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 Posted: Thu Apr 29, 2010 4:36 am
The Council of Sciences
Science is not without its experiments and note taking on said experiments. Given the deceased count as the Plague rages, it's not uncommon that the Council "takes in" cadavers to better understand how it functions and spreads. Beatrix's debut task in the Council is one that will make or break her career here. Her job - perform an autopsy on a recently arrived cadavar and write down any and all findings in a report that will eventually be given to Representative Rockwell himself.__________________________________________________________________________________ Scientists really had no perspective on women, this much she knew. In the late afternoon of a warm Friday she’d received a letter from the Council of Science indicating for her to come down tomorrow at noon to examine a corpse. They hadn’t said corpse, no, that was a word used to scare children from doing all sorts of wretched things. It was a cadaver. And she was going waste her perfectly good Saturday probably cutting it up and writing detailed notes on it. No, not probably – that’s exactly what it indicated she’d be doing. It was a lot to ask of the common man to sift through the dead, even for a student in the field. Weed out the weak from the worthy.
She’d come the next day in a plain white ensemble, perhaps looking much like a nurse, though her purpose here today was not to heal, but rather to discover. Beatrix had went to the receptionist and given her name, directed to the room that was prepared for her, which was a bit chilly though it didn’t bother her much. The tools were neatly set on a table, the body covered for the moment as a man in a lab coat watched her, curtly explaining the nature of the corpse. She gave a nod to indicate she wanted to begin, a stoic expression on her face as the body was uncovered. It wouldn't be the first dead body she'd seen.
Autopsy Report:
Case No: 51310Y
There was no name, no stream of letters to form a connection with the corpse in front of her. Beatrix had but a set of numbers to scrawl upon her blank page.
Approximate Age: 33 years
Young, too young, they always were. It mines well have been her on the table, about to be poked at by scientists. Or her father.
Height: 5’6
Weight: 150 pounds
Sex: Male
Clothing and bodily possessions:
The deceased was wearing a worn brown tunic and pants from the same material. The ensemble is damp, having not yet dried from its finding in the Sioux stream. There are a few Shillings in his pocket.
External Examination:
The frame of the body is thin and indicative of some mild malnourishment. The hair on the scalp is brown. The irises are brown with the pupils fixed and dilated. Both upper and lower teeth are natural but slightly crooked, without evidence of injury to the cheeks, lips or gums but there is a build-up of dried blood at the base of the tongue.
There are no tattoos, deformities or amputations.
The white body has an unnatural black pigmentation, but there are traces of yellow patches of skin, namely around the throat and stomach area, but that are not bruising. There are a few scratches upon the skin, which seems recent.
Internal examination:
If not prescribed to be unnatural have it be assumed that the state of the organ or area is under normal condition.
Sampling from the yellowed areas has been taken, and it indicates the chemical polybrominated diphenyl, used in dying cloths. Their placement would indicate it was not a result of the clothing soaking through, but rather the Black Death having made the traces of the chemical more apparent.
There are little signs of muscle weakness, which would show that the disease had not fully run its course.
She'd know, wouldn't she? She'd seen the parasitic disease spread through a body, consuming it until you could scarcely say there had ever been a person at all.
Findings:
The cause of death is attributed to the Black Death thought there have been significant findings of another chemical substance working to a hastened death, attributed to the area the citizen likely comes from. Because of the placement of the reactions with the disease it would suggest that the chemical was ingested, and because of the finding of the body in a stream it would seem that the chemical may have been dumped into the river. An analysis of some water that is more upstream would give further clues, perhaps in the waterway in the Apache district, which leads to the Sioux river would show high amounts of this particular chemical that may have speeded up the process of his death, as seen by the lack of muscle deterioration it would seem that the Black Death had not undergone its full period.
Conclusion:
The deceased died from the Black Death illness that may have been hastened by the high amount of polybrominated diphenyl in his body, that could come from the expelled waste of the numerous clothing factories that reside in the Apache district, that is upriver from the location that body was found in. The clothing indicates he was not from the suburban sprawl and rather from the city.
It wasn’t enough just to look at him for what he was. Just a dead body on a table. He lived somewhere, came from a particular environment. The Black Death that killed him wasn’t the final piece of the puzzle. There was more then that, but the answer wasn’t a pretty one. It was as ugly as the man’s coal like complexion. The negligence in the area that he lived in that sped up his death was just another sign that the poor were the ones who always endured the worst, be it in times of war or disease. But was it better to have lived a life of anonymity, surrounded by one’s family until your last days or to outlive them and nothing but the Shillings in your pocket to try and comfort you?
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 8:33 am
An ordinary evening.
It had been a long day. Not one of the longest days she had ever experienced, or one of the hardest, but compared to the usual – her usual now, not the usual before – it had been a bit intensive. No, perhaps not – it almost seemed like an insult to say that today had been hard. All she had been doing is looking at a body. She had looked at corpses before, but they had always inspired some emotion. Sadness, fury or sympathy. But she had felt nothing when she had looked at the man on the table, tagged with just a number. To her, he had no past and no history at the time and thus it had seemed like he had no more worth then an object, and such a thought made a chill run down her spine.
Is that all people were to scientists? The man who had been looking over her shoulder had seemed unphased but the body on the table was someone son, and that they could be someone’s brother or father. And the wretched disease took all of that away. How many lives had it taken? But just how many it had touched directly, but in the search for a cure.
That man, Diefendorf who had been rumoured to have done unspeakable things. It sickened her to think of what he had done to innocent people, those who did not deserve the fate they met. It was a noble cause, that she understood – it had touched her greatly and sent her life spiralling down. Who might she have been if her father hadn’t died and she hadn’t had to marry that man? The only one she could blame was the plague. Her belief in God changed from time to time – sometimes she believed that if there was no god, because after all, how could he let all these horrible tragedies happen? She and her mother had suffered for no reason, for they had done no wrong in the word. But he had been taken just the same. And then her life had spiralled downward after she had made a deal with the devil. A wolf in sheep’s clothing – oh, how his intention had been to help, to make both their lives easier. But she had persevered through it all, because she at least knew that there was one person worth going through all the misery and all the pain.
At least her mother had never had to work another day in her life after that, no more pricking her fingers making clothes for fat, wealthy woman. Her mother, god bless her soul, she had done everything for her, to try and get them through tough times. And so she had ensured that she would be taken care of her, just as she had done for her. Her dear mother… she hadn’t lived long enough to see her daughter free herself from her elegant prison. But then again, she had never known of it either. Beatrix had never spoken a word of how cruel her married life really was. She would not trouble her mother with that, not after everything she had been through. She deserved peace of mind. But she deserved far more then that.
And sometimes she believed there was a God, those times of miracles, of absolute justice. When he had met his end, an ironic death. Beatrix had believed that someone must have heard her calling, that there was some higher intervention that he had answered to. And so she had known without a doubt with what to with the body – help to find a cure. Probably against his wishes, as well. Matthäus had believed that the plague was good for business, because the more misery there was around the world the more likely they would to a sugary sweet comfort. Sometimes she’d wondered if he commanded the plague himself, infecting people in the name of his enterprise. But such a thought was probably ridiculous. For all his similarities to the devil he wasn’t him. He was mortal. And the b*****d was dead now. But she wouldn’t spoil her evening over thinking about him.
Beatrix thought back of the man on the table, of how truly, he could be… someone’s father, and there could be a little girl waiting somewhere out there for her father to come. Her lips curled into a frown as she sat back in her chair and exhale. Closure, that was important – for her mother and for the child. While her father had been dying she had felt a flicker of hope every time she’d seen a little bit of a glisten in his eyes, but in the end it had made that much harder when he had finally departed from the world. She had seen death before because her father was a doctor, and she hard heard of the passing of people she had cared about… But it was another matter altogether to watch someone waste away, to watch them die in front of your eyes. It had killed her, the both of them. Her mother had somehow managed to stay strong, or as strong as she could. For the both of them. Beatrix couldn’t fathom how she had managed it, when it had broke it… when lesser things then that had broke her… She felt weak now upon reflection, but she shook it off. She couldn’t think that way when there were more important matters that concerned her.
She made her mission to find the family of this man and tell them, knowing that it would be cruel to keep the information to herself. As much it might pain them to hear of his passing it would be crueller to keep them in suspense, waiting and wishing for a man that would never come. Beatrix didn’t know how she was going to find them but she was going to do it, not once thinking if it might be against some protocol.
Beatrix poured herself a glass of a curious green liquid and smiled sadly.
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Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 6:42 pm
Through the streets
It was a noble cause, no one could argue against that.
