. "I should ask the same question to you. Let us update the captain and I will ask for some private time, if Jacko here can cover my back," he remarked, looking over at Artie with a slight raising of his brows.

Artie waved him off, flipping the file in his hands closed. "Go, get out of here...I'll talk to Joe and ring Internal Affairs. And if you argue with me, I'll be forced to assault the elderly and pop you one."

"Let me guess...workhorse?" Natasha asked with a grin.

"And how...I'm starting to think he was the basis for the term."

Michael cleared his throat. "You both realize I am right here, correct?" He pointed out, looking between them both.

Leaning against him for a moment, Natasha stretched up just enough to rest her chin on his shoulder and mock whisper to him. "Now you know how I felt at all those Council meetings." she teased, drawing back again and waving at Artie as she grabbed his hand and playfully started tugging him towards the door. "Nice meeting you, Detective!!"

"That's Artie to you, Pretty Foots!" Artie joked, waving in farewell.

Michael shot him a glare before moving off with Delia, curling his fingers around hers as they walked. "Aye... That was a different era then," he remarked with a slight chuckle.

Natasha nodded, giving his hand a warm squeeze before using his arm to pull herself closer to him, linking her arm through his in a habitual manner that hadn't come to her since the old days. "Yeah...but a lot's changed since then." she observed quietly, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment...then smiling teasingly. "And I'm not just talking about my hair, either."

A smile played at his lips at her words. "Oh, I can only imagine. If you were like that back then, now that society does not frown upon it, I can only imagine what you are like now," Michael teased her, partly serious, but largely just joking with her.

She laughed for a moment, then lifted her head with a nod as she sobered a little, looking up at him. "Honestly? I'm not that different that way...but I fit in now. Wanting what I want, doing what I do...nobody cares if I have a bad attitude anymore. It's not unholy or a disgrace to anyone's honor...it just makes me a bitch." Grinning, she shrugged. "It's fun."

Michael laughed outright at that, squeezing the hand that was wrapped around his arm. "Lovely. Your attitude has gained a vocabulary word to define it. Talk about being before your time, hmm?"

In spite of herself, Natasha giggled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah...talk about it." she echoed. Catching his look, she only laughed harder. "I'm sorry...it's just kind of ironic that you said that. I just got a blog recently, and that's what I called it." she explained.

He arched a brow in the air at that. "I see..." Little did she know. Michael cleared his throat a bit, shaking his head. "Seems to be a popular trend as of late."

That caught her by surprise. Blinking, she glanced at him dubiously. "You mean you have a website? For work, right?" she asked. Because no way did he have one just for the hell of it...

Michael chuckled a bit. "Artie Jackson's granddaughter talked him into it, now he is kinda making it a PR stunt for the whole department. A 'getting to know you' kind of deal."

"See, I knew it." she teased, poking his shoulder playfully. "I always imagined you being the crochety old man that loathed and despised computers and stuff. Like that librarian dude on that vampire TV show that was so popular a few years ago."

"Since when have you ever known me to be technologically backwards?" Michael remarked, a bit stung by the statement. "And I got over that crotchety syndrome several hundred years ago, I will have you know."

"Technologically stubborn, not backwards." she corrected. "Remember that weirdo hinged knife I loved so much, and you always swore would snap on me in a pinch? They call those butterfly knives now, my friend."

Michael rolled his eyes. "They also call that invention of Deanna's crosshairs now. But I will give you that, stubborn I am. And that has not changed."

Natasha nodded with a nostalgic smile as she leaned into him a little. "That's good to know...that some things are still the same, even that." she remarked half-jokingly. What truly surprised her was just how little many things had changed...including the way it felt just to link arms with him, to feel the solid, unyielding warmth of his shoulder beneath her head as she held onto him.

The schoolgirl crush had long ago matured into a deep and abiding love for the man who had been both friend and father to her for so long...but it jolted her a little to realize that, unwittingly, she'd shut so much of herself off...her body, her heart, and a good part of her mind...because she was saving it all for him.

