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 Posted: Mon May 17, 2010 5:10 pm
Plague Doctor Meeting
Why?
A routine checkup with Miss Beatrix Amaranthe and her Servos, Cassandra.
Whom?
Ms. Beatrix Amaranthe & Cassandra (fairie lore)
-&-
Georgie Malt & Adal (Zanaroo)
Where?
A crowded marketplace in Gadu, Imisus.
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Posted: Wed May 19, 2010 8:26 pm
Over the past few years the two had been with the good Doctor, their young minds were shoved roughly into the world of written word and diplomacy. Adal had taken to reading and writing naturally, while Georgie struggled behind on both subjects. The squiggles and dots of ink upon pages of yellowed parchment still seemed foreign to Georgie, and many a time Adal had procured and reproduced a good amount of their notes. Georgie's writing was, for a fair number of times, indecipherable to many an eye except for his own hapless pair -- and, at times, he could barely make out what he wrote either.
One thing both boys had equal talent in, however, was shuffling and shoving through the mad crowd of the Imisese street. Gadu was neigh intimidating nor too crowded for the either of them; through hustled steps, the two brothers shuffled through a large stack of papers, most of which were quite useless to their task at hand.
"Wait, I found one!" Georgie pulled out a small piece of brown paper near the bottom of the stack, smoothing out its edge with the tips of his dirty fingers. "We haven't met this one yet. The Plague made of Candy-- right, Adal?"
They were assigned a task today by the good Doctor, whose presence was rarely seen by the average Panymese. It was apparent that the doctor had wanted to keep it that way, as he gave both boys an arbitrary amount of papers to shuffle through on their journey to find one particular person.
The Doctor had a peculiar form of Magics; he knew of all things pertaining to the Plagues, and kept an obsessive-- albeit unorganized-- archive of every Grimm in Panymium, and he knew when a certain Plague had grown. Georgie and Adal often wondered how he knew; both had reasoned it was dark magic he kept in the depths of his haul, but neither knew for sure.
"No, we haven't. Their name?"
"Um... Beatrix. Miss Beatrix Amaranthe."
Of course, with the recent spike in Plagues, both boys were so boggled with travel and work that their visits to the Grimms and their Excitos lagged behind; they seldom knew how many days or months or maybe even years an Excitos at this day and age might have come to being, but their pile of disorganized papers seemed to grow without rest, and the two reckoned they'd be stuck with their chore for all eternity.
"Well. A Servos made of Candy with a madame by the name of Miss Amaranthe... how vague."
"Smell steady, Adal. We don't have any other information on the Miss."
"Oh, worry not. Even these filthy Gadu merchants can't dull my nose."
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Posted: Thu May 20, 2010 5:28 pm
The unsurprising news of her acceptance into the Scientific Academy was enough reason to walk about the bustling streets of the city, wading through the many merchants and their wares. Beatrix had been a little off in the past while, the appearance of a certain thing in her laboratory sending her already disarrayed schedule tumbling into more chaos. Beatrix Amaranthe simply didn't know what to do with the appearance of the blasted little pink thing. She'd placed it in a bird cage - how she had acquired a bird cage she didn't know, but there were likely larger inconsistencies in her life then that.
It stared at her, but she did not speak to it nor did it speak back, which was fine with her. Still, its mere presence in her house was unsettling, since she did not want it there. But she knew its importance in the world and so she would keep it. When she went out she kept it in a match box, tucked discretely into her pocket, as if the unlucky charm was in its own way lucky. Or perhaps she did trust it to be in her house while she was not there.
She wandered streets in a black silk jacket and a modest steel gray skirt, her affluence apparent. But after all, what was the point of all the money if she could not show it, could not show it? She had not been through what she had to look like a peasant. She made her way through the shops, hands caressing the various fabrics and texture, garnering little pleasures from her outings.
Her wandering eyes settled on a dragon brooch, simple in nature - silver, but with a striking red eye, the color of a poppy. And now, the haggling would begin. She began some light banter with the shopkeeper, a smile with some idle conversation as she casually picked up the brooch. Her attire garnered an inflated price, but her sweet demeanor brought the price down. Then, a small, innocent gesture that garnered the male shopkeeper to look at her up and down, the amber eyes growing cold and venomous before a few choice words earned her the little treasure she seeked, striding out with her head held tall. As it should be.