But it was also a hopeless one. She intended to find a single person connected to this man, which was like finding a needle in a haystack. The city was vast and the people numerous, but it did not cause her to despair. By her own knowledge she had narrowed her search, for otherwise it might truly be a cause not worth pursuing. But even if it was – it’s not like she had much else to do these days. The Council of Science had accepted her into their organization, though it was probably some subordinate rather then the councillor himself who had done it, probably merely glancing upon her paper to see that it was coherent. After all, the Council wasn’t in much of a position to be rejecting willing applicants that were at the very least halfway competent.
Beatrix hadn’t received any further instructions since her little autopsy, which both disappointed and pleased her. Pleased her because she would have nothing else to concentrate on while she searched, but disappointed because she was a bit curious as to what went on inside. Still, she supposed a couple of days was a bit too soon to expect everything to begin rolling, as there was no doubt paperwork and bureaucracy to get through. In time, she supposed.
Beatrix wandered through the streets, knowing at least vaguely where she needed to go. The Apache district, where there were several clothing factories and a neighbourhood that could be described with no other word then slum. She did not like at her surroundings in disgust as most upper class people would, believing that such neighbourhoods were marring the beauty of their city. It had never come to this for her or her mother, but they had come close. But Beatrix had not allowed such a thing to happen after the tragedy they had went through. They deserved better.
The city and its cobblestone roads and the streets lined with houses and factories made her think of how nice used to be among the grass and the wildlife. Back then she had known the people from miles around but now she barely knew her neighbours. People in the city were just too wrapped up in their lives to pay attention to another’s, especially those thought to be beneath them, the scourge of the city, the urchins. But in Mishkan it had seemed that all were equal and that wealth did not come into the equation much. They had enough to get by and sometimes there was a little more they could put away for luxury when a prestigious traveller came passing through. While the lifestyle may have been simple the characters around them are what truly made the grassy country shine. The fields were your home; the parameters were wherever the grass ended.
But in the city you knew the places where you could travel through and where you shouldn’t even glance at, what people were worth a conversation and who you shouldn’t bother your time with. You internalized all those things over the years, knowing where your place was in life and in line.
As she passed through the streets she knew when she had passed from the prim and proper Cyrelle neighbourhood to that of Diream. It wouldn’t be too long until she reached the Apache district, though navigation became a little harder now. Street signs, the scattered few that there were might have fallen over from wear and tear and so she mines well have been navigating through a maze. But sometimes you needed to get lost to find the answer you were looking for. And as she looked around she could sufficiently that she was very far from home, from any place she had ever known.
But getting there was only half of the journey. She knocked on the first door she could find, a timely old lady coming out and she asked about her missing man. Beatrix soon found out that a skinny man pretty much fit the bill for most people here. Then again, she supposed any runts simply wouldn’t have made it through any bouts of sickness the neighbourhood had. Beatrix thanked the lady kindly before moving onto the next house and getting a similar response, and her journey turned to be very roundabout.
Beatrix found herself waltzing from street to street asking if there was someone missing in the house, which was an easier route then her physical description, though things did not turn up quite yet. It seemed people went missing for one reason or another, whether it be money problems, immigration problems or something that seemed indicate dealing with the underbelly of society. And when she found people who were indeed looking for news for a missing person it was just hard to tell them that in the end the person she knew was the one they were looking for as it was to hear their story. As the sun began to set and the streets began to empty Beatrix began to walk through the streets aimlessly, as if wondering if it were all in vain. To locate a single person through will and determination was not enough. It was as if she needed divine intervention to somehow lead her down the right path.
Beatrix had long found it foolish to pray for anything at all, but for a moment there was just a glimmer of that silly hope, that even if she had to wish for it to happen and it did that it would be worth it in the end, lending herself to that invisible force. She wandered through the dim street lights, hoping that she would meet a vagrant, a stranger who would somehow be able to point her in the right direction.
But there was not a soul on the streets, not even beggar or a thief.
A ghost town.
Beatrix wandered back into the light, into the city that was alive, passerby lovers giggling and stiff gentlemen in top hats and elegant woman who looked like they had a grace of the queen.
But the city that was alive was not what she seeked. She wanted the city of the dead, of the lost and departed, frozen in time.
Another day, perhaps.
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Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 8:42 am
It had been disappointing.
But it had always been a long shot.
And so, she decided to increase her chances. Beatrix reasoned that while she was out looking for the families of missing people she could have multiple people in mind, increase the chances. Wasn’t that what the Council was all about? It was all a number’s game to them. And fortunately for her she didn’t have to go through the process of looking over a cadaver again, but instead she could just look at old medical files in the library, a resource open to all of those in the Council of Science. Her little bit of detective work quickly turned into something a little more. Of course, it wouldn’t have if she hadn’t been paying much attention, which was no doubt what the dozens of people who had looked at these papers before had been doing. It wasn’t the fact that there was no address listed that tipped her off – the man she’d found on the table had no address, no home that she could trace. But it was in the meticulousness of the descriptions that tipped her off. Beatrix had not lived in Imisu all her life but had spent her childhood in Mishkan, a region that saw a plethora of travellers. And she had taken in every scent, every difference in appearance that made them exotic. And she had lived long enough in Imisu to know what type of people lived there.
And to know that the numerous people described in these reports were not from here, but yet had somehow all managed to end up dead and in their hands – after no doubt a long journey. How would they have managed to make it all the way here if they were sick? Beatrix researched with intensity, and found that her conclusion was entirely probable. All a number’s game, right?
And none of it sat right with her, using innocent people like that. It’d taken all her will not to scrunch up the paper in her hand and walk right up to the first person and tell them on exactly what foundation they were working away at their little experiments. But she’d lived long enough to know that making a fuss wasn’t going to get her anywhere, especially because of her gender. The Scientists only saw reason in efficiency, which there currently seemed to be a downturn in. They were focusing on scientific innovation rather then managerial innovation, and it was leading to circumstances like this. But they were all such blind little sheep, working away in their laboratories night and day. Will and perseverance were needed, however… sometimes you needed to look at the big picture. Someone needed to look at the big picture.
And then fix it.
Proposition: Prisoners as test subjects
By Beatrix Amaranthe
Prisoners are a captive and free form of experimentation, kept regulated and humane, prisoners as research subjects makes the most sense for any human test subject.
There are many positives to the concept of prisoner experimentation, most importantly, that they provide a free source of test subjects. In the current economy medical researchers should be using the most cost effective methods to hiring subjects. This would allow for current cures and products to be completed in a much more productive time frame, saving more lives and money faster.
One of the most prevalent reasons for this logical choice is that due to the hygiene and nature of their captivity it is altogether very likely that they will be harboring dangerous diseases, so potential cures can be easily tested.
Another positive for research using prisoners is that the number of jails over populated or over loaded, and because of the spiraling economy there is not much means of building new ones. Science facilities could be partly adapted to accommodate a percentage of prisoners putting less of a strain on the jail system, ensuring that available space in correctional facilities does not become overloaded, as well as creating a solid working relationship between the government and the Council. The prisoners that will be used will be those primarily on a life sentence or awaiting execution, as they are passed the parameters of reappeals of their cases and are beyond doubt guilty of their crimes. Other particularly heinous criminals will also be looked into, such as those who have committed rape, particularly graphic murder, child sexual abuse, etcera, and are serving extensive sentences.
The procedure as to attaining the permission for or from the subjects will be directed through the channel of the government. However, even if the government decided that it wasn’t the prisoner’s choice, as the criminals may be decided to have given up their right of choice when they violate the law that this is not to say that experimenting would become inhuman or lack regulation as well as rigorous testing before hand to determine whether or not the experiment is worth testing. Lab tests as well as animal testing would all take place before being introduced to prisoners. The evolution of science itself will be a huge factor in insuring the prisoner’s safety as well. Prisoners will be contributing to repaying their debt to their community while participating in a relatively low risk environment, safety always being carefully considered.
The few conflicts presented by this topic must be considered as well. The risk for abuse is always present when the human element is involved as people may try to use this system to further their own gains by skipping around the regulations. This could result in likely permanent damage to the incarcerated test subjects because the public will be more likely to sympathize with the scientists over the criminals. To prevent such a thing from happening the scientists that will contribute to this project will be chosen by merit and recommendation.
The selection process to be a research subject is fair to all prisoners who qualify. The researches will pick and choose the prisoners very carefully. They have to pass and do very well on the physical and mental test. The prisoners who meet the test requirements will be used as the subjects. So if they do not pass the test they cannot be a test subject. If they pass in certain parts of the test and not the others, they will be called to do test that fits your area. These tests are supposed to fit perfectly with the subject so that no mistakes can be made.