Michael looked down at her, reaching down to stroke her hair gently, chuckling warmly. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, Delia. So, where exactly are we going that we are to have our in depth discussion at?"

The feel of his hand in her hair was a little more than she could take, causing her to draw away with a mischevous smile, moving to walk backwards so she could face him. "I'm thinking Brent's in Northridge...they have this *amazing* cobb salad. A full order's enough to feed three guys in one sitting, and I'm *hungry.*"

"My, how the world has changed that we can talk so freely in public. Although I never had you down as one to watch your figure. You were always athletic enough that it was unnecessary," Michael remarked, being factual yet unaware of the compliment.

Natasha's jaw dropped with a smile. "Gabriel Veritas...are you trying to tell me that I have a hot bod?" she joked, even though the notion made her chest both pleasantly and unpleasantly tight.

"Are you trying to tell me that you need someone to tell you that?" Michael quipped in response, smirking down at her, side-stepping the insinuation.

Natasha folded her arms, still walking backwards along the sidewalk as she smirked at him. "Nuh uh...no way, you're dodging. Did you or did you not just actually admit to looking and taking note of the hotness of me?"

Michael was about to reply when he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling just enough to stop her momentum. "Watch where you are going huh?" He quipped, motioning to electric pole behind her. "And Delia, considering everything we had been through, I think it would be difficult *not* to notice."

As he caught her arm, the momentum propelled her forward half a step, putting her a hairsbreadth away from being physically dumped into his arms. Forcing herself not to react, she just smiled up at him blithely. "Again...no dodging. C'mon...if you're gonna say it, say it. 'Tasha, you're a hottie.' It's not that hard..."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Yes Delia, you are a hottie. Are you satisfied?" He remarked, looking down to meet her gaze, smirking faintly.

//Not by a longshot.// she thought to herself, burying the thought deep as she grinned at him with a cheerful nod. "Completely...at least until we get to Brent's." she laughed, catching his hand again. "Come on, we'll take my car...I'm parked down here."

"You drive? Should I run for the hills?" Michael knew something was off, but her skill in hiding her thoughts had only improved in the millennia since he had seen her.

He was rewarded with a smack against his shoulder with Natasha's free hand. "Jerk...if I wasn't so glad to see you, I'd kick your ass." she giggled. "I've been driving since the Model T came out...I'll have you know I'm a *great* driver."

"Right, and how many accidents have you gotten into since then? Women were not allowed to *drive* in the era of the Model T!" Michael exclaimed with a laugh, hooking his elbow out to her once more.

Natasha simply regarded him blandly, spreading her arms. "Your point?...women were also not allowed to travel alone when we were working, but I did that *routinely.*"

"Aye, and how many times did you tell me of the villagers being uncooperative with you?" He retorted with a smirk."

"As if that *ever* stopped me." she snorted with a grin as she veered away, heading towards a sleek black Pontiac Grand Am parked on the street. "This is my car here."

He should have guessed this was her car. Beast of an engine, but not overly flashy either. It was still an attention grabber though. "Very nice, Del. This your baby?" He remarked, moving to the passenger door as he spoke, inspecting the vehicle.

"Nice, ain't it? Though I wouldn't exactly call it my baby...I don't usually hang onto a car too long before I toss it back into the motor pool." she replied, walking around to the
drivers' side. Hitting the remote, the doors unlocked keylessly as she gestured for Michael to get in. "This here's a company car."

"'Company'? Company car how?" He questioned, burrowing his brows.

"My company...told you, I'm a private investigator." she replied once he was in the car. "CEO and founder of Longshot Investigations, one of LA's highest grossing agencies....and the largest provider of pro bono services in the state."

Michael's brows shot upwards in surprise. "Well well, look at you. Someone grew up sometime in the last 600 years," he remarked, slipping on the seatbelt.

