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 Posted: Sat Oct 02, 2010 9:34 pm
Plague Doctor Meeting
Why?
A routine checkup with Lord Yizhaq and his Servos, Hayat.
Whom?
Lord Yizhaq & Hayat (Indubitably)
-&-
The Doctor & Adal (Zanaroo)
Where?
The exclusive Imisese estate of Lord Yizhaq in one of the less crowded areas of Imisus.
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Posted: Sat Oct 02, 2010 10:08 pm
The higher rungs of Imisese society held itself with an immediate air of prestige. There was little room for informality, and even during Panymium's time of great chaos, the vast fields and forestry that hid the surrounding area of mansions and private estates were intimidating to many. The working class had only heard rumors and tales from the once-indentured servants of the lords and ladies of their province's prodigal aristocrats. In Imisus it was no surprise that even those of foreign blood had fueled some of the most notoriously influential projects known to man, and it was also no surprise that those of great welfare had significantly fewer problems with the Black Death.
Yet, pray tell, if a nobleman had happened to come across qualms with the Black Death it was rare and it was exciting, if only because of its rarity. What was even rarer was an aristocracy raising a Plague.
What was even rarer than that was a nobleman valuing a Plague.
Autumn was settling on the bosoms of the grassy horizons; the sun held itself low and the sky was a milky, comfortable blue, which settled itself over the white clouds and murky gray smoke that surrounded the factories not far away. Inside of a single carriage, manned by a single man and two burly horses, was a quaint flaxen Locos and his boss and second guardian.
Adal settled his head against the window pane at the edge of the carriage, his candle-wax eyes staring out at the warm light of the Imisese day outside. Besides him he carried nothing but a violin case, and on his side was a sheathed short sword. The Doctor's beaked mask was placed perfectly still on top of his head, his back straightened as he awaited patiently for the carriage to arrive at a stop.
He had heard tell of a man in Imisus whose efforts and free hours were consumed by the idea of Plagues, informally named by the inquiring dilettantes as Plagueology. There was no formal letter, no preemptive request upon the lord of the house to visit him-- he was aware that there was a Plague near his presence, both because of his mind and because of his apprentices.
With a hiccup over an uneven rock trail, the carriage halted. The escort looked back at the two gentlemen and knocked on the top of the carriage. Before the reins of both horses were tied to a mast, and the escort readied himself to greet the two outdoors, Adal simply opened the door for themselves. A few shillings tossed and a curt bow later, the two were off-- of the many things the Locos had yet to learn, it was manners. With an equally as curt sneer in response, the escort turned his carriage around and made his way back to the cities once again.
A few yards of rolling fields were ahead of them, though off in a distance not too far away they could see a pristine mansion.
The Yizhaq estate.
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Posted: Mon Oct 04, 2010 2:47 pm
The jolting, vibrating loud interruption of someone demanding their attention sought only to make her parting all the more violent. The hands that had worked their way around the other's body were jerked away, quickly grabbing Yizhaq's from wherever they had ventured and shoving them down from her just as quickly.
"Try not to look smug as you answer that," she hissed out quietly, slipping quickly to 'her side' of the bed to retrieve her sleeping robe. She would not be found undressed by anyone if she could help it, sheets covering her or not.
Yizhaq raised an eyebrow, fighting for a neutral expression as Bhakti rushed to make herself 'decent', instead of the wide grin that threatened to take over his face.
The abrupt ending to their encounter made it all the more intense, in his mind, her flustered response, eager hands, mouth, body, and the startled way in which she reacted to the door... Guiltily, almost. And about what? Pleasure. It was a sure sign that she'd enjoyed it, drove the point home, and Yizhaq slipped from the bed, snagging a loose shirt from a dresser to tug on, with a sort of effortless grace.
He only glanced back at her, once, the smile he sent her startling in its honesty. Too preoccupied to hide it from her, he cracked the door, brows high.
A short, quiet conversation ensued, and after a moment, Yizhaq shut the door again, looking over his shoulder at Bhakti as he did so.
"It seems I have some relatively unexpected visitors arriving."
While Yizhaq looked particularly pleased, Bhakti's eyes were narrowed in response. The sash was knotted hastily around her waist, the final pull jerked and violent. She would be reminded of this today as she read through her poetry. It would ruin, to a great degree, her ability to appreciate the literary aspects of the writ.
