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Friendly Conversationalist
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 Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:50 pm
 ___________❶ ..................................... In which Theo is given a rather odd burden; a solo.
___________❷ ..................................... In which the Priest meets the Peasant; a roleplay.
___________❸ ..................................... In which the Priest becomes acquainted with a Lady and her Knight; a roleplay.
___________❹ ..................................... In which the Priest becomes a good Samaritan; a roleplay.
___________❺ ..................................... In which the Priest is made aware of certain goings-on; a roleplay.
___________❻ ..................................... In regards to Part One and the Ring's fate; a solo.
___________❼ ..................................... In which Theo seeks help; a solo.
___________❽ ..................................... In which there is naught to do but contemplate what comes next; a solo.
___________❾ ..................................... In which Theo must prove his worth; a mission.
___________❿ ..................................... In which Theo discovers something about himself; a mission.
___________❶❶ .................................. In which the Ring tells her tale for the first time; a solo.
___________❶❷ .................................. In which Theo finally understands; a solo.
___________❶❸ .................................. In which there is much Idling and Ophelia grows Discontent; a solo.
___________❶❹ .................................. In which Theo and Ophelia go to the Circus; a roleplay.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 9:51 pm
 Ⅰ. ❝ In which Theo is given a rather odd burden. ❞ "I am here on business for my lord Bishop Allemane." A flash of the official seal of the Church and a showing of his real demeanor was enough to gain Theodore Lucas entrance into the crematory. He gently lowered the hood of his woolen cloak when he moved through the wooden doorway and was blasted with the force of heat from the large fires that worked overtime to accomodate for the influx of bodies. The stench of singed flesh and popping fat rolled a wave of nausea through his stomach, but he swallowed and kept his face set, betraying not one moment of weakness. The portly man, covered in soot and mud stains, led him quickly through the hubbub and back outside, where he held the door open with a mix of reverence and nerves. Theo gave him a nod and smiled when his back was turned, the two continuing down along the outside wall of the crematory towards a separate workshop.
Have the power and they trip all over themselves for you. The young man much enjoyed watching the workman's nervous fidgeting beneath his well-trained steely gaze. If this was how they acted around an assistant priest, imagine when he is finally ordained.. !
"In here." Their feet paused in the muddied alleyway before a rickety door that was splintered with bad weather and age. The mist of the early evening's fog mingled with the smoke from the building they had just left, adding a dampness to the acrid smell. The door creaked open and Theo was allowed inside first. There was a hiss as an oil lamp by the door was lit and the room filled with a dim glow. It was quite obviously a workshop: littered with aprons and care-worn tools, a wooden work bench strewn with more junk and spare papers. However the workman motioned to a box set at the end table, and the assistant priest leaned over to examine what was inside. A white handkerchief, stained with sooty fingerprints, pillowed the bottom, and cushioned the only item held within - a marred gold band.
"This is the only effect from the Deacon?" Theo looked at the man doubtfully and hoped his glare would be enough to convince him of any consequences should he have decided to steal from the church. But the man was straightforward in his answer, if not a little uncomfortable under the younger man's unwavering gaze.
"Th' clothes burned eas'ly.. th' message t' save 'em di'n't come 'till afterwards. We don' get many o' these kin' o' requests, y'see. So this is t'only thing that remained." Theo made a "hmph" noise before folding the corners of the handkerchief over and picking up the tiny bundle from the box. A spasm of pain shot up his right arm as he squeezed his fingers. Damn his pathetic weakness! Whether or not the workman noticed was something he chose to ignore by dropping the handkerchief and ring into his pocket and moving back towards the door. Rather than go through that abysmal oven of a building he declined to follow the man and instead took the alleyway back towards the street. The soft splashing of rain on his face prompted him to pull the cloak's hood back over his eyes as the downpour began. Any who had wandered out onto the streets now hustled for cover in the safety of their homes, and Theo was left to wander unmolested towards the church.
Just a ring. Would the Bishop be pleased to find this out? When he was originally sent to retrieve the former Deacon's personal effects, there had been much fuss about what to do with them should they arrive. His fellow assistants and some of the younger boys in care of the church whispered about the items being cleansed of the impurity of its prior owner until the next Deacon was ordained (their own Bishop Allemane had been elected to be ordained), but Theo paid it little mind. The babblings of children, ignoramuses who knew nothing better. Even the higher priests were know nothings - the Bishop had plans for whatever the Deacon had left behind, and he was only too happy to oblige wishes from that high up. He knew the right people to impress, and he did it without any help up the ladder but merely with his own abilities. Unlike these other children, who had time to laugh and joke, he had a goal in mind. Ambitions. Dreams. Being a priest certainly wasn't the most glamorous position in Panymium but it was more than he could have ever hoped for when he was first left to mercy here. Theo would show them. His record during training as an assistant was impeccable - awake and taking notes during every service, helping the young and old should any request his aid, his presence at weddings and funerals sought after to help proceedings move quickly. He was quite a popular figure among the parishioners and the higher powers of the church.
Oh yes, he would show everyone just how suited to power he was.
The welcoming archway of the church he had called home for the past several years opened her arms to him, and he gratefully took shelter from the rain beneath the awning. The doors stood slightly ajar to admit guests for the evening services, and he wasted no time in hustling towards the meeting room he had stood in just that morning. The Bishop and the head priest had hinted as much about this little mission giving him a nice boost towards his ordainment, and it filled him with an anticipation he hadn't known in quite a while. The man had been so busy with working towards his goal that it was strange to imagine it looming so closely on the horizon. So very close.
As he came before the doors of the bishop's quarter, he had only to look at one of the altar boys to get the child to rap loudly on the doors. As much as he hated his weakness, the years of being after the misbehaving wards of the church had given him an intimidating quality that held a little sway. Rapid footsteps replied to the knock and the fast retreat of the child, and Theo stood straight and attentive as the doors were opened. There the Bishop Allemane stood, ancient among his newly tailored robes and growing more senile with the passing days. To his right was an accompanying priest, who eyed Theo with the same leery eye he had given him that morning when he had given him the mission in the first place. But Theo wouldn't be offput by that; instead, he bowed deeply, his eager hand already fishing into his pocket to grasp the ring.
"I have retrieved the effects of the Deacon, my lord." The old man's eyes widened before sinking back into the deep folds of his eyelids, and he nodded. A wave of the hand motioned for Theo to proceed. "However, only one thing was recovered--" The hand was out of the pocket now, and the handkerchief sat folded in his palm.
"This is all?" The Bishop squinted and looked at the priest to his side as though confused by the whole precedings. A growing annoyance spread in Theo's mind as he unfolded the edges of the handkerchief. Doddering old fool. The laced edges fell away and curled around the sides of his hand, revealing the flat golden band resting within the folds.
"The Deacon's ring, my lord." The Bishop leaned in to examine it. A moment passed as he looked it over and seemingly commanded his eyes to focus properly, before it finally registered what was in front of him. Surprise flashed across the Bishop's face, followed by a swift shake of the head and his lips pressing together in a firm frown. He glanced towards the priest at his side, then disappeared behind the door for a moment, followed soon after by his companion. He felt a thrill of panic dance up his spine. Had things gone wrong.. ? How had he slipped up.. ? Theo strained his ears to catch hurried whispers, although nothing intelligable. There wasn't much to listen to before the priest appeared to him with eyes more suspicious than ever. This time his eyes were narrowed in his decision and his words short and dismissive. The Bishop was nowhere to be seen in the crack of the door.
"We shall discuss this issue further at a later date. The ring shall remain in your care for the time being." Theo made to interject, but the reply was too quick. "Your ordainment shall also be discussed then. You are dismissed." The heavy door shut unceremoniously in his face. The young man frowned deeply at it with a gaze that could burn holes into the wood, before he looked down at the ring that rested in his palm. He couldn't quite put together what the problem was, but it seemed that it was up to him what happened with this ring. Its surface was marred by strains of rust and specks of black (probably residue from its burned owner), but other than that.. nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing vigorous cleaning couldn't fix, anyway.
All this fuss over you. You'd better have been worth the trouble. He turned from the door and shoved the ring into his pocket. As long as he got ordained in the end, that was all he cared about. They weren't eager to toss it away yet; a wise choice in picking the assistant with the best reputation to be its caretaker. But the ring, if need be, gave him a little leverage.
