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 Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 5:41 pm
"Oh, certainly, your life is none of my business." Adal returned the pale lady's retort with a wistful grin, the ends of his cheeks pulled with curt politeness and a kind of... peachy anguish. He had certainly found Miss Amanrathe, though there was little in the Locos to deal with a lady's spur of anger. He had come to deal with the Plague, though it certainly wasn't dealing with him. On most ends, it was guaranteed that Adal would meet his problems face-to-face, though this time he was not particularly staring at the problem, merely the cause of it. He was staring right at the tiny lump that was the matchbox, which was the cage for the little Candy Plague.
He didn't want to frighten the poor lady with his incessant sniffing, so he merely observed with his eyes. The faint trace of sweet sugar and succulent Death lingered-- wasn't such a smell a waste of time on such an imprisoned little thing?
Then Adal stared at Beatrix with a sharp frown. "Ah, yes, the oppressed. The poor. Us. Do you enjoy playing the role of the oppressor, then, Miss Amaranthe? Your little piece of Candy is rotting away in your pocket, wasting away, under the rule of man." A bitter chuckle followed. "Of course, a child is always so like their parents..."
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Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 6:53 pm
Beatrix found herself immensely frustrated with this presence, though she had enough mental will to keep herself from showing it. At the very least she could stand these types of comments rather this aggressive and forward behavior. The boy seemed dangerous to her, and talking to him was easier then him moving any closer to her.
As far as she was concerned, she wanted to move away from him as soon as possible.
The question was, how was she going to get away from him?
However, it seemed that he saw fit to irritate her any more. Her, an oppressor? And then, worse, making an assumption about her parents. Her parents... and thoughts of her father made a cold anger seep into her eyes in connection to the word plague. "You don't anything about me and yet you stand here and say those words to me. You should be ashamed of yourself. But I doubt such concepts apply to the likes of you." Clearly, she didn't think very highly of Plagues.
Nor did she want to listen to him after what he had said.
She moved one step to the side, but no further. "Let me pass." Her hands were balled up into fists, ready to attack if she made a move on her.
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Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 10:00 pm
"Fair lady, I've made no assumptions about you, save for your behavior on your Plague, whom you refuse to let me see. If you wish to make things personal, you'll simply provide for yourself. Do you simply detest the idea in realizing the position you're in, and why I've even come here to talk to you today, Miss Amaranthe?"
With a deep sigh, Adal watched as Miss Amaranthe inched to the side, her pale hands cupped into fists, then shook his head. If ever there was a reason to give into a lady's anger, this was it; diplomacy was impossible amidst those who thought they were capable, and both he and the miss were amongst that group. His words were being twisted, certainly, for the lady sought to reflect his commentary on the aspects of her life, and not the subject of his conversation... the silence of the Plague in her pocket irritated him, by now-- was it being so subservient as to ignore her words, or was it merely muffled inside of that stuffy, impudent little matchbox?
There was a way he could retrieve it, it was simple enough, many ladies of her class didn't fight particularly well, especially without a weapon at hand. With a shrug, Adal stood up, as his yellow eyes stared at Beatrix with a concrete frown. The blond's eyes narrowed as he took off his hat and cupped the top with his palm, as if ready to see a lady off as she exited a building, though he couldn't get himself to smile-- a curt raise of the lips were there in place.
"I do not care about your life, Miss Amaranthe. I simply care about your Plague. In the Doctor's perspective, what would be your child."
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Posted: Mon Sep 13, 2010 12:36 pm
Beatrix once again found new frustration, but there was an added confusion that she had momentarily forgotten about. She had been concerned about the fact that this boy was harassing her, but not as to the reason why he was harassing her. But judging from the fact that he knew her name and had seemingly come looking for here... well, she still had no clue as to why he had been seeking her out.
At least, not anything further then the fact that it had something to do with the thing in her matchbox.
"The position I'm in? And what position would that be?" She asked, still angry, but not appearing coy or anything of the sort. She truly didn't understand what he wanted with her.
Then, the boy seemed to change demeanor, though it did not change her suspicious regard of him. If he thought he could trick her, why... Her fists were ever balled up, ready to fight. If he thought that she would disappoint in that category, he would be wrong.
