Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Tales of the Mansion by Diola Dragontail

   The Monthly Cycle: Prologue

   You don't know what it is about this woman, but she always makes you
nervous.  Not the normal kind of 'meeting with your boss' nervous either.
Something about her just makes your insides feel quivery, like they were
trying to rebel from the meeting and run out of the room on their own.

   A small breakfast had been presented for this meeting, which caused you
even more dismay.  Your nerves had put your stomach into a state where even
looking at food made you feel ill.

   You did the polite thing though, accepting a small cup of tea and a pair
of plain shortbread cookies.  Just enough not to be insulting at the
hospitality, but not enough to cause an embarrassing scene in her office.

   At least that's what you hoped.

   You sipped your tea as carefully as you could, concentrating on keeping
your hand steady.  You really didn't want to give away the state of your
mind to her or, at least, not make it so obvious that she had to comment on
it.

   "Since you performed so well on your first assignment." Signaling that
the morning's pleasantries were over.  "I have decided to see if you can
handle something slightly more intense."

   You nodded slightly, "I think that would be fine.  I'm sure I can
survive it."

   She raised an eyebrow slightly, in mock surprise.  "I would not speak so
fast if I were in your shoes.  Even the assignment I am about to give you
is relatively tame compared to what I could be giving you."

   "Of course." Was all you could reply to her minor chastising.

   Her hands reached to the side of her desk and picked up a small wooden
box that you failed to notice previously.  She placed the box down on the
desk, directly in front of you.

   "If you find this one so uninteresting," She added, with a challenging
spark to her voice.  "Perhaps we should move you up to an Ivory class
customer for your next assignment."



   The Monthly Cycle

   "Is it that time already?"

   Mary Riordan nodded in reply, a bit sadly.

   The Elvish woman smiled reassuringly.  "These things happen." She leaned
to the side, opened a drawer in her desk and took out large leather bound
book.  She placed it on her desk as her fingers felt along the top of it.
She found the red silk place holder and opened the book.

   She looked up at Mary again, "Three nights then?  The usual
accommodations?" Mary nodded again.

   "Good, good." The mistress replied, her fingers finding a charcoal
pencil and writing Mary's name in on the first empty line.  "And I assume I
should arrange for the usual visitor?"

   Mary swallowed and nodded, "Yes please."

   "Very well then." The Elvish woman closed the ledger as she turned to
look out the window.  "Room 241, but there is a few hours yet.  Give me an
hour to have the room made up properly for you."

   Mary nodded again and started to stand up.  In a rare show of emotion,
the mistress smiled again, "You should not worry so much.  There is nothing
to be ashamed of.  Everything will be fine."

   Mary smiled weakly, "Thank you." She thought for a moment.  "I think...
I think I'll go get something to eat while the room is...  well, is..."

   The mistress just nodded, "Take your time."

   Mary picked up her bag from the floor and walked out of the office.  She
wandered in her own thoughts as she walked.  She didn't really like this
place, but she still felt lucky to be able to come here.  Many others like
her were not so lucky and always came to miserable ends.  The lucky ones
were dead long before the madness gripped them.  The unlucky ones, well,
they left a trail of broken bodies and lives behind them like ripples
following a boat.

   She shook her head slightly, trying to cast the dark thoughts aside. 
She decided she'd treat herself to a good meal.  She felt she deserved at
least that much.

   Hardly anyone even noticed her as she walked through the hallways and
she just kept her eyes on the ground.  Glancing up only occasionally to
make sure she didn't walk into anything or anyone.  She didn't like looking
at the people here.  Most of them were half dressed most of the time and
she had no desire to see that.

   She wondered what they were thinking as they pranced around like this.
It all just seemed so...  dirty and embarrassing.  She couldn't fathom what
made them all feel comfortable to be like this.  The familarness they all
seemed to have, the ease at which they moved around and dealt with each
other, it all seemed alien to her.

   She pushed her spectacles back up her face, before they slipped off the
tip of her nose; during the entire movement she still kept her eyes on the
ground.

   She really did not want anyone here to recognize her either.  The last
thing she wished to happen was for someone on the streets outside to stop
her and talk to her about this place.  But then she figured the likelihood
of that happened were slim to nil.  None of them recognized her as being
part of this world.  To them she was just background noise.  Maybe a
librarian or a bookkeeper for the place.  No one for them to pay much mind
to.

   She slipped silently into the dining room and easily found an empty
table.  It was still a bit early for the evening's meal, so the room was
agreeably quiet.  She had only sat for a moment before the waitress was
quick to attend to her needs.