I will sell you if this goes wrong. When money speaks, you'll always find an eager hand. I won't walk away from this empty-handed.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 1:19 pm
 ⅠⅠ. ❝ In which the Priest meets the Peasant. ❞❝ Patience is a Virtue. ❞ ↪ For your consideration Here. Patience is a Virtue. It was to be expected.
Theo's jaw ached as he clenched his teeth behind his lips, which tried to keep a placid expression. As much as he hated travel and leaving the shelter of the church he had come to call home, with this occupation it was to be expected. But he needed to succeed. To remain stagnant as an apprentice, just short of the job of priest.. that would mean a lifetime of uselessness for him, and he refused that.
He was productive, and much smarter than the others. He could do this. He would get ordained, whatever it takes, even if it meant traveling to Helios and putting in some time visiting their sister church.
Granted it wasn't as bad as going about in Imisus or Shyregoed, with its bustling middle class and poorer districts, where his atrophied arms ached at the sight of those who worked hard labor day in and day out. The handsome walls and rich residents of Aureole made him feel less inadequate. The market place crawled with servants, but the stands were also of a different caliber.. neater, very organized. Theo had to hand it to Aureole - they knew how to get things done.
So far the visit had gone rather well; sitting in on the morning Mass and looking alert, mentally noting things that they had done differently from his own church, and now he stood outside in the brisk afternoon and said farewell to the parishioners who left, and welcoming in others with kind words. His nose and cheeks were red from the sharp wind, but he kept his attitude even, despite his desire to go inside and hide from the cold among the few books the building held.
Absently he fingered the ring in his pocket in an effort of self comfort. The ring had remained with him since he had retrieved it, but the church had displayed no further interest in it (at least as far as he knew). He wondered if perhaps he could sell it while he was here; the spots on it certainly wouldn't sell to a jeweler, but it could be melted down for recasting.
"Good afternoon." He inclined his head politely at an older woman with gray streaking her hair. She smiled and nodded in return. "Do head inside. It's quite cold." The woman hustled in through the huge doors, and Theo's gaze followed her as he remained stationed where he was. His loose sleeves flapped as the wind picked up and he curled his weak fingers towards his palm.
Greeting guests for an hour's time in the cold, how bothersome. A displeased frown slipped through his mask, just for a moment. Thankfully only ten more minutes were needed.
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Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2010 6:09 pm
ⅠⅠⅠ. ❝ In which the Priest becomes acquainted with a Lady and her Knight. ❞❝ The Smell of Sweet Decay. ❞ ↪ For your consideration Here. The Smell of Sweet Decay. As soon as the elaborate carriage had pulled up just shy of the small cathedral, the altar boys were in a tizzy over who it could be. The children raced towards the front doors to peek out at the street, only to be ushered back by the older assistants and priests with a warning to behave. The boys whimpered and nodded as memories of extra verses to remember or chores danced in their heads, but still their curiosity nipped at them. A carriage like this didn't pull up to their church every day, after all.
Theo stood among the group, masking his own curiosity by chiding the small boys and urging them back to their duties. This was good timing on his part as the doors of the carriage opened and a cloaked figure, accompanied by a shining figure in silver armor, ascended the steps while the driver directed the vehicle towards the back of the cathedral. Somebody should tell the Bishop, but first of all these "guests" needed to be looked after. With the head priest never leaving the Bishop's side these days (what with the figure's rapidly declining health), Theo seemed to be the best candidate for this duty (in his mind, at least).
He fingered the ring in his pocket. Anything that would improve his already stellar record of service and urge ordainment, he would be willing to do.
"Go alert my lord Bishop that we have important guests," he told another assistant, who nodded hurriedly and hustled off towards the separate offices in the east wing. Meanwhile, the assistant priest dispatched the others to their stations, having some remain on hand to fit the needs of the guests. There were a few murmured complaints but a sharp comment reminded them of just who the Bishop's favorite was, and that quieted anything further. The doors were opened, and Theo strode forward and offered a warm expression.
"Welcome, my lady, sir knight," he said, and opened his hands in a gesture to match the greeting. "Please, come inside."
Theo scribbled madly in his journal as soon as he had been able to. He wanted to keep what he had learned fresh and at ready access, should he ever come to need it. The ring had surfaced from his pocket and now rested on the table, gleaming in the lamplight as he wrote with speed. He glanced at it and paused in his task to keep his hand from cramping, and with his left hand he stroked the outer edge. The rust and black specks that adorned it stood out quite well against the flickering lamp, but it was not something that mattered. Sloane's words played in his ear over and over, while the ghost of the Plague's grin danced before his eyes. He, too, grinned at the small object before adding an additional note to his findings.
Ring will be female.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 9:09 pm
ⅠⅤ. ❝ In which the Priest becomes a good Samaritan. ❞❝ When All is Washed Away. ❞ ↪ For your consideration Here. When All is Washed Away. Of course this is where I am in this kind of weather. Theo's smile was stiff in the fading light of evening as he nodded farewell to the leaving parishioners from the evening mass. The cold nipped at his exposed skin and the sting of falling rain hit the part of him left unprotected by the church awning. But still, he kept his post and remained cordial to those who departed. The faster they moved, the sooner he could get back to the warmth of the indoors.
"Good evening, madam." He warmed his smile (a trick picked up through long practice) and helped usher her through the doors. "Do mind the weather and hurry home." She smiled and patted his arm, commenting on it being such a kind thought and wishing him good night, before hustling at a turtle's pace into the storm. Thunder rumbled overhead, and a slight shiver ran down the now soaked side of Theo's body. He glanced inside - good, only a few more were left. Mostly older folks who dawdled behind to talk to the pastor. How wonderful.
Once they were out, then it would be up to some poor sap of an assistant priest (less qualified than him, certainly, but he was too eager to trade places) to handle the doors for the remainder of the evening. The doors were promptly shut for the evening at ten o'clock, so that left them tending the main chamber for a few more hours still. And by that point, Theo would be long dry and in his warm room. He would still offer to stay, of course, but in the end would concede to the other's eventual kindness. That was how things worked here, and as long as he came out looking all the better for it, so be it.
The faster he was ordained, the better.
Upon the break of day, Theo slipped out of his dormitory. He crept as quietly as his feet would allow, down the hallway and towards the kitchen. The mess from yesterday had been cleaned up, he noticed, and having been too unnerved to let Rosalie see him upon waking (he did not much feel like answering questions as to what the boy had and where he might be) he had skipped dinner. As he left the kitchen and headed for the back door, he grabbed a roll from the basket as he went.
The stairs groaned under Theo's feet as he ascended towards the storage room. There, he opened the creaking door and let it swing open. The dim morning light entered the room, and he saw that it looked as it had before he had left the boy to his own devices. The only exception were the blankets he had given, which had been folded and left by the table. He didn't know why he had expected to find the boy, but he somehow felt disappointed. He had wanted to ask him more of the Plague, but seeing as his questioning didn't go over so well the night prior, perhaps it was best that the boy had gone, after all.
"'E was 'ere, then." Theo had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear Rosalie's approach. Regardless, he did not turn around to face her - not out of fear of scorn, but rather because he felt she were the intruder, even though this was her work room. ".. I see now." If she had remembered the sight of the Plague the night before, she didn't make mention of it - something Theo appreciated. Instead she moved away down the stairs without another word, leaving the priest's assistant to his thoughts.
What if his ring would end up like what the urchin had carried? If so, it was something he would not know until the time came. For all he knew, that time could be coming sooner rather than later.
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 10:07 pm
Ⅴ. ❝ In which the Priest is made aware of certain goings-on. ❞❝ You Shall Overcome. ❞ ↪ For your consideration Here. You Shall Overcome. Ten o'clock was fast approaching. It was the time of night where the singing insects of the early evening hours had long gone to sleep, along with the gentle lantern glow of every home along the cobbled streets. Theo's lips were pulled into a frown of careful concentration as he made his rounds around the altar and the front pews, extinguishing the flames as he went with a richly-decorated candle snuffer. His hands ached and his eyes were weary as he moved swiftly, feet near invisible under the hem of his robe.
