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 Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2011 5:13 pm
A silent groan escaped the man’s lips as he came to once more. The setting has changed, and he was more than confused as reality took control.
The last thing he had remembered was being transported to a different location through magic. A stranger’s grip on his wrist, the grip tighter then he would have liked, and darkness taking over. This was beyond bizarre for the poor nomad. It took a little longer for reality to settle than expected, and when it did, he panicked.
Where was Clance?
The existence of this question had completely emptied his mind, and had blinded him to the setting itself. He would have stood up from the giant crowd just to find the tiny excito if his legs haven’t felt so alien to him at the moment.
His charge is missing, and this is sending him into panic mode. However, finally tuning into the sound of the setting, the Grimm finally took notice of the stage. A familiar sight of tainted items lingers on the stage as if on expedition, and tiny figures lying just slightly behind. Were all the plagues separated from their Grimms? He would have asked, but the pressure of both the setting and situation has left him completely terrified. Seymour was simply frozen to his sit.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It was strange. This wasn’t what he was used to waking up to.
A sound of discomfort came from his tiny mouth as he woke up in a foggy haze. Everything felt strange, and his limbs felt heavier than usual. Clance tried to push himself up, but it took a lot more effort than expected and he didn’t get very far from the wooden planks before him.
What is going on? There are plagues, big and small, everywhere. Strangers, every one of them.
There’s a foggy mess of colors before him, what is it? Where was Seymour? The silly man’s going to panic.
Was that golden colored excito talking? What is she saying? Clance gave himself another rather hard shove, throwing himself backwards and into a sitting position. He was surrounded by strangers, but they were all plagues (were they?) so it can’t be that bad. He could hear others speaking but he was beyond confused.
What is happening?
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Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2011 7:28 pm
Wickwright stiffened as two things happened- the Guards approached and he and Chauhn were specifically singled out. Well, Finch men attracted trouble, and Wickwright was well used to it, but never in such a dignified forum. His ancestors had never been given opportunity to incite trouble with faction leaders and the Emperor's guard in Helios! Clearly he was moving up in the world, although now was no time to dwell on the achievement, such as it was. Now was the time to observe a different Finch tradition, namely getting out alive with all his bits in tow. Unfortunately, one of his bits was on a stage, quite separate from him, so this required some consideration. The guard appearing had made Chauhn more cautious at least, so Wickwright merely shot the speaker his most elderly look and steepled his fingers under the seat, attempting to think about his next move. After a few moments, he began to mutter to Chauhn almost inaudibly, thinking aloud at someone like he had become so used to with Hopkin.
"They don't want to harm us," he decided, "Or rather, it's exceedingly unlikely. If they were to cull the Panymese Grimms, they would have been more insistent on universal attendance. The fact that there are so few of us here, and even fewer of importance means that killing us would be unwise politically, there are still too many Grimms not in attendance to use a trick on us that would only work once. At any rate, if they were to kill us, they would have done it when first we arrived, unless they wanted something from us. They can't want our Plagues, they have them already, and they can't kill our Plagues, since they promised us transportation from this place and there would be enough angry Grimms after that fact to incite a riot. No matter how these people feel about Plagues, they are legally our property, and if we go and make other Grimms feel threatened, we could become more of a nuisance than the Emperor would want to deal with, especially after the riots in Imisus." He bit his lip. "They are offering even a wanted thief amnesty here. I believe, Clemmings, our best course of action is to wait."
Behind the Anhelo at the podium though, he saw the Plagues begin to move and mentally cursed. There was no way of telling them to calm down, and if the Grimms' resistance was to be treated in such a strong manner, sending guards even after Chauhn's initial shock, there was no telling if the Plagues' resistance would be equally damning. Even if he did nothing, there was thus more than a chance of Hopkin being in danger still. "Clemmings, Clurie and Hopkin may be in greater peril than they are now if they do not collect themselves. You saw how the guards moved so quickly against you, do you think they would have any more scruples in dealing with things that are not even human?" Plagues had far fewer rights that he was aware of than Grimms, considering they were property. In the arena of the law, their motions were even less wise than what the Grimms could conspire to do. He could only hope that they would settle down, but if even one of them made an outburst like Chauhn had, he hesitated to imagine what the consequences might be.
This was considering Chauhn had even been listening. Wickwright was used to muttering and assuming his audience was hanging onto his every word. He was, after all, a Finch man, and Hopkin had always treated him with the due reverence that title deserved!
Hopkin himself had his own situation to cope with, and was finding an unlikely ally in Clurie Not-Clemmings. He had watched with shock as Clurie lifted him to where he wanted to go, and in that moment, he felt a pang of regret for not wanting to be correctly categorized with the terrifying Plague. Unthinkingly, he reached back for Clurie's hand, and to his surprise, his limb worked most readily. He let out a startled "Oh!" and then another at the sound of his voice working. The return of his voice brought other thoughts bubbling rapidly in his mind though, and for the moment, Clurie was quite forgotten as he rushed to Lettie and Chayele Meschke, his first friends, his friends. "Chayele Meschke, Lettie Arelgren!" he exclaimed, and then paused, looking at the cocoa Plague as if he was not quite sure who he was seeing. "Is that your name, Lettie?" he asked with evident concern. "Wickwright and I met your Grimm on a frozen lake. He admitted to me that you and he had broken acquaintance. I fear that I was wrong when last we met, that perhaps you are most definitely changed after all." Hopkin could not fathom a fate more terrible, and the pretty ribbon Plague was most undeserving of it. If he was half so lovely as her, he would feel much better about his Plagued form, so he did not see the sense in Dorian Arelgren abandoning her. "Lettie-"
His attention was turned once more by the arrival of Armaud, and as she spoke, his frown only deepened. He looked in alarm as other Plagues began to agree with this newcomer, and he shook his head, clinging onto a statement of Clurie's as a last beacon of sanity in this sudden shift of tides. "You admit you are a trickster!" he stated, clearly appalled, "A bender of truths, and yet you ask us to trust you? On what grounds could we possibly throw our fates to a stranger? As of yet, there has been no threat against us but the separation from our Grimms, who have all been promised amnesty from violence in this place. Why should we believe that we must escape when the words come from an admitted liar?" He stood more carefully next to Clurie, looking up at him slightly. Though the Plague did not seem totally against what the small Caedos was saying, he saw reason to distrust her, and, more importantly, was big enough for Hopkin to hide behind if events became even more troubling. "I request proof that we should escape," he quavered, "For I see no reason to trust you when you have practically said we should not."
