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 Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:43 am
 ______I.J1 ↪ the initial creation
______II.R1 ↪ taunting troubles
______III.R2 ↪ sweet, bitter, and fragrant
______IV.J2 ↪ celebration
______V.R3 ↪ rain and bad news
______VI.M-j1 ↪ infiltration
______VII.M-j2 ↪ investigation
______VIII.M-j3 ↪ impel
______IX.M-r1 ↪ the terrible tale of elsie
______X.R4 ↪ tea for two, coffee for one
______XI.J3 ↪ moribund dreams
______XII.R5 ↪ you shall overcome
______XIII.J4 ↪ homeward bound
______XIV.J5 ↪ family affairs
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:44 am
 ◣ the initial creation, or how Thomas poured out Elsie's son ◥
Was that...was that the sound of water on the side of the building she just heard? Elsie sat up from her small trundle bed and peered into the dim light of the room, her eyes squinting against the small flames that burned in the oil lamp. She could make out the figure of her brother standing at the room's only window, the panes wide open towards the midnight air, and for a moment or two she considered going back to sleep and passing it off to Thomas performing an eccentric evening activity. It wasn't until she did register the fact that the window was open and she had heard water that her heart skipped a beat beneath her nightgown, the covers quickly being thrown off her body and her legs carrying her over to her brother's side. Her hands quickly grasped the window seal as she thrust her head out and cast her glance down, face pale and mouth slowly opening in a silent scream over what she saw.
There, against the wall directly beneath her fingertips, was a watermark smeared black with what smelt like coffee but looked like mixed soot. The fluid was still running down as if finally glad to be free of its confines, though the thick clumps of whatever else had been inside the cup clung to the wall and refused to spread. It would most certainly be there in the morning when the sun came out should Elsie decide to go and check, to fully verify her fears, though from the feels of dread in her chest she knew there wouldn't be a point in her trying.
Thomas had just poured her son out the window, Jesse's tiny ashes now a blotch against the white brick of their tenant house.
Elsie wanted to cry and surely would have made a sound had she not clapped her hand over her mouth in reverence to the hour, her small frame backing away from the concerned looks of her brother and from the empty tea cup he held in his hands. Based on how his face was slowly changing from confused to horrified it seemed he understood as well what had just happened, and Thomas swung his own gaze outside to inspect the spot as well. When he looked back he was no longer worried, instead possessing an expression of pure regret and sorrow for his deeds.
He began to speak when the young woman held her hand up and shook her head, biting tears back with a set of small teeth pressing into her lips, and the conversation ended before it had started. Slowly he extended out the hand that held the cup, his fingers still in the handle, and gingerly Elsie took the item from him and turned her back. The sounds of soft weeping finally broke the silence as she cradled the cup to her breast, her tears dropping from her chin and down into the cup's center. She would stay crying like that for as long as Thomas remained in the room, his coat quickly put on as he left, though Elsie was sleeping on her bed with the cup in hand when he returned at the first light of dawn.
It was clear she hadn't been sleeping very long, the rims of her eyes a visible red despite them being closed, and the color of her cheeks looked too tear-stained for that much time to have passed since she laid her head down. Thomas didn't dare wake her, the soft murmurs of her voice indicating she may not be having too good of dreams, but it still was not his place to interrupt any of them be them pleasant or otherwise. He moved past quietly in an effort to prepare a meager breakfast, one of the few things he felt she might actually respond to as an apology, though he hadn't gotten very far before the young woman had stirred from the bed and joined him at the small table.
She still held the cup in her hands, her fingers tracing over the handle and small chip at its surface, but it was obvious she would no longer cry over it as she had only a short time before. When coffee was offered she held the item out, Thomas recoiling with the pot before she could insist, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he poured the hot beverage in and its aroma started to fill the air. Elsie smiled weakly and gave a bob of her head as thanks before she raised the cup to her lips to drink, stopping as it neared her face enough for a different smell to come into play.
No longer did the coffee hold its same aroma from seconds before, its smell having changed drastically. No longer did it smell of beans and something bitter, instead it now smelt of rot and decay . . . .
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:46 am
 ◣ Taunting Troubles ◥ or how Elsie meets The BoyElsie meets Georgie Malt and his Plague Adal out on the streets of Isimus.
Elsie plans shopping for fabric for clothing
Adal spots Elise and comes over, striking up a conversation
The Cup seemed delighted and reeks!
