((:yes: I like this one. I was just thinking about how much I missed it the other day))

OOC: Yes, I would be intrested in continuing it. However, I have finals this week and next, so I won't be on as much as usual for the next to weeks, so I'll still be kind of slow with posting.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

(okay, I'll post and we'll see how it goes.)

Having cleaned up and changed into a pantsuit, Justyna checked in with her secretary. Nothing urgent had come up, thank heavens, so she could take a few minutes to think. How could she best approach the ambassador? They needed dialog, open, candid conversation without the pressure of publicity and the war of words.

One of the problems of being a public figure was that anything one said was taken as a message to one side or another. There was no room for conjecture, for possibility, for mind-games. They needed to get away from audiences.

And she knew just the thing. Giving instructions to her secretary, the young woman made her way to the New Republic ambassador's guest suite. She pressed the buzzer and took a breath.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>