He wished Wickwright were here most ardently. He wanted dearly to be reunited with his Grimm, but to follow a liar into the fire seemed unwise even to him. If there was a Finch here to tell him what to do, everything would make sense. Even another Jawbone Man, such as Yawley, would be welcome company in comparison to the kind who would openly tell him of its tricks and then say 'do as I do.' Beseechingly, he sought out him Grimm's face in the audience once more, but found him once again paying attention to Chauhn Clemmings. Frustration welled up in his chest and he turned more firmly to the situation at hand. Barely anything made sense to him in the Wide World, but he at least knew what to do with liars. Oh, but what to do when a liar admitted themselves so openly! How was one ever to tell if they were lying about that as well?
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Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2011 11:02 pm
There was a pressure in her chest, one that tightened and stole her breath, and yet left her aching, hollow, at the harsh words that Clurie had thrown her way. It was a new sensation. He had never spewed such venom to her, always treating her as something valued. No, she had only heard that darkness when he spoke of Chauhn, who had attempted to snub him into ash.
Had become so like the Clemmings boy in her absence, and if so, had it been a mistake in logic on her part? No, not that. A misunderstanding of emotions. She frowned, but had no answer for the Anhelo, not so surrounded by others, when both her mind and... heart[?] were so uncertain. The issue at hand, though, she could focus on.
Scanning the surrounding plagues, she took a quick category of them, those she recognized, and those she did not. Fillin received the subtlest of nods, and her gaze lingered on Blaithe before shifting on toward newer, and more troublesome excitos.
"Come, now," Hayat's sharp, pointed words were sudden, cutting ruthlessly through Hopkin's mistrusting words. "Are you so foolish as to believe that the simple act of listening to a plan is the same as acting upon it it?"
Her dark eyes narrowed, then, as she turned them toward Armaud, and made her intent clear. "Do not think this to be a vote of confidence, for you are unknown to me. Tell us your plan, and more importantly, how you have come to know more than all of us. Who, exactly, is your Grimm, Caedos?" It was as important a questions as 'who are you,' for a plague.
Hayat's words echoed Clurie's in demand, and she found herself unexpectedly grateful as he reached for her. She stepped delicately into the familiar cage of his fingers, her own tiny digits curling around one ashen claw to steady herself.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 1:08 am
As more of the Grimms surrounding him began to awaken, to notice their separation from their Plagues, and then to raise their voices in alarm, Coyotl found that their unease was catching. He shifted where he sat, alternately casting worried glances at the crowd around him and peering down at the stage below, in an attempt to pick out his own Plague among the doll-like figures scattered about. Eventually he caught sight of a tiny white-and-blue-robed speck among the sluggishly moving Excito, and breathed a small sigh of relief. It looked as though Lucky was simply lying motionless atop the stage, and while this sight might have worried some Grimms, the postman was hardly surprised by it. That was, for the most part, exactly the sort of behavior he'd come to expect from the Phasmas.
Coyotl's attention was drawn quickly back to the gathering of humans, however, as he heard someone several rows of seats behind and to the right of him begin to kick up quite a fuss. He twisted uncomfortably in the chair, not wanting to stand for fear that his knees might not be as awake as the top half of his body. He was almost surprised at how unsurprising it was to see that squarely in the middle of the ruckus was Wickwright Finch, attempting to restrain a young boy, who had apparently been trying to clamber past the seats toward the stage. Instinctively, Coyotl wanted to hail the older man, since in his experience Finch almost always knew more than he did about nearly everything. The sudden appearance of a troop of Imperial guardsmen, however, made him think twice. They were reacting to the boy's sudden outburst of movement, that much he could tell, but nonetheless, Coyotl had no desire to possibly attract their attention himself. Better to keep his head down for now. (If Finch ever again tried to nag him about keeping out of trouble, he thought with a snort, he wouldn't have any of it.)
Then the silver-skinned Anhelo was speaking once more, and Coyotl did his best to divide his attention between his surroundings and the speaker, with less than stellar results. The words that did make it through were not comforting. Obscuvans? Wanted thieves? What sort of meeting was this meant to be? The postman grew increasingly fidgety as Erasmus spoke. Without even his own Plague to talk to, he had no outlet for his nervousness; though Lucky never had much to say about anything his Grimm said, the act itself was a stress-reliever.
What to do, then? He couldn't just sit there, he felt as though he might pop from the anxiety. He had to talk to someone, anyone really-- preferably someone who might have some idea of what was going on. So he stood, pleased to find that his knees had no trouble supporting his weight, and began to migrate down a row of seats, slowly, nearly doubled over in an effort to be as unobtrusive as possible.
Eventually, he spotted a man wearing clothes that were several degrees cleaner and finer than those of a good many of the other Grimms present, and began slouching toward him, trying not to step on any feet as he did so. Those dressed in the most expensive-looking clothes, he theorized, would be more likely to have some knowledge of just what was going on than someone who looked as low-class as himself. Approaching the man from behind, he tapped him on the shoulder lightly.
"'Hoy," he half-whispered. "D'you know what's..."
Then he caught a decent glimpse of the man's face, and recoiled sharply.
"Oh, no," he blurted, with a look of mingled embarrassment and extreme distaste. "s**t."
If he'd ever known or been told Dorian Arelgren's name, he'd long forgotten it, but Coyotl's memory for faces was sharp. There was no mistaking it: this was the would-be marauder who had accosted the caravan of Plague victims that Wickwright had been escorting earlier that same year.
It was just his luck that while anxious to avoid both criminals and Obscuvans, he would run right into a man who was both.