"Two hundred and thirty...two years, actually." she corrected, fastening her own seatbelt before sliding the key into the ignition and starting the engine. "Give or take...I came over here shortly after the colonies split off on their own. Ran a smithy for a while, did some bounty hunting...around the turn of the century I started getting more active in law enforcement and the military. I started the firm in 1945...oh, excuse me, my great grandmother Madeline Tyson did."

"Madeline? You called yourself Madeline?" He questioned, his tone dubious. Everything else he could believe, but calling herself by that name was the only thing he doubted. He wondered if she knew the irony in her becoming a smithy however.

"Yes, I called myself Madeline...shut up." she laughed, pulling out onto the street. "I was a big freak back then...call it my nerdy period. I even had the big goofy glasses to go
with it."

"Awww. You were probably cute as a button," Michael remarked, a slow grin spreading across his lips.

"Oh, now i'm cute." she shot back gamely. "First I'm hot, then I'm cute...if I didn't know better, I'd say you had a thing for me."

"Delia, have I ever denied to you that you were, and are, a beautiful woman?" Michael pointed out factually, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke.

"Well...yeah." she snorted, shrugging. "More or less...you've never showed any sign of noticing, one way or another."

"You always did call me a eunuch. Not a lot has changed since then."

Natasha smiled, but there wasn't a lot of humor in it. "There's celibate, castrati, and just plain insulting, Veritas." she murmured under her breath without really thinking.

Michael looked at her and sighed softly, realizing that once again, his bluntness had somehow offended her. "What do you want me to say, Delia? That I have not been tempted? Of course I have. I just..." He shrugged a bit, admitting it softly. "...have not been interested in it for quite some time now."

When he started to speak, the sound of his voice struck her...and for a moment, she thought that maybe he had something to say that she needed to hear. || But when he finished...she realized that very little had changed after all. A tight, testy smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head, leaning a little harder on the accelerator without meaning to.

"No, Gabriel...you've *never* been interested." she sighed, forcing herself from a place of hope back into familiar resignation. "You've never, ever *once* been interested in fifteen centuries." And that was the problem...aside from the fact that, after all the centuries she'd known and loved him, she'd never quite been able to give up on the hope that one day, he just might open his eyes and see her the way she'd always dreamed of.

Michael looked at her curiously, wondering just what she was driving at. "Delia, what do you want me to say?"

Natasha sighed, leaning her head back against the seat as they reached a stop light, shutting her eyes for just a moment to collect herself. One of the things Natasha loved and admired about Gabriel was his unflagging nobility...his deep and abiding sense of honor and respect for men and women alike, for the morals that he fought so hard for...

But sometimes, she just wanted to strangle him for being so pure and fucking *innocent* in all the wrong ways.

"Nothing," she finally sighed, opening her eyes and lifting her head as she glanced at him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Nothing, Gabriel, just...nothing."

"Right. You never say anything without a point, Delia. You learned that from me," he pointed out, somewhat bemused. "So it is certainly something, otherwise you would not have said it in the first place."

"Yeah, well...since we last got together, I've learned to fully indulge the free-associating psychosis of PMS." she deadpanned, giving the road her attention again as the light turned green. "It's fun...pop some estrogen, you can try it sometime."

"I have entirely no reason to take estrogen, thank you. But since when have Vindicis ever had PMS?" Michael questioned, knowing a dodge when he saw one, but taking the bait anyway.

Natasha rolled her eyes with a smirk, resisting the urge to laugh and snap at him at the same time. "Gabe, I'm Vindicis...but I'm also a witch and wholly female...maybe moreso because of it." she replied. "Over the last thousand years, I've spent a lot more time tapping into my power."

At that he arched his brows in surprise. "Wait. You gave it to yourself on purpose?"