"My child. It is not my child!" She said in horror, a dreading kind of horror rather then outrage. It was impossible for her to think of the thing in her pocket to be her child. "Doctor? What doctor?" She asked further, though she took another side step nonetheless.
A doctor... A doctor was a person she knew to be good. Her father had been a doctor, and he had been a good man.
And what of this... doctor?
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 10:13 pm
Adal looked unto the lady with a look of displeasure, in a growing impatience. He had expected her to turn and leave immediately, though he sighed and shifted around the hat in his hands in a fit of thought, as he straightened his slightly crooked back as Miss Amaranthe clenched her fists in defense even firmer yet.
"That Plague in your matchbox is your child, Miss Amaranthe, not by birth, but by guardianship. I can assure you, this Plague of yours is your responsibility, your responsibility to grow and to see that it is well."
With another deep sigh, Adal put back on his hat, his knuckles rested against the sides of his waist. He hated repeating himself, surely, though it was his responsibility to give even this lady the message she was to be given, lest he wished to defy and humiliate his duties.
"The Plague Doctor, madame, the overseer of all living and existing Plagues in all of Profugus. The Doctor, surely, that you hear about, that travels and exists with the wind, and ensures the wellbeing and peace between humankind and Plaguekind."
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Posted: Tue Sep 21, 2010 5:14 pm
Beatrix was wary of this boy and a speedy exit did not seem to be like it would be in her favor, especially when he had more to say. Evidently this seemed like a problem that would not go away, considering she was not parting with the creature holed up in her matchbox.
Still, she didn't seem to be entirely happy with the things that this man was telling her, but apparently there seemed to only be one right answer if she wanted to get away unscathed.
"I see." Beatrix said flatly, almost devoid of emotion. She didn't see why this thing was her responsibility, not when she hadn't asked for it.
Plague Doctor... Yes, she supposed she had heard him - but wasn't he supposed to be more like a legend? When one was concerned with these Plagues it was hard to distinguish what was fact and fiction. "What good has the plague done us? Why should we act civil to something that has killed us by tens of thousands?" It was bitter and cold, taking one more side step, inching herself to freedom.
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Posted: Thu Sep 30, 2010 8:20 pm
"The Black Death has killed millions, and we Plagues are the only things that have aided in curing it directly. If you simply wish to ignore my words, and that the Plagues cannot choose the origins of their birth, Miss Amaranthe, then leave." He put on his cap again with a disheveled grunt, his poise now hollowed of any patience or courtesy. He would rather die twice than to argue with the nature of this woman's discrimination again-- he had seen Grimms of this nature before, and more than several times had he taken their Plagues away from them. Other times this stripped them of their status, other times it did little at all-- either way, this was his job, his chore, and he did not plan on breaking his conduct to a single lady quite so easily.
He would gain his earns in the most 'civil' way he could muster.
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Posted: Sun Oct 03, 2010 2:45 pm
"And I fight for the curing of this disease. I work with the Council in hopes of a cure." Beatrix refuted, though she made no mention of Plagues. Such a thing did not come into the equation for her, though she knew that the Fellowship used such tactics. But she did not work with them, but rather the cold hand of science.
Medicine, doctors and scientists.
That's how it had to be done.
"As far as my responsibility... I have kept this matchbox safe and no harm has come to it." She said sternly, taking one more step to the side, hands ever tensed to reach for the weapon hidden in her pocket.
But what she did know is that this was a battle that she needed to flee from. Mankind could not combat these creatures with mere words.
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Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 1:59 pm
Ah, of course... a woman of the Council. It didn't take much more thought for Adal to realize the strength of sheer will he was dealing with, even if the Council stood before him now in the form of an unassuming fragile woman, whose form was flatly presented and extravagantly dressed. Yes, it was the women of the Council whose eyes would rather lay anywhere else but the inhumane, the Plagues, in this case, whose birthright had severed the women from livelihood to near extinction. It was the women of this continent that seemed to suffer the most, the childless mothers, the motherless orphans, widowers and widows... Miss Amaranthe had suffered, had reacted so strongly to the brunt of Adal's words, that Adal had dismissed the idea of negotiating with her altogether.
