|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 1:31 pm
where| a church of the House in Shyregoed
who| Andromeda, a Quietus, & Dragomir Meschke with his Phasmas, Chayele
when| midday on March 21st, 1411.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 1:35 pm
Chayele did not like this place. It was smoky, even in Dragomir's pocket, and it confused her. Her head felt oddly light and she clung onto his pants, wondering if she'd just tumble out with the way the entire ground beneath her seemed to be shifting. In the meanwhile, Dragomir was barely noticing the effects of the smoke on him; he found it hard to breathe, but his head was still perfectly content, and he was standing still, so Chayele's dizziness and instability came from her own confusion in the smoke-swirled pocket and nothing Dragomir was doing.
To be quite honest with himself, Dragomir could hardly believe he was here; it seemed so simply out of character for him to show up in, of all places, in worship of Obscuvos. His voice even, for once, rang out in the hymns and prayers - they were watching him, they knew he had never been much of a participater in such things. He couldn't risk it any longer; he didn't know if the house would harm him or not - or if they would harm Chayele. He truly didn't want to risk either, and so they were together here, Dragomir only wondering when it would be appropriate to leave; Chayele's wiggling was getting more and more frustrated as she got more and more disoriented and confused - her horned head appeared from her pocket and Dragomir frantically looked around before trying to push her back into his pocket before any casual observer noticed. Chayele, dodging deftly for her current state, crawled out of his pocket and curled up against his side, her hands holding tightly onto his shirt, making an oddly contented noise from deep in her throat.
"Damnation," Dragomir muttered under his breath, trying to get her back in there, but the girl was holding tightly. Eventually he shielded her as best he could with his arm, as though he had a pain in his side and hoped no one looked very close - then again, it was a very bad cover up, and Chayele's vibrant patterns were still more than readily apparent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 2:51 pm
Amidst the wisp of smoke, scented oils, incenses and flowing hymns throughout the building, hidden in the shadows with a watchful eye and a perpetually warm, beaming smile, stepped the Holy Wife. Autumn cloth and feathers flowed and waved with each timely step and she bowed her head in recognition of all the masked and unmasked faces she passed. All those with Plagues, both large and small, and those without. Andromeda stepped lightly, a gentle hum slipping between her lips every now and then when she would pass closed doors a buzz with song.
Everyone within the halls seemed contented, pleased with their situation and work. This was only one of many churches within Shyregoed, and Panymium as a whole, that Andromeda had taken the time to visit but perhaps this one in particular was just the right one she needed to come upon as, indeed, everyone in it was as they should be.
Except for a fair young Grimm, maskless and worrisome, whose small Phasmas seemed perplexed and appeared to be reeling. Ahh, perhaps the young one was indeed young and had not yet grown accustomed to the scented opiates used in prayer. As they crossed paths, Andromeda tipped her steps to the side, landing directly in front of Dragomir and blocking his progress. There she stood, smiling with her hands gently clasped below her waist and head tilted curiously. "Greetings, child," she spoke calmly, quietly, and her tone was undoubtedly serene.
A white, porcelain hand reached up to tuck some hair behind the feathers of her mask as her dark, emotionless black voids stared at the Grimm's own striking blue. "Are you faring well this day?" the question was innocent enough, carrying no undertones besides genuine concern. Her eyes drifted to the Excito he seemed to be attempting to obscure, or perhaps he was merely trying to keep her from falling out of his pocket entirely. Yes, surely that was the more correct assumption, for what reason would he have to hide such a lovely Phasmas from view?
Her attentions were locked, then, on the teetering Excito who was clinging so tightly to her Grimm's shirt. She was positively beautiful, such a striking and unique Plague, Andromeda immediately clasped her hands together and rested the back of one against her cheek as a high note came from her throat. A sound of complete adulation, the Holy Wife could not help but fawn over such a striking creature. "Oh, my Love, what beautiful children there are!" she exclaimed, not to Dragomir or Chayele nor anyone in the room, but to Obscuvos himself. "She must be dreadfully ill at ease with this musk," she waved a hand quickly in the air, cutting through some of the smoke before directing Dragomir's attention to an adjacent hall, "Come, my dears, I'll have her taken care of. T'wouldn't be right to leave such a young one in a daze."