---
Lucky was becoming very confused. This wasn't unusual, but that did not make the fact any more enjoyable for him. He would have been perfectly content to lie in the sunlight indefinitely; the increasing noises and movement around him, however, made him feel as though he might be stepped on at any moment, and so he reluctantly began to move.
With a tiny grunt of exertion, he pulled one arm up across his chest, shifting his body weight clumsily until he had rolled over onto his front. Unsure of what to do next, he pushed at the ground with both hands, trying to lever himself up into a crouch, but his long sleeves had become scrunched up underneath his torso, and hampered his movements. Ultimately, he only succeeded in rolling over onto his back again. This process repeated itself several times, and he could feel himself bumping into several tiny sets of feet before he managed, finally, to wriggle upright.
He sat, disheveled and panting, staring at his fellow Plagues as many of them ringed around a Caedos dressed in brown, who was addressing them as a group.
"... you must listen to me! I am Armaud, a trickster, and I am quite good at escaping! You might see an open stage, but I see a cage, a tricksy one. A tricksy one that tries to keep us safe, because the Council is afraid, afraid that the Emperor will not like us! Will you help me help you?"
Though he had lost sight of the Plague called Armaud behind the backs of other Excito, Lucky had still caught the tail end of what she had to say; the responses it garnered, however, were too jumbled for him to absorb, with some Plagues addressing Armaud directly and others murmuring amongst themselves, talking over each other and interrupting. Frowning to himself, the koi dipped his head low and brought up his sleeve-covered hands to place over his hears, in an attempt to work through his thoughts without distraction.
The Caedos had said they were in a cage. Lucky had some concept of what a cage was. Animals were put in cages, he remembered with some effort, to keep them safe, or to keep other things safe from them. Indeed, Armaud had said herself that that was why they were caged-- to be kept safe. So why should they want to escape? He didn't understand at all. Having spent the majority of his life confined in some way, he was used to it; it was almost a comfort to him.
Lowering his hands, Lucky stared up at the gathered Plagues again, face still pinched with unhappiness, listening to their voices without comprehension. If it meant he was safe, he would be perfectly happy to stay right where he was.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 5:59 am
(Don't mind me bros, I'm such a late poster D: )
Georgio was not so thrilled to attend an important meeting anymore. First pain, then waking to find his faithful little teapot sitting upon a stage. Was it to be stolen? When had they taken it from the now empty bag at his hip? The thought of loosing it so soon was distressing to say the least. And before it even sprang to life like his little Earl had. He wasn’t sure when he’d come to think of the tiny menagerie fondly, but as he found himself in strange surroundings, with strange people, he missed them dreadfully. Fog had clouded his thinking for a time before he’d come to realize he wasn’t at home, or in a carriage, or even in Mishkan anymore. Others were sitting along with him, and others dotted the stage still. Tiny little Plagues, taken from their keepers. Larger ones as well. Where they plagues as well? All grown up plagues. While the urge was strong in his gut, he refused to panic. It was fruitless. A simple mason and potter was no threat to imperial guardsmen.
He rubbed at his eyes as he took note of them and their clinking metal shells. The trip so far was interesting, to say the very least. His vision was never the best at a distance, so he had to squint for a few minutes as the silver skinned man had started talking. The source of his capture, along with so many others. All grimms and he knew not a one. Was he the last to actually wake up properly? Given his luck, probably. Always the last to know anything.
Fears were swiftly confirmed. Submission or death. In prettier words, all under pretenses of being peaceful to each other. But Georgio was not a stupid man, to be taken so suddenly, knocked out, and then lectured by a strange silver skinned man. This was not a friendly gathering of the mind for Plagues and their Grimms, as he was to be called. All the more curious was the shear amount of people and plague alike. Where there really so many? He’d thought his own little collection was reaching critical mass, but it was comparing a bucket to an ocean when compared to the mass on stage. One leg crossed over the other, his hands clasped on his knee, things tapping his knuckles nervously. His eyes drew once again to his little teapot. It would come back to him, he had to be sure. For it wasn’t just a possible little plague, it was his mother’s teapot. A strange sort of thing, to be so close to an object, but he felt it tug at his chest all the same.
The audience was getting rowdier, all demanding answers. He could demand the same. But his list of questions he needed answers for would be far longer, so he simply stared up at their curious captor, frowning in earnest. There were no proper friend-grimms who he knew. He had met a few plagues, but never their keepers. Those with “living” plagues must have been even more on edge, their charges, friends, and perhaps little families were up on the stage, unsure of what exactly was happening. He was glad the teapot was in fact a teapot. Teapots couldn’t worry or cry. He could practically feel his gray hairs multiplying as he shifted in his seat. The top button of his proper vest had to be undone. It was too stiffling to be a proper gentleman.
On stage, the teapot sat. Curious and covered in swirls.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 7:59 am
The level of activity occurring on the stage was increasing. More and more of the plagues gathered were coming round and their movements vibrated through the wood whilst their voices sunk into Claudia's foggy mind. She had to get up. Who knew what was happening?! Literally anything could be occurring beyond the fuzzy wall of unconsciousness. She half expected her life to be snuffed out at any second. Although her panicking irritated her almost as much as the fact that she was in this situation. She was acting like Felicity. Losing her head and allowing her worries to get the better of her wouldn't help in the slightest.
Determined, she tried to lift her head. It felt like she was dragging herself through treacle but with her furious resolve to get herself out of this mess she found that her body was slowly but surely responding. Things were beginning to come into focus - the muffled noises sharpened and whereas previously they had been just noises now they formed into actual words. "The treatment herein of all Panymese citizens... responsible also in upholding the safety of all Plagues present... Opposition from the audience will be a vow that all Grimms are an enemy to the Emperor and Panymium itself.." As Claudia finally managed to get her eyes open and inspect her situation these words clarified that - at least for the meantime - she was safe from harm. However, it was clear that the speaker was aligned with the emperor... Would they look so pleasantly upon she and Felicity because of their high ranking within The House? It would be best to remain on her toes as she shrugged off the remnants of the sluggish feeling in her limbs.
