[u][b]Mary Hawthorne - Museum of Witchcraft basement[/b][/u]


In response to her call out to Shelby, he heard some rapid movement, as if she intended to try to flee, but after a moment Shelby stepped out into view, flipping her hair over her shoulders and trying to put a brave face fowards....though the fear, and something else, in her eyes, told the tale. 

“That was… interesting ,” Shelby said, her voice was still riddled with nervousness, she placed her hands in her hips and tried to keep her cocky facade, “So...you mind telling what the fuck just happened here?”  

"Don't play the innocent with me...", Mary said with a predatory smile as she held up the jar for Shelby to see, "...You know what you saw. The questions you should be asking are why I did it, and by what means did I achieve it."

"So tell me, was it everything you thought it would be?", Mary chuckled and continued, "Somehow I doubt it. No one who plays this game for Fame and glory will last for very long....certainly not the six hundered years I have been walking this Earth. In my world, power comes from knowledge, and bargains in which unspeakable acts...like what you watched him do to me...and even immortal souls are used as currency."

Mary picked up her things and stuffed them into her bag, then walked around the astonished Shelby and made for the cellar door without undue haste. She paused at the foot of the stairs and looked back at Shelby. 

"I'm going home and taking a good hot bath", Mary announced, "I'm absolutely filthy." She then pointed at the ceiling and continued. "feel free to stop by once my houseguest leaves....poor lad has no idea what I am and I intend to keep it that way. I won't be coming back here again, so feel free to take what you want. Whatever you do, though...don't go upstairs, a Deathclaw has it's nest up there." she then climbed up and opened the door, moonlight flooding down from the open doorway, Mary's head silhouetted in the frame. 

"One last thing", Mary whispered, though Shelby could hear it clearly, "I'm going to trust you with my little secret...consider it a test of character." Mary then placed the key to the cellar on the top step and closed the cellar door behind her.  

[u][b]Mary's Bathroom - Dawn[/b][/u]

Mary sat in the tub, sipping bourbon from a waterglass and glowering at the mason jar full of ashes sitting on the stool by the window. First thing she'd done when she got home was brush her teeth with bourbon, which led to drinking some....it had been a long night. She sat, and drank, and fumed quietly as she reflected on the night's events. She'd done things that were arguably far more perverse than what the cultist...she had never even bothered to learn his name...had bargained out of her for what he knew, but submitting to the indignites he had heaped on her were still irksome..espcicially because others had witnessed most, if not all of it. The Museum was useless to her now, that was clear, she now had to find a new place to conduct business that she could not safely do in town. But the real thing on her mind was Shelby. Letting her live after what she had seen was a considerable risk, but Mary felt it was a risk worth taking. Her instincts told her that the young woman might have a talent for her craft, and it would be nice to have an apprentice again. Not to mention those fools at the Quarry, and what they planned to do. She had some research to do, and she would need help with it....and Shelby could at least read, which was good for this new Dark Age she had found herself in. She had too much potential to kill out of hand...if she talked they wouldn't believe her anyway. At least not quickly enough for her to evade capture easily enough. 

Faintly, she heard the noise of an aircraft through the open window, steadily getting louder. Eventually, it came over the town, the noise rising to a roar which persisted for several minutes before beginning to slowly fade away. While this was happening, Mary heard a commotion in the hallway as Rick stormed out of his room and ran downstairs, the from door slamming shut a few seconds later. The flying machine seemed to upset him for some reason, and caused her to think about some of the things he had said at lunch....he had obviously been hiding something from her. The only people she knew of with aircraft in the Commonwealth were the Minutemen and the Brotherhood, both of whom fancied themselves the authorities here...was he a fugitive, perhaps? Might be useful to know.