For people to successfully practice medicine on test subjects they need to follow the rules. There should be no long-term effects. The only long-lasting effect should be a cure. In the future these human test subjects can help find cure to the plague and other life threatening illnesses. That is why ethical and moral guidance need to be always embedded in these experiments.
Beatrix had handed the paper herself to Mr. Rockwell's secretary, liaison, something else? Not just anyone would get an appointment with the counselor, and being at the bottom of the food chain it was unlikely she would get one if she asked for it. And so she had decided it was best to do it in the most direct form as possible.
Beatrix had thought of something a little less so, handing it over to the bottom - someone would read this and think that this was a good idea and then it would get passed on, and then passed on once again until it got to more suitable hands. And they would be able to read between the lines and see that she had come to conclusion that they didn’t want anyone to come to, especially not the public. But then there were too many people involved, too many hands having passed through it.
And she didn't intend to play games with the Council. Beatrix was sure that discretion with her knowledge would be most appreciated. Nor was she threatening them with it, but merely proposing an alternative. That was the makings of someone who would go far.
But she was sending a clear message to the Council.
You don’t what to go through what you already did, do you? The Council’s name marred by a single name: Diefendorf. How hard had it been to get the public to trust them again, to believe that not every single scientist was as ruthless as he was? It had taken an effort but they had somehow managed to get by it, decreeing that there was just one bad apple. But upon the parchment of every file in the library there was darkness, and it would be hard to point the finger at one man, one scapegoat. For every person who had signed off on those files or been part of those experiments would be linked to the scandal.
‘Vagrants and immigrants – innocent people! How could they think of kidnapping and harming innocent people! They’re all like that wretched man! Lies, a sham! All of it!’
So the people would cry.
But the Council didn’t have to be the Boogieman to get their man.
There were people, the filth of society who needed to give back, the guilty bastards. They deserved every and any experiment that would be conducted upon them. They should be the ones who would bring about the cure, the sinful and the guilty rather then the innocent and the pure.
And hopefully with this document the clockwork would be put into the motion. After all, nothing got done without a strongly penned article, the means to change things. Here was the Council’s opportunity to change things before it all came tumbling down on them again, and her alternative was rather a logical one.
Why not use those that all people have abandoned their hope for, whom they want to see the suffer?
There is no sympathy for the wicked.
Beatrix certainly didn’t have any.
Works cited:
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[x]
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Posted: Mon Feb 28, 2011 6:31 pm
The far off past Most of it was a haze.
For most hours of the day she was but a shell, some times more lively and cheery then others, but still but a shadow of her former self - of which one that constituted as her true self was hard to say. This one, at least only lived to smile and to forget.
Sometimes she would look at herself in the mirror and she would scarce that there was a reflections. Sometimes she would look upon it and see herself as Lady Sage Estratus. And there were but a spare few moments where she was once again Beatrix Amaranthe, scientist, part of the Council of Sciences. She remembered her mission and everything she stood for. She could be that woman at least for a little bit, and it was even easier to be that in writing.
Beatrix was not up to dealing with other people, and so instead from the confines of her room she drafted a letter. She sat herself at her desk with ink bottle and quill, writing a letter in the efficient and elegant scrawl a lady was supposed to have. Letters were supposed to be poetry in of themselves.
To Counselor Sir Simon Rockwell,
I write you this letter from the Fellowship Headquarters in Shyregoad, though I feel I scarcely know where to begin. I suppose I write this to you as an informal report as my going ons as pertaining to the Council of Sciences. I am currently acting as a body double to Lady Sage Estratus, Adviser to the Fellowship of Mages, because of the attacks made upon her life by the Obscuvians. I was approached by her Plague and personal bodyguard while I was in Colwe on business matters. I feel that as the Fellowship is an ally of ours and that they strive towards the same cause as us that we should be working together against that crazed group. As it stands I am still here, and I feel that with what has happened with the Troupe of Panynium that these efforts are especially important. I am... not sure if you need a formal report on what exactly happened at the performance so I will not elaborate on that gruesome event if I do not need to, for am I sure it already come to your attention. I will also inquire as to what you think of my proposition? I am not sure if you have read it or not, as I'm sure you're secretary as many papers to sift through. Regardless, I have also put one in with my file as well as submitting it through the normal regulations. I feel it may facilitate our work as well as put off some of the possible... hassle, Mr. Rockwell. I am not sure if the issue has been brought to your attention before hand, but I am doing so because I value the work the Council does, as do the citizens of Panymium, as well as how we go about it. I will cut my letter short here as I'm sure you have many other letters to tend to. I hope to correspond with in the near future.
Sincerely,
Beatrix Amaranthe
With the resources of the Fellowship at her disposal it wasn't difficult to shove the letter into the hands of a messenger who was going to Imisus. Perhaps it was a silly thing to write this letter, but she felt together once writing it. Simply trying to forget by force proved hard, but writing it all down somehow managed to put her at ease. The Beatrix Amaranthe that was strong and self-confident could thrive with these letters, rather then be smothered by the suffering of the others. Without it, she would continue to spiral until she was nothing at all.
Sometimes she thought more hardly about it, about the exact words on the parchment she had written. There were moments when she could vividly recreate it, as if the page was right in front of her. Sometimes the words seemed like they had been written by an entirely different person, and other times it truly did seem like she'd written it yesterday. It outlined her current mission and the things she had seen and the report she'd written, which also seemed to have been shoved away somewhere. All of her words, all of her ideas, all of her theories were being swept by the side.
And the times that she come to that conclusion she inhaled a puff of smoke and all of her trouble fell away, dissipating into the air.
Then there were times when Beatrix Amaranthe came back in her full fledged form, bitter and scornful that there was anyone who would ignore her so, especially these people she was trying to help! She would show them, she would show them... There was no reason she couldn't rise to the top, not with her skills and her perseverance.
And so she remembered her current project with clarity and how she would make her mark upon the world, show them with a concrete substance that she could give results.
If not, she still had an ace up her sleeve.
There was always that one little keepsake in her pocket that could garner the prestige what a dozen dissertations couldn't.
One way or another, it was all up to her.
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Posted: Fri Mar 04, 2011 2:56 pm
Her mission didn't change.
Even if she had been given another task in tandem it didn't in any way mean that she would ignore her original one, which was just as equally important. It was funny how life worked out, sometimes. Her first day in the market and she had been propositioned to act as a body double for the acting adviser of the Fellowship. If she had not look liked her, or even if she had not been at the market that day it was possible that their paths might never have crossed. If she had not come to Shyregoed then she would have also not have seen some terrible, terrible things.
But it did not deter her from work, whether she was fully aware of herself or not she threw herself in her work as much as possible. For Beatrix, the easiest way to push away the enclosing border of reality was to become utterly consumed in her work. It had worked before, because if it hadn't it would be doubtful that there would be any functioning piece of her left.
The place she frequented the most was the local market, coming to know each and every herb to an almost encyclopaedic nature. She had known some of them before, long, long ago, but her recent expertise had been in the matter of taste, rather then use. And medicinal herbs were not usually the running for that, and their price also made it inconvenient to make into a candy.
But it was with this concept in mind that her project had come to fruition. To what reason was there that she could not create one single candy that held such healing capabilities, and so that it was of convenient access to its citizens? Rather then needing to round up the appropriate herbs and prepare them correctly, here was one small candy that did all that.
That was of course but theory.
The reason she had come to Shyregoed was because it had some of the most potent and resilient plants in Panymium due to its chilly and harsh climate. And most naturally she'd come to learn most of her information form the vendors themselves, often hearty and wizened people who had lived long enough lives that there had been a time when the only thing you could rely on was your own knowledge. And so, she had begun to document it all in a leather burgundy notebook, the preliminary documentation that was only the first step.
Nicknames: Bullsfoot, Clayweed, Clutterclogs, Coughwort, Donnhove, Fieldhove, Foal's foot, Foalswort, Hallfoot, Horsefoot, Horsehoof, Sweep's Brushes, and Wild Rhubarb.
[Note: There is a need for a universal naming scheme.]
Description: This perennial herb rises from a thick creeping rhizome, with large basal leaves. The flower stalk grows up to 30 cm tall in early spring, fruiting and dying usually before the leaves show. The flowers are purple, white or yellow, the stem reddish. The leaves are from thumb size to 30 cm.
Medicinal use: Apply herb soaked cloths to the chest and throat or snuffing the powdered leaves of the plant.
Nicknames: Sun in the grass, monk’s head, Lion's Tooth, Swine's Snout, Wild Endive, Cankerwort, Piss-a-bed, Priest's Crown, Blowball, Puffball, Peasant's Cloak
Description: The leaves have a jagged edge, grow close to the ground, and are seldom more than 20 centimetres long. Its flowers are bright yellow. There are several species.