He loathed having to do the final night watch of the evening. Locking the heavy double doors always took such a strain on his fragile arms and he went to bed sore and irritated, with a fresh film of sweat on his skin. At least while the others were off in bed, none were able to observe him completing this task.
... None save for the high priest, that is. The taller man watched him from the doors with a hawk-like stare and arms folded over his chest, remaining the proud surveyor of the assistant priest. As much as Theo disliked the man, he had to obey the hierarchy within these walls, if he wanted to succeed. But at this point, thanks to a certain golden piece of jewelry, he wasn't much sure of that one either. The evening was almost over though, thankfully. Good. He didn't want to go to bed in an even fouler mood than usual.
But a timid knocking on the double doors chased the thought from his mind. Both men gaped in half surprise at the wooden barrier, before the high priest reached for the worn brass door handle.
The visions still felt so real.. and even in his dreams he heard the girl crying, sobbing.
Theo made quick work of mopping the vomit, and was at least pleased to know that he had not awoken anybody in doing so. He stored the sheet he had used with the other dirty linens and dropped peppermint oil over the area. Immediately the smell eased; he would attend to it properly with soap and water in the morning, when the younger boys were at lessons or performing duties.
And with the masking of the smell, he buried his shame at forcing the poor girl to confess. There could not be any other scenes like this, not when he was so close to achieving his goals. Why it bothered him so in the first place, when death was so common, was beyond him. Perhaps it was the brutality of the situation. Perhaps it was the girl herself.
But he somehow knew that her sobbing would play in the background of gruesome dreams in nights to come.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 10:09 pm
ⅤⅠ. ❝ In regards to Part One and Theo's fate. ❞ Theo had jumped through the right hoops for the whole of his adolescent and adult life, greased the right palms, and rubbed the right egos. He had studied hard to know the holy scriptures front to back, sideways and rightside up, had been the first to volunteer for tasks even if he really detested them. And now his moment had finally come; certainly it was to be Theodore Lucas' finest hour, where he would finally be ordained as a fully-fledged priest. There would never be any worry about what the future had in store for him, nor would there be any doubts.
The ring felt safe in his hands as he toyed with it. After a moment of batting the idea back and forth in his mind, he slid it onto his ring finger, where it sat comfortably. Yes, it was better to keep this in full view - it was his bargaining chip after all. Everything would work out.
If that was the case (which it was, he kept assuring himself), then why did his insides feel like lead? He trooped slowly along the hall, the summons from the bishop still playing in his mind. His time had come, this was going to be the moment he had been waiting for! The priest who had delivered the summons rapped on the bishop's office door, and when the muffled reply came from within, the door was open and he was admitted inside.
The room held only the bishop, the high priest (who held a small, worn leather book in his hands), an additional priest, and a smaller boy just entering the priesthood, who was nervously taking notes on the event, all backlit by the glow of the fire. Theo felt nostalgic watching him scribble rapidly with attentive eyes - he had once been like him. Perhaps one day, he too would become a priest of renown like he was certainly about to become. He had not even sat down before the high priest rounded on him.
"You still have the ring, correct?" Theo nodded stiffly. What did this have to do with ordainment? There was a general murmuring as the high priest spoke with the bishop, and the small boy scribbled madly as he strained to hear. The other priest merely watched Theo with an unreadable gaze, remaining tall and unmoving as a post. The whispered debate continued for some time, before the high priest turned his gaze to him. "You have shown it to others, I have heard." Theo's eyebrows knit in concern, and he nodded slowly. They had not expressly told him not to show anybody else. "We have word that the Lady Sage Estratus has seen it." He wondered if the Lady had mentioned as much when commending him to his superiors before she departed, because he was sure that none had overheard their interesting encounter.
"It's as I thought." The party frowned. "The object you hold is nothing that will bring good tidings to our church." Theo's head felt fuzzy with confusion. Would he have to sell the ring? Perhaps he could give it to the Lady Estratus, since she had been particularly interested.. especially given the ring's special qualities. He felt quite disappointed though; if that were the case, then he would never get to see if it became like the Lady's knight. "That is why we have decided that you must leave."
"... What?" The world came screeching to a halt. This wasn't about ordainment? He was here to be.. ? He couldn't even think it. He closed his eyes and shook his head as though to rid himself of it all, as though it were a bad dream. But one look into the faces of his superiors told him that this was no dream. "But this ring.. this ring.. certainly you know what it is!" He felt desperate now and he held the hand up to properly display the mentioned object. It glittered a deep red in the firelight, and the bishop backed up as though frightened of it. Theo felt his bravado swell. "You cannot afford to throw me out. I would be too valuable to you. Think of what you could do with me, with this!" He panted as his stomach did backflips inside of him. He was valuable! Why else was he trusted with the most important tasks during his time here? It was he who had gotten the ring! It was he who had passed examinations first! They could never replace him.. it was outrageous to ever think so.
"As irreplaceable as you seem to think you are, I must assure you that you can disappear and none would notice." The high priest's voice was cold, his stare pointed. "For you to make demands of us, your superiors, is laughable. We are no fools, Theo. What you have is a danger, and can only serve to tarnish what we have built. We do not want this war over these Plagues brought to our doorstep, to the house of the Almighty, where it does not belong." Theo's eyes traveled to the book in the high priest's hand, and suddenly a wave of sickness clutched him. They had been reading his notes in his journal. "Showing that dangerous thing to any who would dare to see. Such recklessness. Being a bearer of this ring is as much of a curse as the ring itself and we will have none of it." The high priest turned towards the priest on his left.
"I believe we are done here. Rolfe, if you please." The other priest, who had remained silent the whole conversation through, nodded and strode forward, seizing Theo as easily as if he were a rag doll. The doors of the office banged open and he was marched back into the main hall, wriggling against his captor with as much might as he could. The eyes of altar boys, priests, assistants, and nuns alike followed him as he struggled against the hold of the steely high priest. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the church and followed them towards the double doors, which were thrown open by the nervous boy. The rain was coming down in thick waves, splashing water and mud every which way in the deserted streets.
Theo felt a shudder as his breath came out in a small puff of cooled steam, and he cast a desperate look at the high priest and bishop. "You are fools to do this." The high priest's nostrils flared and he gave the younger man his first real show of anger (and poorly-hidden flickers of fear) during this conversation.
"We will not face the wrath of Obscuvos because of you. Leave!"
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Posted: Wed Jul 07, 2010 8:02 pm
ⅤⅠⅠ. ❝ In which Theo seeks help. ❞ The mud splashed in Theo's face as he was tossed into the street by the high priest. The door was shot promptly behind him as he scrambled to his feet, leaving him alone in the rain-swollen street.
Cold, wet, alone.
"NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME. I REFUSE IT!" He threw himself at the door, fully fuming now and his mind blank with anger. "HOW - DARE - YOU!" Each word was accentuated with a sharp hit to the church door, and he winced at the pain shooting up his arms and at the sight of the skinned knuckles on his hand. The doors opened to reveal a sliver of the white-robed bishop, mouth agape in priestly pity, and Theo's control slipped at the sight of him. He launched himself to get back inside, prying his arms around the door frame and scrambling, but another forceful push from the stronger high priest sent him to the ground again, where he continued to pound the mud with shaking, bleeding fists.
".. A demon possesses you, boy." The bishop's eyes were widened in horror at the broken man at his feet. "We will not harbor demons here." The high priest was at his side and glaring down at Theo, with a smugness in his look that hinted that he had been waiting for this moment. The young man felt sick with anger, sick with fear for his future.
"Leave at once." The doors were snapped shut, and the following clicks assured him the latch that was normally only locked during the evenings had been moved into place. The rage flooded through him and he let out a loud cry that left his body shaking in the mud. It was as though he could sense the eyes of every being in the church boring into his back, and he felt the weight of every stare. A saltiness mixed with the taste of muddied water as it rolled down his face, and he realized that his body's trembling was not just from the cold and wet. Shock began to seep in.
He would die. He was going to die in the gutter, alone and unprotected. A useless cripple. He pawed at his face in horror, the feeling of cold metal against his cheek drawing his frenzied eyes towards his hand.. it was the ring.
The ring was the cause of this. His life had been going perfectly, not a hitch in the road until he retrieved this blasted thing. His ordainment was thrown off track, his life, his future.. all because of the ring. Rage coursed through him again and he pulled it from his fingers and cast it weakly into the street. It landed with a soft splash in the mud, glimmering bright against the brown. Theo was panting from the exertion, from his own shock.