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Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2010 10:41 am
Moments passed and the two boys kept to the rhythm of the market street, poking their head through the shoulders of whatever meek gent or lady stood in their way. Georgie found it unreasonable when Adal kept him from buying food, for he was hungry and quite tired; Adal found it troublesome and unrewarding to have a meal before they had completed their goal. The Locos kept their bag of Shillings away from the brunette who, as Adal knew, didn't take a liking to stealing, and would've stayed out of the merchants' ways for the time being.
Many might have mistaken Adal's sniffling for illness, as he was doing quite a good number of it, his head held low and wandering. Simple people came to avoid the boy when he came up to them in his strange and shady behavior, for they were weary of the Plague that haunted the street. Both boys found it rather useful, as the crowd began to shift away from them like oil in water, making small circles of empty space for the boys to follow.
Grimms were tainted by a Plague-scent through the visage of their Excitos, Adal knew, as if it was clinging to their shoulders. Yet there was no waft to follow, no sweet fragrance, no discernable track yet in this market; fueled by his irritation at the thought of a slow find -- even worse, no find at all -- his pace quickened. Georgie's eyes wandered about the activity of the street, his steps sluggish and lazy -- like always -- and once Adal crept into the fray, Georgie was left to stumble through in a vain attempt to catch up to his brother, shouting his name in desperation.
Lo, but there was something, stuck in the air, as delicate as a thin twine of string.
Adal jerked his head to the side, head held high and curious as he stumbled into what buyers and sellers of goods tried to pass him. Marketeers fumbled around for their things and bitterly went on their way, leaving Georgie to follow what mean looks strolled by a seemingly empty space at his eye level. Such space was occupied only by his little brother sitting dazed and unperturbed, facing to the side of him at what gaudy vendors caught his eye. Georgie held out his hand in aid, though the flaxen boy pushed against the ground and stood up by his lonesome, grabbing Georgie's wrist as he pulled both of them through the crowd.
"I think I found them. It's such a weak scent, Georgie, I might lose it at any moment, we must find them quickly. With haste!"
There was something about the Plagues that made all other Plagues quite giddy in their presence. For Adal, it was no pride of their race nor the coming of new kin; it was the equivalent to finding treasure. Georgie knew this, and he found it a blessing that Adal kept to his job like a game, but there was something that pulled at his head and made him weary about the circumstances of their occupation:
What of the Grimms...?
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Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 3:48 pm
This current shopping excursion was long overdue, considering her appearance at the Scientific Academy to inspect a cadaver - very unladylike, but it had not been entirely difficult for her, considering her background. Still, the fact that she'd had to do such a thing warranted a little bit of retail therapy, and so here she was in the market, shopping to her heart's content. Still, that wasn't to say that she was letting the money flow out of her pockets like water, but instead she was thrifty and calculated. Or at least much as much as any fashionable lady could be.
She wore her current find on her dress, satisfied with the beginning of her shopping trip and now beginning to wander the stalls of the more common people, whom she had a greater kinship with. She particularly idled upon the stalls with clothes and embroidery, a softer expression lingering for the few moments that she was there. Ever so often she was dig her hand in her pocket and feel the metal box there, ensuring that it was tightly sealed.
It was still of importance to her, the little thing that was kept captive in there. She was but a member of the Council of Sciences, though she had the intention to rise higher. Of course, she could do that through her own wills and perseverance. The wretched thing in her pocket was just a trump card. Regardless, she already one enterprise to run.
She now went to the fruit market, unknown to her that someone might be trailing her. When she arrived she inspected the various fruits, taking in all of their colors and shapes. Perhaps while she waited for the Council to get around to utilizing her skills she could create a new candy confection, something to make a little kid's day that much sweeter just for a few moments.
Isn't that all you could really ask for? Just a few moments that made all the other sorrows and pains melt away...?
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Posted: Sat Jul 24, 2010 2:06 pm
The Locos and his Grimm fumbled after, with Adal at the lead. He pulled and searched desperately for that thin twine of scent, that sweet, delicate twirl of confectionery smells, which mocked him from afar. Overzealous and far too excited, his mock of a heart pounding heavily against his chest, what was explicitly adrenaline and pride in his work slowly started to melt into a silent rage.
Was there ever a time when a scent was so barred up, too weak for the boy to catch immediately? Adal fashioned that there as no such a scenario, lest the Excito -- there was no way a scent as weak as this could be an Anhelo, he concluded -- was hidden away, stashed away, buried beneath something; or worse, far gone and a living Plague no longer. Georgie stumbled behind him and glanced to their side at the swirling colors of merchandise, until the two boys came to an abrupt stop.