Adal is revealed as a plague and Elsie's feelings on the beings is shown
Elsie regrets saying horrible things before the boys depart, and has hopes for meeting both of them again
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Posted: Sat Feb 27, 2010 9:00 am
roleplay in progress - sweet, bitter, and fragrant or how Elsie met two others with similar troubles
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Posted: Sat Feb 27, 2010 9:30 am
◣ celebration, or how Elsie recalls Jesse's short life ◥
A year had come and gone since Elsie had brought the child crying into the world, though there was not much cause for rejoicing. There was no cake that sat before her at the humble table she and her brother shared, no presents purchased with love and hidden away until this special day, lest their contents be found and the surprise ruined. Such things would have been fine on their own, Elise and Thomas believing that a family did not need things in order to celebrate birthdays and holidays, but it was the fact that something most important was missing that made this happy day most somber. There was no child at the table, no infant running around the house causing more mischief then warranted. Jesse was dead, his body long since given back to the sky the day his mother gave him to be cremated. His ashes no longer haunted the house with their possession, Thomas's careless mistake having banished them from the family forever, though the presence he had left behind lingered on in the coffee cup that Elsie gently traced her fingertip over.
She was home alone, her brother having gone out for a day of honest work, and therefore left to her thoughts as Elsie's only company on such a day. She did not cry as she sat at the table, her tears having long since dried from crying all that morning, though their marks stayed on her face like a scar from battle. Her eyes were red and puffy, the tip of her crooked nose raw from being wiped constantly, though there was a look of serenity that seemed to be set on her features more than anything else. The air about her did not call out sorrow nor regret, instead it was an atmosphere of peaceful memory. Today would be celebrated but not with a party, instead the main activity would be recalling all Elsie knew about her deceased son.
- -- -
Elsie had been so scared to find out that she was pregnant, her mind having told her many times that it was always a possibility in the line of work she did. The medicines she was given, or the lessons the other whores had told her, she knew they would never be perfect in keeping a child away and she had been horrified to find that her nightmares had come true. She did not know the father of this child, men were a blur in the night to her and many of them blurs she would rather not even try to recall, nor did she know just how long ago it had started to develop inside her body. How many weeks had she been with child before she honestly knew? How many men had she slept with during that time, her nights spent tossing in someone's arms? It didn't matter now, the bump on her stomach growing with each passing day, and she bade farewell to that way of life when she could no longer keep lying to herself and her customers.
That wasn't to say all of them were bad, a few of her more 'regular' types had even offered to take Elsie in and help her with the baby, though she politely refused their kind offers when her thoughts played themselves through. They were confessing their love for her now only because they thought the child may be theirs, but what would they do come its birth and it belong not to them? She would not allow her child to be born into a house of hate and to a man that was not its natural father, the abuse upon them she couldn't even begin to wish for. Many of the men understood, some of them even wishing her well, though several called her what she was and swore ill luck upon her for being a 'prideful whore'. They were insults she was willing to bear, and so Elsie ignored them and carried Jesse to term.
Poor Thomas, he had worked so hard to get more money and food now that Elsie couldn't work the streets anymore. She was making her own share of shillings at whatever she could, sewing things here and there and running an errand or two when her swollen ankles or tired body allowed her to move, though the workload had certainly increased for the poor man. He had been supportive all along, never questioning his sister or chastising her for becoming pregnant, though there was an unspoken strain that seemed to develop between them as the months went on and Elsie grew bigger and bigger. She had to stop work entirely eventually, her days and nights spent in her bed with fevers and pain, and Thomas spent all the waking hours he could at his work or at her side with a vow to never leave her alone nor let her go for want.
Jesse's birth had come a mere week or two before celebration of Elsie's own birthday, his cries in the early morning hours mingling with the sobs of his overwhelmed young mother and the gentle reassurance of his kind uncle. He was small for a baby, sickly in color and in his health, though the love he received and the care that the two siblings could provide for him saw him through the rough first month of his young life. He cried a lot, Elsie always so unsure what the matter was, though her mind always relayed to hunger or cold. She herself was starving from lack of meals, her money spent on milk for baby when she couldn't produce any more on her own, or clothing to wrap his tiny body in against the weather.
She took as many jobs as she could from people she could consider friends as well as people she knew would pity and scorn her, the work all the same in her eyes so long as she had shillings in her hand, but slowly jobs stopped coming and Jesse's cries kept going. It wasn't that she had outweighed her usefulness and made herself a thorn in the sides of the people who paid her, their kindness still shown in other ways, but it simply was there was no more honest work to be done. People were dying from the plague and homes were staying closer together, strangers not welcome. Elsie was a stranger no matter what she did, and when she returned home again with her hands empty and her son starving, she vowed to change things.
Thomas took her grave robbing that night, her first time going netting her a fine pair of earrings and several nice brooches. The smell was overwhelming, the fear almost paralyzing, but thoughts of Jesse and keeping him alive and well through any means kept her going back night after night. It wasn't a life she wanted to live, she had meant to stay honest and raise her child in the right manner, but there was nothing else she could do. The option of returning and being a whore once more was out of the question, she couldn't afford another child on her hands, and she didn't want her son to think that his early years were only granted to him because of his mother being on her back in stranger's beds.
