From: "Tracee C. Schneider" <tamarisk@mindspring.com>

*Belarade*

"Confidential?  What are you talking about?  Ce'lot is here, " her brother
frowned.

"B'lin, I am well aware of the relationships of the people in the Warren.
This does not concern you.  Out.  Veronyca, if you will?"

Belarade tried to grab at B'lin before he was pulled out of the room.

"Wait..I...," she let out a helpless breath and then looked to the ground.
"I just need some of those pills....I started taking them after my
surgery....I feel better when I'm on them..."

"Bel..." Ce'Lot shook his head slowly.  "You've been taking drugs?"

"No!" she yelled out and then said more calmly, "No....they aren't
drugs...just some pills...that I had a prescription for..."

"Belarade...there will be no more pills," Nineve reached for her slowly.
"We need to find a way to get you off of them...."

Bella took the healer's hand reluctantly and glanced over at Ce'Lot....the
look of disappointment on his face apparent.  "I'm so sorry, Ce'Lot...I'm
sorry..."

*B'Lin*

Veronyca began pulling B'lin insistently toward the waiting area.  He pulled
away from her and looked down at her, trying to place a
dragon with the rider and maybe figure out why he had a nagging feeling that
he knew her from somewhere else.

"Who are you?" he asked before pulling his arm away from her and crossing
them in front of his chest.

"Didn't you hear Nineve?  My name is Veronyca," the girl retorted quickly.

"Well then, *Veronyca*..." B'Lin said smartly.  "Tell me what was going on
in there with my sister before I go back in there and insist to hear it
myself."

<NRPG:  okay...this is such a short post I'm embarassed...but I'm giving
tags to Jill, Kris, and Steph...I'll write more next time I promise!>

Respectfully Submitted,
Belarade and B'Lin
aka Tracee Taylor-Schneider






Dragonlands http://www.geocities.com/~_sierra_

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died
each year when the leaves fell from the trees and
their branches were bare against the wind and the
cold, wintry light.  But you knew there would always
be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again
after it was frozen.

 -- A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway




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