Medicinal use: All parts are edible. Eat the leaves raw or cooked. Boil the roots as a vegetable. They are high in vitamins A and C and in calcium.
Nicknames: Pineapple Weed, Disc Mayweed, Baneberry, Northern Bedstraw, Field Bindweed, Buckbrush,
Description: Pineapple weed is an annual, 10 - 40 cm tall with a non-rayed composite flower head. It does have a distinctive pineapple scent and its leaves are pinnate.
Edible Parts: Pineapple weed may be eaten as a tasty snack item while hiking or added to a wild salad. It makes a calming tea when steeped in hot water. The crushed leaves, stems, and flower heads may be applied to the skin as an insect repellent. It can be used as a treatment for stomach aches, as a mild relaxant, and for colds. Externally it can be used for itching and sores.
All these scribbles in her book were no more helpful then looking up a recipe in a cook book. She needed to put all this information to use through experimentation. And it was this that was the longest process of all. Beatrix knew from prior experience that this was the most tedious part because it used an immense amount of trial and error because it was not simply about creating an appealing flavour, but rather achieving a desired effect. The problem was that exact science was not quite an exact science and so the mixing and matching of all these herbs and plants would be an extensive trial and error. And of course, naturally, she’d be the one to test them all.
Beatrix borrowed the appropriate instruments she needed from around the Fellowship, never being asked any questions. She seemed to have been left well enough alone during her stay.
Then began the blur of days filled with tedium and nights of little sleep. There was always smoke and varying smells emanating from her room but she was never disturbed. She never made any noise and so she was left to her own devices. She’d previously stockpiled enough herbs and plants so that she had enough to keep her going for a week straight and that if she kept working consistently all through this time they wouldn’t have a chance to expire. Beatrix Amaranthe was consumed by her work, as any mad savant would be.
Cassandra was there, watching over her at all times. The silent supporter, unattached from the field that she was working in and clueless about it, but she was ever vigilant in staying by her side. She was there in the times that Beatrix was herself and the times she wasn’t, mostly invisible to her. And that was all Beatrix could really ask for.
Days and weeks and months went by, seemingly in vain and without anything to show for it. She had dozens of strange coloured concoctions in vials and various candies strewn about on the ground. There were plants and herbs stuffed into her drawers and she probably looked like an awful sight. She never stopped working and she barely ate, only giving herself sustenance when her mind managed to wander away long enough to remember or when Cassandra brought her something. And of course, to test these things she needed to find someone who was ill – and the primary person she had to work with was herself. So there was a never ending cycle of inducing an illness and trying to work through that and trying to keep notes all this while and figure out if her latest creation was of any use. It was just as hard for Cassandra to watch all of this but she said nothing. Beatrix knew what she was doing and that she could not dissuade her from this cause. The only thing she could do was help her through the ordeal.
But nevertheless, things were beginning to fall into place.
By the sixth month and after living through months of hell riddled with disease and depression she had finally created something she could be proud of. And it was thankful too, because she was unsure of how much her body could take any more. One small honey coloured candy drop that would change everything.
It would be the gateway both for the people of Panymium and for herself, to a new life. The past would be swept behind her and there would only be forward: the prestige and recognition she had created for herself and the legacy of good that she would do.
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Posted: Sat Mar 26, 2011 6:38 pm
March 15, 1411 Letter A crow has nestled incessantly nearby you, wherever you may be, and clutched within its beak is a frail roll of parchment wrapped around ever so carefully in black ribbon. The crow is gleaming a seeping black, as if it was tainted by the Death, and around it is the aura of careful whispers. You reach for it, though you might not know why, exactly, and you unravel the contents of the parchment and, in that instance, you hear-- GrimmIn a hushed voice, the parchment, whose inked words also glow with an uneasy black, whispers to you this: " Beatrix Amaranthe, So dedicated to the sciences, now, are you? Despite your intentions, we know what you're trying to hide. You have a Plague, and we'll soon take it from you. Are you going to wallow in your own shame in these next few days, Miss Amaranthe, or will you act before we take your Plague away, and possibly your life? Does the Council even care for you? A testy question without your Servos." After it whispers to you, the crow's brittle wings flutter as it disappears into the sky, and the parchment unravels in your hands and melts into a mess of delicate black ribbon.
A crow swooped overhead and landed beside her as she sat on the bench with a parchment in its mouth and she curiously took it, opening it up and finding with the first word a sense of dread that only heightened as she continued to read feverishly. What began with tremors in her hands moved to the rest of her body until she was completely shaking in both fear and anger.
The first time the Obscuvians had shaken up her world she had been flung into a perpetual depression, only offset by the concoctions she could create to keep her halfway functional.
But not this time.
As the letter dissipated and she felt threatened to the very core she decided that things would be different this time. There was no one that she would allow to take her Plague, and she had fought tooth and nail before to ensure that. With her own life teeter tottering in the balance this time she would not spiral into melancholic inaction.
She began to run to her room and on her way there was chaos and yelling and all these distressed people. As she passed through them she picked up bits and pieces of conversation, of the grievances that were troubling them. Magus. Dead. Answers! Beatrix didn't have the time to make sense of any of it, not now.
She burst into the room, Cassandra crawling out from the matchbox at the suddenness of the entrance. She looked to her Grimm and knew something was wrong, but she had seen such an expression many times before. As their eyes met Beatrix looked like she was going to crumble for a second and Cassandra felt a sinking feeling, knowing what was coming next. Beatrix would eat or inhale something and then all of her troubles would go away and she would be happy again. She liked to see her happy, but the state that she was in just wasn't... her. From inside the matchbox she knew of the strong woman that her Grimm was and that it was just like there was some poison inside of her that just slowly killed her until she hit a breaking point, and then when she relieved herself the process began again. Even if... Beatrix didn't talk to her much when she okay that was fine with her. It was better for Beatrix to be strong then it was for her to look at her as warmly as she did when her head was in the clouds. She knew she cared, she knew...
Beatrix was truly looking at her Plague like it was for the first time. Not through a smoky haze or half thrown glances. No, she was looking at her Plague not like it was a composition of a wretched disease that was an atrocity to look at it, but that she was the only person she had right now. "We have to go." She said, still getting accustomed to talking to Cassandra in this state.
"Okay." She nodded, standing up straight and alert.
From there began a rush of packing, the duo making quick work of the contents of the room, since reality Beatrix hadn't even taken half of the stuff out of her bags to begin with. Those objects that were reminders of a past she didn't want to remember, but that she had to carry with her nonetheless. Beatrix changed into some warmer layers and then finished her packing. She left everything that wasn't here - lab equipment and books on magic and the occult, anything that wouldn't pass through the hands of a doctor.
The room was a mess, but there was no time to be concerned with that. Beatrix turned to Cassandra who was standing on the table, taking a few steps until she was a few inches away. She was looking down at this creature, blurs of memory coming back to her. The only person that had been there for her in these six months, this Plague... She felt her hand fidget at her side, tugging at her clothes unconsciously. Someone had once told her that not all Plagues were harmful, that some could heal... Is this why... all this time she had kept Cassandra close? In reality all this facts were but floating pieces of a puzzle in her mind, unable to complete a big picture. But there would be time for that in a little while.
Beatrix outstretched her hand hesitantly and Cassandra hopped on, staring up at her silently. She dropped her in the matchbox in her pocket and closed the lid, taking a breath for just a moment before she marched out the door to the town. It took only thirty minutes to find a man and a carriage to drive her, and in another ten he was at the front of the Fellowships headquarters. He picked up her bags and loaded them.
"Where to?"
Beatrix blankly stared out in front of her. From what she'd just heard before her departure Shyregoed and the Fellowship was crumbling as it was and there was tension to be had at every corner. She wasn't going back to Imisus - she'd gotten a letter from her manager back there that it wasn't in even worse shape and that the people had lost faith in the Council, and frankly she didn't care too much for them either. The letter had questioned the possibility of their opinion of her and the fact of the matter was that it wasn't very important. She wasn't going back there while they were cowering away in their tunnels, certainly not while there were dozens of crazies trying to infiltrate them.
So, it meant that she was going home.
"We're going to Mishkan." She said, entering into the carriage and closing her eyes. She had not been there for many, many years... but it seemed only fitting that when the world was going to hell and she had the strength to face it she would go there.
And so the long journey began, the hooves of the horses trampling over the land she had inhabited for over six months but what had seemed like a week, and she would be going to a land that felt like she had not returned to in a lifetime.
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Posted: Tue Mar 29, 2011 8:29 am
March 15 - 22, 1411 It was a long journey, and this meant that she could make up all the time that had managed to let slip through her fingers.