Time passed and weeks turned into months, Jesse's health still never changing and his cries never ceasing. He was not without food, nor did he have the plague as his mother and uncle may have feared, but there was just something about the child that was unhealthy and not right. Discussions over what to do with him lead to many an argument between the siblings, hundreds of words yelled and rivers of tears cried, yet in the end each time the baby stayed with them instead of going to a better family or to an orphanage. Elsie could not give up her child without going with him, and Thomas could not bear to lose Elise.
It came one morning that Elsie awoke to a quiet home instead of the usual cries that Jesse greeted them with, and they were mortified to find that the child had passed on some time during the night, his body cold to the chill morning air. He had shown no signs of disease, he had not gone without food nor clothing, at least food and clothing provided to the best of Elsie's abilities. Jesse had been so thin, so pale, and the loss of his life left Elsie inconsolable. Her screams were what filled the air and roused Thomas from his short slumber, and it was her cries through the rest of the day that kept him at her side. They stayed together, Elsie a shell of a woman and Thomas ever watchful over her, for several days that turned to weeks that fell into months. How much longer would she mourn?
Elsie had taken Jesse's body shortly after his death and had it burned, his ashes given back to her in a small packet, and a tea cup served as his urn for her period of mourning. It was a small effort to help relieve the loss of her child and the whole in her life, Elsie still unable to admit that he was gone even though Thomas had begun to quietly dispose of Jesse's meager possessions. While Elsie had initially protested the moves, getting violent in spite of herself, time had allowed her to merely sit there in silence and watch objects of memory disappear. Eventually all she had left of him was the ashes in the tea cup, and event then those went away with time . . .
- -- -
Elsie was startled from her memories by the sound of a door closing, the daylight she been sitting in earlier now faded to the crimson hues of a quiet twilight. Her brother must have been in the home and left, a blanket draped over her shoulders, and Elsie tenderly reached and touched the fabric that had been placed so gentle across her shoulders in an effort not to rouse her from her unnoticed sleep. It was odd that Thomas had not stayed with her on this day, to comfort her as one might have expected, but it was his silent support that had always made Elsie turn to him for love and kindness. Even now the blanket over her was his way of reminding her that time had moved on, that she was alright, and a thin smile spread over her parting lips. Her eyes moved around the room in an effort to wake further, though they stopped at a small package that rested only a few inches in front of her on the table's surface.
It was crudely wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string, but the smell of cake from within could not be mistaken. The smile on her face only grew larger as she reached out and pulled the poorly-tied bow apart, the contents inside coming into view as the cake was drawn closer to her body. It was so small, so perfect, and Elsie broke a piece of it off and placed it into her mouth quickly, to avoid letting the tears she was crying stain the flavor.
Happy Birthday Jesse.
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Posted: Tue Mar 09, 2010 4:56 pm
roleplay in progress - rain and bad news or how Elsie meets a gentleman
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 10:18 am
Der Pestdoktor Elsie Crane's trial is issued by the Lady Estratus, Adviser to the Fellowship. The task is one of suspicion; there have been mysterious happenings within one of the smaller bases in Shyregoed and it is asked that Elsie infiltrate and find the source of activity within the normally empty castle.
She never could get over the feel of flesh beneath her fingertips, the weight another body pressed against her own presented. There was also the heat, a burning heat that seemed to permeate from her fingertips down to her toes, constantly spreading as the sounds of movement filled the air. Elsie was aware that she was gasping softly, her breathing mingling with that of another, and together they seemed to be making a small chorus of human interaction. Every now and then the sound of crinkling sheets beneath her back added to the symphony, and she would add a moan or groan depending on the strength of pleasure she felt. Yes, pleasure. On her back, surrounded by blankets and sheets, with a stranger on top of her - Elsie was oddly at peace and in a familiar place. As shameful as that sounded she didn't even feel a drop of it - not if it lead her to her original goal without too much trouble. To be honest, it had been really hard for Elsie to get to this point in her adventures, her pride having kept her from attempting anything this desperate. When she'd left to join a faction, having learned it wouldn't keep her safe to stay in Imisus if she kept that little coffee cup that smelt of corpses, she hadn't expected to be forced to prove her allegiance. All Elsie had wanted was to be safe, to keep the memory of Jesse safe and away from those who may wish him harm, but now she was out amongst the cold air that came with the spring turning to summer in Shyregoed.
