gm: Niall made it a point to seek Muirne out - a pretty organized goal compared to his usual genial but seemingly undirected behavior.

Jess: How approachable is Niall?

gm: When he's not focused on anything in particular, he's pretty approachable. When focused elsewhere it's hard to keep his attention.

So perhaps it is alarming at least initially to have him knocking on the door of your cottage at three in the morning. He is wearing loose black trousers and a black tunic, belted black, like a uniform for some martial training. His feet are bare, and his blonde hair unruly.

Jess: She, a gossamer slip, something she had to get used to sleeping in (at home, nude), her hair mussed, indicating a deep sleep.

gm: Niall is smiling brightly, his eyes gleaming as though he were calling for a midmorning brunch rather than in the middle of the night. His knock was not quiet, either. "Muirne! of The Door!" he proclaims delightedly. His way of saying the word "Door" carries more meaning than just the title of your House. "May I come in?" he asks, stepping in.

He frowns. "I keep remembering these places are so small."

Jess: She nods, kneeding her eyes... "Niall, you are always welcome..."

gm: "Come, we should go someplace less crowded, Grandfather and Granddaughter."

Jess: she grabs her cloak, pulling it around her shoulders. Taking his hands, "As your pleasure." (barefeet, and still in her night clothes)

gm: He turns back and opens the door of your cottage again. Sudden sunlight from above and reflected from the sea before you dazzles your eyes. The smell of salt water and sand strikes you. Seagulls wheel and call above. There is nothing but sand and water and a few stands of oatgrass as far as you can see.

"Much better." Niall declares.

Jess: She blinks hard, looking around.

gm: He sits down promptly in the dry sand, which is hot but not burning under your feet.

Jess: A face much akin to a child during winter solstice celebrations... she quickly sits next to him, resting upon her cloak.

gm: Looking past her at the washing edge of the tide, Niall says, "I See because doors open and close for me. I know the King's mind because of the <love> we shared for one another..." In his speaking, "love" pushes a feeling of deep respect and mutual honor that would not be captured by the word friendship, but has no sexual connotation.

"So many doors I have passed through, a thousand million in a lifetime, leaving behind a thousand for each one of those.

"Whatever door I chose, I knew that there is one door that will always grow closer. Its frame and destination remain regardless. I do not look behind it, you understand? If there is fate before you, let it take you. Knowing only brings suffering that is worse for being unpreventable.

"That Door comes close, now. Only a few twists remain before everything converges there."
Finally he looks directly at Muirne. "What sort of person are you, Muirne? Do you have compassion?"

Jess: She cocked her head, shaken by his direct question, "How do you mean, Grandfather? I feel for others. I... am curious,"

gm: "Small things. Suffering. Is it of consequence?"

Jess: she cast her eyes down, "I let my curiosity... my intuition guide me, Grandfather." She paused, "Suffering is a consequence. And a benefit."

gm: He pulls a slim, silvered eating knife from his belt, and at a speed she can barely comprehend, stabs it deeply into the meat of her upper arm, leaving the handle protruding.
He is watching her.

Jess: She looks at the wound, curious. Reaching down, she removes it, watching the wound.

gm: At first, perhaps due to the speed of his delivery and the fine sharpness of the blade, it does not hurt. But as Muirne looks down, the pain blossoms from the site, excruciating. It is hard to think.

Jess: Her eyes well, but she refuses to cover the wound. "THAT was not nice, Grandfather. Compassion takes many forms... actions have consequences. Why did you do that?"

gm: He has turned his attention away from her and back to the glittering horizon. Perhaps in answer, he says, "When the great door opens there will once again be many choices."

Jess: "There always choices." she replies, all hints of anger gone. She stretches her legs out, digging her toes into the sand.

gm: "If they lead to the same place, how are they choices?

"We will stand and go from here back to your room. Many things could I do here before that happens. If I so desired, you could be made to forget. Grandfather and Granddaughter return through the door, she to her bed." He looks at her, his handsome, boyish face completely in place here by the sea, even his tousled hair seems rightly tousled with the ocean winds to move it. "What difference then, what I do here, if when we return all is the same?"