It was also a little bit of an aggravating trip because at every pit stop they've had so far in various towns to switch horses and stock up on supplies she'd noticed that the wretched crow she'd seen before was keenly following after her, dropping empty parchments. After the third day she'd ordered it shot, with a small monetary reward to whoever did - the burly man who did was more then happy to get another meal for his family and she was happy to be rid of it.
And that was that. Still, she never liked to stay in town more then she needed to do, always making sure that they never stayed overnight in town, even if it meant she'd get some other person to tag along to take the night shift. In these times anyone was happy to get a free ride if all they had to do was man the carriage for a dozen hours.
So the only thing she had to be concerned about was the little creature in her pocket.
In reality, she truly knew little about her Plague or their many months spent together. Beatrix had but blurs of memory that came and went, sometimes in dreams and sometimes when she was just looking out at the passing road, remembering talking to the little Plague safely hidden in her pocket.
She was looking right at Cassandra, who was stationed on the desk and she sat, so they were nearly at eye level. "There's cruel people out in the world. People who would want to hurt you, who would make you do things against your will. That's why I have to keep you hidden away while in public, so that they can't take you away."
And the little pink Plague would nod silently, big black eyes looking at Beatrix. "Thank you." She whispered, vowing that she would protect her just the same, when she could.
Beatrix grasped the tin box in her pocket and took it out, opening up the top and pouring some of the candies out so Cassandra crawl out onto her hand. Sometimes she would just get to come out and she would stare at her for fifteen minutes or an hour and put her back, and sometimes talk to her, just a little.
"You helped me, while I was at the Fellowship." She would utter statements and Cassandra would confirm or deny them.
Cassandra nodded, looking up at Beatrix as she sat on her hand. "The medicine drops. To help cure the plague." She could say these words easily, though she had come to realize that this word made Beatrix shift uncomfortably so she tried not to.
Beatrix held the waning plant in her hand, the poor thing literally looking it was hunched over. "I just need a couple more hours until this finishes brewing..." She frowned and gave a sigh, glancing over at the bubbling pot. She looked to Cassandra, who was currently flipping through the pages of the notebook laid on the desk who turned to Beatrix at her words.
"I can try." The little plague said quietly, causing Beatrix to curiously arch her eyebrow. "I've been... I've been practicing. I can help the plants, I can." She said as convincingly as she could, imploring her Grimm to let her try. Beatrix just watched her for a moment before she finally placed the plant down on the desk beside the book and Cassandra headed over to it and touched the tip of it, and ran her hand across it as she walked. She breathed nervously, not wanting to fail - not wanting to fail Beatrix. She kept walking back and forth, her hand feeling warm but there didn't seem to be any change. She gripped the plant tighter, expelling all the energy she had.
Then, she could smell the sweet smell once more and and began to waft around the room, and that's how she would know she had succeeded.
Beatrix smiled at her proudly, and that's all the reward she needed.
The carriage stopped and Beatrix hurriedly shoved Cassandra back into the tin box as well as the candy drops, placing it back into her pocket. The door opened as she got out, as at every checkpoint she was required to show her papers and have her things inspected.
"Ma'am, where are you going and what is your business there?" The burly guard asked, clad from head to toe in armor.
"I am going to Rosecroft, to see my ailing father." She said with a frown, looking sullen faced. "I'm a member of the Council of Science." Beatrix continued, taking out her membership paper and showing it to him and then he returned it. Women, for whatever reason, seemed to be highly targeted as possibly being part of the Fellowship and she knew that it wasn't a good idea to appear so now that she had crossed into Mishkan.
She watched him carefully, and she could his eyes going up and down her figure as he barely skimmed the paper before returning it to her. A cold fury coursed through her body at his sleazy gaze but she kept her composure, a steely gaze set on him.
"We'll have to look through your things." He said with a nod and she directed him to the driver, who got her luggage and he began to rummage through it. He didn't take much interest in her books and her equipment, but he touched her clothes with a careful finesse that made her want to strike him down with every fabric of her being. When he didn't find anything he asked her to pack everything back and she rearranged it all, hunched over as she packed everything so the bags would close again. He was watching her and she hated it, but she said nothing.
"And..." He began, a lazy but seemingly sympathetic smile appearing on his face.
Beatrix knew what was coming next, the way he had been looking at her and she wouldn't stand for it. Both because of principle and because he might want to look at her tin box more closely. In a few moments tears welled up in her eyes and she buried her head in her hands. "My poor father... I can't believe I left him alone..." She sobbed, and the guard widened his eyes in distress as a few others guards who were tending to other vehicles looked over to him. He relented, "I... carry on, ma'am... have a safe trip." He said with unease, and Beatrix entered her carriage with her face still buried in her hands and didn't move from that pitiful position until they had begun to move.
Once they passed through the checkpoint she extracted a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her tears, her eyes hardening as she sat straight and proper like a lady.
The world had not gotten better and neither had the people in it. The scourge of the world were always the ones to thrived because of their cancerous nature while the innocent were the other suffered. Perhaps someday this would change.
But for now it was imperative to help the innocent and the suffering until the wicked could be punished.
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Posted: Tue Apr 05, 2011 7:59 pm
March 23, 1411 Those damned crows.
As much as she tried to dispose of them along the way they still kept coming back and circling the carriage. The longer she was on her journey the more reluctant people came to be about shooting down those crows. They could feel that something was wrong and she couldn't be blame them - she didn't look the sight of those wretched creatures any more then they did.
But all that mattered was that her trip wasn't interrupted by their sight, because at the very least they didn't bother her. Beatrix passed through towns and checkpoints without much hassle by the guards, at least not any more then she could deal with. However, in her most recent ride to town she'd caught a conversation of how the Imperial Guards has wizened up to the crows appearance and that they were attempting to ship all plagues and perhaps the people carrying them to Imisus. And that was the last place she wanted to go, not with all the problems that the council was facing in their underground tunnels. She was not going to put herself or Cassandra in a vulnerable position like that.
So when she reached the next checkpoint she was ready.
The Imperial Guard glanced up into the sun, a black spot whizzing back and forth. "Miss, I'm not sure if you're aware but it isn't safe for you traveling about with all the Obscuvians around. Not for you and especially not for your plague." He said with a false sense of confidence, as it was but the rumor mill that the crows were indications of who was a Grimm. Sometimes they were right and sometimes they didn't be (though that was merely exceptional hiding skill on behalf of the Grimm).
"Sir, I am part of the Council and I can't be delayed." She said sternly, extracting from her pocket proof of her membership, her expression cold and a little bit irritated.
"We've been told there are no exception, not even for Council members. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to be rerouted where you'll be safe. It's for your own good, ma'am." He replied back courtesy, her amber eyes possibly getting a shade darker by the time he finished his sentence, making him a bit concerned.
"I have orders from the top and I would not want you to be the one that has deterred me from my goal." She whispered sharply, extracting a folded piece of parchment. She clutched it tightly as if this paper was just as or more important then the Plague she was carrying with her.
The guard opened his mouth for a moment before he closed it, looking at the paper and after a moment's pause he took it and opened it up, scanning through the contents of the letter. The guard began to reading slowly but as he progressed through the lines his eyes scanned faster and faster. By the time he was done he was just staring at the paper as he neatly folded it back up and handed it back to her. "Steadfast, miss." He nodded, bowing his head.
And so Beatrix went on her way, as was to be expected. She had made it more then halfway across the province and she would not be stopped yet. No matter what it took. As she sat in the carriage she looked at the letter, her fingers skimming across the ink of the letter.
She was sure there was some law that dictated what she had done had some appropriate punishment along with it. What would describe exactly what she had done? The term was simple, but surely the Council had something more academic for it.
Forgery. It was a victimless act and she doubted that the Council would care much that she had done so. They had more then their share of problems to deal with than one woman passing the border with orders to carry out an important permission.
Even if they did - she certainly didn't give a damn.
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Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2011 3:11 pm
March 24, 1411 Beatrix had noticed a dark, robed figure following her when her carriage had stopped in town for a few cities now. She hadn't thought much of this shadow in the corner of her eye because she had enough things to worry about but after some point she realized that she was being followed from town to town though it was hard to discern how. But all she knew is that this figure was dangerous to her and if she didn't strike first, then well... then someone else would.
Beatrix had excused herself away from the driver and the carriage and this particular pit stop to go buy some food in the market and other such supplies that were vital. It didn't matter what she said - he was obliged to wait for her regardless.
She wandered in the marketplace almost aimlessly from stall to stall, buying a spare few amount of things which could fit into her pocket, making sure she had traversed across every street corner nearby. When she was sufficiently sure that she must have been spotted by now she headed down a lone road, first slowly and when she had a feeling (she did not dare look back to see if the figure was there) she hurried off and ducked into a nearby alleyway, flattening herself against the wall. From her pocket she extracted a thin dagger, gripping it tightly as she waited patiently.