This cursed thing.. no man would buy it. In fact it looked so pitiful in the mud, cold and unwanted much as he was. The Lady Sage had said that there were others who would seek it, who would want it - him - on their side. Where were those people now? The shivers worsened as he rose to sit on his knees, and he absently rubbed the back of his swollen hands. He had to move. Slowly he dragged himself to his feet and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, only succeeding in streaking dirt across his face, and he moved slowly up the street. For a moment he considered leaving the ring behind, after all the grief it had given him. Let some other sap be troubled with it. But something inside refused to let him press on without it.
They were cast out together, after all. He bent at the waist and picked it up, using the cloth of his sleeve to wipe it as clean as he could, before he slipped it back on his finger. Oddly he felt comforted by the feeling, rather than repulsed as he had just moments before. They were in this together, he and his ring.
The minutes dragged much as hours do as he walked, and every raindrop felt like a stone lashing him. The streets were deserted, where the peasants that normally wandered them had homes of their own, with beds to return to and fires to gather around. Theo shivered. He was going to die out here. A small clutch of travelers hurried by him while he traveled at a snail's pace. One of them broke away as the others hurried for cover from the rain, and she shook loose the hood of her traveling cloak, revealing dark hair and pinkened cheeks. His heart gave another shocked jolt as he recognized her as he unknowingly followed her.
Rosalie.
The seamstress' back disappeared into a rickety wooden house that looked bunched up between taller structures. The way the rain dripped through the cracks in the dirty awning and puddled on the porch made him sharply aware of the difference between his world (at least what had been his world) and that of Rosalie's. His longing of a fire and warmth drove him to impulse, and shame rose like bile in his throat as he ascended the steps and rapped smartly on the door. The moment's pause with only the sound of rainfall to fill the void made his anxieties worsen. Finally the wooden door opened, and Rosalie's look of vague curiosity was replaced with one of sudden surprise.. before fading into sharp, criticizing dislike.
"... What're y'doin' here?" Her tone was flat and her eyes narrowed at the sight of him, taking in his mud-coated form. He still cradled his throbbing arms and shielded his bruised, bloodied knuckles with the loose ends of his sleeves. The man's eyes were firmly fixed at her feet, the eyebrows knit together in embarrassment. He could feel the color rising in his cheeks. "Go home."
"I have no home." He spoke quietly, in rushed words. Another pause lingered. "They do not want me. I have nowhere to go." He had never spoken so bluntly to the woman about anything personal, but it wouldn't do to make up tales now, even if it would ease his embarrassment. "That's why I..." The words died. He took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat and steel himself. The rain pounded harder inside his eardrums. "That is why I need help. Your help."
He had expected her to slam the door in his face - lord knows what possessed him to even ask her - or laugh about his misgivings. They had so often exchanged poorly-concealed insults in their conversations that he was astounded with himself for even asking her for help. But to his surprise, just as the doubts were beginning to settle into certainties, she stepped aside and held a stiff arm out towards the inside of her home. Perhaps she had not disliked him as much as he had thought?
"You--" The word slipped out between his dry lips, but she cut him off sharply.
"I dunnae why I'm doin' this, so don' go gettin' any ideas. Maybe it's because I actually believe in all that abou' doin' the right thing 'n lookin' out fer others, unlike a certain youngin' here who will not be named." Theo frowned and rolled his eyes - there was the Rosalie he knew. "I saw that. But anyway, don' pester me abou' it. Just get inside." She impatiently beckoned with her hand, and Theo glanced into the muddy street with a disdainful look.
"... Fine."
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Wed Jul 07, 2010 8:03 pm
ⅤⅠⅠⅠ. ❝ In which there is naught to do but contemplate what comes next. ❞ It had taken only a few days for Theo to feel like a caged animal.
On this particular morning he lay in bed, bleary eyes gazing at the boarded ceiling as he listened to the rain outside while the ring, the cause of all his troubles, danced between his unidle fingers. The chilled rain had not let up since he had arrived on Rosalie's doorstep three days prior, and he'd been left well enough alone with his growing anxieties, along with the annoyances at living with children as young as Rosalie's daughter. Each morning had seen him awakened in the same way: opening tired eyes to see the small girl peering at him with protuberant eyes, tilting her head when he gasped in surprise and sat up, then running off in a fit of giggles as he yelled her out of the room. Cries of the child's name echoed through the house as the mother welcomed her to her arms, only to give Theo a sharp reprimand for yelling at her. The days had passed as such, and rather than stand there awkwardly he had confined himself to the spare room he had been given.
All of this paired with the restless feeling growing inside of him since his removal from the church made him very grumpy indeed.
But the church was no longer his only option.. not after the Fellowship had extended their hand in friendship towards him. The Lady had said that the offer would remain open, should he want to take it, but instead he had dawdled on a dream. Not even a dream he was passionate about, but he was so assured that he was safe. Would he have that kind of security with the Fellowship? Could they offer him more protection or would they, too, shove him into the snow?
He weighed his options as he gazed upward, the pattering of the rain on the windows lulling him into a stupor. He hated this inactivity, this leeching feeling.
That is why he had to take the chance. Whatever it was, he couldn't stay here and feel listless for the rest of his days.
His legs flew over the bed, joints stiff from the lack of movement he'd been doing but he had to keep moving, to ride the idea while it was still white hot in his mind. The nightshirt was removed and folded neatly out of habit, placed upon the bed whose sheets he had barely disturbed. On came the clothing he had been given (the whereabouts of his actual clothes was unknown at the moment; Rosalie had taken them) and the ring safely deposited into the side pocket. The boots were tugged on quickly and flakes of mud fell away from his heels as he walked. Patting his pocket, he felt the ring, and felt assured of what he was doing. This is what he needed to do, and he had to go before anyone had noticed. He did not expect the seamstress to make a commotion about his leaving (a positive commotion, anyway), but he'd rather avoid the opportunity altogether if he could.
Despite their misgivings, she had done him a great service. Leaving without a fuss is probably the best thank you he could give her.
The hallway and front room held no trace of Rosalie or her daughter, and he moved quickly and silently towards the door. As he reached for the door, the sharp splash of the water against the windows made him wonder about finding something more substantial to cover up with.. but he didn't have time. He had to go while there was still daylight, and it was stealing away fast.
"Sneakin' oot like the weasel y'are, I see." There was no need to look towards the one making the accusation - he knew well enough who it was. What had surprised him however, was that despite the fact that he could hear her footsteps approaching him quickly, that he could feel the heat of her angry gaze on his back, instead of reaching out to grab one of his shriveled arms in her strong grip or grasp him by the back of the collar (both of which she had so often done in reprimand), she instead swept past him and threw open an adjacent cupboard. It was shoddily constructed from mismatched boards but seemed to do the job of keeping things off the floor, and she leaned forward and began digging through the contents, a stream of muffled grumbling issuing from the open doors. Rosalie's daughter peered around the corner with apprehensive eyes, and Theo exchanged a surprised glance with her for a moment before her mother's back straightened, her arms shaking out something heavy. At last she faced him, with all the dislike he had imagined her face showing.
"Here." The cloak was tossed into his unexpecting arms, and the sudden weight produced a sharp intake of breath from the man, followed by the sound of the heavy leather hitting the worn floor boards. Rosalie tossed him an annoyed look before bending to pick it up, shaking it out properly. "Turn." Theo obeyed when he heard the bite in her voice and turned his back to her while she strapped the bulky cloak around his shoulders. He felt leaden by the extra weight, but the material would surely keep him dry. As the buttons were looped by the seamstress' nimble hands, he could hear her mumbling under her breath, ".. ungrateful little.. only waitin' three days before takin' oof.." With the last button secured, he turned towards her, but seemed unable to look her in the face and instead averted his eyes towards the scuffed, dirty entryway. She paused for a moment, uncertain, until she disappeared into the cabinet again and resurfaced with his old clergy uniform, freshly laundered, and shoved it into his surprised hands. The grumbling continued, but one particular phrase jumped out at his ears: "Won't even stay until morn." It was not a request, just an offhand comment, but it stirred something inside of the former man of the cloth, and whatever it was made the moment much more awkward.
