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Maddie was trying to untangle the subtle threads of unfamilier power around the table. Her instincts told her someone was weaving a story, but she couldn't tell who or even what their purpose was. It was almost like they were nudging players around randomly. The trick was difficult to track.

Then Niteshade leaned in close to whisper in her ear. His hot breath on her neck made prickles run down her spine and every hair on her body stand up. She tried to focus on his words, but hormones and adrenalin were flooding her blood stream. Somehow, the logical part of her brain surfaced enough to understand what he was saying and she nodded her agreement. She pushed $500 in chips to the opposite side of the table from the Lucky Man's bet. After the dealer collected her chips, she bet $1000 on another loosing number. She lost as planned and doubled her bet again, placing $2000 on her last loosing bet. When the ball dropped on the number, she slammed her fists on the edge of the table in faux-frustration.

She placed her final bet, doubling her last one to keep up the pattern, and put $4000 on the same number as the Lucky Man. When she won, she shrieked with joy, spun around and hugged Niteshade. She turned back to the dealer, fanning herself in her excitement. The dealer gave her $140,000 as stoically as ever. The black-haired woman looked interested in the win, which made Maddie all the more anxious to get away from the table.

"I'd like to cash out now," she informed the dealer. He nodded and accepted all her lucky green chips. He gave her the equivalent about, a total of $170,000, in regular casino chips and gave her a novelty-printed cardboard box to carry them in.

"Would you like me to call security to escort you to the cashier's box?" he asked politely.

"No thank you," she politely declined. She threw a conspiratorial look at Niteshade. "My boyfriend won't let anything happen to me. We won't have any trouble, I'm sure of it." She nudged more power into that statement than she was comfortable with, but she was holding more money than she'd ever seen in her entire life. She wasn't about to risk a single chip on a drunk or desperate gambler's tricks. She also wasn't about to let the casino bully her into spending the money here.

Maddie and Niteshade made their way to the cashier's box without incident. The cashier gave her some tax documents. Hesitantly, she filled them out. As little as she wanted to leave a paper trail, she wanted to get in trouble with the IRS even less. There was no telling what sort of story-telling resources they might have to combat her fledgling abilities. Given the option, Maddie accepted her winnings in cash, a total of $122,400, in a thick manila envelope. The cashier explained that 28% of the winnings were headed to Uncle Sam, which Maddie didn't mind. She still had a sizable amount.

She turned to Niteshade, excitement and anxiety warring on her face. "What now?"

So she wasn't a gold digger--it was worse, she was another storyteller! But was she part of Ishmael's band or was she an independent?

"It's...interesting to meet you," Maddie said cautiously. "But I'm afraid this is a privet party. Invitation only."

She glanced at Niteshade. They might be able to make a break for it, but she still remembered how one pain-in-the-arse had messed with her motorcycle. She wasn't about to risk their only mode of transportation unless there was a good reason.

Oooh a 'privet party', I don't think I've been to one of those. *WEG* Sorry, just had to say it. Oh and I got Uke's drawings... hahahaha.
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Niteshade noticed Maddie was quick to get away from the table and whatever was being done there, which meant she didn't remember proper gambling etiquette. So he too the couple chips he had in his hand and gave it to the attendant as a tip, it was $1000 worth so not a bad night for him either. As Maddie was getting the cash, the pressure kept up in his head and he knew something was going on. Some type of story was being weaved around him, or had already been weaved and he was just not getting affected by its power. As Maddie finished the IRS papers, he didn't want her having to deal with it all so he said under his breath, "Papers come, and papers go. If they are lost in the shuffle, no one will know. Mistakes happen, and the faults with no one. These papers will disappear, before the coming of the sun."

When the turned to leave and Sapphirianna appeared, the pressure increased and a compulsion took hold. Whatever was happening whether Maddie or Niteshade liked it, it involved this lady as well. He stopped and held his head for a moment to try and ease the pressure, he could feel that some elemental forces were being worked up... they had to leave, and NOW. Sapphirianna gave Maddie a number, then took off before he could really do anything. He told Maddie, "When we're safely away, we best call her. Something is tingling in my mind that she is connected to things somehow. But we have to be out of this place now. Something is coming, I feel it."