Adal, in his blind chase, had run into the lady. His face bumped into the side of the raven-haired miss; shaking his head and steadying the grip of his hat on his head with his hands, he took a quick step back. Looking wildly away, like a blinded thing in the dark, his mind started to step back and recollect its earlier senses, and for a moment his concentration on the Plague's sweet scent as lost.
Beatrix Amaranthe. Candy. Candy. Scent. Find quickly.
Georgie caught Adal by the arms as he stepped backwards even further, and the brunette poked his head out from behind the small Locos.
"Excuse us, Miss. Sorry to have run into you like that."
Quietly, Georgie whispered into Adal's ear, a low, irritable hiss, "Don't go running off like that if you're gonna get so wild, Adal."
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Posted: Sat Jul 24, 2010 2:55 pm
Beatrix took in all the colors and all the smells, even that which might make a person recoil. She knew better then to shrug away that which seemed vile, that which seemed wrong. Wasn't her little drink that she so enjoyed the underbelly of society, twisted and sinister? So it was told. But appearances were deceiving, that much she knew from what she had lived of life. He had seemed decent, kind and sincere. But the tangled web unraveled and she found out the truth, a little too late. But it wouldn't have changed her decision.
But no one could see her past in her appearance, the ring had long been taken off. All there was to see was an upstanding lady out for a stroll.
She touched the fruit, caressing it softly before picking half a dozen and purchasing them. They were placed in a bag and she continued, pressing forward with her search. But it wasn't long until fate intervened, and Beatrix found herself colliding with a curious boy. The force was enough to make her drop her fruit, and they crashed upon the cobblestone ground. Her surprise had been quickly replaced with anger, her eyes alighting.
"Watch where you're going next time." She said in a huff, staring down at the mashed fruit. The nerve of them, bumping into her! Didn't they know who she was? She doubted they'd never eaten one of her company's delicious candies. Beatrix looked closer at the boy who had bumped into her and felt herself tense up. She got... a bad feeling from the boy. His eyes, they were strange. Just like the little wretched thing in her matchbox, it had strange eyes. Not soulless black, but strange. Her hand hovered over her pocket, and she could feel the thing move a little, but she quickly pressed her hand to stop the movement. "Yes, well, good day to the both of you. She said hastily before turning and walking away, wanting to get away from the both of them as soon as possible.
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 11:16 pm
Adal rubbed his forehead, his thought process trickling back into the forebears of his mind. Georgie nudged the Locos off to the side, his hand pressed against his other palm. Cheeks ever so slightly pink, the boy bowed his head, eyes squeezed shut.
"'M very much sorry, Miss, we didn't mean to." His eyes fluttered open, now staring straight at the fruit that had fallen to the floor. Woe was he, the lady his brother had bumped to was, as he could see, a lady of esteem, with her dress finely pressed and her hair neither greasy nor messy like the that of a peasant woman's. Cheeks lit in an even deeper pink, now, he bowed his head again, and crouched to take a closer gander at the fruit.
The Plague's wild yellow eyes flashed a quick, hard glance on the lady of the Council momentarily, mouth agape. He lowered his head, however, and bowed as his freckled brother did, muttering a quiet apology. "Apologies, miss."
"Ah, I think I can buy you a new fruit, miss, if--" Georgie's lips curled to a soft frown as he watched the lady leave, and he was left to slouch over the spilled fruit that was once her's. Sighing, Georgie stood upright once more, scratching the back of his head, his shoulders tense.
"So many people here, y'just had to run into one of them, didn't you?"
No response. Looking around once more, the freckled boy tapped the back of his brother's shoulders, smiling glumly.
"Well, next time you run into someone, make sure it's Miss Amaranthe. Let's go."
Adal's eyes grew round. Moments after, Georgie was sent charging after him.
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Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 4:46 am
Beatrix only gave a stony gaze at the embarrassed boy, and though she might have looked fierce she would not have considered punishing him. He was but a child, and she did not believe in putting untoward burdens on youth. It had been an accident, and that was it. However, not all people of esteem class were so merciful. Such was what power did to a person. But she would not abuse her status to inflict and suffering upon the peasant class. No matter what she had been through and how much she might deserve to inflict nothing but misery as had been down to her, she remembered her roots.