   Mary kept the conversation short and simple.  She listened to what was
on the evening menu.  Ordered and left it at that.  She wasn't rude, but
she didn't follow up on any of the waitress's attempts to make small talk.
The small talk was really only intended to make her feel comfortable.  And
she didn't think that would be possible.

   ==

   Mary stepped in her room and looked around slowly.  It was much as she
expected.  Bare stone walls, no windows, and only one doors in addition to
the one she entered from.  All the furniture had been removed and a jumbled
pile of hay lay on the floor in one corner of the room.

   She closed the door behind her and then opened the other door.  A plain
washroom, just as she expected.  She stepped into the room and placed her
bag on the counter.  She looked herself in the mirror for a moment,
absently fixing a few stray locks of crimson hair that had slipped out of
her braid.  She took a deep breath and resigned herself to the fact that
this was the way it had to be.

   Mary started to undress slowly, removing her cloak and hanging it on the
hook mounted on the wall of the restroom.  She then delicately unbuttoned
her white cotton blouse, slipping it from her shoulders and carefully
folding it before placing it on the counter next to her bag.  She removed
her dress next, slipping it down her legs, then carefully folding it as
well, placing it on top of her blouse.  She sat down to unlace her boots,
slipping them off her feet and placing them to the side, in an orderly
fashion.

   She remained sitting as she rolled her stockings down her legs, first
the right leg, then the left leg.  Then rolled them together and placed
them with the rest of her clothes.  She reached for the long ponytail that
hung from the back of her head and slid the hair band off the end.  This
she tucked into her bag before running her fingers through her hair to
untwine the braid her hair was in.

   She stood up again now, making it a point to keep her back to the
mirror. She never wanted to look at herself like this.  She loosened the
corset binding her breasts and slipped it off.  She tucked this out of
sight in her bag then took a moment to rub the deep red indentations in her
skin the edges of the corset had left.  With another deep breath, she
slipped her panties down her legs and quickly pushed it into her bag as
well.

   She removed her spectacles from her face and carefully folded them
closed.  She placed them onto a safe spot on the counter, and then turned
to walk back into the other room.  The stone floor was cold under her feet
and she just tried to pay attention to nothing but that.  She hated walking
around naked like this, exposed, even if it was in the privacy of her own
room.  Feeling the pebbles and grit under her feet gave her something else
to think about.

   She sat down on the pile of hay and started to feel around it.  It
wasn't very comfortable, in fact, every where it touched her just made her
feel itchy and uncomfortable.  Finally her hands found what they were
looking for.

   She fished it up from under the hay and it made dull metallic sounds as
it banged on itself.  The chain, here it one of them were, the manacle
hanging from one end.  The other end imbedded securely in the stone of the
room.  With meticulous attention, she slipped one of her wrists into the
manacle and snapped it closed.  She tugged on it once, then twice and, to
her satisfaction, it didn't budge an inch.

   She continued this procedure three more times, until the other manacles
entrapped both her wrists and her ankles.  Mary sat back on the hay and
tried to relax.  There was nothing more to do but wait.  Wait until it was
all over.

   ==

   Mary opened her eyes with a bolt.  She was awake instantly.  She could
feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up.  Something wasn't right.
She could tell.

   She stretched very slowly, quietly.  So that no sneaky eyes would see
her.  Her skin rippled over her muscles and her spine popped silently, each
joint in rapid succession.  The room was dark, but that didn't bother her.
She narrowed her eyes slowly, but saw nothing.  No movement, not a single
thing.  She wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air.  There were many scents,
straw, mildew, and sweat of all sorts.  All of the sweat seemed stale, old,
nothing to be concerned with.

   She took a tentative step forward, but something pulled at her leg,
keeping her from moving.  She shook her leg now, trying to throw off
whatever it was.  She heard the metallic jingle that came from it and she
realized immediately what it was.

   She quickly shook her other leg and pulled her arms at the same time,
only to find they were in a similar state as well.  She let out a low growl
of annoyance now and started to strain against the bindings.  She could
feel the metal cutting into her skin, but the metal head firm.

   It was the chains!  The damn chains!  She hated these things!  They kept
her here!  Kept her from running!  Kept her from being free!

   "Iron!" She screamed out in disgust, straining her arms even harder
against the chains.  "Again!  Why did she put me here?!"

   Her words gave way to a loud howl of pain and disgust.  It was a threat,
meant to be carried far on the wind.  She wanted her to hear it.  She
wanted her to know that one day she'd find her and she'd make her pay for
doing this to her again.