Natasha spared him a glance, gaping at him. "Oh my *God*...Gabriel, please don't tell me you actually bought into all the crap the Council used to feed us!! There is absolutely nothing wrong with me biologically...I've had myself checked out more than once since the Uprising. I don't know about the rest of our kind, but I'm *fine.* Either the inability to bear children was in the men of our kind...or Le Procuro was full of shit. I'm willing to bet it was the latter."

Michael remained silent for a few moments, conversations from ages ago returning to him. "If that is the case... it must have been the men. Because Delia... I am all too aware of others like us trying to procreate back in the day. And their misery at being unable to was all too real," he said softly.

"Well...maybe they figured out how to eliminate the problem later." Natasha mused. "Because I know that some of the oldest of us...couples like Ilsa and Mordecai, and Damien and Maia...they tried for a while in spite of what they were told. Prayed for a miracle, y'know? But after a while they just gave up hope. Hell, for all we know the Council cursed us to be barren. And for all I know, I'm a fluke. You could be, too...we *were* the first, after all."

"Well, I have no idea if I am or not. After all, I have never tried," he remarked after a beat. "And I hope so. For the sake of those that tried, I hope they solved the problem."

And he was honest about that, too...about not trying. Natasha just couldn't fathom it.

Maintaining her speed, Natasha turned a corner expertly, then glanced at him. "Gabriel, you *are* straight, right?"

At that, Michael burst into laughter, a laugh he had not felt in ages. It took him a few moments to recover, finally nodding. "Yes, yes I am. Thank you for questioning it though."

"Juuuust checking." she sighed, rolling her eyes with a small smile in spite of herself. The big dumb idiot was aggravating as he'd ever been...but listening to that laughter felt good. She'd missed the sound of it, the jolly rolling laugh that, as far as she knew, he only ever let out around her.

If she were mortal, dealing with him again would have been stressful enough to shorten her lifespan...but she couldn't deny that already, her life was richer for having found him again.

[OOC] Le Procuro and Los Vindicis

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 19:11:18 GMT

ABOUT LE PROCURO:

Early on in the Roman Catholic Church’s history, there were those servants of God who saw the truth of the world: otherworldy forces live among us, both black and white in nature. They believed that as God had created all things in this world, so he had also created all things supernatural in nature, with the same capacity for holiness and corruption that lived in the hearts of man.

Rome, however, did not see the validity in this belief.

These forward thinking men and women believed that in their service to God, it was their duty to stand against the legions of the devil, be they natural or unnatural in origin, and that use of any means to rid the world of darkness was sanctified, even if that means was pagan in nature. For this belief, these servants of the Church were shunned by their fellows.

When this faction of rebels began to make their beliefs more vocal, the Church threatened them with excommunication. Eventually they made good on that threat early in the Fifth Century, and the group took part in a schism so scandalous and vile in nature that it was hidden from all sight. These men and women...nuns, monks, priests and friars all, went on to form their own church, one that followed the teachings of Catholicism with the utmost devotion.

Beneath its churches, however, this sect fostered a secret order devoted to the fight against Satan's legions here on earth. Led by a High Council of former Church elders, the order called itself Le Procuro (The Protectors), and away from the watchful eyes of history, amassed a library and army of occult power the likes of which the world has never seen, along with a dedicated group of followers who gave their lives to the task of protecting the souls of Man from the Devil's grasp.

Le Procuro labored tirelessly against all those who opposed the sanctity of God and human life, including the unholy Order of the Black Rose, for nearly a millenium until the group was violently and abruptly obliterated in the early 1400's at the hands of the same group. During their existence, many of the world's greatest minds, miracles, and mystic powers sprang from the machinations and works of Le Procuro. Of all their contributions to the world, however, their greatest came with the birth of a warrior race the likes of which the world would never see again...

ABOUT LOS VINDICIS:

In their war against darkness, the soldiers of Le Procuro learned the ways of the enemy, used their own devices to make themselves stronger. Combat, alchemy, sorcery and science...all those avenues of study and practice the Church believed were heretical and evil. As time went on, however, it became clear to them that only one force could stand against the darkness: something derived from the power they fought. Human bodies were too fragile to stand against creatures three times stronger than mortal men. Human senses were too dull, and human minds made for worship unaccustomed to bloodshed.