"I cannot." There was a momentary pause, where his still-bandaged hand lingered on the handle. The loose sleeves of the borrowed cotton jersey slipped over his fingers and he paused to look over his shoulder. Rosalie eyed him with poorly-concealed anger as a stiff hand rested on her daughter's shoulder. The child was blinking round blue eyes at Theo, a look of partial confusion at the fuss apparent on her features. He couldn't muster a smile for the small girl who had done naught but pester him for his duration here, and he didn't wish to prolong the already awkward moment. With a stiff nod towards the two of them, the door opened and he stepped out onto the top step. The rustle of skirts told him Rosalie no longer watched, and that he was out of her life for the time being - something that both of them were secretly pleased about. Still, her voice carried as two sets of footsteps retreated down the hall, smothering the quiet whispers of her daughter.
"Don' worry 'bout 'im, Ophelia darlin'. S'got 'is own business tae attend." Theo pulled the heavy cloak further around his shoulders, arms aching in protest, as the door closed behind him and he stepped over the threshold into the pouring rain. Taking a moment to gather his bearings, he glanced up the abandoned street and down the other direction. The curtain of water made it hard to discern from sight alone which direction led out of town, but he had traveled these roads enough times as a child to know them by heart. With a step off the rickety wooden stairs, his boots squelched in the mud with each step he took, battling the elements to rid himself of the town he no longer felt safe in.
It was time to seek the Lady Sage Estratus and take up her offer at last.
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Posted: Wed Jul 07, 2010 8:04 pm
 ⅠⅩ. ❝ In which Theo must prove his worth. ❞
A mission given. Faction Prompt - Fellowship Within Colwe is a small religious castle, an offshoot of the main religion of the region. One of their prized artifacts, the one they praise the most, is under suspicion from the Mages. Reconnaissance tells them that the item in question is actually a Fellowship artifact, one housing magical properties, and was stolen some years ago. It is Theo's task to enter the building and return the artifact to the North Base as quietly as possible. A partner has been assigned for his protection in case things go awry; the Advisor's Plague himself.
If you want things to go smoothly with the operation, you may have this be a solo and Sloane is merely waiting outside of the building for its duration. If things are going to get a bit hairy, this must be done via roleplay.
One could call it being cocksure, that perhaps he did not know what he was rightfully getting into, but the former priest knew that he would be in his element. He had spent several years inside of a church, after all. His first nights at the North Base following his mission briefing saw him among books, pouring over histories and searching for any sign of what he would be looking for. As other big factions in Panymium had dealt with, the Fellowship had seen attack from others hoping to siphon some of their power for themselves. Items were recklessly destroyed, some stolen.. it was impossible to narrow down exactly which item in specific had been taken. The list of countless items told him well enough the kind of things he should be searching for though - amulets, ritual items, weapons, staffs. Find the most protected room and he would find the object they sought.
The next leg of research took him back to Colwe. Loath as he was to return so soon after his departure, if he were to be welcomed into the Fellowship with open arms, it was a necessity. He would not ruin his second chance. Thankfully he was set up in an inn with a Fellowship-friendly owner during his short tenure in the city, and he had time to observe the area in question. He donned heftier clothing than he normally would and the thick traveling cloak Rosalie had given him on his departure, blending in with the crowds that populated the streets. The castle itself was not hard to find, and the priests were likewise easy to spot. They reminded him very much of his former home in practice as he sat in one of their other churches, watching their rituals and listening to their prayers and learning all he could, noting how similar most priestly garments were between the churches of Colwe.
At last, after alerting the Lady of his findings, the mission was to begin. He departed the fortress with Sage's guardian at his side for extra protection. Any nervousness he felt he swallowed. He could not afford to lose a home a second time. They would see just how useful Theo Lucas could be.
Thinking it best that they complete the mission and leave the city as soon as possible, their arrival at nightfall brought them straight to the castle. Theo's traveling cloak was loosened from his shoulders to reveal the robes he had worn as an assistant in his church, freshly laundered and repaired from his unceremonious eviction. He straightened the front of his robes and ran a hand through his newly-shorn hair (the priests of this temple kept their hair relatively short, so his long bangs had been cut that morning to avoid suspicion), cast Sloane a determined gaze and nodded, before setting forth towards the castle. He paused among the bushes lining the exterior, waiting. This was the time of night that purification was taking place, and if he was correct.. and there they were. A clutch of young assistant priests emerged from the gated areas to the side of the castle and he tagged onto the end of their group and entered through the double doors, mirroring their slow pace and keeping his eyes ahead and focused.
The large castle echoed with distant hymns and the smell of incense smoke. He heard chiming somewhere from the farthest reaches of the building. Standing in the small procession of priests, he picked up the thuribles and incense that lay available on a table for the evening's censing. Lighting his incense on a provided candle, he opened the top of the thurible and pushed the stick inside before loosening the chain so that it swung gently. The priests divided off into different regions of the castle and their chants joined those of others who echoed from deeper within, and Theo moved off towards the left, swinging the thurible as he went. He would start here and work his way up.
An hour's worth of censing and chanting had brought him to the upper reaches of the castle. He peered into rooms out of the corners of his eye as he passed and spotted darkened, empty interiors. Doors stood open for the evening purification so he came across none that were locked, and he was honestly surprised. Were they so sure of their security that they could afford to be this lax? Especially if they had an item of such renown as the one they had taken from the Mages.. but the item in question had been missing for countless years. Perhaps it was the passage of time that brought this ease of security. Regardless of this position he didn't let down his defenses for a moment and continued censing. At last he came upon a brightly lit room that lay in stark contrast to the darker ones he had passed; in immediate sight was a display in the center of the room, and the glimmer of metal caught his eye.
A long knife was displayed on a handsome marble podium. It gleamed in the candlelight, and when he had made sure that any footsteps had retreated from the area, he took a cautious step inside. The room was small but brilliantly lit by torches lining the plastered walls (which was such a surprise to him, given the stone exterior), and each light hit the knife's edge and adorning tiger's eye stones. The gold hilt winked playfully at him, reminding him much of his ring, but the eye was drawn toward the stones. They were also a bright shade of liquid gold, rather than the darker variety he had seen before. He scanned the room briefly and set the thurible down against the hallway wall.
This is what he had been looking for.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Jul 24, 2010 9:56 pm
Ⅹ. ❝ In which Theo discovers something about himself. ❞
A mission concluded. This is what he had been looking for. Of course. Tiger's eye plays a valuable part in magic, I recall reading this.. protection, when used properly.
He stepped over the threshold with the exhilaration of his discovery and felt something gently resisting his entrance. Theo took a step back in surprise and examined the doorway: nothing seemed unusual or out of place. With a determined frown he pushed forward and felt something pulse through him weakly before he broke through the other side. What was that? He glanced back at the doorway then turned back to his task and scanned the room. With a start, he was nearly surprised by the sight of the guard sitting by the door, but the man's gently breathing and soft snores told him he had fallen asleep. Careful steps and glances back towards the door led him towards the pedestal sitting in the center of the room, where his eyes lowered to the words engraved upon it.
Swift protection against enemies seen and unseen.
Theo snorted softly despite himself, If only they knew. Eyes lifting to the dagger, he grabbed it and held it between his up-ended palms. The stones were more brilliant up close.. he could see flecks of glittering light within. The large stone that rested in the center drew his eye in particular, and he reached out a stray finger to touch it..
As soon as skin made contact with the stone, it pulsed a bright shade of orange and he felt something move through him. It had felt just as the entryway had felt, and the force of this surprised him and he lost his grip on the dagger. It toppled from his finger tips as though in slow motion and he ducked behind the podium just as it clattered to the floor. He curled his limbs tightly against himself and silenced his breath when he heard the guard snort as he awoke, and stumble to his feet. Beads of sweat began to form on Theo's forehead as the steps echoed in the room when the guard approached. He could hear the rustle of clothing as the guard bent over and picked up the object in his hands. His chances of escape were withering with every passing second and he had to think fast before the guard found him.. something.. anything.
He sprang to his feet and the guard cried out in surprise, but Theo was too fast for him to sound the alarm properly and he grabbed the dagger in his hand instead. The guard had not relinquished it, as he expected, so the former priest touched the center stone and concentrated. Shield me, protect me.. I need protection.. ! The golden stone glowed faintly in reaction.. or was that just a trick of the torch light?
