[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=silver]Belladonna[/color] & [color=indianred]James[/color][/i][/b][/h1][/center]
[center][color=dimgray][b]Location:[/b][/color] Ville au Camp -> New Orleans, 1800's -> Ville au Camp[/center][center][color=silver][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [color=indianred][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A[/center][hr]
	It was truly amazing how the turning back of time kept a grave so very fresh, at least the ground itself. Belladonna knew better than to assume that the body was in the same shape it had been two months before. Filling a roll that was one held by an Emendator was a great task and rather enlightening. A lot of time had been spent with Alexandra over the last two months and it was enjoyable but it was time to move on. James was up now and she let a spider crawl across her fingers as she waited next to the fallen ones final resting place. 

	And indeed James was up, not only in the rotation for training but up for the morning, headed toward the gravesite with something of optimism brewing in the back of his brain. It was a long two months training with The Watch, one of serene studious intent. One of papers and uncomfortable desks, and busting his mind to remember things he had long skipped over in his high school and GED lessons from a lifetime ago. But this time, he had the unique distinction of learning from am elder Paradox, one that, by the looks of her, would be giving him a much different sort of lesson for the day. Optimism, and the barest hint of anxiety of the unknown, colored his thoughts as he walked up to the pale Paradox, removed his cowboy hat, and said as respectfully as a Child of the South could muster, [color=indianred]"Mornin', Miss Belladonna. It's a honor havin' this time with you."[/color] 

	Holding out a slender hand towards James the elder Paradox gave a chilling smile. [color=silver]"I am sure it is. An old friend of yours has spoken to me about your time. Truly a dark era, one I believe I would have enjoyed greatly."[/color] Her words were silky as they rolled off her tongue. A friend of his? Who could she have been speaking about? The trainees were pretty much stuck with their trainers if they weren't sleeping, so that would mean that she hadn't had a lot of time to speak with Sophia. Was there someone else there the rest were not aware of?

	The assessment that Belladonna gave of James's native spot in the timelines was not an incorrect one, though he had to take her assertion that she would have enjoyed it with a grain of salt. Or a shaker full. [color=indianred]"That place where I'm from? It ain't so dark."[/color] His voice was grave, even certain as he spoke. There was a telltale note of experience to his words. [color=indianred]"It'll draw the darkness outta you though, hard an' fast, like it or not. Even the best of us, if'n you want to survive."[/color] What used to be his Georgia, United States, at the beginning of the 21st century was a place that belonged in the worst parts of the Bible. James wrestled with the desire to return to help the people he considered family and sheer relief that he was no longer in the middle of it, even if he had to die to get out. Then the rest of her words hit the fledgling wereboar. [color=indianred]"Wait, which friend?"[/color] 

	There was a sly smile on the womans lips as she looked towards James. [color=silver]"Schrödinger."[/color] Belladonna was rather frank in her speech as she glanced up and down his body. [color=silver]"Oh this will never do, you look far too free."[/color] Kneeling down she reached behind the tree by the grave and pulled out a burlap sack. Rising back to full height she held it out to him between two fingers. [color=silver]"Today, I own you. Now, change darling. We have to hurry, the boat sets sail soon."[/color] The woman was still dressed in black with a tight corset but on closer inspection it was obvious she was no longer wearing her hobble skirt. The woman was in black fitting slacks and knee high boots. She even had a whip on her hip. 

	The man cast a very wary eye over Belladonna. The truth of his people's history, the being of African descent living in the American South, was that some of his ancestors were considered property, once upon a time. It looked very much like he was about to visit that "once upon a time" very shortly. On the other hand, a charmingly svelte goth lady just claimed personal ownership of him. That... could have perks. His own proclivities warred with his sense of ethical outrage at institutionalized slavery, until two facts poked into his mind: [i]One[/i], he would likely be sent on tasks in places where a person who looked like him would be at severe disadvantage. He needed to play the role that would allow him to blend, like a professional. And [i]two[/i], the lady had said Schrödinger. [color=indianred]"Schrody? He a damn... You talk to cats? Course you talk to cats. Why wouldn't you talk to... ?"[/color] James shook his head a few times and tried to rummage through the sack. There was a fairly decent quality suit in there, with tails and a very fancy derby hat. Black, of course, with white shirt and wide black tie. It was, at one point in time, disparagingly described as a "monkey suit". [color=indianred]"Aw, so I'm your [i]Houseboy[/i], is 'at so Miss Bella, Ma'am? Aight then."[/color] And when his brain caught up to him, [color=indianred]"Wait... what'd Schrody say to you?"[/color] 