She'd been charged with investigating a castle that had once stood abandoned, now full of unknown life for unknown reasons. The Lady Estratus specifically asked her to go in, or so Elsie assumed that it had been this woman in particular, and it was with an agreement that joining this Faction would prove beneficial for her that Eslie set off. She bade farewell to her brother and the few meager scatters of people she dared to call 'friends', leaving to travel north to accomplish her goals. It would not be easy, she was young and the money she possessed hardly enough for anything more than simple meals if she didn't wish for lodging, or the reverse in that case. She would have to find work along the way to pay for keeping herself alive, odd jobs or whatever handouts people willingly (or piteously) shared with her, but such things were no longer above Elsie. The empty cup that banged against her hips as she walked the roads, the cup that sat in her lap as she was given rides in carts heading into markets - that was all that mattered to her, something that was well beyond her scope of understand or reasoning. It was just a cup that smelt of bodies, that ruined all liquids placed inside of it, yet to Elsie.. . .it was. Well, no point in dwelling on it further, she would simply have to get this task done and continue onward.
There was no snow when the young woman finally broke the border that separated Isimus from Shyregoed (not that she expected there to be this far into the year), and the thick clothes she was wearing as hand-overs from various people amongst her travels clung to her frame like unwelcome friends. It would be easy enough for her to sell these to a market and earn a few shillings back, enough to buy a proper wardrobe if needed, though Elsie was quickly surprised to find that some of the people were more than willing to give her what she needed, calling their donations "blessings from the lord". While she had heard that many of the people in this region were very religious, some to the point of almost being zealots, it wasn't unwelcome to have their kindness given to her. It was a pleasant change from the rough group she'd been riding with for so long, people that really weren't from this part of the world. The men of the caravan had no need for a young seamstress, they all wore clothes that they traded when they visited places, but a few of them had use for a young woman. Her ride would be free so long as she out from underfoot (and off her own feet), so her passage was paid in the sheets of the men who carried her to her location. It wasn't something she wanted to do, but it was a necessity. She prayed that Jesse and Thomas would forgive her, if she were able to succeed.
Finding out the location of this castle wasn't that hard, considering she had some instructions from the Lady, though the chatter of various village people helped her along just as easily. Elsie loved how many of them were willing to offer information if she shared some of her own or simply prayed with them, one lady even offering Elsie to live with her for as long as she needed. Something about being 'so small, so frail' or 'so lonely', but such gifts and requests were only met with polite refrain and Elsie continuing on her way. The castle was not far from where she'd entered the country and parted ways with her rowdy band, but it was still quite a distance on foot. In the towns she stopped in she would offer her services as usual, pleased to find that her hand at fixing sheets was wanted more than her skill at swimming in them, and soon she was nearing her destination.
From the outside, and from all purpose that the last group of people she had encountered told her, the castle was long since abandoned. Its appearance seemed to hold true, the foundation nearly crumbling and many of the windows broken away by years of harsh weathering, but it was here that Elsie knew something was going on - that she knew she had to investigate. She wasn't certain what would be inside and had no idea of how to properly prepare herself - she was not a woman of action, after all. Self-defense was something she had never learned on the streets, other than running away of course, so what would happen if she were to be attacked? Could she fend off whomever it was in time to get herself free? Would she be able to get the information she needed and never get caught? Her nerves nearly got the better of her as she walked through the dying foliage towards the dilapidated door, her hand reaching down to touch the cup that hung on a string at her hip.
Jesse, courage.
It was with a deep breath that she entered the castle, her footstep on the stone echoing as she carried herself in further. There was no turning back now, no escaping to her previous life. This was a choice of 'now or never' for Elsie Crane, a choice she was willing to make.
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 5:13 pm
◣ investigation, or how Elsie finds out the cause of activities ◥
Her boots made hollowed echos as she walked down the stone corridor, Elsie pulling the small torch she'd brought with her for light closer to her torso. The heat from the flames flooded her shoulder with warmth along with illuminating the hall, and it was with a bit lip and a hand on her cup that the young woman continued down the pathway. There was nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard - though the windy howls of a derelict building called to her as such a large building is wont to do. Every now and then her own nervous breathing would add to it, or the startled cries she released whenever something strange would come fluttering past. Some of the causes were bats or birds, taking residence when the weather grew too harsh, and Elsie started to hope that she would find nothing here, that she was on a wild goose chase and she could report empty finds to the Lady.
The first floor was empty and silent, filled with debris from squatters in past days and relics of former glory; the second and third floors followed in the same manner, nothing there. She was about to give up with relief, with a thankfulness that nothing had come from her poking around, when a turn down one of the corridors sent a sound into her ears. It was very faint and coming from the floor, if that were possible, and Elsie dropped to her hands and knees to hear it. The basement? Was there a basement here? It would be called a dungeon, if her memory served based on childish stories from her brother and mother, and if that were the case then she'd been needed to go downstairs and find the source. Whatever was down there would certainly be the cause of the rumors, right? Hopefully it would be nothing important, maybe some people seeking shelter from this horrible weather, so it was with hurried steps that Elsie drove herself down and through halls that looked far cleaner than what she'd been walking between earlier. The sounds grew louder the deeper she went in, and eventually she found herself at a doorway that seeped light out into the darkness. Unprepared for what may follow, she turned and glanced inside.