With a wave of her hand, she awaited Dragomir's form to proceed down the indicated hall without even waiting for a word of acceptance or refusal. There was no refusal to be had, was there? Surely this young man would want what was best for his young charge and what was best was getting out of this smoky haze.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2011 3:57 pm
Dragomir continued to walk, his arm covering Chayele and, yes, keeping her from falling to the floor as her hold weakened and tightened often, but without any real pattern. Though, of course, he worried what would happen if she clattered to the floor more than if she would be hurt; from her small height, it would surely be a long fall from his waist to the ground, and he was slightly hazy enough to the point where he wasn't quite positive he had the reflexes to catch her and safe her; he didn't want to see how the cultist would react from a plague hitting the ground quite hard - and Dragomir wasn't sure if she'd need help... And if she did, what kind? Most importantly, would it be expensive? He was wrapped up in these thoughts so intently that when he was greeted, he started and blinked in surprise, jarred from his thoughts.
Almost lamely, definitely the slightest bit sheepish at being caught so off-guard, he replied, "Greetings to you as well, Holy Wife." Near instantaneously, however, he looked away - under the pretense, of course, that he didn't feel fit to look at her.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a quick enough reaction to escape the black holes that were supposedly her eyes and he suppressed a shudder. Chayele, listening to the voices, began to stir. She looked up at the Anhelo and tilted her head, having never encountered one before. She moved upwards, peering out all the more. She wanted to be closer. She was pretty, her head hurt... She shook it, sharply, to clear it, before whimpering quietly.
"I am fine..." He answered softly, aware Chayele was more than visible now. "And the Holy Wife?" He tilted his head, the titles slipping off his tongue easily, preferring to over-do it than offend her.
However, shortly after he happened to ask her how she was, the high note pierced his ears and he almost staggered back in surprise; he had not been expecting that in the least. Chayele, also surprised, recoiled into Dragomir's shirt. She absently wondered if she had made the pretty lady with pretty fire hair mad at her. She whimpered quietly before she caught the rest of the words and brightened. Yes! She wanted to get out of here! She nodded her head vigorously, then whimpered again because the motion hurt her head.
"Yes, of course, as you will." Dragomir was absently aware that she has headbutting her horns into his side with the force of her nods; he wasn't about to tell Andromeda the Wise no, either - he wasn't sure she would take it well. He shifted his hand to support Chayele more, who just gave up and sat back into his palm. Almost protectively, wondering what would happen to the pair, he lifted the small girl to his chest and cupped her there, his feet already leading him down the hall she had motioned to. As he walked down it, he was aware as the smoke began to clear. So was the Phasmas clutched to his chest, who had already started to wriggle in his hands. She climbed from the middle of his chest to draping herself across his shoulder, scanning around for the pretty lady with fire hair. Chayele wanted to get a look now that her head had begun to stop hurting, to see the lady who called her pretty. She liked being called pretty, she knew that, and her small mouth beamed with pride at the compliment, though it was a little late for it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 1:08 pm
She paid little mind to having startled the Grimm just as she paid little mind to his momentary hesitance. It was often difficult for some to withstand the intense aromas of the smoke and she, herself, chose only to stay within them for restricted amounts of time. The effects of prolonged exposure to the smoke was far too similar to what occurred when she over used her magic and it was not something Andromeda the Wise was fond of feeling.
Ushering Dragomir down the hall, walking behind him so that the smoke clearing took effect sooner on the poor Phasmas, she gently swayed to and fro as though music were playing. Finally, the entered a different section of the hall and the smoke had thinned, but not fully dissipated, and so the Holy Wife took the lead and drew toward a door along one of the halls. This one, unlike most, was silent on the other side and upon being opened it lead into a small, office-like room with its own set of Obscuvan imagery from small statuettes of their Lord, taxidermy crows perched atop branches hung to the wall and flowing banners of their insignia.
"Please, sit," she offered a hand toward a large and cushioned chair made of polished dark wood and red velvet, "Would you or your charge care for anything? Water, tea, wine? A teacake perhaps?" Her porcelain face moved fluidly despite the stark texture, making her inhuman appearance seem even more so. However, she was all smiles, and though her eyes were as if empty sockets, they blinked and gazed upon the shofar Phasmas with such pleasant regard. She appeared so eager, so full of life, and the little one could not stop smiling.