And so they turned to the world of the dead to preserve the world of the living.

Little knowledge remains of exactly how the process worked, only that both magick and early science aided their endeavors to create an army of soldiers. They drew from countless sources of power in creating their holy warriors...from the African continent, they adapted the use of voodoo, the practice of raising the dead. With alchemy, they unlocked the key to eternal life. From lesser known regions such as the Central Americas, they drew on communion with the animal spirits...strength, awareness, abilities beyond the norm. Witches gave them healing magick, and their own brotherhood gave them the compassion, sanctity, and soul a warrior of the faith would need.

Flesh, however, could not be created from the ether...it was instead procured from the graves of the forgotten, long desolate bodies that had been reclaimed by the earth. With all respect and ceremony, the bodies were removed and the graves reconsecrated in respect for the dead...fresh graves were never searched.

Ancient Egyptian rites restored even the most derelict corpse to incorrupt flesh, while long forgotten rites and procedures went into restoring life to that flesh. Long before Ben Franklin brought the world electricity, Le Procuro realized the life-giving power of the storm and harnessed it by means no longer known to history.

The end result was a wholly new race, borne from the shells of mortal men and women. Blessed with a warrior's spirit and strength, an animal's superior senses and prowess, and a sanctified magic all their own, they became Le Procuro's instrument of protection against the forces of darkness until, along with their makers, the last of the race was supposedly eradicated in the 15th century.

Among the gifts of those known as Los Vindicis (The Avengers) were the ability to read thoughts as well as auras...know the hearts of men, be they pure or corrupt. Sharp minds gave them insight and cunning, while magic gave them superior strength, speed, and senses. They were also blessed with the ability to heal in a unique fashion...a wounded Vindicis could heal with the touch of any object imbued with the energy of human faith. Holy relics of any kind were the most effective, with holy water being the most commonly used for its easy availability and use.

In every great achievement, however, there are always flaws. Though strong bodied and swift healing without the aid of outside influence, a Vindicis could die from a mortal wound as easily as a human without proper treatment. Furthermore, a forceful blow dealt to the base of the neck where spine meets skull...the place where life-giving electricity is channeled into the body at rebirth...is always fatal.

The first of the Vindicis were Gabriel Veritas (rb. 496 A.D.) and Delia Vitori (rb. 515 A.D.). In a massive attack by emissaries of the Order of the Black Rose, the last of the Vindicis were slaughtered somewhere between 1400 and 1415. Although Gabriel Veritas was exiled in 1054 after falling to a werewolf's bite, and Le Procuro was rumored to have hidden some Vindicis in the mortal world at the time of the attack, there has been no evidence that any others remain alive to this day. At present, Gabriel Veritas, AKA Michael Hunter, a werewolf/Vindicis halfbreed, remains the last known living evidence of Los Vindicis.

[OOC] Bio Sheet

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 14:27:31 GMT

Name: Natasha Guererra

Nicknames: Tasha, Warrior, Del (only Michael can get away with using that one); Birth name: Delia Vitori

Occupation: owner/operator of Longshot Investigations

Age: 1489

Sex: Female

Species: Vindicis

Marital Status: single and definitely NOT looking

Family: none living...that she remembers

Description: long black hair with a lot of natural curl (these days, she tends to straighten it and highlights it when she's got the urge), brown eyes, pale complexion, slender but athletic build, pentagram and runes tattooed on small of her back, cross tattoo on right wrist, numerous battle scars littering body (most prominent include animal bite marring left collarbone, knife scar cutting across abdomen, puncture wound scar on left thigh, light scarring on both wrists of an indeterminate nature)

Personality: despite her age, has never lost the impulsive and sometimes rash fire of the young. Though stubborn and hardheaded by nature, age has given her enough perspective to listen to advice and opinions laid at her feet...then do whatever the hell she wants to anyway. More times than not, trusts her gut before her head. Tends to be a bit of a loner, but has a natural charisma that allows her to work well with others, especially men. Takes to heart the expression, "you're only as old as you feel," and while the experience of years can weigh heavy on her, she tries not to let the bitterness of her long life jade her. Places a great deal of importance on matters of honor and loyalty...when she makes a promise, she will die to keep it.

