Home Again, Home Again...

The sudden jolt of landing woke Trin from her light doze. A moment's disorientation and she remembered where she was: First Class on an inbound flight to Nachton. Grinning, she popped up in her seat to look out the window, momentarily disappointed to have missed seeing the city from the air, but pleased with being home again. There was nothing, in her opinion, better than being in her adopted hometown. With the advent of commercial flight, the world had opened up for her, but she rarely strayed far. There wasn't much point, to her mind.

The captain turned off the seatbelt sign and she waited with mild impatience for the plane to pull into the terminal. After what seemed like hours, but was truly about 10 minutes, they were unloading. Black backpack flung over her shoulder and looking every inch the college student on holiday, she departed the plane and strode up the tunnel into the terminal itself.

She was unconcerned with retrieving her baggage - whichever driver the Manor had sent would see to that - she headed straight for the main entrance, idly surveying everything around her. She caught a few curious looks - but not many. Dressing in goth-style clothing had done wonders for camouflaging her white skin and it was a style she had taken to with enthusiasm. It was common enough that most of the looks she got were of disapproval - people saw what they wanted to see and some saw a troublemaking teenager. Those she could care less about. For this trip, she had opted for dark blue highlights in her long brown hair - and that in and of itself was enough to draw attention.

The limo was sitting pretty much where she had expected it to be and the driver simply opened the door without speaking. Settling into the plush leather seat, she stretched, pleased to be out of the confines of the airplane. While traveling by sea may have allowed one some space, it was a mode of transportation unavailable to her. She had not stepped foot on a sailing vessel of any kind in 200 years and she doubted anything could ever induce her to do so again. Just the thought of it was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat. Planes worked quite well - and, with careful planning, could be done only at night. Might take her a bit longer to arrive at her destination, with required daytime layovers, but it was still better than ships. Riding an ill-tempered camel through a snow storm was better than ships.

Pouring herself a glass of gin, she watched as they approached the city, only to skirt it to reach the Manor. She loved this drive, with its slow change from urban to "country"Â?, along winding roads. Relaxed, her mind wandered over the past few weeks.

Trin was never certain when the urge would come over her, but for the last 50 years or so, she had made this trek every once in awhile to visit the Cayman Islands, her birthplace. Sometimes it might happen twice a year, other times it would be 4 or 5 years before the need made itself felt. Sir John believed she was simply retracing her roots, polishing her place in the world, so to speak. She never failed to visit the family gravesite, leaving flowers for her parents and sisters. The rest of her time was spent exploring the countryside she grew up on or truly playing tourist, partying in the clubs that catered to Americans. It was an odd dichotomy, but one that appealed to her immensely. All in all, a satisfying vacation, balanced between the old and the new.

The Manor came into view and the anticipation she had felt growing suddenly exploded. The car glided to a gentle stop at the foot of the entry landing and she popped out of the car as soon as the door was opened. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, content.

"Please arrange to have my things taken to my rooms?"Â?

"Yes, ma'am."Â?

Knowing that the request would be carried out, she made her way to the main doors, not terribly surprised when they opened before she got close enough to touch the handles.

"Welcome home, ma'am. I trust your holiday was enjoyable?"Â?

Trin smiled politely at Rupert, all traces of the eager teenager gone. "Yes, thank you. It was very enjoyable. But it is better to be home. Is there anything I should be aware of?"Â? While not prone to gossip, if anything important needed to be relayed, she knew Rupert would be aware of it. Or if there were messages that had been lfet. She didn't expect any, but one never knew.

Rupert closed the door behind her and responded, "Only that your cat has been making a nuisance of himself in your absence."Â?

Trinity sighed and glanced up the staircase, sending out a mental call to BJ. If he was in range, he'd find her in short order. "I apologize. I tried to get him to understand the rules, but he is still fairly young. I hope there was no true damage done?"Â? Trin winced inwardly hoping that whatever the young cat had done was minor and easily made up for. BJ was the latest in a line of cats that went back to the emergence of her ability to call animals. He had only been with her a year and tended to think and act like a 3 year old.

On uppers.

"Fortunately, the damage was contained to the kitchen area and gardens. He is turning out to be something of a hunter, himself, I believe."Â? Rupert glanced up, seeing the dark black shape skulking on the stairs. "He became a bit... enthusiastic in his pursuit of a mouse. And a rabbit."Â? Rupert gave her a look. "And a squirrel, a chipmunk and a few birds."Â?

Trin winced again. "I suppose I should look into training him for such things?"Â?

The look Rupert now gave her was distantly approving. "I believe that would be best. If there is nothing else?"Â?

Taking the hint, Trin shook her head. "No, thank you. Good evening, Rupert."Â?

"And to you, ma'am."Â?

Turning toward her wayward cat, Trin headed up the stairs, glaring daggers and pointing one finger at him. [COLOR=red]*You are busted.*[/COLOR]

[COLOR=red]*Broken?*[/COLOR] BJ cocked his head, confused.

Shaking her own head, she hitched the backpack up in to a more comfortable position and scooped up the longhaired menace. [COLOR=red]*No, furball. In trouble. We start hunting lessons as soon as possible.*[/COLOR]

[COLOR=red]*Hunting. Good. Hunt squeakies?*[/COLOR] Trinity caught a quick mental image of her hunting mice and almost choked.

[COLOR=red]*Sure, why not. They're safer to hunt than just about anything else you'll find around this place.*[/COLOR] While he wouldn't understand exactly what she was saying, she had learned over the years to project images and emotions behind her words - and in return, the cats she had "partnered"Â? had learned to associate words with those things and relay them when needed. Some cats had had an extensive vocabulary, others never made it past the images stage. This one had picked up enough words that she usually felt like she was dealing with a 2 year old - it made communication interesting. And life was rarely dull with a cat that could and would talk back to you.

But she was home, and at this moment in time, that was all that mattered.

[COLOR=red](/ooc - red is "talkin" to the kitty - [/COLOR][COLOR=black]and out to play 'round town!)[/COLOR]