	There was a nod from the woman as she laced her fingers together. His look would play the part she needed of him for this little expedition. Motioning with a slender finger for him to follow her, she made her way towards a portal that was ready. [color=silver]"That man says a lot but never speaks straight. I believe he has spent too much time as a cat. Something you should be aware of, those who can change into animals tend to take on their traits if they stay in that form too long. It will be interesting if you should have a run in with Mr. Clops,"[/color] she said in a sultry voice as they walked, her feet moving smoothly over the ground and through the portal. As they emerged, they found themselves in a cemetery surrounded be above ground vaults. [color=silver]"Ahh, such a lovely city New Orleans is."[/color]

	[color=indianred]"Been to Nola, some many times..."[/color] began James in careful voice. He was tugging at his tie almost reflexively before he forced his hands down at his sides. Needless to say, such formal attire that also marked him as property was not comfortable, even if he was attached to someone as drawing as Belladonna. He also didn't feel like processing the news he just found out about the fuzzy orange cat that used to steal scraps of barbecue from him while he worked, so he tried to focus on the here and now. [color=indianred]"Fun place. Dangerous, too; last time I was here there was 'lectric lights, though."[/color] His mannerisms indicated a man who was apprehensive, even nervous, but trying to shove it down with some success. [color=indianred]"Miss Bella, ma'am?"[/color] he respectfully inquired as they walked, [color=indianred]"Maybe I ought know what we doin' here."[/color] James slowed his pace until he was a step behind his teacher and to her right. He figured that he might as well begin acting the role he was here to play. They would definitely talk about the cat later. 

	There was a slight sparkle in the womans eye as she glanced in the direction of James. [color=silver]"You young Paradoxes. Always in such a rush to know why, what ever happened to the thrill of the unknown?"[/color] she asked as she reached out and lightly adjusted a button on James attire. Her nail tapping it for a moment, a quiet clicking sound echoing through the grave yard. [color=silver]"Anticipation is nine tenths of enjoyment."[/color] There was a coyness to her expression, however subtle before she turned and began walking between the crypts as if she was taking a leisurely Sunday stroll through the park. [color=silver]"This way."[/color]

        Admittedly, it was something of an adventure for James. He knew there was a lesson to be learned here, and did desire to "find himself" as a Paradox. Still, he was more than a touch uncomfortable right then. His desire to please the alluring Belladonna Crypt was one of painfully few motivators he had to continue. [Color=indianred]"I'm yo' man, Miss Bella. Whatever you need. But Ma'am? I just died. [i]Everything[/i] is unknown now, if'n you get my meaning."[/color] He matched pace, albeit a little stiffly, keeping an appropriate distance from the powerful woman. 

	A glint of joy, was it joy or mischief? Either way, a glint of something came to the womans lips as she looked over her shoulder as her hair spilled out over her back. [color=silver]"That just means you have the joy of having everything being fresh and for the first time once again. How I envy you."[/color] Turning and continuing on her way she stopped at the edge of the cemetery as they came to the street. [color=silver]"Save for this moment. Do nothing."[/color] Her voice held a hint of remorse as she spoke and then it grew firm as she stated for him to do nothing. It seemed there was a lynching taking place just a block up from them. 