Of course, if it was an upper class man he would have never heard the end of it. And if he looked like him then he would have been lucky to keep his dignity.
Apologies.
They were just words, hollow words. How many had she heard? After a hit, after a slap. They didn't mean anything.
Beatrix had every reason to distance herself from this situation. Of course, the most prevalent was the quite strange boy. She had felt something off about him in the pit of her stomach. From one foreigner to another, from one outcast to another.
She had rushed off into the streets not looking back until she was across the street, and when she did she saw the two figures rushing with an alarming speed. Where they after her? Or that wretched thing in her pocket? Her heartbeat raced and she sped off, ducking into an alleyway, but her sharp turn made her fall to the ground. The matchbox escaped from her pocket and to the floor, the top coming off for just a moment before she hurriedly closed it and placed it back into her pocket. She got up, brushing the filth that was likely on her dress, pressing her back close to the wall just in case the two boys came this way.
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Posted: Wed Aug 04, 2010 5:57 pm
"ADAL!" Georgie's voice escalated to the point where it broke into a light squeak. Eyes round with surprise, arms outstretched in front of him, he pushed himself against the several figures that stood against him and his brother, who madly chased after the raven-haired woman-- and scare her, no less, and make her launch off into the depths of the marketplace without much warning, and God forbid he'd lose his brother to the marketplace again--
Adal took in a grand whiff of air once more. Adal was a faster runner and a steady observer, two qualities of himself that he was surest of, and proudest. He wrangled and pulled himself past the nooks of human bodies, a light laugh about him all the while.
His back arched forward and feet moving swiftly, he held tightly onto his hat and swept his feet into a sharp turn into the thin alleyway. White light stretched from his eyes as he darted forward until the Locos came to a complete stop, his hand pressed against the nearest wall next to him. Amidst the shadows of the alley, the glow of his eyes illuminated with painful clarity. Past his deep intakes of air, his pink cheeks, and his strange self, who was laughing no longer, he was neither tired, nor excited--
He was bewildered.
Perhaps it was the chase that made the scent seem wilder and flourish with such a viscosity that it whirled about him. His eyes trailed along the narrow road of the alleyway, until he saw a matchbox on ground in front of him, and a dainty hand reaching down to pick it up. Panting the last of his heavy breath, he straightened, a clear frown upon his face, though the edge of his lips twitched jovially, as there was a sugar-sweet scent that filled his stomach and made it warm--
He started to walk to her, at an alarmingly slow pace.
"Miss Amaranthe, was it?"
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Posted: Sun Aug 08, 2010 8:12 am
Beatrix didn't know if she was safe here from these two mad men, but she hadn't really had much choice in hiding spots, as the direction she'd headed into was a residential area, and she couldn't very well start banging on doors. So here she was in some dirty alleyway hoping that her efforts were enough to escape them. She knew that it was definitely in her best interests to stay away from them, from whatever they were.
Beatrix didn't often consciously associate that which she held in the matchbox as being a Plague, but as she stood in the alleyway she could only think that they were after her for this reason. To steal it, take it from her by force? Or to brand her? Just like the people had branded her house when her father had died.
Then in a moment she knew had been found out. Her eyes darted up at the boy, unwavering as he approached her.
Beatrix was not scared, for she had not been scared of a man for a very long time - and she vowed she never would be again - but she was monumentally creeped out.
That thing should not know her name, but it did and Beatrix knew that was a bad sign. But her posture was straight and rigid, her demeanor just as prim and proper as before. She would not be frightened, not by such a force. Beatrix had gone through worse in her lifetime.
"Yes, how may I help you?" She asked unwaiveringly, not moving from her spot. Running, she could only imagine, would not be a good idea nor would her pride allow it.
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 3:04 pm
Adal nodded complacently. This was Miss Amaranthe, then-- and for why he couldn't track the scent too well, he knew for certain-- it was being hidden from him, the rest of the populace. The woman kept it with shame, of course-- but what would this lady of status need of a Plague? Did she keep the Plague upon her secret at all times, or was that her token to wealth? What did she do, what was she, and, more important to him-- what was her Plague?
The Locos didn't respond to her answer immediately; instead, he knelt, head tilted to the side as he eyed the pocket on the lady's person in which the curious matchbox was. With a strangely calmed smile, he pointed to the pocket, then looked up at the raven-haired lady's amber eyes.