Elsie couldn't believe her eyes at the "cause" before her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep herself silent. The torch was dropped from her hands and she pressed herself behind the door frame, praying to God and anything else that she had not been spotted. Hot tears of shock forced themselves from her eyes, and beneath her hips her legs started to shake and lower her to the ground. Her sobs were quieted by her hand, her teeth biting into a finger and nearly drawing blood. The faint sound of chanting could be heard, the sound that had attracted her in the first place, and it was with a hand still over her mouth and her back against the wall that Elsie leaned to see what else was going on.
There were people in the room - men, woman and children, some chained to the wall and others held down on tables by ropes. Torches were held by several people in dark robes, others suspended by metal holders, and though the room should have been pitch black against its location it was burning bright. The people tied down all seemed to be dead or dying, some bodies in stages of rot similar to the corpses she'd dug up in an effort to buy food, and the smell of decay wafted in the air along with the irony scent of blood. Mixed in with the sound of chanting were the groans of the dying and the cries of those who were still clinging to what little life they had left, and if it weren't for the hand keeping her quiet Elsie'd probably move them to block out the sounds.
Her eyes started to scan the figures, the people in the cloaks and the people on the tables and walls. The chanting, as far as she could tell, came from the robed people and those who were dying? They were the cries, the begging for release or sweet death. They all looked so gross, so ill, and suddenly a waft of a smell that was almost as familair as decay started to sweep into the air, carried by a breeze from an unknown source. Elsie knew that smell, and she almost gagged against the blood in her mouth and the sensation in her nose - it was plague. All the people in the room had the plague and were dying from it, perhaps save the people in the robes. They were most likely healthy since they moved about the bodies with no discomfort, and Elsie leaned in a bit more to see what they were doing. Where they...trying to experiment on these people? What for? Such thoughts were beyond the grasp of the street urchin, beyond the prostitute turned seamstress, though it was at the leaning that the cup she held against her hip pressed into her flesh.
Plagues. Plagued items. These people were trying to create something unnatural from the suffering of others. Elsie felt her stomach turn, and without meaning to her body slid so slightly into the light from the room. Startled at a sudden sound, a call, she moved back and turned her head - watching, scanning to see what could have called her. But then!
She'd been spotted! Elsie's blood ran colder than the snow that was faintly starting to fall and she pushed herself to her feet, uncaring that the eyes that had raised to meet her own belonged to a body on the ground. The little boy stared at her unblinking, perhaps having died in those moments it took to look in her direction, but the way his lower jaw moved as if to exhale or speak indicated that he was still living - if only just. If he was murmuring no one around him certainly paid him any mind, in fact one of the cloaked figures kicked him to the side, rolling the small torso into a pile of other similarly status figures. There was a small spasm from his little hands, spasms that made Elsie rise to her feet yet stay hidden, yet those too stopped after a moment and the boy remained still. Had he died from the plague, or had he died from his wounds? Elsie would never know, as she could not stay any longer.
Lord, help me.
She got to her feet and grabbed the hissing torch from the ground, the sound of her shoes clacking hard on the floor as she made her way to the stairs. If she made enough noise to garner attention then she certainly didn't see it, her legs carrying her faster then she ever thought possible. Her lungs felt they were going to burst inside her chest, her shoulders banging into the walls as she tried to twist and turn her way back towards the entrance. She would be covered in bruises when this was all over, maybe even slightly bloodied, but that didn't stop her from continuing forward. There was light ahead of her, the familiar pathway she had walked down so slowly coming into view, and it was with a startled cry that she burst through the door and out into the cold snow. It fell around her, on her, yet it was not the snow that caused her to shiver without any abandon. It was the look of those people, of that boy.
Elsie needed to go and report now, no matter what it took to get back and do so. Her life didn't depend on this, nor did the memory she wanted to save, but the life of all the children inside that room. She could not save them sitting down, so she rose to her feet again, always running forward.
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 5:34 pm
◣ impel, or how Elsie moves to report to the Lady ◥
Elsie didn't know how much time had passed since she ran from that castle, or how far she'd been running for. The days and nights were blending themselves together, along with all the scenery that passed her in her continuous march. She couldn't tell a farmhouse on the side of the road from one nestled in a village, nor could she any longer tell apart the kind people who were calling her in to rest from those who wore the black cloaks. Everyone here now looked at her with dark and treacherous eyes, so the young woman kept herself out on the roads and moving forward towards a destination she only had a vague notion of in terms of location. The Lady had been specific when she'd told Elsie how to return there, where to go, but it was likely caused be her traumatized state that everything had nearly been forgotten. She only recalled that she needed to travel north, and so it was north that she walked.