Inspecting the situation she quickly noted the divide between Grimm and plague. This didn't distress her in the same way that it was clearly bothering others... She had no real personal attachment to Felicity - she often wished that she could have more time away from the nervous wreck. However, given the situation it would be best if they could be reunited. Escape alone was not an option. As much as Claudia hated to admit it she needed Felicity safe and alive - not trapped and possibly facing persecution. She narrowed her eyes and searched the crowd for her Grimm... However a confident little voice chirping nearby distracted her from her task and garnered her attention.
"My, my, what a raucous crowd, a simply loud one-- you must listen to me! I am Armaud, a trickster, and I am quite good at escaping! You might see an open stage, but I see a cage, a tricksy one. A tricksy one that tries to keep us safe, because the Council is afraid, afraid that the Emperor will not like us! Will you help me help you?" The reactions to this claim by fellow trapped plagues was mixed. Some were aghast that she should admit to being a trickster and clearly didn't trust her. They were idiots. Living a pristine life was pathetic and achieved nothing. If they berated a figured who could potentially get them all out of this mess simply because she wasn't pathetically 'squeaky clean' like they hoped to be then she frankly thought that they deserved to be trapped. Others demanded to know the identity of her Grimm... An interesting question but irrelevant.
Claudia struggled to her feet, steadied herself on the pumpkin and strutted towards where the other plagues were gathering around Armaud. She recognised a few but kept impassive. Blaithe was there... If she were in any other situation she'd approach the disgusting girl and finish what she had started last time they had interacted but the threat of the silver-faced man still hung heavy in the air and she had bigger problems to tackle than that brat.
Fixing a smile on her face she curtseyed at Armaud. "I don't know if I can be any help, but use me as you will. I do not wish to see how the idiotic pomp of an emperor reacts to us... Because it will not be a pleasant outcome." She looked at those who had questioned why the emperor might mean them harm. "Don't you realise it is in his interest to be rid of us...? Spreaders or not we are still a plague to him that he cannot control or understand. They killed Diefendorf because they didn't understand him... What's to say they won't kill us?"
"Lady, lady, don't cry. Which one's yours? The pretty one with the petals? Mine's the pumpkin. He hasn't grown up yet, but you know, maybe one day, eh?"
Felicity started as a boy sitting nearby addressed her. Hurriedly she dashed the moisture from her eyes and tried to regain some sort of composure. The pumpkin? Their plagues were near each other then. She wrung her hands nervously and attempted a smile for the boy, however it was so twisted and forced - made ugly by her true fretful emotions - that it came out as more of a grimace.
"C-claud-dia is the r-rose... Just d-down there b-b-by your ch-child." She extended a hand and pointed towards the pumpkin... However, her brows twisted and her eyes widened with panic. Where had Claudia gone? Just a second ago she had been sitting there! "W-where is she?!" Her hands flew to her mouth to suppress a whinny of worry. Perhaps the boy could help her... Two eyes were better than one. If any harm had come to Claudia Felicity wasn't sure what she would do... There were all sorts of plagues up there. There was no saying what evil feelings they might harbour towards her precious flower.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 9:27 am
There was something happening on the stage – the people in charge, whoever they were, be it Emperor or the silver Quietus or the Imperial Guard, had not yet noticed. They were obviously too focused on the human audience to care much about the nonhuman who were gathering together on the stage around a sloppily dressed Excito whom Tosh could barely see behind the crowd of the others. He supposed it was normal then; after seeing how his parents regarded Plagues, he'd decided right then and there to never let them know of his pumpkin's existence. If he could help it. Tosh's parents loved studying the material provided on Plagues, that was to be sure. But they had no emotion towards the creatures; they believed them to be just scientific experiments and things without feelings. It was only logical to assume that the Imperial Guard and the other humans in the room without plagues to call their own thought the same way. Toshua was almost a bit relieved as this came into his mind – after all, if they realized the Plagues were plotting something, there would be danger indeed.
He tugged on his vest, a little nervous and his eyes hardly straying from his pumpkin's direction – the rosy Excito was gone, presumably to join the other Excito that everyone was crowding around. Everyone else, it seemed, was sitting in silence, waiting for the verdict and on the appearance of the Emperor and his Council.
Tosh's attention was suddenly drawn back to the lady he had helped earlier, the one who'd almost cried. She looked even more distraught now, her Excito gone and it was never a good sign when women started to fret. He hurriedly rummaged around in his pocket, bringing up a handkerchief folded into a square. It'd originally been for the purpose of a pocket square, obviously; his mother said the handkerchief made him look dapper or something of the sort, but hell if Tosh cared anything about dapper. He was cool enough without one. The handkerchief had gone to no use at all, but Tosh had grabbed it on his way out the door in case he developed a cold or something. Well. He hadn't used it or anything.
"Don't you worry ma'am! Your Excito's right over there, somewhere next to the brown one in the trousers!" He piped up brightly, being annoyingly vague and patting her arm lightly while handing her the handkerchief. As appearances were going, Tosh didn't seem the least bothered. He was a wreck inside though, ridiculously glad for once in his life that his pumpkin wasn't some moving Excito like the others. He could only imagine the anxiety that they were feeling and the insecureness of not being able to keep track of their, well, children, as the lady had put it. He was close to going into cardiac arrest just thinking about his pumpkin, who was actually just sitting there, docile and malevolent as it always was. It was also possibly the biggest item on the stage, which Tosh felt an irrational surge of pleasure at. Bright orange, it was. Colorful and unique and out there. Oh dear though, wouldn't that make his pumpkin more noticeable to the guards? (He had an extremely short attention span, and this line of thoughts was the proof.) "What's your name, miss? And your...child's?"
Tosh, while trying to be helpful (for once in his life, thank goodness), was not the most sensitive boy in the universe. His mother had probably taught him at one point to never ask a woman her name when she was in a half-hysterical state, but Tosh never listened to his mother. Well.