Her beat fast but she didn't let that deter her perseverance. She knew what would happen if she did not act swiftly. They would kill her and take Cassandra away because the letter certainly had said as much. She would not allow anyone to do that. She could hear the footsteps approaching fast and in a split second she made her move. She lunged forward as the figure appeared at the entrance of the alleyway, plunging her knife into the eternal blackness that was his clothes. She aimed for the heart but his reflexes were good enough that she hit a less then lethal spot, causing him to cry out in pain and clutch his side.
"You heathen... b***h!" He growled, immediately lunging at her in fury. She tried to stab him once again, only managing to nick his arm as she was thrown down on the ground. As she hit the ground hard the contents of her pockets spilled out: the various vegetables she had purchased and a little tin box. The slender, gaunt face allowed a twisted smile to appear despite all the pain and his his beady eyes widened. She tried to scramble for the tin box in panic, but he rushed over and stomped on her foot causing her to recoil back. She tried to get up but he only kicked her stomach, making her scream and curl up in pain. "Give her back, give her back..." She said hoarsely, trying her best to protect herself from him. He kicked her until her shrill noises ceased.
"You don't deserve this, you pitiful woman. You waste what you've been given. It is much better in my hands, in our hands." He hissed with delight, opening up the tin box and spilling out the candies and caused her to whimper. At the bottom of the box was a little pink Plague, staring up at the man with wide black eyes. "Hello." He whispered with a grimace, picking her up with his two fingers. "You will join a great cause, little one. You can do much good with your powers." He continued, and she slowly placed her hands on his fingers silently. For a moment she smiled, as if accepting his proposal. And then in a split second she gripped the flesh of his hand and thorns embedded themselves into it, causing him to drop her with a guttural scream and clutch his bleeding hand. Cassandra was angry beyond belief that anyone would harm Beatrix and so he would pay. That much was for certain.
"You will be sorry...!" He sneered, stopping mid sentence and choking. His hand writhed as he tried to clutch his neck before he finally fell, down onto the stone ground.
The bloody blade clutched in her hand she stood over him, her hand on her stomach as she tried her best to stand. The last time she had stabbed someone she had been sorry. This time she wasn't, not in the least. She knelt down and turned him over with the last bit of her strength, his eyes open and glazed over. Beatrix looked to Cassandra and her medicine drops, looking sad and distressed. "Come..." She murmured softly, picking up her tin and placing Cassandra her back inside along with the drops. She shut the tin and placed it back in her pocket as she looked to the man, blade still in her hand. What she would do next was not for her Plague's eyes.
Her expression mellowed out, and she held the blade like a scalpel and she began her work. It pierced and prodded and cut the flesh until he was an open cadaver for the world to see. The blood seeped onto the stone and he was nearly unrecognizable. The only thing that was not tainted red were his black robes. This was not just for her, just for Cassandra - this was for the girl who had been killed at the Troupe, and for all the people who had met merciless deaths at the Obscuvian's hands. No longer would it be tolerated. She would not.
When she was satisfied with her work she got up and stepped back, taking one last scientific analysis of him. He would certainly not follow her any longer and hopefully neither would anyone else.
She took off her bloodied coat and put it over his mutilated face, as if she knew that the first person who would come upon him would be one of his brothers. And then they would see what his face truly looked like - grotesque and mutilated. It suited him.
She turned around, strutting out of the alleyway. She needed to continue her journey home.
The doctor was in.
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Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2011 4:03 pm
April 1 - 3, 1411 Rosecroft.
She was home again, finally. She had reached her destination after a long journey.
Beatrix had settled into a rented house where she thought she would be safe and over the course of half of week made the room look semi-presentable. But the reality was that no one would ever come inside these walls, because they were but a safe haven for her and her Plague. It felt strange to be back here after so long, in this place that brought back so much nostalgia which probably made her more sad than anything. And so the only answer was to throw herself back into the throes of her work, which seemed to be as good idea as any.
She went to the market regularly to get supplies, walking to and from her sanctuary just like she had when she was in Shyregoed. Some things just didn't change. But the crows that followed her like a dark cloud were certainly something she'd never had to encounter before, and it was why she kept her hood constantly up and kept her eyes down on the ground. Like maybe if they didn't see her face they wouldn't follow her.
And that worked more or less, until one day the sky dropped on her. Or at least it certainly seemed like it. The sky, or whatever it was squarely hit the hand that was carrying her purchased goods, and in surprise she dropped the bag, the fruit and vegetables rolling onto the floor. She crouched down to retrieve her things and put them back in their place. Her eyes finally settled on the thing had fallen down from the sky - a dead crow with its beak wide open and ruffled feather. She recoiled away from it and went on her way, not sparing the bird another look.
When she returned home she felt lightheaded but thought nothing of it. Later, while she was making dinner and chopping vegetables a headache pulsated with every chop. The steady beat allowed her to manage for some minutes, but in one moment she dropped to the ground with a thud.
"Beatrix!" An urgent voice cried, hopping down from the table and rushing to Beatrix, who was weakly sitting up.
"I'm fine." She whispered, taking her Plague in her as she gave a firm nod.
"Please, you should rest." She implored her, big black eyes wide with concern.
"My footing just slipped, that's all. It's nothing to worry about."
Cassandra did not protest further because she knew it would do no good. All she could do was stick by her side.
Beatrix got up and placed Cassandra on the counter and simply continued cooking. Perhaps if she ignored it all then it would simply go away. If she convinced herself that it wasn't happening then maybe it wouldn't.
If Beatrix was ailing the rest of the evening than she certainly didn't show it. She went to bed with a brave smile on her face, tucking herself into bed and Cassandra laying on the pillow beside her. She did not say anything to her Plague and instead closed her eyes, letting the darkness consume her in a deep sleep. But Cassandra was not fortunate - she could not allow herself to sleep while she knew that something was wrong with her guardian. She lay awake the entire night, staring out at her guardian who was weary and feverish. But Beatrix was silent and stoic in her sleep and it broke Cassandra's to see it, as she stood guard helpless.
Beatrix did not have the energy to get up in the morning and her flesh looked itself to be a bit gray. She coughed into her pillow and Cassandra worked tirelessly to get even a single cup of water to her. Her small and weak body saw fit to drag a single glass that contained water to Beatrix's bedside at which point she would drink it one swift movement before hacking into her arm and resting her head again. And Cassandra would be back on her half an hour pilgrimage to the sink and another half an hour back. By the end of the day everything ached - her body, her heart and her soul. Her attempts to help Beatrix were futile and she watching her become sicker before her eyes.
The same routing repeated itself that night: the hours of the night trickled by slowly and Cassandra struggled to stay awake, fearing that if her eyes closed that Beatrix would exhale her last breath in the middle of the night. But her tired body could not last all of the night and her eyes eventually drew to a close.
When she awoke frantically in the morning, she found her flailing only narrowly managed to miss hitting Beatrix. Cassandra stumbled from the bed, looking down at her hands which had changed from their bright pink hue to a peach one. She touched her face and found it did not possess the same texture she knew it to have, and she hobbled to the bathroom and glanced at herself in the mirror. She was human. Cassandra did not appear childish as she might have appeared in her Plague form but rather a full fledged woman. She had long blonde hair that extended to her shoulders and a generous set of curves. The only trace that there was something strange about her were her pink irises.
Butterflies bounced around in her stomach as an initial wave of panic flooded over her at this very sudden and violent change, but quickly she began to realize how this was a blessing. This change had in reality solved all of her and Beatrix's problems. She no longer had to hide and endanger Beatrix, but it also meant that she was of use to her dear guardian. Cassandra had made pitiful attempts to try and nurse Beatrix the previous day, but now that she was life size she would be more successful.
Cassandra tended to Beatrix the entire day but it was plain to see that her condition only worsened. What were once simply coughs now contained blood and her skin seemed to be getting closer and closer to her shade of raven hair. And throughout the day Beatrix could hear the dead bodies dropping on the roof overhead, every thump making her twitch unpleasantly and she would roll on her side, clutching her pillow for dear life. Because that was exactly what she feared. She had seen how the Plague could ravage a person and leave them to be but an empty shell and the disease only ended in death. When Cassandra was out of the room preparing tea or a cold towel she could hear but the faintest sobbing from Beatrix's room and it caused tears to stir from within her as well.
It was a hollow gift to give her the benefit of being a human if she could not help Beatrix, or at the very least suffer along side her.