At first her pace was swift and strong, her legs carrying her many miles during the hours of daylight the country received, though it slowed to a crawl and often a stop during the bitterly cold nights. Elsie slept in bushes and trees where she could, protected against the stinging winds and falling snowflakes, and would find herself being woken up by the sun on her face or (once) a terrified hunter. The man had thought her a corpse thanks to her thin layer of snow and paling pallor; he was touching her in an effort to see if she wore anything nice before he left her bod to the elements. Having been awoken by his touch both let out rather loud screams, leading Elsie to run off towards her destination and the man to call after her. His shouts were offers of warmth and food, clothing and shelter, yet such words did not reach her ears. Elsie kept running, never desiring to give up on going where she needed.
She lost feeling in her fingers first, the tips of them turning blue against the chill that came with the night air. During the day she could focus and blow her warm breath on them, giving some relief that only lead to more pain once the cold set back on, but at night her whole body was exposed and left to be taken as it was. Her nose started to freeze next, followed by her ears and parts of her cheeks. Thankfully her vision was still strong, her legs still willing to carry her forward, so even when her pace slowed to less than a mile a day she kept going.
Hunger struck next, her stomach gnawing at itself as it demanded being filled. Elsie had been quenching her thirst with freshly fallen snow, the crystals easily melted in her mouth and the purity unmarred and unquestioned by any type of interaction. Had the young woman known her plants a bit better she may have tried her hand at foraging for something, be it nuts stored in tree hollows or hardy plants that had edible leaves and bark. Such things would easily have sustained her until she reached the conclave, yet with Elsie's luck and primitive at best knowledge she was more likely to consume something that would leave her dead before the sun rose. If that was the case then her entire mission would be for naught, and Elsie would rather die (. . . . ) then let that happen.
When it started to become too difficult for her to walk quickly she slowed, her feet dragging and swollen in shoes long soaked with water from the slurry and streams. Her own clothing was beyond tattered from being torn to try and cover frostbitten limbs, exposing more of her then the whole point of trying to keep warm allowed, yet there was nothing she could do but keep going north. The villages were growing more and more sparse as she went on, turning more and more into houses that sat here and there along the side. They were occupied, the people friendly and calling out to her, and only once did Elsie consider taking up their offer. She did not go in their house, as the elderly woman had wanted to, instead taking a jacket they tossed her way. Food was not given, perhaps they had none to offer a figure who looked inhuman in her march, but the slightly thicker coat was always welcome.
It was in this way that her travels continued, mile after mile and day after day. She was numb to her hunger, numb to her pain. It was only the banging of the cup on her hip that kept her going, the thoughts of that boy who looked at her haunting her sleep and forcing her to move for longer hours. She would make the trip entirely on foot, without much food and no shelter, yet Elsie was continue on.
Her mission needed reported, more lives needed to be saved. She was their only hope, and so she walked on.
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 6:18 pm
◣ The Terrible Tale of Elsie ◥ or how Elsie reports her findings to Lady Sage EstratusElsie makes her way to the North Base, on foot, to report her findings to the Lady.
Elsie walks the entire trip from the Castle to the North Base
Elsie is greeted by Sloane
Lady Estratus cannot properly read Elsie's mind
The story is regaled
Elsie is welcomed into the Fellowship of the Mages
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 1:12 pm
roleplay in progress - tea for two, coffee for one or how Elsie learns more about Plagues
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 10:54 pm
◣ moribund dreams, or how Elsie can't sleep at night ◥
It was getting to the point where the young woman could no longer discern her waking hours from the haunting nightmares that plagued her rest. She was like a ghost as she moved through the building she had been given permission to rest in, her personal sanctuary after a long and arduous journey that had left her battered in bruised in far more than just body. Her posture and frame resembled a frail wraith as she drifted about the cold hallways, her eyes always cast down at her feet or out the scant windows at the decaying countryside. Everything in this land was white as though covered by a never-lifting blanket, and it pained the woman in some part of her mind for a hint of color other than the drab hues that decorated the vestments of the residents indoors. How easy it would have been if her problems merely resided within the lack of color in this world! How easy it would be if she could merely close her eyes and wish it all away, placing herself back in that small but dazzling room in Isimus her brother ready to greet her as her eyes opened to the dawn. No, color was not her problem.
