Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hello friends and welcome! Here, I recount the time I had to go back to London on a clandestine errand for my old mentor and patron, the infamous Madame Helena Petrovna Blavatsky.
In this chapter - I am looking back over my life before coming to the American West.
Need to catch up? Here are: Part I | Part II
Once I reached the hilltop - I allowed my mind to open and the memories came flooding back. I remembered my initial arrival in London - where my real training had begun.
Once at the Theosophical enclave, I thought my education would continue as it had previously. That it would continue along spiritual, philosophical and harmonious lines.
But - soon after I arrived, my training took a dark turn towards the arts of stealth, and assassination.
I was taught how to kill and how to place my feelings and discursive thoughts into compartments so as not to be hampered by societal concepts of good and evil.
I was sent for two years into the North Caucasus Mountains to ride with Colonel Domantovich and his Cossacks. It was there that I learned horsemanship, and the practical applications of the art of war.
It was SO brutal and horrid.
War… battle, violent conflict - mastering it was all very much like learning to ride a horse. You can read about it, you can study it in books, you can go to illuminating lectures about the finer aspects of show jumping and dressage - but in the end you can only truly learn by getting up there and doing it.
Well - I sure was learning about combat by doing it. Because we did it a lot. It was there, in those terrible mountains that I took my first life.
Hum... I will admit - I learned much from the Cossacks. They provided the foundation of my equestrian and martial training - and... and I loved them... they will always be my brothers.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"Hello? Hello?? Hum - well, that is most peculiar. I could have sworn I heard someone. It was as though they were in that field... right there in the grass talking. But - there is no one. Perhaps... perhaps, I am mistaken."
There it is again! I distinctly heard a voice - calling me! Huh - and calling me by my name... m-my Manx name - Aelish.
But there is no one. En-Enkidu? Are you alright, Lad?? He - he seems fine. Well - if there was anything amiss - well he surely would make a big fuss. So there is no one around - which means... am - am I going crazy?
NO. I know I heard someone. It was a woman - a woman calling my name!
Right there in that field behind me. I cannot look anymore - it is too unnerving. I do not like to admit this - but I am awful scared right now. It is one thing to fight enemies you can see - but... hmph - I do not know how to handle something like this. Most of the time, I am perfectly fine being on my own - but right now - I feel so alone and unsure.
It would be some pumpkins to have company right now. Though I suppose, I shall have to settle for coffee. It is strange, but I - I feel as though I recognized that voice too - but from where??
There it is AGAIN!!
"Aelish" it said! What does it want? Is there really something out there in that field? Is it in my head?? I do not know how much more of this I can take! Oh, Dogstoyevsky - please come out and join me by the fire this instant. I need to hug you while I fall to pieces and have a great big cry.
I decided to I postpone my trip into the mountains - as I did not trust my sanity. The troubling voice stopped haunting me when I got to the noisy bustle of San Denny.
At length, I began to wonder... could it have been my former teacher and mentor, Madame Blavatsky??
I decided to rent a delightful room at the Bastille in San Denny. A refuge where I could reflect on my years before coming to America. When I was still with the Theosophical Society in London... and Madame Blavatsky.
Those times... especially before my transition to London - when the grand lady was my personal tutor in the Isle of Man, were quite happy times.
I learned so very much from her. Of all the people from my former life - I admit that I do miss her guidance... and her smile. As I continued to reminisce about those days back in Douglass Harbor, my family... my friends and lessons with Madame Blavatsky, I thought about how she instructed me in mythology, comparative religion and philosophy.
I was in the middle of my reminisces when I entered my room and was positively bowled over by the opulence of it all! Wowie!
Gosh! Just look at that bed! I am sure I could bounce ever so high upon it too! Why I am sure I could even touch the ceiling! And look at that couch! It is positively ripping! I am going to sit on that and - and - I shall use the bell pull to summon up some treats!
After I had a jolly good bounce on the bed, I sat on the couch and became very quiet. I felt as though my old teacher, Madame Blavatsky was very close to me... I could feel her thought forms - like a soft, soft whisper at the edge of my mind.
I tried to focus on the whispering... I tried to hear the words, but it was only feelings... like care mixed with a sense of urgency. Then, I suddenly became terribly tired.
Defending Fort Mercer from attacks would be SO much easier if the garrison commander, Captain Fernandez would remove the bloody cannons from the ridges!
Also... while I am about it - I can do without all the crates and barrels full of high explosives inexplicably strewn about the compound. Oh, and it does not help that they are all painted BRIGHT red.
It is true that Captain Fernandez is quite charming... and I daresay dashing. He is SO elegant, and always knows just what kind of wine pairs with every dish and he is a gourmet chef too!
He has exquisite taste.
Just last month he commissioned the famed Spanish artist, Salvador Martínez Cubells himself, to take a trans-atlantic dirigible all the way from Spain to New York, then first-class rail all the way to New Austin - for the express purpose of rendering a brilliant fresco upon the canteen wall.