   Her howl was cut short at the sound of someone at the door.  She slinked
back slightly, trying not to be seen, but the door opened and the figure
looked directly at her.  He carried a torch in his hand; the brightness of
the fire hurt her eyes, making her squint against it.

   "Ah, you're awake." The figure said in a male voice.  "I was beginning
to think you'd sleep straight through the night."

   The outline of the figure was humanoid, but large.  She couldn't make
out any details while her eyes slowly adjusted, but his scent seemed
familiar.  She recognized it from somewhere.  She burrowed through her
mind, trying to associate the smell with a memory.

   He placed the torch in a wall holder near the door, and then turned to
look at her again.  He recognized her immediately, he knew her well.  After
all, they'd been doing this for months now.  The wolf girl, as he thought
of her, was a wild spirit, always needing his attention.  Sometimes he
managed to break her over the course of their short encounters, other times
she remained sternly resolute to him.  It was a challenge, one he truly
enjoyed.

   "Bastard!" She screamed out at him as his smell finally connected to a
memory.  "I'll rip your throat out!  I'll gnaw on your bones!"

   He smiled in response to this, "My, aren't we just all full of zeal this
evening?"

   She growled in response, holding her place and staring at him.  She
hated him!  He was the one that held her here!  It was all his fault!  But
mingled with the hate was something else.  Lust.  She wanted him.  And she
could smell that he wanted her too.

   He placed his bag down on the floor, then turned and locked the door.

   Her growl grew into a roar.  How dare he turn his back on her!  She went
to leap at him, to sink into him and show him the folly of his ways.  The
chains held her firm; they didn't even allow her to flex forward, much less
leap at him.  Her roar grew in intensity, mustered on by her frustration.

   He turned to look at her again, "Now now...  You don't want me to have
to put the muzzle on you again, do you?"

   Her growl softened into a rumble in the pit of her belly.  She
remembered the muzzle.  She hated that thing more than she hated the
chains.

   He smiled at her reaction, "Good." Then took two steps towards her,
dropping down to his haunches to look her eye to eye.  He didn't know
anything about her, beyond what went on in this small room.  He didn't know
what she was like when she wasn't like this, half wolf, half woman.  To be
truthful, he didn't care to know any more about her, he was happy with her
just this way.

   She met his gaze and held it.  Her eyes unflinching, her spirit
unwavering.  She stared back at him, never even blinking.  But he just held
his stare and she could feel the urge in the back of her head.  It was
small at first, just a nagging, wanting her to look away, but it grew. 
Once it started to grow, it grew faster and faster until it couldn't be
resisted.  She turned her head away in disgust, breaking the eye contact.

   He chuckled in reply which only infuriated her.  Only one thought
flashed through her mind, that she'd make the bastard pay for laughing at
her.

   She lashed out at him instinctively, flexing her fingers as she swung
out at him.  Her fingernails extended slightly and bit through his shirt
and into his flesh, raking across his chest.

   His face betrayed nothing.  He just smiled at her, unfazed by her
lashing out at him.  But his body betrayed his pain.  She saw his chest
cringe back from her nails and it was almost satisfying.

   He didn't give her much time to revel in it though.  His large hand
reaching out and grabbing her head by her jaw.  Forcing her to look him in
the eye again.  "Are you done?"

   Her lips curled in a snarl and she flexed her arm to lash out at him
again, but this time his free hand grabbed her wrist.  Both of his hand
squeezed, just enough to hurt, making her squeal in pain.  "I said...  Are
you done?"

   She fought against the pain and spat in his face.  Causing him only to
chuckle again.  He released his hands from her and stood up.  "I see we're
going to have a very enjoyable time."

   He had the audacity to turn his back on her again, walking back to his
bag as he took the remains of his shirt off.  He used the tattered cloth to
wipe the saliva from his face then dropped the shirt in a crumpled ball. 
He bent over his bag and dug around it for a moment, fishing something out
and then turning to face her again.

   She stared at him defiantly, smugly.  She saw the five welts across his
chest, tinged with dark blood.  She had drawn first blood and there was
nothing he could do to change that now, but he didn't seem to care.  Then
she saw what he was holding in his hand.

   He held the muzzle up where she could see it.  It was dark leather and
would fit snugly across her face, buckling behind her head.  Once it was
on, she knew she couldn't get it off until he took it off her.

   "You recognize this then?" He asked condescendingly.  "How about I just
leave this right here?  Where you can see it?"