Perhaps it should have been as her body swayed in the chair she'd placed herself earlier that morning, her usually round about the grounds canceled because of an unusually thick storm of snow, though even if she'd had plans to continue her walk for the day she likely wouldn't be carrying through with them. Elsie's eyes were unfocused even on the objects before her, mouth slightly agape as soft sounds of murmured dreaming escaped over her lips. She'd been holding a cup of tea in her hands when the sudden spell of sleep overtook her, the contents of the tiny cup spilling from its container towards a pool on the carpet beneath her chair. The tea had long since grown cold and the puddle nearly dried since her focus had been taken away, yet still her fingers held tight to the handle of the cup. Now and then a simple twitch allowed insight that she was still breathing, still a living being, though just quite motionless.
Oh, if only her dreams were as peaceful as her outward appearance suggested! Inside her mind nothing presented itself but that unforgettable castle in all of its glory, the sounds and smells of that day ever present. Even though she was only dreaming Elsie could feel the cold air wrap about her shoulders, the hardness of the stone floor beneath feet that ached. Every sensation she felt that day came vividly back to life inside her mind, details that she had almost forgotten replaying themselves with terrifying accuracy. Some visions she wondered if she had truly experienced at all as they seemed exaggerated in her dreams, certain scenes extended in her memory or completely brand new. Had she actually be able to hear that the boy had said as his lips moved while he watched her, or were the words in her ears as she dreamed merely placed there in order to calm her troubled soul?
Thomas had long since told Elsie that nightmares were the mind and body's way of making sense what was wrong, what a person could not honestly face during their waking hours. A nightmare only showed memories of what troubled their hearts and laid them heavy with regret, of things that could not be changed because circumstances were far beyond the control of whomever was now suffering. If his words were indeed true, if her dreams were an attempt to make sense of all that was wrong and for her to move on. . . she was certainly stuck at an impasse. Her dreams had not gotten better, only growing worse with each passing day, and soon the young woman feared that she may need to ask for a sleeping drought from one of the workers to aide her in getting a dreamless night of sleep. They likely would give her one without too many questions as her physical appearance suggested that obviously something was wrong, and the fact that she could barely stand and walk as she tried to move meant something must be done soon.
Such things would have to be done, of course, when she woke from her dream. It would not be too much longer if the way she murmured louder had anything to do with it, her finger twitching harder and her eyeballs moving behind her eyelids at a feverish pace. The scenes of her memories was flashing so rapidly in her dream that it was as if she were simply standing in place, chills running up and down her spine in both fantasy and reality. Were she aware that such a thing was happening Elsie would know that she was crying silently as she slept, several tears trickling down her cheeks before pooling at her chin and dropping down onto her blouse. They made soft sounds as they contact with the fabric and were soon followed by quiet sniffles and a moan. Elsie would wake soon, her dream was nearing its end the moment she started to weep and cry out for those she could see yet could not save. Almost like clockwork, every so predictable, she sprang awake with a cry and dropped everything that had gathered in her hands. The cup she held clattered against the floor and rolled out from her sight as she nearly jumped to her feet, chest heaving as she tried to calm herself from whatever had terrified her into waking. Choking back a few sobs before fulling giving in to them, Elsie covered her mouth and let herself weep. Enough was too much.
Gathering a cloak in her hands and stealing a glance at a map (when she asked for one), Elsie managed to try and memorize the location of the nearest village - a place that would be her temporary destination. She needed someone to speak with, someone who could perhaps absolve her of all her sin. Elsie was going to talk with a Priest. It was time for confession.
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Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 12:38 pm
◣ You Shall Overcome ◥ or how Elsie confesses her sinsElsie flees to a church and confesses her sins (unknowingly) to Theo.
Elsie cannot sleep, and ventures to the local church
She is welcomed into the confessional, where Theo is waiting to listen
Unwilling to speak initially about the events she's witnessed, Elsie wonders about salvation
Finally confessing about what she has seen, she breaks down
Elsie can no longer speak from her tears, and is left crying in the confessional
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Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 12:39 pm
◣ homeward bound, or how Elsie returns to Isimus ◥
Her nights had been dreamless since her confession to the priest, her mind perhaps quieted from the horrors she recalled by the baring of her soul before the Lord. It was strange to think that her sin in inaction could so easily be forgiven by a few simple words of a man of God, but there was something else that kept Elsie's dreams from properly rising to the surface. The truth of what it was always remained beyond the grasp of the poor woman no matter how she struggled to obtain it; whenever she believed she could understand the reasoning she would awake and all was lost to the silence of the night. Her conversations with Sloane filled the hours between resting and wandering, the youth in Elsie's nineteen years affording her some remaining curiosity to poke around the base and yard outside. since visiting the priest she had only returned to the city and the church twice, an alien feeling of walking streets she was unfamiliar with kept her inside the compound as easily as a cage would keep a bird. It was not such a horrible cage that she felt she should one day revel against it for her freedoms, but instead a protective barrier that kept the fearful Elsie safe from whatever may wish to do her harm. Here, in the frozen North, she was protected.
