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Ashley managed to stifle a cringe and a wince at the touch of the steel against his exposed flesh, even more when he felt the sharpness of that blade, and slowly he lowered the blade from Joan's collar bone.

"Make a habit of interfering, friend?"

There was nothing that could mask the anger and malice in Ash's voice as he suddenly found himself, and his manhood, at the mercy of another. Especially when that other was an immortal whom he had not detected... he hadn't detected the woman either.

That thought caused him to pause and he made a mental not to reflect on it later, at a time when his junk was not in such a precarious predicament, and he made a show of relaxing into a posture as non-threatening as possible.

He nodded and smiled.

"As you wish. Safe passage to you then."

Victor's heavy accent returned with the time and reemergance of his role in this and had only heard of a woman who had knowledge about many things and a friend, had once referred him to her. That was before he killed her, as she tried to kill him. Victor felt it was time to take up his sword and sek out this woman. if his sources were correct, which were now sort of hard to contact, she lived on an Island of France, Belle Isle. That was his destination. With a nod to the priest, he left as shortly behind Cassandra, the young woman, who apparently was as old as he was, considering her weapon. to have the sword of agamemnon, something he strifed to obtain through kiling the man, meant she was close to him once.

His own weapon, the very sword of Ceasar, the man that had come with armies upon armies to take Gaul in the name of the Roman Emperor, lay unbeknownst to the world, at his residence. that is where he would go to grab a few essential items.

Larson picked her up with an itinerary already planned out with the easiest route to Belle Ile.

Cassandra could not remember the exact date she had acquired the services of the first Larson, but every one of the man's descendants who had presented themselves as a helper of sorts had been quite efficient. In this modern world, it would have been difficult for Cassandra to move about what with her apparent age, but Larson made it easy.

Easy enough that it had been relatively painless to board a train and now a ferry, where she was currently seated in her wheelchair on the bow of the boat, watching the little island of Belle Ile draw closer and closer.

She had felt the quickening, but ignored it; whoever it was, they would present themselves if they chose to, and until then Cassandra would enjoy the nice breeze.

He snickered momentarily. "If the shoe fits." He still held his blade firm, making sure the other knew what was indeed at stake. "How about yourself. I think you might want to put that blade down. It looks awfully heavy, and I don't want your little arm to get tired... Friend." He was smug, with reason. If he wished, and pulled up, his friend would soon be two friends...

He merely paused, contemplating whether or not he would actually pursue that route. But, indeed, Joan had, in her ignorant foolishness probably brought this upon herself, and this man was only taking what he prospected to be his own, therefore, although being held accountable, his actions were thus justified. Pausing for just another moment, he shook his head and smiled. "Thank you for the idea.." With that, he removed the blade from the man's groin, and slowly slid the tip up his spine, tearing at the fabric of his clothing. When he reached his neck. He put the tip to it, and pricked it with the tip of the dagger, then, with a minor flick of his wrist, the knife flipped to the opposite edge, and he ran the flat edge of the blade in a "U" around the sides and back of his neck. Sighing slightly, Calidus laughed. "Damn.. I guess I need to sharpen it.." Stepping from the back of the other, he still held the blade ready. "Today was your lucky day, young friend. But.. If I ever catch this young lady in your hands again, let's just hope for your sake that my blade is no longer dull." He gave a short wink, and gesticulated towards the door. "Have a wonderful day."

[ Ilona Szilágyi -- Belle Ile ]

While the newest man and the arrogant one had their little game of cliche repartees and threats, Ilona slid into her still-damp clothing. She refrained from wearing the boots - while knee-high Hunters were practical for rain, they were not practical for chasing Immortals through the streets as she suspected she would be doing just that in a moment or so - and shrugged off the discomfort of wearing wet things.

They were irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things-- not that Ilona knew what the grand scheme of things was. She rather doubted there was a any...

When Ashley slipped out the front door, Ilona followed, silent as a wraith and just as quick and invisible.

Tyler had an easy enough time making his way across the straight to a port that also offered a ferry to the Bell Ile, it seemed that very few people attempted to get in the way of a travelling priest, and so it was no time at all before he was aboard a ferry and feeling the quickening once more.

Sometimes, for some Immortals, identity could be made through a quickening. Some Immortals had a strong presence, filled with anger and malice and hate, their quickenings almost painful to be felt. Some Immortals were kind, like Joan, with a quickening so sweet one had to remember that it was a quickening and not angels singing. Tyler imagined his quickening was dark, filled with the anger he had cultivated in the years raging at the Game, and felt sorry for a moment for the Immortal he recognized as Cassandra when he felt her quickening.

He saw her in her chair on deck and moved to stand near her, near enough that if she so chose she could strike out with her sword before he moved, and that made it clear that he had no intention of doing her harm. She was the one in the position of power here.

"Either the Game works in far more mysterious ways than I gave it credit for or we're here on the Ferry for the same reason. Joan."