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Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 4:45 pm
Dorian Arelgren smirked at the announcements. It was truly an interesting mesh of chemistry, even from the perspective of a mere spectator. He found it comedic that a desire for a peaceful conference would be the announcement at a magicked meeting in which Grimms were snatched along with their Plagues, then separated. Trully now, how could either of them find peace in such a setting? The stage was awful both in presentation and sentiment, though before, the Arelgren had decided it was at least "decent." Now, he wasn't couldn't confirm if his statement held water. It was difficult to agree for anyone to agree to anything, as he saw from the debacles of Wickwright's and another boyish voice's. The Butterfly Crow remained where he sat, his hands folded over his lap. He smiled sheepishly, wondering how he would react previously as his foolish, former self. Lash out in a gadfly-ish manner? Definitely.
It would be a lie to admit he didn't miss his carefree, idiot self from a stretch ago. Did he accept Him? The Previous Dorian Arelgren? He'd also be lying if he said he was satisfied with Him. No, he very much appreciated the current Dorian Arelgren, Butterfly Crow, the blind savior. He studied the faces of the Grimms around him: a mopey damsel, several clueless children, the same familiars--all the Grimms. Each one most likely to be more dreadful in history than the next. He'd find it ironic if any of them complained to him. None of them had the right, surely, to feel as if their woes were more harsh than the other. All of them lost a part of themselves surely upon receiving a Plague and entering Grimmhood. He, was still, twenty-six. Wifeless, but he no longer thought about women as much as he did when he was younger. They weren't crucial to his life longer--his purpose was--as was his father's. There were Obscuvians present in the crowd, surely. Felicity, for one. Dragomir, for another. He didn't wish to speak to them, and none of them made effort to speak to him.
Until...
"'Hoy," came an attempt to speak to the Arelgren, "D'you know what's..."
The man retracted quickly when he caught sight of Dorian's features, and the latter honestly couldn't blame him. Dorian smiled sheepishly in return, feeling just as awkward. "You're Wickwright's friend, I'm glad he is well now, largely in thanks to you no doubt."
"I wish all of us were. Stupid that they keep us here like rats," he said darkly. "I suppose you desire no other than to get yours back--your Plague, I mean."
Dorian felt as if he hadn't said enough, his presentation during the caravan episode was not one of his favor. He disliked the Obscuvians as much as the tanned man did, but unlike him, the Arelgren wasn't allowed to explain why.
"I'll let you kindly know that I do not take pleasure in being an Obscuvian," he said quietly. "I made ill decisions in my naivete, and I only admit this to strangers. While it isn't safe here, it's not as if I'd be safer in the House. So while no, I do not know what is going on, I don't have much of a right to complain."
He frowned more when the image of Lettie registered to him again. This time, her head was poking up from her small crowd in search of Hopkin, probably. While Dorian came to dislike most Plagues, he truthfully liked Hopkin and was glad, when he still liked Lettie too, that his Plague felt the same way about the Illuminated Book. Hopkin, in a sense, was like a Grimm himself: confused, but on a quest of some sort, if he was at all. Everyone was Hopkin Finch somehow. But not everyone disliked Lettie Arelgren much like Dorian did.
_____________________________________________
And nobody quite wanted to leave quite like Lettie Arelgren.
"H-Hopkin!" Lettie cried, punching the air with her little fists. She moved away from Chayele now--abandoning her friend in search of the friend she missed to see more. Wherever Hopkin was, answers were, and she needed those more than ever. She stopped in her tracks when his voice was heard calling to her: "Is that your name, Lettie?...Wickwright and I met your Grimm on a frozen lake. He admitted to me that you and he had broken acquaintance. I fear that I was wrong when last we met, that perhaps you are most definitely changed after all."
There---he--was!
He was there again, her friend, teacher, in his lovely autumn browns! She still had his book-leather neatly tied up into a little roll and attached at her waist, and she she instinctively touched it at the sound of his voice. His glowing mouth now addressed a different Plague; she, too, was brown, but the words she spoke troubled the both of them. She wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to trust a trickster--even if she was trying to help them. She learned from Cavalier and Nelody that "help" often just meant "annoying" and Lettie wasn't about to be tricked twice. She wasn't a stupid plague, she knew what a Repeater was, and she even helped the idiot Arelgren write wonderful letters to Mr.North and Mr.Enfield. She also knew what Repeaters were, and she doubted this Plague knew what those were. Lettie was quite the literate Plague, which Hopkin must have liked (if she remembered telling him she was at all). Lettie rubbed her palms together busily before speaking to the two Plagues.
"Oh! I don't trust you either, Ladyplague!" Lettie said. She was feeling cross with Armaud because the latter interrupted her desire to thank Hopkin and the general setting so Lettie crossed her arms in irony as if she meat to prove a point. "I may not have had such a long life yet because I am still a Ladyplague, but I do know that lies and tricks are very similar, and that tricks can be hurtful! If you can prove to Lettie that you aren't hurtful, th-then in the name of the good kind of love, Lettie will follow you."
Her dotted mouth wobbled a bit, but she stood her ground. Yes, she was a serious Ladyplague, Dorian's abandoning of her wasn't a means to cripple her person, even if she was an Excito. B-but she still needed to thank Hopkin!
"Truly? Oh Hopkin!" Lettie whimpered, gathering his hands into her own and clutching them tightly (but not enough to hurt him). She trembled slightly, unsure of how she should respond, but thankful that he told her of anything at all. "Oh--Lettie will--I will--talk to you about the rest of this LATER!"
Oh! She couldn't tell him anything in the presence of the horrid trickster Ladyplague. It just wasn't right.
(( SERIOUSLY. ))
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 7:06 am
So much was happening all at once. With everyone waking, there was an air of chaos and discomfort. To come around and find your Plague separated from you was altogether a bad thing. Maeve's ill feelings would not retreat and stayed inside her thanks to the Grimms around her.
Even Guards were called to try and 'settle down' a boy. A boy! Of course he would be upset, worried-- afraid, even. That was not the reaction Maeve wanted to see. The smallest of actions seemed to garner the wrong kind of attention from the people holding them there. Bad. This was bad. Her usual delusions to comfort her were not present, much like her Plague. Internal worry took over her thoughts as her face went blank. The mercenary glanced around cautiously, not wanting to turn fully around and catch the attention of guards.