The sudden force of the spell nearly toppled him to the ground, but through a squinted eye he saw that it had sent the guarding priest back towards the wall, where he now sat in a slumped position as a giant knob purpled the top of his head. Theo stood there panting for a moment and pulled his hand from the stone. Had he just done that.. ? How had he.. ? But the questions had to wait; he still had a mission to finish. He glanced around quickly, peering out into the hallway for signs of aid for the guard, or anything that could help him smuggle the dagger out. There was nowhere to stow it in his robes, how foolish of him.. but then he remembered the thurible he had carried with him to the tower. It rested next to the doorway calmly expelling its scented smoke, and he pulled it in quickly to open the top. The incense had burned away for the most part, the last little nub falling into the charcoal. He spared a hesitant glance towards the dirty interior of the thurible, then quietly poured the contents out onto the floor, hidden by the slumped body of the guard. He pulled up his outer robe and reached for the innermost layer, and with a resounding yank ripped some of the brittle fabric free of the seams. He wrapped the dagger to protect it from soot and closed the lid, getting to his feet. Now was the time to move.
He walked calmly as he could, holding the thurible between his hands. Stairs were descended, the grand hallway crossed, and he emerged into the main hall, where a small number of priests performed the last of the censing and finished their nighttime duties. A couple that stood by the door glanced at him as he approached in question, their gazes falling to the thurible held in his hands rather than swinging from them. He reached the door and held the item up.
"I am cleaning out the thurible." The looks of question turned to nods and Theo nodded back cordially. Thank the powers he had seen that young priest doing the same in the garden when he had been researching the area, otherwise this may have proven more difficult. He emerged into the night air and shut the door softly behind him. He drew a shaky breath, inhaling, and exhaling to steady his nerves.
Mission complete.
Theo tried not to run as he moved towards the area where he would meet Sloane, but so much had happened this evening that his nerves were wired. He had performed magic. Him, the man crippled since youth, the one evicted from the church! He had overpowered a stronger man, fulfilled a mission! Exhilaration such as he had never known coursed through his veins, and as he did when trying to secure his place in the church, he felt the urge to learn more and see what he was really capable of. But he still had lingering questions. Why had the sword activated for him? Did the church even realize what it was capable of, and if so.. why hadn't they better protected it? There had been that feeble feeling of being pushed back when he had entered the chamber but other than that.. perhaps it only fully activated for those who were part of the Fellowship, since it was crafted by the Fellowship. He couldn't make too many guesses without feeling assailed by additional questions. Too many gaps were present. He would have to discuss this with the Lady Sage when he returned.
But again, questions could wait for the time being. First he had to return to Sloane. And then from there, to home. His home.
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 5:24 pm
ⅩⅠ. ❝ In which the Ring tells her tale for the first time. ❞ The night had cooled considerably as Theo lay awake, watching the ceiling with unfocused eyes. His fingers rolled the ring to and fro in order to stay busy. He had been unable to find proper rest since returning from the mission Lady Estratus had charged him with earlier that week. Exhilaration danced through the former clergyman's veins. Had he really done it? Had he truly performed magic and completed a successful mission? After the struggles he had undergone in his life, Theo felt that this was a compensation for the failures he'd found in past endeavors. Hopefully more would be following.
His fingers stopped toying with the ring and captured it instead, enjoying the feeling of smooth metal against his skin. The arm lifted and he held the object aloft to get a good look at it in the dim light of the inn room. It was still marred by the marks of the plague on its otherwise perfect surface, just as he had been marred by that blasted childhood illness that had nearly ruined his life. But this thing - he realized with another jolt - this thing had saved him. This would grow into a Plague like Sir Sloane.
Except this one would be female.
Theo lowered his arm when throbs of pain shot through him, and rolled over to attempt sleep again. The ring rested securely in his palm and he nestled under the itchy woolen sheets. His limbs ached from exertion, particularly his arms, which were not used to any kind of prolonged strain. But he was with the Fellowship now. Things had to be taking a turn for the better. There would be something he could do, there had to be.. something to correct these useless arms of his. He had already proved his worth to the Lady Sage, but he was ready to see what else he was capable of. He would prove himself again, and show that abysmal church how capable he was.
Was he concerned about revenge? Perhaps. The man mused on the idea while letting his eyelids settle into a shut state. Keepers were valuable, and soon enough they would know just what they had missed on.
And at some point, Theo fell asleep, entertaining ideas of a stronger, more capable man than what he was now.
Glorified images danced through his head as the early morning hours waxed on. He dreamed of confessing the high priest, who for some reason was wearing a worn, mud-stained dress.. he dreamed of making soup in a kitchen and then summoning magic minions to do it for him, all of whom brought to mind his ring.. he dreamed of Rosalie's home, of awaking to see her timid little daughter Ophelia watching him with saucer eyes, head tilted, while the quiet, heartbreaking sobs of the girl he had done confession for played in the background. But the girl seemed to have taken no notice, but merely stared at him, fingers curled around the edge of the bed and her face visible from the nose up.
Then a voice spoke to him. It came from the child, but clearly.. this was no child's voice.
"You did not abandon me." If the deepened, disdainful voice wasn't offputting enough, the fact that the child's expression did not waver to match her tone or words certainly was. Theo's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Why?"
"Because you did not abandon me." He was thinking of Rosalie as he said it, and the words came out slow and unsure, but somewhere in the back of his mind, his ring also came to mind. He was grateful for what Rosalie did. When his ring finally took on a new form, he would have to go back and show her - her and Ophelia both - that they had saved more than one life. His pride did not allow him to let other people in, nor admit his own insecurities, but he felt on the precipice of change now that he was with the Fellowship. The Lady was about offering kindness to all around her, after all. Perhaps he should endeavor, truly endeavor, to do the same. Perhaps cold, bitter Theo could really change. "You are important--"
"--t' me." The first light of dawn shone brightly through the window and onto his face, and when his own voice had awoken him he had barely recognized it. He winced against the light and moved to sit up, but something was settled against his hands, numbed from awkward positioning during the night.
Resting against the exposed palm of his hand was a small creature clothed in bright orange. Its dark skin gave off a heady perfume that Theo could only associate one word with - death. White eyes watched him half-lidded, and its mouth was turned down; the overall effect made it seem very weary, but set in its disdain. The suggestion of hips beneath the cloth made his heart give a small beat as he realized it was distinctly feminine, but he could do little more than stare back at the creature with cocked head. A number of glowing rings adorned her body at various places. The one behind her head gave the impression of a halo.
Rings.
His ring.
As if to add to the drowsy surprise he felt, the strange creature leaned forward and touched the tip of his broken nose to her mouth - an oddly gentle kiss from such a nightmarish-seeming thing. When she pulled away, the spot tingled for a moment.
"I am with you now." The voice from his dream came from her odd little mouth. "My savior." He still felt sleep lingering upon his mind, and the tilted head kept Ophelia's face fresh in his mind, despite clearly looking at something that was not a human child.
"Ophelia.." The name slipped from his lips as easily as speech can come in a dream. His ring watched back with the same expression, then something softened in its gaze.
"If that is what you wish to call me, it is done." The eyes closed, and she gave a nod. "Your Ophelia is here, and she will not leave you."
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 5:35 pm
ⅩⅠⅠ. ❝ In which Theo finally understands. ❞ Theo was not a man of impulse. In fact, his discipline was something that he prided himself on, among other things. He often lingered too long, puzzling over some issue or another in hopes of making himself look learned and impressive.
However, with the small Plague that had greeted him upon waking just under a week ago, all normality in his life dissipated forever. The reality of the situation - one that had yet to hit him since being evicted unceremoniously from the church he had lived in since he was a child and discovering he could channel magic - finally dawned upon him and smacked him with the speed of a runaway horse. He had hastily packed a small satchel with necessities and he and his Plague had tagged along on a supply train heading out of the bases. The small creature that was still so new to Theo had settled herself against his neck, hidden by the collar of his vest and tiny fingers gripping tightly to the fabric. The two had traveled in relative silence, with Theo only speaking to the traders in necessity. Ophelia, for her part, watched him with her heavy-lidded eyes that seemed to ask only one question: where are we going?