After final nighttime preparations Cassandra inched toward the room and saw Beatrix's sleeping figure, tears dried and calm. She hung at the door frame and bit her lip, realizing that she would only be a burden to her if she tried to stuff herself in a bed. She managed to take one step back before she heard a soft voice.
"Please... don't go..." Beatrix's eyes fluttered open as she stared out at her humanized Plague.
Cassandra took a hesitant step forward, unsure what to do.
"Come..." She whispered, shifting and making room for her in the bed.
Cassandra nodded and approached, slipping into the bed beside her guardian. All she could do was stare, her eyes threatening to well up again. But Beatrix couldn't help but give a smile, the first one she had seen all day which possessed a serene quality Cassandra had never seen from her. As she lay there on the bed, Beatrix felt so cold compared to her even as she wore one of Beatrix's thin white silk nightgowns, and it seemed like death's grasp was only getting tighter on her.
"I am so fortunate to have you here..." She said hoarsely, moving closer to Cassandra. "But I don't deserve all of this... or you..." She murmured, the gleam in her eyes sad.
"Don't ever say such a thing." She said assertively, wanting Beatrix to know that she had no ill feelings towards her. Quite the opposite, really. Cassandra cared about no one other than Beatrix. "You will get better. Don't worry for a moment, okay? I will make everything better." She said with a voice that she wanted to believe in, because there was no thing Cassandra wanted more than to see Beatrix better. Nothing.
"Look at me, I'm a wreck..." She said and shook her head, looking at Cassandra and sighing at her condition. "No, you're beautiful." And as Beatrix smiled she knew this was truer than any other statement, even with her tear stained cheeks and her dry skin. For a woman's beauty to be taken away was a fate worse than death.
Beatrix moved closer and Cassandra found herself naturally embracing her, wanting to share her body heat with Beatrix. "Sleep... you need your strength." She said soothingly, grasping her tightly. "I am here." She said, and she found Beatrix relaxing within her hold. They would beat this illness together.
The last words she heard Beatrix whisper before she drifted off into her slumber were, "There is no one... but you..."
And Cassandra knew this to be true.
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Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2011 4:52 pm
April 5, 1411 One day Beatrix woke up and it was like it was any other day, and she was laying in her bed peacefully, but a panic began to flood over her. There were no arms around her, no warmth emanating from a body near here. She frantically searched for Cassandra, quickly taking off the blanket. And there she was - petite and pink, sleeping soundly. The quick movement had awoken her, and she rubbed her eyes gently. Cassandra looked up and down herself, seeing she no longer had a human form. No longer useful...
"It's gone. All of it." Beatrix said, looking down at her flesh to see that she no longer bore a graying hue. She was somehow rid of the disease and it had not left a single trace, at least not on flesh. But in memory it was all there, the reminiscent feeling of her energy being slowly sucked away and her body turning on itself. Cassandra looked ecstatic at this news, finding no words to be able to convey her joy that her guardian was okay.
Beatrix took her first step out of the bed, her legs in poor shape from the muscle deterioration as well as the fact she'd been bed bound for a few days. She clung to the wall but she vowed to walk, with Cassandra following after her. The two of them walked to the door, as Beatrix yearned to see the sun once more for in her days of illness she had thought she might never see it again.
She opened the door, breathing fresh air for what seemed like the first time in a week. Overhead she could see a dove playing, white and pristine. Full of life, just as a bird should be. But that was very temporary.Obscuvos Every Grimm has also been sent a letter, parallel to the one given to you at the start of all of this, wrapped now in red ribbon and delivered by a dove, glowing with white. The crinkled piece of parchment whispers to you, "You have a choice." The dove flutters its wings and is seemingly choking, then in front of you is something reasonably strange, bundles of extremely heavy feathers tied around with crude string. It whispers onward, "To make a Plague human or to taunt the Grimms further of the Black Death, grind these feathers to dust and feed it to the object of your attention." You've been given a choice-- not your Plague, nor your benefactor, no, simply you-- you can either use this strange gift to malevolently harm a Grimm and further their Black Death infestation or, on the other hand, you can use it to keep your Plague as a human for longer. Just before the dove flutters away from your sight, it whispers, "Now you know how wretched it feels, to be human and feel human sickness. Pray, will you play God with me?"
But to have Cassandra be human...
Her grip loosened, but she knew that this might be all a trick. Beatrix did not want Cassandra to become harmed by her foolish wishes.
"I would never ask..." She murmured, kicking the dove away from her doorstep and closing the door as she looked out into the distance.
"You don't have to." Cassandra replied, wanting to be human as well. Then Beatrix wouldn't have to worry about her and then she would also be able to be helpful. Beatrix looked at her for a long moment, uncertain about this. She wouldn't allow herself to see Cassandra in any suffering simply because of a selfish wish. She was wary of anything that was associated with the Obscuvos. "It's not worth it." She stated, shaking her head.
"Your happiness is worth it." Cassandra said confidently, wishing this more than anything in the world. She knew, in some part, what Beatrix had gone through. "Please. I want to." She implored, wanting to bring some joy to her guardian after the past few terrible days.
"Okay... okay." She breathed, bending to pick up Cassandra and then walking to the kitchen, placing her down on the counter. Solemly she got out a mortar and bowl, dropping the feathers inside and slowly beginning to grind them as if she were doing any set of herbs. But all those other times she knew what the outcome would be. Here? The dastardly cult could be playing a trick on her. But before she had any time to make any further protests Cassandra climbed into the bowl and ingested some of the powder. In less than minute there was a naked woman sitting on the kitchen counter.
Amber eyes met pink ones and they both gave a serene smile, finally Beatrix averted her eyes from Cassandra's naked figure, staring at the counter. A faint blush came to Cassandra's cheeks and she moved to the bedroom, taking the closest article of clothing and putting it on, before finally moving back to the kitchen where Beatrix was waiting for her.
"You look nice." Beatrix pointed out, examining her plague who was wearing her clothes.
"Not as nice as you do." She giggled, even if Beatrix perhaps looked a little bit of a wreck from having fought of the plague. Still, nothing brought her more joy than to see Beatrix in a good mood.
"Breakfast?"
And so the two of them prepared breakfast together side by side, quietly engaging in this endeavour. But no talking was needed; no words needlessly wasted. Once they did settle down to eat the words did begin to pool out, at first simply about the weather that could be seen outside of the window until it spiralled to loose talks about the past weeks they'd endured. Beatrix's memory was still hazy from her time at Shyregoed and the times she had been under the influence so she had come to forget the knowledge she had imparted to Cassandra. Perhaps she did not know as much as Beatrix did about science but it was still pleasant to talk to Cassandra about herbs in a simplistic manner; about their colours, their textures, their shapes. For a little while Beatrix felt like she was a child once more, grazing through a grass field with her father, looking at all the different plants.
They talked about the different places they travelled, the minor stops along the way until their final destination. They talked about the people they had seen, peasants, guards, the elite. Beatrix told her all she knew about the world, though she was adequately aware that there was gaps in her knowledge. All the time that had slipped away from her... Sometimes she felt that she would never catch up with the world.
The hours flitted quickly as they effortlessly talked, a phenomenon that had not ever happened before. Cassandra had done everything for her; she had helped her in her scientific research, they had fought off an Obscuvos together, and perhaps more than anything: she had nursed Beatrix while she was ailing from the plague.
Lunch and dinner went by, the sun setting outside until there was but a blanket of darkness spread across the sky. Beatrix began to prepare herself for bed, with Cassandra following after silently. She put on a nightgown and then handed one to her plague, sitting down on her bed. Cassandra swayed awkwardly as she stood, before finally deciding to slowly walk out of the bedroom, to leave Beatrix in peace.
"You don't have to leave." She murmured softly, and Cassandra turned around, hands folded meekly in front of her. Slowly the she took a few steps forward and Beatrix shifted over on the bed, lying down and looking up at the ceiling. Cassandra slipped under the blanket, staring up at the empty ceiling as well. It was always difficult to tell where she stood with Beatrix, even now. Everything was changing so rapidly, although for the better - but she would never begrudge how Beatrix had treated. She knew that it was for her own good, from the dangerous people in the world, like the Obscuvos. The people that she could not defend herself against alone, not the way she usually was. When she awoke in the morning she would be a small, fragile plague once more and the burden would be once more Beatrix's, something she regretted.
Slowly Beatrix's hand moved towards Cassandra's, fingers intertwining, squeezing gently.
Soon there would come a time when they would never have to worry about ever being harmed.