Then, the silver man spoke again, but this time, Maeve was able to hear him. His tone came off as haughty to Maeve, as if he were better than everyone. Disappointed with such a small turnout-- annoying. This was the first Anhelo she'd ever met and she didn't like him. That was more disappointing than a small turnout, Maeve mused.
A Grimm piped up from the back and Maeve listened as best she could. Of course, the silver man had answers all ready for him. Talks of the Emperor, yes... And Mister Wickwright Finch!? Yes, a bird, Maeve could remember that name clearly. He was the strange older man she had helped in Shyregoed with his cart and ox. A pause in thought. That meant he was a Grimm! She squinted as she stared forward, wandering if he might've been a Grimm when she met him and his son before. Not that that would've made any sort of difference in their meeting, but Maeve remained curious about the matter.
The Excitos began to move about as the Anhelo spoke to all the Grimms. She listened, but her eyes were on the small Plagues. Trying to imagine what the other Grimms were feeling, being separated from their Excitos, was hard. Maeve was in pain enough from being separated from a damned bloody gauze. It was strange getting attached to such a thing, but it was hers' and no one else's. The Excitos almost seemed like small children-- they must have been worried to death about their Grimms, too.
Swift death? Enemy to the Emperor? Maeve looked back to the silver man and frowned. Talks like these were not welcome things. Things were not welcoming, and everything was laced with a threat-- a promise. She stayed silent. Calling any attention to herself would be the end of it. Maeve looked to the sides of her to see the reactions of the other people.
She realized then that perhaps this was not worth the money.
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 1:35 pm
With the clanking of weapons Kalyan had drawn himself to full height, probably obscuring the view of those directly behind him. To see guns aimed at a child was not out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t something that foreshadowed a good outcome for the rest of the so called ‘meeting’. The guard had relented at an order, but from all the vocal distress it was obvious the crowd was still on edge.
At the announcement of the intended audience the dark man was dumbfounded. More than three thousand plagues? How could such a thing be possible, and he’d seen none and heard only the vaguest of rumors? So that meant every one of those sitting here possessed something cursed like he did. Two of them, a ‘Clemmings’ and something ‘Finch’ seemed to be well known enough; possibly trouble along with this ‘thief’ that they had so kindly allowed to be within their presence. He would worried about something going missing, but the guard seemed to be overexcited on causing trouble of their own. Still, if a riot were to break out- Kalyan was hesitant to think further upon the matter.
“The emporer is also hesitant to greet the three Grmms present that had been of the ship Rosa after the tragic circumstances of their return;”
What.
What?
He froze, his face open in its display of horror at the silver man on stage. They knew? They knew? Hell. Of course they knew. They’d sent him a damn invite for Gods sakes. But for it to be announced like that- out in the open for everyone to hear. His failure- and the emperor fears him. Him! Did he know? Did he suspsect the reason of misfortunes like Kalyan did? Did he suspect Kalyan suspect? Was he here to make blame? And how the hell did any of these people know about the disease possessing the heirloom before he did? He resisted the urge to pull his hair out and remain calm. Alright. Just breathe. He had said his name, but didn’t he also mention another’s? Did he not just say that three had survived?
‘Survivors other than myself?’ His head whipped around him. He knew that the others were diseased, much like he’d assumed himself to be. He’d wandered Mishkan for weeks before he realized that there would not be any onset of sores and sickness. Had the others had the same minute bit of fortune? Laurentis. He struggled with the name, trying to match it to a face. Laruentis…it was familiar.
A figure ghosted in his mind. “Leander?” He spoke out without thinking. He abandoned his seach within the seats below, and turned to look behind him. Memories of the older man slowly returned, along with their survival’s struggle. He ignored the annoying cries of some hysterical woman that put him in a place a little too familiar, but his ears did catch the threat of death and possible exile; what the hell had he gotten himself into. If he did find Leander Laruentis, he wasn’t sure if some shillings and relief of seeing the other would make up for possibly being enemies with the entire nation.
While consumed with his not-so-discreet search, a woman not too far from his left who hid her face in a hood teased and giggled situation. Of all times to find amusement, it was here where they were now going to be held- regardless of their will? Was this the thief amused with her situation? Or perhaps a budding masochist? “We were just given an ultimatum by the emperor, and you are entertained? I’d hate to think of what else you would consider a good time,” he said off hand, eyes still scanning the crowd.
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 8:07 pm
"The Imperial Guard has also, in turn, found that a well-wanted thief is suspected of being within the proximity, and are requesting permission of arrest. Such request was thoroughly denied, and will be respected until his return to his rightful location, due to the pact of neutrality made upon this meeting, grounds, and request."
Kalends smirked, thankful that his caution had won out over rash action. So his suspicions had been right after all. Well-wanted, hm? He stretched a little bit, preening. Well, well, well... it didn't lessen the anger that he felt about being parted from his satchel and at the less-than-sterling treatment he'd had in transit, but it was something. The Emperor was leery.
Good.
Still, no matter what the silver man promised, if Kalends was to wake up as sedated and incapable as he had been in the streets of Eldecrest, he might as well walk over to those nice men who'd attempted to grab the boy (a quick flick of his eyes had told Kalends that the child had presented no threat other than that of annoyance) and turn himself in to save everyone the trouble. No, he decided, he would not be safe for a long while. But maybe, if he played his cards right, he could turn the situation to his favor.
For now, information was important. After listening to the silvery man speak, Kalends realized a few very important things. First, this was a meeting involving the Emperor and people who possessed Plagues (Grimms? the word wasn't one he'd heard used). While Kalends was sure that he'd just stolen a plagued item and that his handlers had him confused for its rightful owner, he would be more than happy to absorb any information this silver man and the Emperor wanted to impart. After all, knowledge (even if it wasn't useful to him) would fetch a nice purse for him back home.
Second, there were owners of Plagues here. He might be able to learn valuable things about them, like where they lived and how much of a challenge it would be to steal from them. As a rule, Kalends didn't travel outside the city, but he might make an exception for stealing from a Grimm. Plagues were notoriously well guarded and it would be a good challenge.