Jess: She looks to him, struck by the picture he completes. He was beautiful in his own way, on this scene. "It is not the same. Things are forever changed because we shared this moment."

gm: Muirne's arm throbs. Pain occasionally shoots through her elbow, as though small striations of the muscle beneath are letting go.

"I have the power to take all this from you, and share it with no one. I could bring you to the point of death..." Suddenly, it is as though he is distracted, and he continues as though completing a poem, "tongue, heart, hands; eyes, bile and breath," and then, after another brief break in his attention, "but you would not be the wiser afterwards. I could come to your door every night until your fellows chided you for lack of sleep. Only I would know of your torture. Tell me, then, what difference in those choices?"

Jess: "You presume that time spent with you is torture, Grandfather," she responds simply. "Difference is in my will to change the choice as I desire. That is my gift. I follow because I wish to, because it is the path I want to be on."

gm: "Does the question trouble you so much that you fear to answer?"

Jess: She cocked her head, frowning, "I thought I had."

gm: "You have not."

He puts his hand on her chest, over her sternum between her breasts. She feels somehow... unlocked, tenuous. "The question is, if only I am the wiser, what difference would there be between my opening your heart to the sea air and not doing so?

"If I must have a reason, then let it be that... I am curious about your heart."

Jess: She places her hand upon his. "Nothing... only the end of my song."

gm: He sighs and sits back. As he removes his hand, she feels herself come back together, whole.

Jess: She shakes her head. "Do you want my end? Or do you want to encourage my beginning? I'm confused." she states, watching the wind through the grass.

gm: "You do not have compassion, Granddaughter. Perhaps you will have wisdom instead." He stands and shakes sand from his clothes. "We must go."

Jess: "NO. I don't want to go. I want to understand your meaning." She cast down her eyes, ashamed

gm: "I have asked you plain, and you have answered. That is my meaning."

Jess: "You want to know if I have emotion? If I have love for myself or for others? Whether I feel, or, or, or," she stammers.

gm: He looks scornful. "The songs are full of beautiful people, full of sorrow and guilt. Emotion only told them they were sorry. It did not stay their hands when they were gripped by passion."

Jess: "whether I accept responsibility for my actions? Tell me, Grandfater, how do you define compassion?

"I regret nothing," she states defiantly.

gm: "You have not passed through the door. At that time, we will all bear something to regret, I fear.
"I will tell you how I define compassion, but you cannot use it to answer me correctly, like a student before a master."

Jess: Muirne fidgets with a ring on her right middle finger.

gm: "When I hold power over your pain," Muirne's arm is abruptly soothed, the wound closed, "and no other being but I am called to account, the difference between my causing you that pain and not causing it is not in your song. It is in mine." He says this last looking again at the horizon, the sea grey of his eyes in turmoil, reflecting crashing surf.

"Compassion is understanding you have no bonds."

Jess: She rises from the ground and walks to where the beach and surf meet.

gm: She is not sure, but she feels he is watching her.

Jess: She takes a few more steps, letting the waters rush up against her ankles; the wind off the waters to twist her hair and wrestle with the hem of her gown.

gm: It is cool water, softened by salt. Muirne's feet sink slightly in the wet sand.

Jess: Muirne stands several minutes, then she crouches slightly, almost petting the waves as they reach for the sand.

gm: Nothing changes. The sea rolls on.

Jess: She stands, drying her hands on her gown. She turns back toward Niall.

gm: He is not there. A rectangular opening hangs in the air. The edge of her bed is visible there in her dark room lit by the seaward sun.

Jess: She smiles. "I will give you my answer at our next meeting..." she calls out loudly, only to call him by name in a whisper, "...Niall." Reluctantly, she leaves the surf for her cloak and to enter the door he had left for her to return...

gm: Muirne's nightdress is wet and sandy around the edges, and dry sand falls from her cloak onto the floor. From the sounds of the pre-dawn birds, perhaps an hour has passed.

The room darkens abruptly as the door closes with a last breath of sea air.

Jess: Muirne inhales deeply, trying to capture the moment. She is blinded by the lack of light. As her eyes adjust to the blackness, she looks from her bed to the door.

gm: Small granules of sand reflect what little light there is.