He needed another human for this, someone other than he, and it was a lackluster gamble on his part to wait for his brother to come back around and find him, but the Locos bowed and hid away what spitting arguments and insults he had in mind. Negotiation was, at this point, merely a way to linger for time, and enough time had been spent with idle fussing.
She was right, after all, she had kept up with the basic responsibilities of a Grimm-- she had taken care of her 'matchbox' and kept it safe within the contents of her skirt's pocket. But he knew someone more prepared for the job, and Miss Amaranthe's time with the Plague would rightly be turned over.
"Then your responsibilities are no longer yours, your job is with the Council, mine with your Plague. Give me the matchbox."
Meanwhile, Georgie's search had been nothing short of frantic prattle-- drowning in the vast sea of Imisese marketeers, he lifted up arms and pulled himself through the nooks and crannies of people pulled close together, and his apologies had run short as quickly as he'd run out of patience and breath. The side of him hugged the wall of worn buildings as he recalculated and retraced his steps, poking his head through any alleyway in his way...
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Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 3:25 pm
Beatrix watched the boy, ever stone faced. She didn't feel like she needed to explain herself, not to this Plague, not what had happened to her or her care of this Plague. It wasn't his to take away - especially not his to take away. And for him to demand it was a ridiculous notion indeed. He would not have it, he would not take it from her.
And she would make sure of that.
Her face softened up, however, as if she was seeing his words as a compromise. She would then be able to fully concentrate on her work and not worry herself with the Plague. With a slow nod she reached into her pocket, rummaging for a moment before deciding to bolt down the alleyway, extracting an object from her hand - a knife, rather then a matchbox. If the boy pursued her she would use any means necessary to ensure that he did no longer.
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Posted: Tue Oct 12, 2010 5:47 pm
And thus, the race had commenced.
Adal sprung to his feet to join Miss Amaranthe's haphazard sprint with a sigh and knitted brows, his pace little more than a jog, lest he wished to run into strangers even more-- the succulent scent of warm candy trailed through the flowing crowd like a thrumming pulse, just barely signaling to him the location of the lady in the mutest of smells. Miss Amaranthe's concealment of the Servos within that dreaded matchbox had hindered his senses to an overwhelming degree, though his loose lack of direction did not reflect on his other practiced sense-- barreling through the crowd.
It was at this point that dodging past and shouldering past whoever stood in his way was most crucial, and with a rather loud voice, the Locos warned those who passed through to get out of his way. Several times he passed through like a ghost, and others he pushed strangers out of the way with a rough shove, sending them toppling over the next nearest marketeer. Being of a short stature was a detriment, and the boy paused every few moments to poke his neck through to see where, exactly, the raven-haired lady was going to.
"Move out of the way-- MISS AMARANTHE!-- Damn-- Wait--"
Just barely comprehensible to Adal's blurring vision was his brother, just barely taller than he, whose frazzled brown hair mulled through the crowd at a turtle's pace, though his head was lowered. With one last yell, Adal pushed himself against the shoulder of some unknowing man, it was clear to he that the oblivious Georgie's figure was moments away from colliding with Miss Amaranthe, who was so frantically running away from Adal.
"GEORGIE!"
The brunette jerked his head up, though is idling was pressingly stopped when the lady in question ran into him, sending him to the ground back-first--
((Tell me if you'd rather not have Georgie run into Beatrix~))
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Posted: Sat Oct 16, 2010 4:05 pm
There was nothing else that mattered other then getting away.
And though her less then polite way of pushing her way through the crowd wasn't very lady-like, she wasn't altogether too concerned. Appearances were for times when one wasn't being concerned by a psychopath (or at least that's what the Plague was currently in her mind since he was still pursuing her.)
In the distance she could hear her name being called but she ignored it, allowing her legs to take as far away from the voice as possible. At least she knew that even if the boy managed to catch up with her it wouldn't matter, since he could not force anything out of her in broad daylight.
But the point was to get away from him.