   He turned and hung it from the bottom of the torch, where she couldn't
miss it.  Its rigid leather made it look full already, like there was an
invisible head already in it.

   He turned to face her again, but came no closer.  "Let's go over the
rules, shall we?"

   "Just like a human." She snorted in reply.  "Always worrying about the
rules."

   He ignored her defiance.  "No teeth." He stated simply.  "Use those
fangs of yours on me, just once, and then it's the muzzle for you."

   "I'll rake your flesh from your bones and eat it while it's still warm."
She growled back at him.

   "You certainly can try." He replied, amused.  "But when I break you,
you're mine.  Mine to do with as I please.  Then, and only then, will I let
you free of your chains."

   "Break me?" She laughed.  "You haven't the stuff, little man."

   "Well, we'll see, won't we?"

   "And what do I get when I break you?" She gnarled at him.

   He laughed at her again, this human and his laughter was infuriating her
now.  "It hasn't happened yet.  But if it does, we'll discuss it then."

   He glanced down at his chest, looking at the welts.  He touched one of
them, staining the tip of his finger scarlet with his own blood.  He then
stepped towards her and held the finger near her nose.

   She shivered slightly as the rusty smell of his fresh blood assaulted
her senses.  It reached deep inside her body and shook her core.  Her
instincts took over and she leaned forward to try to lick it from him, but
his finger was just slightly out of her reach.

   His finger didn't budge as she strained against her bonds.  It was so
close, so close, but still out of her reach.  She whimpered uncontrollable,
begging for it, but his finger still didn't come any closer.

   He drew his hand back and licked the taint from his finger, causing her
to howl out in annoyance.

   "For this," His hand gestured to his chest, "You should be punished."

   His voice was stern, matter of fact in tone.  As if there was no choice
in the matter.

   She growled in reply, "You wouldn't dare."

   "I wouldn't?" He asked, with mock surprise.  He stood there for a
second, regarding her, then moved with a swiftness that shocked her.

   Before she knew what had happened, his arm was across her back, holding
her to his leg, pinning her back and shoulders.  She snarled and went to
snap at his leg, but found herself directly facing the empty muzzle.  She
tried to lash out at him with her hands, but the chains were taught,
holding her hands in place.

   "Now, let's try that again." He repeated.  "For what you did, you
deserve to be punished, right?"

   "Fuck you!" She screamed out at him, as she tried to wiggle free.

   "I intend to." He said more than a bit smugly as he slapped his hand
across her bare ass.  It wasn't a hard slap, but it was enough to get her
attention, her squirming stopped immediately.

   He knew that the prickly thin fur covering her ass provided little
protection.  He lifted his hand and slapped her ass again, harder this
time. She jumped in surprise, a low growl growing in her throat.

   The noise only spurred him to slap her again, harder.  Her growl grew
into a full fledged roar as her squirming for release was renewed.

   "You struggle and it will only be worse for you." He warned her as he
slapped her again, using the same force as before.  This time he held his
hand on her ass after the slap, cupping it lightly.

   Her roar simmered down a bit, but her squirming continued.  He slapped
her again, this time rubbing her ass lightly after the slap.  The change in
his hand seemed to catch her off guard again, causing her writhing to
still.

   He slapped her once more then rubbed her ass a bit longer.  Her roar
dulled down to a whimper.  Satisfied with that, he released her, dumping
her back to the straw and stood back up.

   She lay still for a moment, recovering her thoughts.  She was confused
at the way her body was starting to betray her.  She glanced up at the man
towering over her and bared her teeth.

   "You'll not have me." She said through clenched teeth, trying to stare
him down.

   "See?  That's where you misunderstand." His smirk infuriated her even
more now.  "I already have you."

   Her face twisted into a sneer.  "These chains might hold me for now,"
She spat in response, tugging on the chains again.  "But I'll-"

   "Hush." He interrupted, raising a hand.  Causing her to instinctively
fall silent, then a second later she blinked in astonishment at her own
reaction.

   She opened her mouth to speak again, but with just a stern look from him
she found herself silent again.

   "You still misunderstand." He repeated.  "Your chains don't hold you
here."

   He regarded her for a moment, studying her face, her posture.  "Even
without the chains, you wouldn't leave here.  Shall I show you?"

   She stared up at him in confusion.  His words weren't making sense to
her now.  This had to be some sort of trick or something.

   He reached into his pocket and produced a small silver key.  He held up
where she could see it.

   "Shall we?" He asked again.