Theo was not a man of impulse. Despite the sudden departure from the Mages' Northern Base, there was a method to this madness: he had a point to prove to a certain seamstress. He had to show her what she had helped to save, and he had to show her daughter what now bore her name.
It was entirely possible that Rosalie would think he had gone mad. Or, she may simply faint as she had done upon encountering that young street urchin's Plague. She might very well alert his former fellows about his visit, but for some reason he did not care. When he had stood at the woman's door, her gaze carried something behind the usual criticism of his actions and beliefs - understanding, perhaps. Perhaps it was madness to bank on such a belief, but if he knew something about Rosalie, it was that she was not a woman who abided by falseness. After all, she had oftentimes criticized him on his own.
The caravan rolled into Colwe as the overcast sky darkened the afternoon, and Theo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat upon seeing the familiar buildings. Since he had started to call this city his home at the tender age of twelve, he had never associated it with any particularly happy thought; no, any true happiness had died along with the full use of his arms, the void filled with a thirst for recognition. Even now, the city only seemed foreign, as though he expected enemies to leap from the alleys and accost him.
The sharp northern winds cut into his thin arms when the caravan stopped in the city center. The driver told him that they were only doing a short reload before returning to the base, so his visit would need to be quick. Theo nodded - a few hours at the most was all he needed. His boots left dimples in the muddy streets, still wet from recent rain and not yet frozen by the impending winter frosts. Ophelia's fingers remained firmly clasped at his collar and he cast a careful glance down at her. She stared back with eyes that assured him, 'I'm here, I'm here.' The spires of his former church loomed over the rooftops of the poorer district he traveled through, but he chose not to acknowledge them. They had cast him out and he had made his choice. No turning back.
At last the faces of the buildings registered in his memories, and his breath caught momentarily in his throat upon seeing the familiar wooden exterior of the ramshackle house he had stayed in only a short month and a half ago. His walk slowed and stalled across the empty street, where he just gazed at the building as though willing Rosalie to come out. Questions plagued him and he found himself questioning his own judgment: how would Rosalie react to meeting Ophelia - this other Ophelia? He was confident enough that he could get away should she decide to sell out his presence to the church or someone worse; or rather, he did not want to think about if he could not get away. With one more look down at Ophelia, he merely nodded and crossed the pathway.
As he stepped onto the porch he was struck by the quiet that pervaded the neighborhood. Shyregoedians were used to the cold, old and young alike, and yet no children were running the streets. No traveler aside from himself shuffled along on their way. A cursory glance into Rosalie's window showed no light from within. A feeling of apprehension dawned anew, and he extended a shaky, black-gloved hand towards the door, which yielded with the gentlest of pushes. The door had not been shut.
The rusted hinges creaked, and the room within smelled of damp and rotted wood. The trunk that had held his belongings for three days was thrown open, the contents scattered about the floor. They lay there forgotten, torn, and covered in footprints and stains. The trail lead into the interior rooms, where a stool and table were overturned and broken. A sharp intake of breath alerted Theo to another sensation in the room: a musty, heavy scent that he could taste. One that was familiar, but he did not want to register. It was only when he felt his small companion stiffen and shudder against his neck that he diverted his attention from the room towards Ophelia. Her normally half-lidded gaze was wide open in an expression that he could not quite understand. He was not sure if he really wanted to.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"I can smell blood," the small Plague answered, and Theo felt ice drop into the deepest reaches of his insides. The same kind of mania that had driven him here, the need to prove to Rosalie that she had saved two lives instead of one, overtook him once again, and he tore through the house so suddenly that Ophelia had to clamp her fingers into his neck to hold on. He called out the seamstress' name, her daughter's name (to which his Plague would look to him in what he took as confusion when he did not return her gaze), but none answered. Each room showed similar signs of distress: disheveled and ruined fabrics, stained by mud and other dark, larger stains. Broken and upturned furniture, as though the house had been ransacked in a desperate search. The floorboards, moist from the rains and winds that had swept through the open windows, groaned under his feet and bore disturbing splatters. He did not go to investigate. He did not want to know.
He ended his search in the room he had recovered in. The bed had been sliced open and dampened hay blanketed the floor. The room smelled of decay. It felt as though he were choking, and he leaned against one of the support beams in the corner of the room. Signs of a struggle, the presence of blood, but no sign of Rosalie or her daughter. No indication as to who had done this, but Theo's lingering guilt quickly pinpointed the cause.
He leaned over, gripping the support beam with his feeble strength, and retched onto the floor. Ophelia watched the event with her normal detached fascination, and her tiny hands stroked the man's trembling neck. Wiping his mouth with an equally trembling hand, he turned towards her.
"You.. you smelled blood here," he gasped, swallowing another round of retching. He was not a man of impulse; he was master of his own body and there would be no more of this nonsense. Ophelia closed her lamp-like eyes and nodded.
"Yes," she replied in her flat voice. "But it is old blood." Theo glanced around the room one more time, and as the urge to vomit seized him again, he swallowed it back down and stumbled from the room. His blurring vision did not register the torn bits of ceremonial robe left to rot with the floorboards, nor did he see the dark splatters that painted one corner of the kitchen. He moved in a daze out the door and across the street, heading back towards the marketplace and the caravan. No turning back.
It was only several hours later as he and Ophelia were on the wagon heading back towards the Northern Base that he allowed his head to sink into his knees and his mind to shut out the world. Protected from the peering eyes of the rowdy traders by Theo's vest and travel cloak, Ophelia kept her bright eyes closed and continued to stroke her master's hair.
'I'm here, I'm here.'
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Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 10:05 pm
ⅩⅠⅠⅠ. ❝ In which there is much Idling and Ophelia grows Discontent. ❞ Words were of ever-growing importance to Ophelia. Her Theo had made it clear from their initial meeting that presenting the right impression to others required the right tools. She had not clearly understood at first what he meant, but her Theo, her savior, was always patient with her. A guiding hand gladly given steered her towards her first tools: a sharpened mind and a silver tongue. They had spent much of her early days at his small, empty work desk holding practice conversations. She sat on her knees with her hands politely folded in her lap and stared at him with her unwavering gaze. The man would notice the duration of her stares from time to time and give her a quick, uneasy smile. For some reason, this pleased the ring greatly.
“I will teach you what I have not been able to learn on my own, Ophelia,” he confided, and the ring nodded dutifully, ready to be a willing student. She had been curious about this man who was her protector, her keeper, and asked him of his past in bits and pieces. The more complex questions were difficult, but Theo would help her along. It was to her surprise that he was an excellent conversation partner, and she drank up whatever he told her, siphoning it away to the most secret reaches of her mind. It would not do to forget what he was imparting to her, and he was doing so very willingly, almost excitedly… curious, to be certain, but something that made her adjust her sash accordingly each morning before he awoke to sit just right on her minute frame.
Presenting the right impression to others required the right tools, did it not?
Even so, the monotony of their day to day life was beginning to sour the pleasantness of morning conversation. Theo spent much of his time pacing the room, turning his far-off gaze to the open window and the frostbitten lands beyond the headquarters of the Mages. Sometimes he would disappear for a few hours and come back with a heavy-bound book or two in hand that he would ponder for just as long a time as he was gone, before it was placed back into the short stack on the desk (and thereafter compulsively straightened). Ophelia herself had a keen interest in these heavy objects obstructing her own pacing on the desk, and one day asked Theo to teach her how to understand them. Quite clearly they had to be of some importance, in order to hold Theo's attention in such a way! Again, he was an eager teacher, and slowly the long, undecipherable lines on the parchment gained coherency. The wealth of subjects the different books he brought back was astounding to her, and just as her practice conversations had done prior, the books had resparked that unnamed appetite within her. The praise was sweet on her ears when she recalled portions from articles read a short while prior, and she savored it.
During this time it dawned on Ophelia that knowledge was a gift, and in order to see that spark of approval in her Theo's eyes, she would use it well.
Monotony would not be quieted so easily, and even with the store of new information available, conversation once again dwindled and idleness took its place. Theo resumed his usual pacing, although from time to time he would dig into the chest at the end of the bed and pull out a cloth-wrapped dagger. Ophelia was familiar with it, moreso from conversation with Theo than from seeing it herself, but the way that he sequestered it away and looked in secret tugged at the back of the Plague's mind. Her Grimm desired something, and at the moment it had nothing to do with her.