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Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2011 4:57 pm
April 6 - 9, 1411 At first Beatrix did not notice the apparition in the corner of her eye, perhaps lending it to be a trick of the eye or really nothing at all. Further than that she'd had her phase where she had seen things that had not really been there and so she had come to adapt herself to this sort of phenomenon. But soon she began to wisen up to this mysterious and grotesque figure that she saw when she was all alone in her house, when Cassandra had perhaps gone to the kitchen or was simply wandering about. At first it did not bother her very much, believing that it might have been some after effect of the plague or a trick being played upon her by the Obscuvos. Eventually it began to frighten her, thinking that it might have been some sort premonition. Like any other child when she had been young she had been told stories about strange creatures that frequently bore ill omens.
Was someone or something coming for her?
Beatrix did not tell Cassandra, but she could not place the reasons as to why she didn't. She'd like to think it was to protect her - after all, isn't that what she'd been doing this entire time? But another was a feeling of goading suspicion that perhaps the plague was at the root of it all, and so led her to distance herself from Cassandra at least until she could resolve this.
For some periods of time she would ensure that Cassandra was always with her, to keep this bird man away but at other times she would enclose herself in her room in solitude to make him come. But he would not come by her own will, it seemed, but only when she least it expected: when she was pouring herself a cold glass of water, when she would stare aimlessly out the window or as she wrote in her journal that was a medicinal plant compilation, scribbling away with immense focus. She tried to pretend he wasn't there watching, hovering over her just like... No, she wouldn't think back to that, to him. This shadowy apparition wasn't doing anything to her, it wasn't hurting her, but merely just appearing in and out like a ghost...
And she knew how to make it go away, how to make the world go away. But Beatrix knew that wasn't an entirely good solution and Cassandra seemed to frown upon it. But she didn't how much more of the bird man she could take. Her plague began to notice the subtle changes in Beatrix's demeanour and first thought nothing of it, as Beatrix was prone to mood swings but considering how kind she had been recently it seemed out of place. However, Beatrix would not divulge what was troubling her. What good would it really do? Cassandra seemed unaware to see this figure and what could she even do?
As always it seemed that Beatrix would need to fight off her demons alone.
She dreamt of a factory, dirty and abandoned. It reminded her of the one that the candies of her company were made in , but this one had no people. No workers, no scientists, no one but her. It was cold and it made her shiver, running about the place to keep herself warm. Finally from fatigue she stopped and huddle in a corner, bowing her head and letting herself hear the sound of her heartbeat, which a dull and slow thump. Soon the relative quiet was interrupted by footsteps pacing about the room and she jerked her head up to try and discern where the noise was coming from. She saw nothing but shadows on the walls, there one moment and gone the next. Finally it all stopped, a silence lingering in the air until footsteps approached her, finally stopping right in front of her.
The bird man swayed from side to side, manoeuvring his wings about, which composed of black feathers with a few scarce dark green ones. "Mrs. Beatrix, Mrs. Beatrix! You want nothing more than to cure the plague and save people. All you've done so far is run and hide from the world and lived in the shadow of Lady Sage. You vowed you would help people, help those in need. You haven't done a single thing yet, left no mark. Nobody cares about you." He smirked."Perhaps he was right after all... You're nothing but a worthless, low class b***h, hm?"
Beatrix sat paralyzed, unable to get up and face him or to utter any words of protest.
"You can't do a thing for yourself, but you can fight for others. Weak." He spat. "Look it all you've done for one silly little plague. You've committed assault, even murder, ohoho! Yet you endured that absolute hell with him, or perhaps you considered it your penance." He began to moult, disappearing little by little, starting from top to bottom. "For failing as a daughter."
"No!" She cried out with all her might. "I hated every minute of every day and it is a fate that no woman deserves. I couldn't do anything... I did what I could... I was supposed to be a good wife... I researched, I studied! I was an educated woman! Some women don't have a clue about the world. I was a good daughter!" She sobbed, her voice choked and hoarse.
"It broke her heart. You broke your mother's heart, to know that you would never become anything more than a slave in human bondage and it was less pain to die than to watch you." He cackled, and only his head was left. "Mother knows best..." He taunted, before he was entirely gone and there was but a pile of dust on the ground which smelled like recently cremated ash.
Beatrix broke down and cried; she slumped against the wall until she was sitting back down on the floor and she put her head in her hands and cried.
She had wanted to be great, she had hoped to be great, she had pretended to be great, she thought she could be great. She had believed that she could make a difference in the world. Perhaps it was all just folly - a foolish notion from a weak willed woman. She guarded herself from every person she met, now that there was nothing more that could be taken from her, no more spirit to be broken, but it brought no comfort.
The world was cruel; making people think that they could be something, that they could escape the reality of the human condition. That a person could escape from the facts of who they really was and their decision they had made.
When she awoke in the morning she felt like she had died overnight; and if not, perhaps it would have been just as well. Her death wouldn't mean a thing.
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Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2011 4:58 pm
April 11, 1411 Previously Beatrix would hardly venture out of her house and now she wander out whenever she fancied it. There was nothing left to fear, nothing left to be taken away. When faced with the reality of her existence laid to her on a silver platter it seemed that her life hadn't turned out to be very noteworthy at all. All of those Obscuvos had tried to torment her must have been caught up in some sort of folly; why bother her, a nothing?
Beatrix wandered about the city in a nostalgic haze, remembering walking by through these streets when she was a child. She remembered where buildings had used to be or the businesses that had used to have been there. Sometimes she saw people that she knew, parents of childhood friends who now looked like time had really caught up to them. Everyone interacted with each other, this web of people whom were all interconnected.
But she passed through incognito; except...
She walked by a man her age and he moved past her seamlessly until he stopped in his tracks pausing for a moment before he rushed back. "E-Excuse me!" He exclaimed, stopping behind her. He had short brown hair and wore glasses, and was clad in a white tunic that betrayed how thin he was. "Beatrix is that you? It's me, Mikhail!" A warm smile crept up on his face as well as a faint blush. She looked like an upstanding lady while he merely seemed to be a common peasant. Beatrix cocked her head with a puzzled expression, "I'm sorry, I think you have me confused for someone else." She said politely.
The man's expression sunk and seemed deeply embarassed. "I apologize, my lady." He said with a slight nod and walked away. Beatrix hung her head and continued to walk, thinking about the man, well, the boy she had met up. A childhood friend whom she had played with, whom she'd had fun with. When life had been simpler, when she had believed that she could make something of her life. There was no point in revealing herself, no solace in recounting her life. It was better to pretend that this was not her home, the place that everything had once been so idyllic.
Beatrix approached the town square and there were two men in proclaiming something in front of a crowd of people. "Great citizens of Panymium, the Council of Science requires your support more than ever! We, who have worked night and day to try and find a cure for the plague. We work for you, dear citizens. All we can ask is that you inform any scientists who have sought shelter here to return to Gadu to help with rebuilding Imisu and the Scientific Headquarters." The stout man pleaded urgently, looking out to the crowd. "We need to be united, to stand strong against all those who fight against progress." The tall, scarecrow-like man reiterated.
Beatrix couldn't help but scoff before going on her way, remembering her attempts to contact the representative for the Council (who had now mysteriously disappeared). Even then they had seemed like a disorganized lot and the Fellowship had definitely seemed like a step up. If they didn't seem interested in her help then, why should she bother to give it out now? She walked back to her house, rolling her eyes. But somewhere in the back of her head lingered a voice:
It is a true test of our character when we give help to those when they need it most, even if we do not agree with them. Then people will know of the honour we carry with us every step of the way.
It was a voice she had not heard for a very long time...
Would she return to Imisus, finally revived, in all her lost glory?
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Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2011 7:55 am
April 12, 1411 The recuperation effort was plain to anyone who walked among the streets, half a dozen guards scouring through the expanse of the city to try and get money from people. Beatrix had the good sense to dress more plainly then she usually did, looking like a plain peasant herself. She walked through the city without being harassed, though only by purposely avoiding by all public officials. Beatrix had sympathy for the common people of her hometown but she held a natural skepticism for an authority figure that did nothing but take. It would do well for her to stay away from those types of people.
Among her wandering of the city she came across a single man who was trying solicit people on the street for money. "Dear sir, the Panymium Press works for people like you, the normal citizens who are the ones who are always the most affected by the treacherous policies and politics. We work to get the truth out there to every person who will listen to it. It is a disservice to not make yourself aware of what is going on in the world. Do you not have concerns for yourself, for your family, for Panymium's future?" Every word seemed to be filled with emotion and it all seemed very enticing. The gentleman stopped to listen, as if it would be a shame to keep walking. "Please, support us so that we can ensure that the citizen's voice is always heard." And that was far as the conversation got before the man left in a huff. Every one was hanging onto every penny they had, because after the chaos that Panymium had been plummeted into it seemed everyone was recovering.
"."
"."
"."
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