   She nodded in reply while still trying to find where the trick was.  She
expected him to suddenly change his mind and put the key away, but he
didn't.  Instead he kneeled in front of her, took her left hand lightly,
and unlocked the manacle.

   She watched, stunned, as he removed the manacle, placed it on the hay,
and then rubbed her wrist.  He let go of her wrist, allowing her to take
back her hand, which she did very carefully.

   "Your other hand?" He asked now, keeping his hand out to receive it.

   She placed her right hand in his and watched him as he unchained that
one as well.  He repeated the same amount of care in rubbing her wrist
before allowing her to take back her hand.  He then stood up and, making no
attempt to hide the key, tucked it back into his pocket.

   She frowned now, "What about my legs?"

   "I don't believe you're ready for that yet." He regarded her for a
moment, studying her form for a moment and making note of the subtle
changes in her posture and attitude.  "Why don't we see how you behave now,
first?  Stand up."

   Without the manacles chaining her wrists to the ground she was able to
stand fully.  She found that she was almost the same height as him, but
still tall enough to look him in the eye.  He met her eye contact with a
smug smirk and stepped towards her.

   He knew what she would do.  She'd hold the eye contact for a moment, and
then break it, but before she could he took hold of her chin and held her
gaze in place.  On him.  When she finally turned her eyes to look away, he
pressed his lips to hers, kissing her hard.  She meekly accepted her kiss.

   He broke the kiss suddenly and backhanded her hard across her face,
sending her back to the floor in surprise.

   "No." He said flatly.  "You'll not trick me by pretending to do what you
think I expect of you."

   The acidic taste of her own blood fed her fires.  Her growl echoed
through the room, warning him of her next action, but he did not move.  Her
left hand lashed out, her nails raking through the cloth of his pants, but
never touched his skin.

   "That's better." His satisfaction heard clearly in his voice.  "I don't
want an untamed spirit just acting the meek role."

   With a predatory litheness she sprang back to her feet in one quick
motion.  With just a single motion more she was on him.  Her claws at his
throat and her teeth bared, ready to rend his flesh from his body.

   But he didn't move.  He didn't even look surprised.  He just stood
there. His eyes fixed on her eyes.  The same pleased smile on his face.

   And she hesitated, confusion gripping her mind.  She felt something in
the back of her mind.  Recognition?  She couldn't be sure.

   "Well?" His voice sounding impatient.  "If you're going to do it, then
do it.  Finish what you've started."

   She blinked and her face relaxed, her teeth disappearing under her dry
lips.  Her fingers eased, drawing her claws back away from his throat.  A
single bead of blood started to well up on his neck, where one of her claws
had barely nicked him.

   "I didn't think so." He said, smugly.  "This is a game, our game.  And
you're finally realizing which of us makes the rules."

   He reached a hand out to her, touching the side of her cheek with the
back of his fingers.  Not unexpectedly, she drew her face back, away from
his touch.

   "Not quite ready then?" He asked rhetorically.  He withdrew the key from
his pocket and tossed it to her.  "Unchain your ankles."

   Despite being momentarily surprised by this, she was still able to
easily catch the key.  She knelt down slowly to unlock the chains, but
never took her eyes off of him.  She expected this to be some sort of trick
and still kept herself on guard.

   He watched her as well, but he hardly seemed very concerned.  He took a
step back then reached for the muzzle hanging below the torch.  She had
only gotten one of her ankles free when she saw him do this.

   Her hands froze in indecision.  The accursed muzzle again.  This was a
trick after all.  If she could get her other ankle free quick enough, she
could be on him before he could put it on her.

   "I don't think we'll need this tonight." He said as he knelt down and
placed the muzzle back in his bag.

   She felt a wave of relief run through her body.  The stress she had
wound up in her spine, in preparation for escape, flowed out of her.  Her
muscles unknotted and relaxed.  Her hands returned to their task and freed
herself from her last bond.

   "We'll try this instead." He said as he removed a long braid of dark
leather from his bag.  "I think you've earned the privilege of the leash
this evening."

   She blinked as she watched him.  She wasn't sure what to make of this.
Was he joking?

   "You were wrong." She whispered now, her eyes narrowing to slits as she
watched him.  "You said that you'd not unchain me until I was broken."

   She dropped the key to the stony floor, its metallic clatter echoing off
the walls.  "But I'm free now."

   He nodded in an unaffected way, as if he already knew that.

   "I'm free and you haven't broken me." She added, irritated by his not
admitting defeat.

   "And I have to disagree.  You are not free, you're just unchained." He
replied, smiling back at her.  "And you are broken."