The realization soured her attitude even more. Her Grimm seemed unhappy and listless, and discussion of books or holding practice conversations no longer enticed him the way it had before. Something akin to panic settled within Ophelia's mind. What if Theo were to become bored of her? What would become of her then? In addition to these rampant thoughts bouncing around her head, she was also feeling a growing discontent of her own. She yearned to see the rest of the castle, as well as to see the library where Theo retreated to daily for hours at a time. A thought occured to her subsequently: perhaps if she were to learn more of the world around her and see the castle they were now calling home, perhaps Theo would become interested in her again. Perhaps it was worth a try.
She breached the subject one day as her Grimm had his head bent over another book on protective magics, the dagger displayed on the trunk. The afternoon sun was slanting in through the windows, and Ophelia, becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the silence, climbed from the bookshelf to the windowledge. A slight breeze ruffled the cloth around her waist and she gripped the ledge to keep her balance. Horse hooves echoed from the gateway below, signaling the return of the pages from Anica, bringing news of the surrounding world. The Northern Bases were suddenly feeling too claustrophobic for the small Plague.
"Theo," she ventured, "I wish to go out." Theo's eyes lifted briefly from the chapter he poured over and flickered back to the pages before she could turn around.
"Out? Of course not." His tone of voice implied that the mere idea were so ridiculous that it would have never crossed his mind.
"I would like to see the rest of the Northern Base," Ophelia continued, heavy eyes on Theo. With a sigh and the slightest bit of struggle against the heavy volume, Theo closed the book. "And the library. You bring me its books yet I am not allowed to choose my own." The man's lips quirked up in a slight smile.
"And would you know which books to choose if given the liberty?" His amusement at her agency lowered Ophelia's eyelids into slightly angry slits. This was a side of Theo she was not used to seeing, although she had yet to bring forth her own desires until this moment. "Why are you defying me so suddenly?" The manner in which he asked this question was almost foreign to Ophelia - quite unlike the Grimm that she had come to know and admire. The slight edge to his voice stung, but still she would not be swayed. Sure of her position, she held her head up and carried on.
"Why do you hide me?" Her tone did not change, but held the same firmness of voice that she normally used. "I have yet to see anything beyond these four walls other than the books that you have brought, and even then I have not seen where they come from." The words were now coming so easily and with her weapons, she marched forward. "I may only help you if you allow me to, my dear master. For that, I need to be allowed out with you."
Theo's blue eyes widened in astonishment, Ophelia's fingers clenching reflexively on her exposed hips. The air felt thick and uncomfortable, something she was not quite used to. She hated to incur that feeling in her Grimm, but this room was no place to spend the rest of her time. A knock at the door made both parties start, and Theo turned to the large wooden door and called, "Enter," as he turned his back to Ophelia to approach it. A small page boy pushed the door open and held a notice in his hand. Theo took the extended paper and scanned it briefly.
"It seems there is a festival of sorts.. and an invitation has reached this far north." His eyes dropped to the message in his hand, and he shoved it back towards the pageboy. "Thank you." The page bowed stiffly, awkwardly, and he scampered down the corridor towards the next room.
"A festival," Ophelia observed, testing the word. "I have read of those." Theo nudged the heavy oaken door closed with foot and free shoulder (a bit of normalcy in their daily lives after their unusual argument) and remained silent. The Plague glanced up at her Grimm and broke the silence with her request.
"I wish to go." The room seemed to echo with her low voice.
"No."
"Theo." She replied, as respectfully towards her Grimm as she could muster without sacrificing the sternness of her tone. "I wish to go."
Theo stood conflicted for a moment as irritation and acceptance battled for dominance within him. Ophelia herself remained firm and reassumed the stance she had taken just a few short minutes ago, with her hands pressed firmly on her hips and her gaze piercing. A few uncomfortable glances met her own and finally the irritation washed away from her master's face. Acceptance had won the fight.
"Very well." The sound of hooves on stone outside once again caught his attention and he drew slowly to the window so that both Plague and Grimm could survey the scene below. The messenger was leaving. "But do not expect it to be anything like what you have read." Disgust overtook the placid expression and he turned away.
"I will bear that in mind." Ophelia closed her eyes and nodded. Despite the initial sting of Theo's attitude, the victory dulled the pain.
Words were a weapon, and she would use them wisely.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 9:14 pm
ⅩⅠⅤ. ❝ In which Theo and Ophelia go to the Circus. ❞❝ Troupe de Panymium. ❞ ↪ For your consideration Here. Troupe de Panymium. Festival season.
Theo could barely disguise the old displeasure at being back in Colwe, much less at this gathering of dirty bodies for some mundane form of entertainment. These were the kind of events that he had watched from the windows of his former church with a detached feeling of superiority - he had better things to do, rather than tromp around in the mud with the common folk only to be entertained for a few hours at a time. In fact, he would not have come, dirtying his new clothing, if Ophelia had not persuaded him, after hearing word from the guards at the fortress. This place was disgusting.
"Stop it." He spoke quietly to himself and shook his head. That was not the way to act. That was the old attitude - if he were to change, the old attitude must be rectified. To be a productive member of the Fellowship, he must be more accepting.He owed this much to Rosalie to at least attempt to have a good time. He owed it to Ophelia - his Ophelia - to do the same. But now that they were here, the little Caedos watched the crowds with the same distant annoyance that Theo was trying to quell. Her white eyes peered out from the collar of his new coat, the orange fabric that enveloped her scratching his neck.
"How disgusting." She scrambled momentarily against the skin of his shoulder to stand up. "Look, Theo. Your boots are getting so caked in mud." The tiny voice held a hint of dismay, and Theo felt himself touched by her concern, however ill-placed it seemed.
"Don't lean out too far," He advised, and nudged the Plague back inside his collar with a gentle push of his finger. She waited a moment and sat still, the coat doing its job of keeping her hidden from the crowds, but she soon grew bored of this obedience and leaned forward again.
At this point in time, what Theo figured to be the troupe leader (judging by his ridiculous appearance and need to be center stage, anyway) made an announcement that the grand finale was about to begin, the crowds moved forward, and he drifted along with everyone else (not that he had too much choice, with how many people had collected around the makeshift stage). They came all this way, so might as well stay for the final performance, right? As he was about to suggest this idea to Ophelia, somebody on his right-hand side pushed hard into him and sent him stumbling into the person on the other side. The two shoulders bumped rather smartly and Ophelia would have nearly tumbled down the front of Theo's shirt if he hadn't reached his other hand up to secure her.
"Oh -- ! My apologies." The former priest scooted a step or two from the woman he had knocked shoulders with, but was soon again pressed into her by the force of the crowd gathering closer to the stage. He tried to offer one of his stored "apologetic" smiles, but soon the changing of his features stopped cold in surprise.
He.. he remembered this woman. Where had he seen her before?
Upon entering his quarters, Theo deposited the gold and silver bell Plagues he had collected from the battlefield into a basket resting on the armoire by the door. "I apologize for not.. uhm. Having better quarters. This was, uh, unexpected." Ophelia remained near his collar as she looked down her non-existent nose at the interlopers. Why should her Theo make these embarrassing apologies to these worthless, masterless Plagues? They still clung to his fingers fearfully, and he had to gently shake his hand to make them release him. When he stopped, his hands still trembled, and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind of what had just happened. Ophelia's gaze looked with concern at her master, watching his eyes dart from the window to the door and then back again, but it quickly soured when she saw the bells staring with equal concern. A trembling hand came up towards her and she obligingly stepped on, and she, too, was deposited on the table.
"If I --" he paused uncomfortably, trying to sort himself. "Ophelia, see to them. I must see to others." With that, he was out the door again. Likely running to help that emotionally-stunted waif, the ring thought with disgust. She turned towards them and made her warning perfectly clear.
"You are not to touch him in that fashion again." The ring Excito gave them a withering look behind her deadpan eyes. "This will be the first and last time you will ever do so." Something in her voice carried a deeper threat, and the bell Plagues remained in the basket side by side, shuddering. They clasped each other's hands for comfort, knowing they would not find it here. The unemotional mage would not help them now. The ring, on the other hand, had other plans for them, her gaze upon them never wavering.
Again, they shuddered.
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