Strutting toward her own seat, adjacent from Dragomir's, Andromeda rested upon it as a proper lady should with her legs crossed at the ankle and hands resting upon her knees. A dainty and feminine posture, but her disposition spoke volumes of strength and intimidation if looked upon by the wrong person--elsewise, it would just appear as though she were an incredibly happy individual. "You say you are fine, ...Sir Meschke, I believe?" her eyes upturned slightly, smile growing, "Your answer seemed hesitant. Are you quite certain?" Her head inclined, burning hair slipping over her shoulder and framing her face in a curtain of autumn; the Holy Wife's gaze was locked tightly upon Dragomir Meschke, smile never leaving or faltering in the slightest. "I would not delay in being more accommodating for my children. If there is anything you require, please, confide in me."
Once more, her gaze drifted toward Chayele, her head tilting as she watched the Excito's behavior fondly. The giggle that came then was unable to be suppressed and she leaned back into the chair, clapping her hands together eagerly and cooing to Chayele. Without question, the Holy Wife was absolutely smitten.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 4:42 pm
Dragomir sat in the chair she motioned in, making a surprised noise at how comfortable it was; the table he used a a chair was simply wood - and rickety, at that - and thusly uncomfortable. The decoration of the room was not a surprise to him; he gave little visible reaction at the over the top elements to the room. It was pure Obscuvan-style, from what he remembered, unwillingly, from his childhood. When he blinked into focus again, he shook his head no before stopping and looking down at the girl. "Do you, Chayele?" He supposed that, with how interested Andromeda the Wise seemed to be in the Excito, he should allow her to - to speak for herself.
The little girl shook her head and make a negatory noise before letting go of Dragomir's shirt and allowed herself to fall to his lap. She sat on the very edge of his lap, absolutely enraptured by the woman across from them. She mimicked her every lean forward or back, her smiles as best she could, and her tiny feet wrapped around each other and tilted back and her sleeves rested in her lap as her fingers wrapped around each other. Chayele tried her best to look just as lady-like as - as the Holy Wife! Yes. That had been what Dragomir called her. Her smile turned brighter at remembering.
While Chayele cared little but for the posture and appearance of her friend, Dragomir wondered if he was safe; she sounded harmless, but with the recent stalking issue, Dragomir wondered if anyone was truly harmless in these times. It was safer to think that she wasn't. "Ah, yes. I'm fine, yes. I was just worried about Chay - Chayele, I mean." Revealing the small girl's nickname felt ... very personal. He loathed himself immediately for doing it.
It wasn't a lie; the reason he was afraid was Andromeda the Wise, however, not the smoke - but since it wasn't a lie, he felt no remorse, no hesitation, and if his pupils flickered from their place, locked into the black holes Andromeda had, it was infinitesimally small. His hand reached to find the plague that should have been in his lap, almost subconsciously - however, he came up empty and blinked down at his lap. Where had she gone? He looked upward quickly, catching on her form as she crossed the room, sitting next to Andromeda's crossed feet and peered up at the woman. She giggled, in an attempt to mimic her again, then clapped as well, as she was also wont to do when pleased. Her tiny hands appeared and she reached upward at her, wanting nothing more than being picked up. She giggled and clapped her hands to make her presence clear if it hadn't been already and to make her point as she bounced up and down in place, still reaching.
Dragomir wondered if it would be too inappropriate to dash across the room and snag her, pick her up and drag her back. He assumed it would be and so sat still. "No, I am quite comfortable; thank you for your concern," he said in place of what he wanted to say ('Chayele, get back here now!'). He smiled a little, trying to be at ease with Chayele so far away from in the place where he was surrounded by the people he was sure were simultaneously his best hope and worst enemy. He rested his hand on his knee, where Chayele had been, feeling the emptyness oddly keenly. "However, I cannot help but feel I am not worthy of your kindness, Holy Wife..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 08, 2011 11:38 am
Since entering the room, it seemed a smile had rarely been lost on the Holy Wife's face, and whenever she looked to the small one to see her mimicking her actions perfectly it only grew. There was some difficulty, it appeared, in her separating two topics and actions from one another, from keeping a reserved and more serious tone with the Grimm and jumping back to a childish amount of glee at the Excito.
A mere shrug was given to their rejection of treats and she got up from her seat to pour herself a small spot of tea, heating the cup gently in full view of Dragomir and Chayele with a gentle flame from her palm. It disappeared in a soft plume of smoke and the tea within steamed at the perfect temperature. "These times are hectic, I know," she began, fetching a few sugars for herself and stirring them into her tea. Once the spoon was moving at a decent pace in her hand, she released it and returned to her formal posture but the spoon did not cease spinning, continuing until the sugar was properly distributed and dissolved.