Last, a man in a hood would elicit suspicion immediately now that the presence of a thief had been announced. He needed to blend in and fast.
So, it was with a sense of self-preservation and a smattering of ulterior motives that he pushed the hood of his cape back, revealing his dark hair and piercing hazel eyes, and turned to a woman near him. What had initially caught his notice was that her gaze had been almost to the same spot on the stage as his had, except that she had seemed to be looking at an item near his satchel, perhaps the gauze? She'd seemed disconcerted at the scuffle and he supposed that her strategy was much like his own: remain quiet, bide her time.
He noticed later that she only had one arm. It didn't particularly unnerve him; he'd seen worse injuries on the streets and she appeared not to be hindered by it. Kalends smiled convivially, though the emotion didn't make it to his eyes, and then spoke, his voice low so as not to carry far or attract unwanted attention. The goal was concealment, after all. "You seem tense, my lady. Have the proceedings caused you concern?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 9:08 pm
As the Plague at the podium spoke, Theo gave a slow nod and crossed his arms over his chest. Neutrality for all within the premises was a good start, perhaps a way to mask the underlying threat in his words. It might have fooled a few who were not better at seeing such things, but as Theo took notice of his companions, a good number seemed to have heard it loud and clear.
A few had broken off into private conversations, and the man's gaze was drawn towards the red-hooded woman he had silently agreed with just a few minutes prior. The woman's interest seemed engaged now that the ultimatum had been issued, and she was attempting to strike up some sort of conversation with those around her.
"Yes, I do suppose it is interesting," he said to her at length, leaning back in his chair. "But it does not lessen the tension of this meeting. Something is terribly amiss." Something was not settling well about this meeting - the "required" separation between Grimm and Plague, the enforced amnesty and the overall feeling of nervousness. What was really going on?
-------
Ophelia once again spotted her Grimm in the audience, her gaze only bearing approval for him. Unlike that one child who had caused such an uproar, her Theo knew when it was time to be calm and listen. It was something he had pressed on her; rashness did not garner much reward. Some of the sluggishness seeped from her limbs and she stretched her legs out, pulling herself into a standing position. Many of the others around her were also discovering their mobility and gathering together for comfort, whispering, asking questions. But as deliberation continued among the Grimms, a small brownish Plague garnered the attention of her fellows.
A trickster, she said? If Ophelia had eyebrows to raise, they would be brushing the rim of her headband. A trickster that says to trust them? The ring Plague was no fool; trusting in a trickster could only bode poorly. One Plague called her out on her "tricksyness" in showy child-like fashion, another asked the name of her Grimm (that would have been a question she would have asked, and she approved of it), and then that flower began to take control of the scene. In her flowery, false way, she was establishing herself as a co-captain to this activity. So be it, she could take that credit. However something seemed amiss in the flower's logic, and that would be something the ring was pleased to point out.
"That is important to know, Claudia, yes, but it would not do to be rash." The ring approached the cluster of Plagues at the front and granted the flower a small, polite smile as she folded her hands together over her stomach. "Our keepers have been promised protection while at this meeting and I believe that extends to us as well. It would not bode well to bring down the wrath of the Fellowship, House, or the Council. Not that I am entirely eager to meet the Emperor myself." Her arms extended to indicate the others around her and turned her gaze to Arnaud. "I am not accepting nor declining your offer just yet, but I am also interested in who your Grimm might be." She glanced at Hayat out of the corner of her eye before she returned her gaze to the small Plague. If anything, her answer might give her some indication as to where her allegiance rested. But Arnaud had also said she was a trickster, and information like that can be easily fabricated. In that case, she would wait for the reactions of others and remain on the watch (and perhaps gravitate towards that feather-bearing Excito, for want of a like mind). She wanted to be back with Theo, but she was not rash. This whole situation was too curious for that.
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Friendly Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 8:47 am
The room was buzzing with activity now between people and plagues talking. Despite all the ruckus going on, however, one individual was still unconscious for most of what was going on. Alae Greaves sat, unmoving, in her chair. Perhaps teleportation was not the best means of travel? Being a slight buzzed before hand probably didn’t help matters, either. The money offered for attending this…function, if that’s what one would call it, was tempting, though. The former confectioner needed it, and she needed it badly, and so there she sat.
After a few more moments the woman slowly stirred awake. In all honesty, she was rather used to being unconscious. The alcohol that would seep into her system from nights of binge drinking tended to do that to her. What she was not used to, mind, was the change of scenery. She wasn’t used to being in a group of a bunch of people, and certainly not others with their plagues. The moment she opened her eyes, she blinked in her hazy stupor and tried to look around. She needed to get a better grasp of her surroundings. "Ugggh. Remind me never to travel by teleportation if I can help it…"
She didn’t see many familiar faces. A bunch of the people in the crowd were individuals that Alae had no idea who they were. This was a little off-putting, to say the least, and as she looked about the woman could feel a knot in the pit of her stomach. It was as she was worried that she was in over her head that she caught sight of two people she knew. The first was an older man she was only slightly familiar with: Wickwright Finch – the man who had given her food. The second was a young boy who the alcoholic knew all too well: Toshua Green, a lad who used to be a patron at her old shop. Seeing these two put the woman at ease a little bit. If they were here, perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad, right? Right? Alae could only hope.
----
Up on the stage with the Plagues, Alae wasn’t the only one stirring awake. Haraia began to regain her consciousness, too, her bright green eyes fluttering open. "That was…" she murmured, slowly picking herself up off of the floor, "rather unpleasant, to say the least." Once she picked herself up off of the ground, the Absinthe slowly tried to get a feel of her surroundings. Lots of individuals were talking – most of them plagues – and the Caedos found herself having trouble keeping up with everything.