She heard the voice again, but it was calling for a different name. Instead, her eyes flickered in her near vicinity to the other member of the duo, and she gladly collided it and sent him to the ground and kept running, running, running.
Because there was no man or thing on this earth that could take anything from her.
Not anymore.
And if they tried they would befall on all the wrath of a woman scorned.
[Uh, if Georgie runs into her she'll probably stab him or something. xD
So for his sake he might not want to.]
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Posted: Thu Nov 25, 2010 11:26 am
(( If that is what Beatrix will do, by all means. ;D ))
Georgie fell to the floor and a hollow ringing confounded his already stuffy head. He managed to plant his hands onto the floor before warily snapping his gaze about, eyes wandering aimlessly at the person who must've sent him flying to the dirt. Without another trace of thought, he crouched low and tried to stand up, though the pulsating life of the crowd and his aching head made it hard for him to concentrate.
Until, of course, Adal's voice came back to mind. The brunette glanced up at the blond that was surging past, and as if chased by a fire, Georgie scrambled to his feet and went on his merry way. Eager though brash encouragements from his blond brother lividly thrummed to the back of Georgie.
While Adal was quick, Georgie was simply closer ot the woman, and while Georgie's sprint was sloppy, so was Miss Amaranthe's. One hand clung dearly to the rim of his hat as he lowered his back and mustered the bravado to quicken his pace, if only by a little. Broken voice and all, the boy shouted, "M-- Miss Amaranthe! Please, wait a m-moment!"
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:31 pm
Running, running, running.
That's all she needed to do right now, just keep running until she got home, in the safe confines of those four hollow walls and then she would make herself forget about all of this. Because she knew how to and because she could. Beatrix did not want to entertain this notion that she was perhaps just as cruel as what befallen upon her. She was not, it simply wasn't possible that the two could be compared. That wretched, wretched boy... how dare he talk to her in such a way.
Her hand still resided in her pocket, holding tightly the only thing that could protect her. The pair would be foolish to pursue her even now, when she was dangerous and ready to strike at any moment. Her ears picked up the sound of the boy - no, not that boy, the other one - and she whipped around and lunged forward at him with the knife, pressing against his clothes as a fraction of her senses had a moment to look at him, to make her realize he fully wasn't her enemy. He was just a scrawny boy, just a child - he was human, he didn't want to hurt her... The knife stood there, daring to pierce him.
But that didn't mean she wouldn't stand her ground.
"You have no more right to take it from me then I do to kill you. But if you persevere with your train of thought I will with mine." It was a dark whisper, and her hand was perfectly steady. Perhaps she had done this before, or thought about it enough - or perhaps her mind was fragmented that such a thing didn't faze her her, not while she was being threatened.
[Don't mess with Beatrix, man. She's one crazy gal, haha~ Poor Georgie, at knife point.]
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Posted: Tue Dec 07, 2010 6:51 pm
How many times was there a confrontation by a Grimm at knife point? Georgie haphazardly tried to recollect the last time it did and, to his bleary knowledge, there was none.
As such, and with the added factor that he was already quite sloppy in the first place, there was not much else to do for the freckled boy in this strange situation. Being chased away by Adal's shouting, chasing a woman who'd been chased by Adal, being threatened for doing his job--
--being pointed at with a knife--
Wide-eyed, Georgie's senses crumpled like a brittle piece of paper as he shrunk well within the proximity-- too close-- of Miss Amaranthe's weapon. His cheeks were pink and flustered, but his eyes were too shot with surprise to close. "P-please, M-miss Am-Amaranthe, let g-g-go of t-the knife..."
Beckoning a paranoid woman was difficult enough, but the boy was hard of breathing, and he could barely collect his words past a bundle of stutters and raspy whispers. Just as Georgie pinched his lips closed and managed to squeeze his eyes shut, his flaxen Plague pushed past the increasingly bothersome crowd. Adal managed to kick up a bed of dust beneath his feet as he came to an abrupt halt, brows pinched together with aggravation and worry at the sight of the two.
"Miss Amaranthe, please! Do you understand what you're doing?" The Locos kept himself statue-still, his eyes glued to Miss Amaranthe's knife. "There was no harm meant in my words, if you'd just listen!"
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