"Might I spare you the formalities? The only request I have is to help me relinquish that curious thing in your matchbox there, Miss Beatrix. The Plague made of Candy."
Meanwhile, the blond kept eager attention to hearing what was behind him, as well; the task was easier done if his pest of a brother wasn't here to make matters complex...
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 4:24 pm
Beatrix was wary, she had been so before, but now she completely alert and ready for any action that were to spring itself. She didn't know if this boy was going to attack her, but she was ready if he was going to. She had not been through what she had and not end up knowing how to defend herserlf. What ennerved her about this boy was how calm and slow he was.
Didn't he know not to keep a lady waiting?
Beatrix kept herself perfectly straight, strong and confident so as to show she was not afraid of him, whatever he was. However, that was a difficult task considering his words. He knew what was in her matchbox, that wretched little thing with its sweet scent. And he wanted to take it from her. Her hands idled by her side, her amber eyes locked on him.
"And what right do you have to do such a thing?" She asked, her tone stern with an edge of suspicion. This boy had no right to take it from her! No one had a right to do such a thing! "And more importantly, what do you want with it?" Who was he connected with? That crazed cult? Or perhaps even that dastardly man who had come and passed, and this was now his legacy? A new wave?
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 4:51 pm
Adal chuckled bitterly. Plagues and their guardians were always so painfully diverse.
"Perhaps formalities are in order, then. I've come here on a search for you by name of The Plague Doctor, and it's my duty to see that you treat your Plague with... care." His subtle smile melted into a displeased frown, a more accurate reflection of the response to her actions. She was a lady, but an impatient one, and she held a regal air about her, a kind of air that he didn't like. If it was not for the fact that she was what she was, he would've taken the matchbox by force and done away with the rest of the day.
But etiquette told him otherwise; he must treat the opposite sex with a sensitive air of respect, though that didn't shield Miss Amaranthe from the sharpness of his words.
"Though I see that care hasn't been administered, exactly. For how long have you had your wealth, Miss Amaranthe, the jewels around your neck and on your ears? You look like a knowledgeable lady. To keep such a thing in a matchbox and let it live in your pocket, most ladies of refinement would have simply thrown it away. So why do you keep it?"
He paused, brows creased with concern. He stood on his toes and took a small step forward, kneeling yet. His voice was softer, like coaxing. "Have you felt what living in a cage felt like, Miss Amaranthe? The drudgery and the loneliness you feel when you're kept away simply because you exist? As a Plague, I'm appalled. As a Plague, I'm irritated by your arrogance."
Indeed, he was irritated, though his weaving of words weren't necessarily accurate-- he was talking to the Plague. It seemed to make no effort at all to escape its cage, it remained solitary, and he was irritated.
To have a Plague in such a pathetic state was a pity.
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 4:31 am
Beatrix had thought the worst of the boy in front of her already, not a far stretch from how her mind usually worked in terms of men. However, the term Plague Doctor threw her off a little. As well as the nature of the visit. First, he wanted to take it from her and now he wanted to show her how to treat it, like it was some pet. Regardless, she was far from allowing any sympathy for this boy. There was something not right about it, she knew it, she could feel it in her bones.
But more then wariness that bred in her was anger. The boy talked to her like she was bourgeois snob, that the only thing that kept her standing on her own two feet were her money! What right did he have to say such a thing, without knowing a single thing about her? "That is none of your business." She refuted to both questions, though the first one had really been more theoretical in nature. Both parts of what he said wounded her, but she was not going to divulge her life, her past to this boy.
Beatrix stood her ground, though she ensured that there was enough room between her and the boy in case he tried anything, his voice doing nothing to calm her. In fact, it truly had the opposite effect - but the explosive words had made sure of that. "And you think I don't know? Because I wear tailor made clothes and I have lavish jewels on my neck? You think I don't know what it's like to waste away every day and just hope you die, rather then live to the next day? And do you know what it's like to live under the rule of a man, only for his pleasure and his entertainment?" She said with a tone of pure venom, nearly shaking in fury. To look like a peasant to made it seem like there was nothing but misery in your life, and to look rich seemed to mean that none had touched you. The look in her amber eyes showed that her words were true, but the fury should have been enough.
And only now did the matchbox shake and rattle, not out of any urgency to get out, but perhaps a reaction to it's guardians emotions. And even a little further, a warning to whoever was angering her.
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