Haraia was used to, admittedly, other people having trouble keeping up around her. Alcohol tended to do that to individuals, especially if they couldn’t handle it. Yet here she was, Absinthe, being lost for what to do and unsure of what was really going on. It was enough to make her head spin. Not knowing any of the other plagues didn’t help matters. The Caedos had just recently formed herself, so she hadn’t had much of an opportunity to make friends. The only comfort she could try and find was looking out into the crowd of people. She needed to find her Grimm. If Alae were safe, then she would be okay for the moment. It didn’t take long to search. The Caedos found her Grimm drooping in her seat just as dazed and confused as she was. Haraia let a sigh of relief upon seeing her. Good. She was okay. If she were okay, then things would be all right, Haraia thought. This meeting couldn’t really be that bad. What could go wrong?
[ Baah. ; A; So late in joining in. But hey -- at least I got my post up. ]
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 9:55 am
Treatise's words offered little comfort to the Grand Magus and her Sword, as they were quickly rendered hollow -- regardless of Treatise's intent and honesty -- by her Grimm's interruption. In hushed voices they rebuked one another, almost squabbling if not for their grip on professionalism (or was it merely tact?).
General Kunze's words rang true, however, and the reality of the situation was beginning to tap away at the back of her mind. Though the Council appeared in control, they were not. The Emperor was using the Council as a puppet in this auditorium, and Dean Kirkaldy was no fool. He was afraid, and with good reason. If the Emperor wanted, he could snuff out the Council, the mere budding congregation that it was, have all of them arrested or worse if they did not follow his orders to the letter. Just the same, if the audience of Grimms did not cooperate, they would likely be shown no mercy.
And then, someone stood.
Immediately they were surrounded, all of the guardsmen's weapons drawn and pointed at one small figure. The Grand Magus' fingers subtly clenched the arms of her chair while her Plague became blatantly rigid, staring hard out into the crowd. Without wasting much time, the General quickly quelled any potential violence and the figure was once more seated. There, the scalpel Quietus began analyzing those in attendance, listing estimated and precise numbers, making distinct assertions about everyone present. The listing of Obscuvans as present did not wholly phase Sage, but it left a sour taste in her mouth as it did for her Infitialis. They were being truly neutral, as they said they would, and though the situation was unfavorable she at least had to give respect for them keeping their word... for now.
Another figure rose, an older man with a thick and familiar accent that caused Grand Magus Estratus' heart to skip a beat. If it hadn't been for the voice being blatantly male...
"The Emperor and Sir Kirkaldy have ceased their entrance until their appearance is deemed safe. A delay in their presence was caused by many factors, one being the interruption caused by young Chauhn Clemmings and his brief discursion with Mister Wickwright Finch."
Sloane shifted uneasily in his seat. It was Chauhn that had nearly been killed there, if not for the quick dismissal of the General. His sharp teeth gritted, a steady frown painted over his face as he watched the Quietus dictate with wide swirled eyes. The Dean and Emperor were both afraid... but of what? The audience, the Plagues, or something else entirely? Her eyes narrowed as she felt the cold gaze of Erasmus' white eyes upon her and Sloane, which she merely replied to with a stare of her own. His lengthy speech seemed to be coming to an end, and the last topic of interest given by the Anhelo was that, indeed, both Grimm and Plague would be killed should they cause a ruckus or otherwise disturb the neutral standing of this meeting.
"Sir Sloane, Grand Magus Estratus... the only sure thing I may say is that we've as much knowledge of this meeting as you might."
Lovely.
The Sword Plague turned to Plague General Treatise, brows knit with concern. "Forgive me, Plague General, but if you assisted Erasmus in memorizing all of the Plagues and Grimms attending this meeting... how is it you are not aware of anything regarding it?" His tone did not indicate blame or suspicion, but a genuine confusion and desire for understanding. His steel covered fingers nervously rubbed the wood of his chair arm while his gaze moved back towards the stage. There were so many items, but according to Erasmus this was a mere drop in the bucket compared to the total amount of Plagues within Panymium. If there were so many, why did so few agree to attend this meeting?
Hesitantly, his eyes scanned for familiar faces. The easiest to spot, due to his size and unique appearance was young Clurie who was huddled with Excitos that he could barely make out the forms of. Despite her colorful appearance, there was no way he would be able to spot Blaithe among the sea of Plagues on stage at this distance. He only prayed her small form was safe, if she was even present at all. One of the few he was able to pick up on, however, was the black clad and glowing ember skin of the Lantern Plague, Nella. That meant young Danylrein was present as well, seated in a crowd of humans Sloane could barely discern due to the balcony's position and the room's lighting.
Sage kept her voice low, turning to look Diedthelm in the eye as she spoke. "Are we to assume that this is all the Emperor's doing? It seemed plausible, until Erasmus said he was hiding until it was "safe". To what end could this meeting be for if the Emperor was at the helm when he would not even come out or speak. Grimm and Plague or not, these individuals were his people and he refused to see them after rounding them all up like cattle. Giving a frustrated sigh, the Grand Magus slumped forward and gently rubbed one of her temples.
"My sight is dim... I cannot feel anyone's intentions here. I have to wonder if there are more Council Mages about using their abilities to make things more difficult for those of us with such gifts." It would certainly fall in line with the neutrality of this meeting, and surely it would have crossed their mind to put up such precautions in the event that unsavory individuals were present (which, needless to say, there were). It was all giving Sage Estratus quite the headache, to say the least.
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 10:06 am
"You seem tense, my lady. Have the proceedings caused you concern?"
She was being addressed. Maeve did not expect someone to talk to her like that, but perhaps her face was showing her true feelings. A slight shake of her head and her expression turned to a more neutral one. Worry still filled her thoughts, but she would not let her face belie her cool persona.
Looking to Kalends, he seemed to be a young man, almost a boy. The mercenary thought that maybe he was trying to be polite to a fretting woman. She accepted this. "Tense?" She questioned back in a whisper, looking over the man. "The proceedings should cause you concern as well." Maeve blinked. He was, of course, a Grimm, too, but he seemed to have a calm aura about him. The woman thought for a moment, deciding that they must have been similar in their outward appearances. He did not want to cause a stir, and he did not want to seem offput or worried. She understood.
"Best be careful," she warned in a mumble, looking back to the stage. Maeve needed to pay attention to the bigger picture, but she would keep with the man next to her. The mercenary was not one for allies, but in a situation so large and overwhelming... it was necessary.
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