	The noise associated with people doing something awful to another human being was always the same, or very similar at any rate. He had heard it before. Echos of the past catching up to him, be they the rebounding sounds of his ancestry or the horrors he had witnessed man inflict upon his fellow man in his native timeline, it kindled a sense of sorrowful rage that burned just underneath his skin. Two months ago, before his death and subsequent loss of the abilities he so finely honed over a career of being a backwoods folk hero, James would have put a stop to this. He wanted very much to try anyway, but the extreme likelihood of embarrassing failure would also result in his swift, undramatic death and put Belladonna in danger. He addressed the pale woman with quiet and serious voice, though his eyes never left the scene one block over. [color=indianred]"This what you meant by 'Anticipation is nine tenths of enjoyment', Belladonna?"[/color] A coldness to his demeanor took hold, his hands closed into fists and he spoke to his Senior Paradox as nothing less than an equal, his "role" be damned. [color=indianred]"I know what a lynchin' is. Why I got to see this one?"[/color] Indeed, the lesson was lost on him without clarification.     

	Somethings about death even Belladonna didn't want to answer as they started to go forward to watch and witness what was unfolding. Whatever people had heard, it was nothing compared to actually watching one happen right in front of you. The mans neck was bound by rope and it was tossed over a railing on the second floor of a building. His feet teetered on the edge of a rickety piece of what one might have called a stool in its better days. [color=silver]"Because this one is personal."[/color] Her voice held a tint of remorse but her job was to help people find themselves and she was a firm believer that the past defined who we are. Taking a shallow breath she repeated the simple statement of, [color=silver]"do nothing,"[/color] just as a small child who couldn't have been more than ten looked at the man with tears in his eyes was held back by an older woman. 

	She was screaming "James!!!"

	"DADDY NO!!!" the boy cried. It had no effect on the crowd. 

        In the history of the Grady family, going back as far as they could remember in the United States, there were hushed rumors of an ancestor that was strung up by a mob. No reason was ever given as to why, nothing mentioned except that he was taken by violence. And the name, James, was common in his family. Two and two together told him that this was no coincidence, though he never imagined that this story took place in the middle of New Orleans, right on the street. His voice slightly shaky, even as a previously unknown feeling of wonder mixed with subdued rage bubbled within him as he asked, [color=indianred]"What's the reason they doin' this to him? There even one at all?"[/color]

	[color=silver]"Was accused of deflowering his owners daughter."[/color] Belladonnas eyes didn't leave the man as the scene became more chaotic but her voice remained even and calm. Chances were the man didn't do anything, that the girl had been caught having been already versed in the world of the flesh and blamed it on the man. It was a common occurrence and it wasn't like a slave could ever get a fair chance in a court. [color=silver]"What we are comes from what happens to those that came before us."[/color] The man stood proud, refusing to show an ounce of pain as a whip connected with his backside, mearly a flinch in his eyes. 

	"Don't you cry boy, never let them see you cry." His words were fierce, defying as he locked eyes with his son.

        James stood dumbfounded as the condemned man gave a final piece of bold advice to his son. It clicked with him in a very personal way, echoing the words of his own father, back when he was about the child's age. Other children (okay, [i]white[/i] children) had pelted him with rocks, splitting skin and hammering bruises all over him. Luckily nothing was broken, but father gave him the same talk. [i]"Don't you cry now, James. That's what they's wantin' from ya. Bleed all you like, but don't never let 'em see you cry. Don't let 'em have that."[/i] A quiet rage built within him then that swelled within him now. James knew that, deep down, he was a good man. But he also knew he was a violent man. Was this his lesson? Was that predetermined about him from this moment? 

	The young boy sucked it up as his father demanded and nodded at him, he seemed to steel but a rage filled in the childs eyes. [color=silver]"Innocence lost, too young."[/color] Belladonnas voice was tragic as she spoke before glancing over towards towards James and lacing her fingers together just below her breasts, a look of understanding came to her features before she turned and walked down the street, putting the mob and the scene behind her even as she could hear the screams of the mans wife ring out as her husbands neck snapped. [color=silver]"We will be late for the boat."[/color]

	The desire that James felt to do something about the lynching was strong, even though he knew he did not possess the skills he once did. The anger or his ancestors burned behind his eyes, but outwardly a cold stillness took his features. It formed the second that he saw the look on the boy's face change from sorrow to rage, quiet rage, [i]just like him[/i]. He knew of it well, like an unwelcome but necessary visitor, come calling every so often. This moment hammered into his people the will and the ambition to survive. The desire to do whatever it would take to ensure the continuation of them and theirs. The shred of hate and longing that he knew all too well, buried beneath the smiles and the barbecues and the homemade liquor. It was very possible that it was the thing that kept him alive when his timeline decided to throw an undead uprising at him, and in turn fueled his desire to make sure everyone he called family then was safe and fed. It was also a motivation that made him a murderer. And he was. One of the last acts of his life was to take another's. 