It was a shame that Elsie could no read nor write, the library completely wasted on her when she introduced to it by one of the more friendly guards, but that did not suffer her away from looking at the books. Anything that had photos she eagerly devoured as a child would, gazing at the images with a desire to know more but a crippling inability to do so. Modesty and general shame at her illiterate state prevented the woman from asking one of the guards to read to her, not that she believed any of them would even be willing; most were either avoiding her like she was ill (for reasons unbeknown to her) or simply pretended they did not see her as she wandered the long and drafty corridors. A few did smile at her as she passed as though they were pleased with her over something, though they never really returned her greetings or attempts at conversation. Was it possible that they knew of her former occupation? did they frown on such activities here or was the embrace of another welcomed between the sheets in this cold and harsh world? Surely none of them honestly knew, for she was a complete stranger with a past she did not desire to ever share even when asked. The north was her chance at a new beginning.
Despite all her feelings of welcome, all her feelings that she and Jesse were safe here amongst the walls and soldiers, there was something that slowly gnawed away at the core of her emotions. At night she could sleep like the dead, dreamless and motionless with nary a murmur uttered, but during the day she was growing listless. Elsie still enjoyed the picture books in the library or her occasional walks outside in the fresh courtyard snows, weather permitting of course, but there was always something nagging and aching in the back of her mind that called to her during her waking hours. Elsie's eyes had long since grown used to the colorless void that the silent and safe world presented and she found herself shying away from anything vivid in favors of liking dusky tones that muted her personality just as much as it did her clothing. Familiar smells that her nose once called for, sounds her ears once tricked her into hearing, were long replaced with quiet, cold, and stale. Would she even know Isimus should she dare to return there? What season had its hands on the land now, how much time had she spent in the land of Eternal Winter?
Elsie had fled here without telling her brother, unable to leave a note for him or find a neighbor that she could burden and trust with such important news. Would he be angry at her, or would she be welcomed home with open arms and gentle hands? Thomas's reactions towards Elsie had always surprised the woman ever since the two of them were small children, but after Jesse's short time in the world the young woman felt her brother becoming more of a stranger than kin to her with the passage of time. Perhaps she should return to their shared room and tell him of her story as well, all parts that she had come to accept during her stay. Mentioning everything to the priest during the frightful night had cured her of her sorrows at night; bearing her soul to her brother may return to her the use of her days.
With her mind made up it still took several more days for Elsie to gather up enough nerve to ask for simple trip provisions. She did not ask it of Sloane, her manner preventing her from approaching one of her hosts directly (though she had not seen the Lady Sage since that fateful night in front of the fire so long ago), instead requesting the essentials from the hired help and other residents of the base. Of course none of it she took for free, all the while offering her hands as payment by doing chores as much as needed, though not once was her body offered or even looked at. It may have been because of the cup at her hip that they gave her some respect but Elsie doubt it and continued her honest work until the supplies she needed were in hand. She could now travel safely (if not warmly) home, a far cry from the voyage she had undertaken to come up to the North. Though she still feared much of the strangers in the north she knew she would have to ask for rides back to Isimus, it was simply too far for her to attempt on foot or even pretend to undertake on her own, so the quiet seamstress counted what meager coin she earned from chores and odd jobs; Elsie hoped it would be enough to carry her at least half way, at which point walking was no longer such an absurd thought. She had good shoes on her feet and warm clothes on her back; Elsie would not suffer the trip this time around.
The day she departed Elsie left no notice, told not a soul that she was leaving. As she could not write she could not properly express her thanks for all that the Fellowship had done for her nor could she let them all know that she would indeed be returning to their welcoming embrace. They had greeted and accepted her with open arms and open hearts, a feeling Elsie would never forget, and she swore to herself as she watched the small town she occasionally frequented disappear from her sight that she would come back. Perhaps she could convince Thomas to join her on the return pilgrimage, Elsie greatly missing his company, but she wasn't sure how he would handle hearing what she had to go through in order to join. Thomas was likely going to be furious for several reasons she surmised so there was no point in letting the anger occur at different times; telling him all at once sounded like it would be the best option for her to pursue. When he was done being angry and had made his choice then they would undergo the start of the journey, together or separate. Elsie hoped together was the end result, she wanted family to stay with one another for as long as possible, and a pat to the cup on her hip as she rolled towards Isimus told her it would be all right.
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Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 12:41 pm
◣ family affairs, or how Thomas convinces Elsie to do what's right ◥
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