History: Before she was Delia Vitori, Natasha lived under another name...led another life entirely, a life she no longer remembers. She knows only what she's been told, and what she can do...she knows she was human, she knows that she was Roman, and she knows she was a witch of some power.

Like the rest of her kind, however, the rest remains forever lost to the fires of rebirth.

Ressurected by Le Procuro in 515, she was the Eve to another man's Adam...the second of her kind to be created in the fight against Satan's minions plaguing the furthest corners of the world with their sights set on civilization and mankind at large. Resurrected from the grave with no memory of her mortal life before, she was christened by the monks responsible for her creation, and entrusted to the care of the priests who would determine the nature of her initiation into the order of Le Procuro.

Eventually the Council gave her over to the care of Gabriel Veritas...first born and inevitable leader of all Vindicis that would come after him. Under his tutelage, Delia Vitori learned the art of combat, and as he learned his own lessons in life and leadership, Delia stood at his side so they might learn together. For five hundred years, he remained not only her mentor and father figure, but her closest friend.

As time went on, her feelings for Gabriel developed into more...a young woman's crush matured into a deep and abiding love of the man with whom she had shed her blood in battle. Her feelings, however, remained private when the both of them learned that her rebirth was the result of a marriage arranged for Gabriel...a marriage he didn't want.

At the same time, the machinations of her heart were stalled by another, far more cataclysmic event: Vindicis were dropping like flies. Around 800 A.D., greater numbers of Le Procuro's soldiers were falling at the hands of The Order of the Black Rose, a group empowered by black magic and hell bent on the destruction of all that good souls hold sacred. This pandemic of defeats culminated in the supposed death of Gabriel Veritas in 1054. By this point, the Vindicis were barely hanging on and Le Procuro was struggling to keep the secrets of life after death that produced their holy army. To safeguard the greatest of their number, many members of both Le Procuro and the Vindicis either voluntarily or were forced into hiding.

Delia was among those exiled from Le Procuro and forced into hiding. With no choice but to live as a mortal, unable to fight as she once had without exposing herself to an enemy she was no longer equipped to stand against, she retired to the furthest reaches of Italy, living a life of quiet seclusion.

It was there she remained until the 1400's, when word finally reached her: Le Procuro and the Vindicis were gone.

Believing herself to be the last of her kind, Delia lost herself for many years in the hunt...returning to what she knew, she wandered aimlessly for countless decades, fighting where she was needed and resting when she became to sick with blood and battle to go on. In the early 1800's, it was the birth of a new country in the great landscape of the world that finally drew her out of her aimless wandering...seeking out greener pastures in America, like many others would in the future, Delia was renewed by the hope and vigor of the fledgling democracy.

For the next two hundred years, Delia shed her old identity and adapted to the times, enjoying a glorious evolution of her own as she immersed herself in the growth of the United States. Serving in times of war and peace, she found her niche in a changing world that welcomed a woman who was willing and ready to fight. Currently, she goes by the name Natasha Guererra and operates a thriving private investigation firm called Longshot Investigations...a roundabout tribute to a man she would never forget.

A man that took the time to help a newborn soul become a proud and able soldier.

Interesting Facts: holds a fascination with the advance of weapons technology over the centuries...while she is skilled with all forms of weaponry, she prefers modern automatic handguns and the like to the crossbows and blades of her heyday. Powers include limited empathy, a highly developed ability to sense and see auras, telepathy, immortality, and dabbles in witchcraft.