	James fell in step behind Belladonna again, lesson learned from his jaunt into his family history. [color=indianred]"Yeah. Boat."[/color] he rasped out.  

	There was one more quick stop to make. Every story had a beginning, a middle, and an end. James knew his end, he died. He now knew his beginning. He needed to have a middle for this tale. Coming to a large paddle boat in the harbor, Belladonna boarded with her property in tow. Once in a lavish stateroom there was a portal hidden behind an armoire. Stepping through, it seemed as if nothing changed at first. Then there were subtle changes, furniture and bedding was different. [color=silver]"Ahh, post Civil War, better."[/color] Holding out an arm to the man she gave a sultry grin. [color=silver]"I may not own you in this time but make no mistake you are still mine."[/color]

	The very recent lesson still fresh on his brain, James followed along behind Belladonna almost robotically. He didn't stop to question whether or not they should be boarding an unfamiliar boat, nor why she gothic Paradox chose to step behind an armoire. He'd read that book a number of years ago, and unless a giant talking lion and/or Tilda Swinton in full Ice Witch regalia was waiting on the other side (which honestly at this time he wouldn't be [i]that[/i] surprising to him, all things considered), he wasn't going to make a big mention of it. When they reached the other side of the portal, the near lack of difference [i]did[/i] come as a source of confusion, but again, eyes open and mouth closed. James responded to Belladonna's words with a noncommittal look. He accepted her arm with courtesy nonetheless; after all, he was a gentleman of the South, more or less. [color=indianred]"Just let me know where you need me, Miss Belladonna."[/color] His morale had obviously taken a hit. 

	[color=silver]"Oh don't tempt me my dear, I have such a vivid imagination and we are short on time, but perhaps we can arrange something later,"[/color] the woman stated in a sultry tone as she rested her free hand over the other and they headed out. It was a gambling ship and it was obvious that times had changed, dramatically. Clothing was practically the same but who wore what was not. There were plenty of dark skinned men and women walking about; talking, gambling, eating, drinking, and just enjoying themselves. Making her way to the main room she stopped in the main room and took look around. [color=silver]"Oh yes, we have made it just in time for the show."[/color]

        The thought that initially ran through James's head at the mention of a show was one of some cynicism. A riverboat show, even one during a time when it looked like his people had better control over their own destinies, ordinarily sounded like an interesting dip into the culture of the period. However, James had a feeling that this was playing out to some potentially horrifying end. For the meantime, he tried to tuck those thoughts away and merely enjoy the scene and the fact that he was on the arm of a lady who seemed to draw every eye in the room. His mood still darkened from the previous lesson in history, he nonetheless attempted to sound less grim as he said, [color=indianred]"Well, then after you, Miss Bella."[/color]

	Belladonna tightened her grip on James' arm and remained perfectly still. [color=silver]"No, just watch my darling."[/color] The show was beginning. An middle aged black man sat at the table, he looked to be nearly done with everything in the pot, and cards in his hand. Across from him sat an older white man with a large grin on his face. [color=silver]"The difference a generation makes."[/color] The white man placed his cards down and boasted as he reached forward to take the pot. [color=silver]"Things are not always what they seem."[/color] The black man gently laid his cards down, he had won the hand and left the white man speechless. [color=silver]"Calmness on the surface."[/color] The white man started yelling, making quite the scene, threatening the black man. [color=silver]"A lifetime of rage beneath."[/color] 

	"You ain't gonna cause no one no mores pains." The black man spoke. 

	"What?" The white man looked confused as the older man stood slowly, he looked confused but the rant had stopped. 