"So I worry for my children. All of you are trying so hard and it does make me ever so proud," she beamed down at Chayele, pressing a hand to her heart before taking her cup and sipping it. A quiet sound of approval at the taste was made before she set it back down on the table. It was then that she noticed the little girl scrambling across the floor toward her and sitting once the destination had been reached. A motherly chuckle escaped her and the Holy Wife reached for her as Chayele's reached in turn, pulling her up and cradling her gently before setting her on the table by her warm cup of tea. "I am glad, Sir Meschke," she spoke simply, gaze not on the blond male for the moment as her attentions seemed taken up by his small Plague.
Her fingers waved in the air, beckoning Chayele to follow their movement, and after a few seconds of them seeming to dance aimlessly, her hands pressed together at the palms and dark smoke plumed from between her hands. Raising them back up, a shadowy doppelganger was formed of the now animated Shofar and it tilted its head curiously to Chayele before leaping elegantly from Andromeda's hands beside the real Phasmas. It curtsied, moved as if it were giggling but there was no sound to accompany the motion, and then began to spin and dance about the table to provide Chayele with entertainment. It seemed to be good timing, as when Dragomir spoke next, the Quietus leaned back in her chair and began scrutinizing him.
Tone, word usage, appearance, body language, all of it was under her sharp watch and for a moment she gazed at him, devoid of any emotion upon her face. Suddenly, then, it changed back to the typically jovial nature of the woman and she allowed another giggle to slip through her lips. "Nonsense, child," she nearly had to raise a hand to stop herself from laughing through her own words, "The Lord would not have it any other way and neither will I. He loves unconditionally and I am inclined to follow suite." There was a pause and she clasped her hands upon her lap once more, head of autumn tilting curiously. "Unless, of course, there is any reason I should not," the words came out sickeningly sweet, a gentle and musical lilt to them that would remove suspicion from most minds, but perhaps she did not want such a feeling to be lost on Dragomir as her black orbs narrowed slightly, smile still in place but feeling strangely cold.
The doppelganger of smoke continued to dance, beckoning Chayele to join it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 6:25 pm
Dragomir forced a small smile onto his face. "Yes, they are indeed, Holy Wife; I do not know where we would be without your guidance." A tongue made of silver; that was the only explanation.
A startled gasp left his chest when she complimented him; acting was a strain here, but he had to. He knew there wasn't much, if any, room for error.. Not if he liked his body in one piece and functioning. His eyes followed Chayele as well, as if for a distraction, wishing he could be as care free and foolhardy as his small excito was. It must be easy, he absently mused, his attention drawn away as he murmured, "You are so kind, Holy Wife."
Chayele was absolutely enthralled, though mere words could not reach the depth and breadth of her happiness. She reached out towards the doppleganger, then stopped. Quietly, almost entranced, she took a step toward her when she jumped down and peered with almost dangerous curiosity. When the other girl began to spin, Chayele gaped quietly and her hands lifted to her mouth, mimicking the giggle-without-sound. Without another thought, she spun after her twin, happier than she'd been in weeks, if not the entirety of her tiny life.
Dragomir wished he could even look at her, much less wish he was that happy. Instead, the momentary stare seemed to pin him to his chair as one might a specimen. He blinked, almost owlishly, feeling as though he might as well not have been wearing clothes for all he thought she must have seen and known of him already. He struggled; he had to keep his composure. He had to keep calm. He repeated it to himself when her saccharine voice caught him off guard; he felt as though the wind had been knocked from him and he coughed, hard, doubled over. It was enough to send Chayele into a near panic, turning to look intently at him as she dashed over and patted his leg as though she were slamming him on the back. She looked at Andromeda, beseeching her to do something, though her smooth skin revealed nothing of her emotions.
The grimm shook his head hard, both to clear his chest and answer her question. "No, Holy Wife; Of course I have not." A smile, oddly handsome, twitched onto his features and his dark eyes lit up quite a few shades with seeming mirth... "I would do never do anything to displease the Lord, nor you.."
Chayele, placated, turned her attention back to the doppleganger. She stepped toward him and giggled loudly, seemingly the only one immune to the tenseness of the air, as thick as the smoke. She then stepped forward and tried to lift her hand to the smoke doppleganger. She too wanted to dance; she wanted it so badly she could taste it. She gave another experimental twirl, seeing what would happen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