   She watched him in stunned silence.  He must be mad.  It would take her
only a second to be rid of him.  To leap across the room and paint the
walls with his life's blood.  If he didn't realize that, he must be mad.

   This was the moment he enjoyed the most.  There was nothing more to
protect him.  He was bare to her.  She was free now.  There was nothing
physical left to hold her body back.  There was just her spirit to hold her
in check, the wild spirit that enjoyed seeing in her.  The spirit that was
held thrall to nothing but him.

   "You are broken." He repeated, drilling it into her head.

   More words.  More confusing, human words.  She could feel them
encircling her.  Distracting her, muddling up her mind.

   "You are learning now." He said, his words almost sounding like
commands. "Now come here."

   She could smell his excitement, a musky, sticky smell that hung in the
air.  There must be something more that she was missing.  Something else he
knew that she didn't.  He wasn't scared of her.  Why wasn't he scared of
her?

   She crawled closer to him, still cautious to avoid the sting of his
displeasure.

   "Good."

   His compliment wasn't half as satisfying as the feel of his hand
stroking the fur along her back.  She arched her back up against his hand,
making his fingers touch deeper.  For a moment she could feel his fingers
touching her tender skin normally well protected under her bristling fur.

   "Maybe later," He intoned, like he was half distracted.  "Maybe later,
after I'm done with you, and if you behaved..."

   His voice trailed off, as if he was expecting an answer from her.  She
titled her head to look up at his face.  Her face betrayed the hopeful wish
to attain his approval.

   "Then maybe I'll take you outside to enjoy the sun?" The distracted tone
was gone, his voice slightly warmer now.  "You would like that, wouldn't
you, pet?"

   She lowered her head and let out a little satisfied groan as his fingers
touched the tender spot behind her ears.  "Yes, master."

   ==

   "Did you enjoy your stay?" The Elvish woman asked as she prepared the
papers.

   Mary took a moment before replying.  The last three days were little
more than shadowy dream stuff of memories.  Indistinct figures that dwelled
in the back of her mind.  Tiny smells that clung to the back of her nose
and seemed to try to remind her of things she'd forgotten.  She could
remember little of what happened since the last time she sat in this
office.

   Her body, on the other hand, showed quite a few traces of what had gone
on.  Even now her ass ached in her seat.  The muscles of her arms felt
tender and strained.  Her wrists and ankles showed the tell-tale bruises of
restraint.

   "Yes." Mary said as she adjusted her glasses on her nose.  "Everything
was fine."

   "Good.  Good." The Elvish woman replied with a smile, handing a bill
across her desk.  "You'll see that it's all the usual charges.  Plus the
cost of one table for the unfortunate incident in the dining room."

   "Oh." Mary commented, slightly surprised since she had no recollection
of any incident, unfortunate or otherwise.  "Yes, of course."

   The Elvish woman glanced at her calendar; she noted a date in particular
and looked up.  "Then we'll see you again on the 17th?"

   Mary just nodded as she reached down to pick up her bag, "Yes, I think
so." She rose slowly, the muscles of her arm burning as she lifted the bag.

   "Very good." The Elvish woman said with a smile.  "Safe journeys."

   "Thank you." Mary replied, adding as an afterthought.  "Safe journeys to
you as well."

   She felt a fool as she left the room, thinking how absurd it was to say
that.  Obviously she's not going anywhere, she chastised herself, so why
say safe journeys?

   The Elvish woman's assistant stood up from his desk as Mary exited the
office.  He gave her a pleasant smile, but his attention shifted elsewhere
quickly.

   "Sir?" He said to the man sitting in the waiting room.  "The mistress is
ready to see you now."

   "Ah, good." He replied as he stood and strode towards the door.

   For the briefest moment, as they passed each other, Mary's eyes made
contact with the man's.  But there wasn't a single hint of recognition in
either of their faces.

   The Monthly Cycle: Epilogue

   Your hand shakes with nervous energy as you reach across the desk to
pick up your napkin.  You wipe it across your forehead, removing the cold
sweat that had accumulated.

   You close your eyes as you rest your face in your hands.  Your breath is
ragged and labored.  You try to regain yourself and steady your body and
mind.  Your head pounds as it rebels against the effort.

   You don't just view these memories, you experience them.  Every touch
they felt, you felt.  You can taste the lingering tastes in your mouth. 
Phantom pains fade from your body as the memory stones effect slowly fades.

   You decide that turning in this assignment can wait until after a rest.
And a shower.