	"No more. Not you, not yer family. It's finished." The white man went from confusion to fear and rage. 
	
	There was no way that James could know what had, or was to occur. But considering the nature of the scene in front of him, "The Show", and the one that he had left just a moment (and decades) before, there was an idea beginning to congeal in his brain. James looked coldly at the events unfolding before him, then to Belladonna. He nodded back to the conversation at the table, saying, [color=indianred]"Best served cold."[/color] in a flat voice. Humorless sarcasm. The nature of his people was hardship and revenge, apparently; a tradition that he wholeheartedly leapt into during his naturally allotted life in Georgia. Okay, so this man deserved whatever he had coming, and maybe even James's victim did, too. Maybe it [i]was[/i] part of him, down to the core. But it wasn't everything. There had to be more than pain and death. This show wasn't done yet, and James was suddenly very curious as to how it would end. So he simply stood there as witness to what was about to be uncovered, arm-in-arm with the original Lady Crypt. 

	It was a scene alright. The white man going off, threatening the man, calling him a cheat. Yet the older ebony man just stood there watching him unload. That was until a gun was pulled. For a man as old as he was, he had quick reflexes. A cane which had been resting against the table came up, smacked the gun to the side as it went off, came back down and crushed the mans hand on the table before a fist landed in the white mans face. This wasn't some town. This was a river boat, a gambling river boat. It might as well been the wild west for they had their own laws and ways of doing things. No one stepped in to stop it. It was between these men. The white man had drawn first, that was all that was needed for the older gentleman to do what he did next, which was bash a skull in and leave the dead in a pool of his own blood on the ground. "Like I said, you ain't gonna cause no one no more pains."

	[color=silver]"Never let them see you cry. That was what his father told him."[/color] Belladonnas voice was cool as she spoke before glancing over towards James. Her dark eyes flashing slightly before she continued. [color=silver]"What happened that night didn't end. It just was a beginning. You're beginning."[/color] Turning she motioned for him to follow her. That was the end of the show but not the end of the story. She wove quite the tale as they headed back to the room, telling how that old man was the very child that had watched his father be hung. How he had had children of his own, and grand children. The money he won that night funded them to move to the Southeast, start small farms of their own. The man that died just before them, was the grand son of the man that hung the man known as James. A man who had actually raped that young girl. His son and his grand son were no different. Hurting people through the years, always getting away with it. Until now. Their line ended with that old man, he had killed them all. 

	[color=silver]"They earned their fates, as did Richard Johnson."[/color] Motioning towards the portal she leaned in and gave him a chilling kiss on the cheek. [color=silver]"It doesn't matter how justice is dealt, just make sure it is dealt."[/color] With that, she stepped back through the portal to home.

	James hung back for a second before stepping through the portal. Belladonna's direct mention of the man he had opened up with his axe, Richard, seemed to freeze him in place, provoking his emotions forward to be dealt with. The kiss on his cheek afterward seemed to stay there, feeling of mercy. Even permission, after the fact; a vindication that he had made the right decision in ending the man where he stood. Family tradition, apparently. Did Belladonna absolve him, in her own way, of the sins committed just prior to his death? Was his sense of personal justice actually more in line with the way the world was supposed to work? And if so, then why was his guilt pressing down upon him? 

	In the end, the only conclusion he could come to was acceptance. Not of others, but of the darkness that still existed within himself. It kept his family line alive during one of the worst periods of human indecency, and it kept himself and his people alive for a long while during an Undead Apocalypse. His death was one of happenstance. Accident. Meant to happen at that time. Perhaps it was so that his brand of darkness, instilled into an otherwise good, decent man, could be utilized by these Emendators. It was too much philosophy for him to deal with consciously right then. James entered the portal back to Ville au Camp, jogging to catch up to his Paradox teacher. [color=indianred]"Miss Bella? If'n you'd care to join me, I could really use a drink. Set and talk a while. I gots me a lot of work to do, 'fore I'm ready."[/color] And step one was getting a [i]lot[/i] more comfortable with his new abilities.