And here it is.
It is absolutely breathtaking - I mean - at least the bits that are still intact after that last cannon bombardment are.
A cannon bombardment - mind you - that COULD have been avoided... if he had not left those cannons out in the hills, unattended... so that they would fall into the enemy's hands - uh, along with ALL that ammunition.
Hum -
Anyway, I suppose what I am trying to say is that the dear Captain Fernandez may be a dreamboat - for he is - but he is also an abysmal commander.
I was the one who had to position all of his men.
They were milling around in a hopeless muddle. They had NO idea how to construct a proper loophole for firing. They were FAR too wide... you could have driven a war wagon through them!
I discussed this with Captain Fernandez over lunch. I also brought along the tactical maps and I had done some research on how Caesar had defended the fort at Alesia from the massive assault by the Mandubii tribe but... he gently patted my hand then closed my book and said - "Not over lunch."
Then with a jolly laugh he insisted we pose for a picture.
At first I said no... but then he gave me this impish little smile - hum and a knowing wink as though we were naughty school children not doing our homework and - we were in this together.
So... I had no choice but to agree. I mean really... how can anyone say "NO" to that smile?
I - well of course, I said "no," at first... but that was not the right answer. So then... I must have said "yes" because - well, here we are.
I went on to explain to him how all the fortresses casements were cracked and had NO integrity. None... I said that - um... and their embrasures allowed NO lateral field of vision and were all bloody useless - what else... OH of course! There was not ONE ditch, not a palisade to be found... no... uh - not even a single barbette to help us elevate an artillery piece so that we could return fire against those wretched cannons!
And of course... I kept coming back to the fact that we did NOT in fact - have those artillery pieces because - Captain Fernandez had SPENT the requisition money - you guessed it - on the fresco... and also fireworks to celebrate the fresco.
Granted, that fresco is positively gorgeous - but it is not so useful in a prolonged siege.
The real frustration is that Captain Fernandez is just so... huh - he is SO charming and easy to forgive.
I tried to scold him for being careless - but he flashed that infernally disarming and captivating "I am to be SO very sorry" smile, then with a flourish and bow, he produced - as if by MAGIC - two crystal glasses of the finest port I had EVER tasted!
Then hum... he said he wanted to make a toast... to my uh... beauty.
Which is SUCH a silly thing to say - and though I knew better for I am not uh - what he said - but... hum - well I could feel the warmth rushing up to my head turning my cheeks a fools red.
Before I could even recover from such and unexpected compliment, his men had whisked out a table, with a gorgeous silk cloth, along with two chairs adorned with green velvet!
As we sat down, a single candle was added and two dishes under silver covers were set before us.
Gentle guitar music wafted into the air and we dined under the stars in Fort Mercer listening to a deeply touching and intimate rendition of Tárrega's Capricho Árabe played by one of Captain Fernandez's men.
He looked me in the eye from across the table and spoke under the music - so that only I could hear.
"You make the big fuss today... rushing around... removing all the fireworks and explosives, giving instructions to the men."
He swirled his port stared into his glass... like he was seeing something there.
"You cannot save them all you know. Some will die. We, all may die tomorrow. I have heard it is no less than four hundred men."
He was looking into his glass as though he was seeing something in there... something far away - as he continued speaking.
"So many... against so few."
He refilled our glasses and with that smile of his, he lit up the night as he gestured expansively to the wonderful scene were sitting in the middle of - the music... stars, firelight.
"If we die tomorrow, no one can say that we did not live tonight."
After dinner, he got up bowed and kissed my hand - wowie... um and then he did something QUITE familiar, he reached out and patted my cheek, ever so gently with his hand.
I can feel thought forms you know. It is just something that I can do and when Captain Fernandez touched me like that - I felt such protective love, and care and... I knew I had a true and good friend - and that I would always be safe with him.
Then he turned on his heel and shouted to the men.
"You give Miss. Cranberry my room - I sleep in the barracks tonight - so NO snoring - unless you want to sleep with the donkeys!"
As I watched Captain Fernandez walk off to the barracks, he just looked SO stunning in that uniform. All those medals... the epaulets his grand mustache.
When he touched my cheek - uh... I felt - my knees - they wobbled a bit - they really did.
Whew - and there is also the mustache to consider as well. Oh - did I mention that already? Well - it needed to be said twice.
That big train behind me arrived safely thanks to the brave people who were guarding it. You bet I am proud to have been among them. It is a mighty thing, a freight train. Like a big, iron dragon - hissing and blowing boiling hot steam and its engines burn with coal-fire... but.... it needed our protection.
I stood there in the rain, listening to it patter down all around me... hitting the tracks and the big engine. I could feel its large round lamp shining right on me... hum... it felt almost like a thank you.