He started off towards the front of the place and the exit. When he was almost there some wind was blowing in through the doors and blew some papers right into him. He grabbed them and noticed that they were drawings someone had done, and not half bad at that. What Niteshade didn't notice was that the eyes on one of the drawings blinked and moved around as if looking for something before going back to their normal appearance. Then he was out the doors as the wind picked up even more, a very bad storm had kicked up and was moving quickly towards this part of town. Niteshade looked around to see if he could spot Ishmael, since he assumed he was the one behind things, but hadn't noticed him yet.

Maddie followed Niteshade through the casino, gripping her packet of money for dear life. She hadn't missed the way he'd tipped the dealer, or storied the legal papers into oblivion. He was looking out for her, and she try as she might to tell herself that it was just the friendly thing to do, it still made her heart turn over.

Outside, the wind was blowing papers and brochures all over. Maddie could feel the electricity in the night air and knew a storm was on the way. It excited her and terrified her; she loved watching electrical storms but hated driving in them. Somehow, it seemed that the black haired woman had not only brought pleasant dreams to life, but unpleasant ones as well. She seemed to be powerful, extracting histories without having to talk them out. Perhaps that was her particular talent, in which case she would be an asset, especially if she was no friend of Ishmael.

First thing was first, they needed to get out of this weather.

"Should we get to the airport? We could call her from a payphone there," she asked Niteshade. He was scanning the masses of people walking along the Vegas strip. "Or do you...want to find...um...a place to...rest?" She blushed.

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Yes, she's asking if you want to get a room, but not in THAT way. razz

Niteshade felt the feeling again of a slight airiness and tug on him that he started to notice about being pulled about by a storytelling presence. Was Ishmael that close? Looking around he saw Uke slipping through the crowd and knew it was his papers he had found, so he stepped over to stop him and hand them to him saying, "Here you go, best be careful with these in this wind or you might lose them. Your pretty good, maybe I'll get you to show me a few techniques when I have some free time."

Walking back over Maddie he hears her question and ponder it while scanning the crowd. They should probably leave as soon as possible, however the headache hadn't cleared yet and he was just re-directing his thoughts to try and take the edge off but it wouldn't last much longer. He'd need to rest a little before making the trip lest he get caught without enough mental capacity to help.

He smiled at her saying, "I think we better find a place to rest, else I think I may pass out soon otherwise. Maybe we can find something close to the airport so we can leave as soon as we're rested. Just don't try to take advantage of this poor tired traveler, Missus Moneybags."

Then with some of his final energy he says in a low voice, "the night is electrifying and storms rage on. Unless they want to be struck, they'll not find the storm fury's son. The elements help protect me, as I will do for them. Just help us rest this evening, so we can get gone as soon as we can."

With that he shutters a little as the power is released and he becomes lightheaded with the pain throbbing across his temples like the drums at an orchestral movement. "Let Ishmael get through that this evening", he thinks to himself.

Ura walked away with his pictures, on his way home. He lived far away on the out skirts across town. Infact he still lived in what was left of his old house, oddly no one had ever came to the house after the fire was put out, they just left him. But that was how ura wanted it. He wanted to be left alone. The house it's self had no water or electric or heat. It had all been turned off. "Konichiwa-neko-kun-ha-ogenkidesuka?" He asked his cat. "Meow". Ura smiled at his cat named 'Cat-boy'. The cat was purring and rubbing his legs. "Hai, hai" He said as he placed some cat food in a dish on the floor. He also pulled out a bottle of water and poured some in a cup for his cat. Smiling once again he lay down on his bed. He had not made any money today so he had not bought food, but that did not mean that his cat had to go with out, that would be mean. he always bought his cat food befor himself, it was not like his cat could make money and buy his own food. Ura had raised him and he was Ura's responsibility. Besides the cat could hunt any more do to it's old age. It was 15 years old. Falling asleep he was glad he did not dream.

Now dressed in casual, day-to-day clothing, Sapphira flopped down onto her couch, holding a can of soda in her hand and a bag of chips in the other. She grabbed the romote and flipped through the channels. Boring, boring, ugh. Disgusting... she thought with distaste. As she surfed the channels, she nibbled on a potato chip and took a sip of the fizzy grape soda pop.

Once she found a channel that caught her interest, she leaned back, but instead of focusing on the comedy, her brain was ticking away. Who the heck was that dude following me? I might know his name...

"I think I saw him on a vacation sometime a while back." She muttered to herself. "Yeah, that dude with the funny accent."