By the time that Yizhaq had closed the door, Bhakti had managed to become neutral, shoving frustrations to the back of her mind. "I see," she answered him, already realizing that whoever these people were, she would likely find their presence unfavourable. "Don't keep them waiting." It was her turn, once again, to leave first. After all, if they had visitors, she had to be dressed and clean, did she not?
-------
It was only a short time later that the Plague Doctor and Adal would find themselves welcomed into the estate, lead to the exquisite garden patio near Yizhaq's study.
There, the young lord could be found, perfectly groomed in expensive, tailored attire of white and silvery green. He was seated at a table, tea for three upon the glass top.
Upon the table stood Hayat, who was quietly reading poetry with her Grimm, when the two came into view. Glancing at them, Yizhaq smiled, his white teeth flashing against his tan face, as he stood to greet them.
"Ah, how wonderful to see you again, so soon, Adal! And with such a distinguished companion! Come, take tea with Hayat and I." There was no questioning what that mask meant, though whether this was the true doktor was yet to be seen.
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Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 3:28 pm
It was highly incomprehensible for even the Locos of quaint displeasure to keep his jaw from gaping at the sight of the fanciful estate-- over his few years his visits with the aristocracy had been mostly in secret, and nearly all other times the meetings were in other places, in shoddy shacks or small homes off of the coasts of the province. It was marveling to see what a man's weight in Shillings could really do, and as the two were guided through the vast hallways of the mansion and to the garden, Adal kept quiet, if only because his mind was skirting through the briefest of innocent inquiries on what kind of luxuries this mansion might have. His neck was arched high as he looked up at the ceilings and layout of the place.
Adal was astounded by the way the Doctor had carried himself, his back straight the entire way and his beaked mask pointed forward at all times, and after a few moments his skittish walking grew silent, steadier, as he tried to keep his eyes from wandering too far, lest he let his mind grow childish once again. Servants led the two into the depths of the garden, where the young lord and her elegant Servos were sat diligently on chairs.
Just what they were reading made Adal curious, though he shoved the thought aside and received Yizhaq's greeting with an extended bow. The Locos stood and waited until the Doctor returned the Lord's ambivalence with a bow of his own. The Doctor turned to face Adal and nodded, and the Locos bowed once more and took an empty seat as his own.
"Lord Yizhaq, greetings," Courteousness and an initial gracious presence kept the man of myth standing; his head tilted and hovered over the sight of the Servos, the falcon. His magic had told him enough of the little one, newly grown, though his suspicions rose as he noticed just how youthful the Lord was.
"It is to my knowledge that your interests lay in the Plagues. Your message was given to me some years ago."
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Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 4:13 pm
"Ah, you mistake me for my late, father, good doctor, taken before his time." The handsome lord seemed to harbor no ill will [unlike the other, young Grimm who kept a Servos], as he explained further. "He came too close to the black plague which he studied, you see, and became ill."
Giving Adal a semi-curtsey in greeting, Hayat was content to watch him as her master spoke, her own hollow gaze lingering on his golden one. Yizhaq had told her of the Locos, and how she would, perhaps, become one as well. He spoke of such things with pride, and she found it pleasing.
"I, however, continue his work. Both with the fellowship, and in the study of the Plagues. In truth, I consider my lovely Hayat to be a gift from him."
A smile as he poured the tea for his guests with a darkly gloved hand, "You are no less well received, Doctor, despite the passing years."
Now that his explanation was through, Hayat's dry voice could be heard, her interest piqued. "What do you carry in that case, Adal? It is a stringed instrument, is it not? My lord plays one, as well. Perhaps you will deign to show me your talents, when our tea is finished." Her coolly elegant tone displayed no doubt that he would perform for her as 'requested'.
Yizhaq looked amused, but unsurprised. Hayat was, after all, a Lady, and he had found that they were oft quite demanding in nature.
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Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 8:27 pm
Though it was disappointing to hear of the original Lord Yizhaq's passing, there was no faint remark of surprise from neither doctor nor Plague, not the slightest hint of disappointment nor a want for leave. The Doctor bowed his head in regards to this old news, a silent form of acknowledgment and silent good regards for this benevolent family of Plague dilettantes, a message that was given to the young Lord a few years too late.
"Your loyalty to your father's cause is a rare quality that I have yet to see in the Lords of this time," The Doctor continued; his demeanor hadn't changed, and his back was as statute as it was moments before. He bowed and his limber self sat in the last empty chair, beaked mask staring as the Lord prepared their humble cups of tea. "As such, Lord Yizhaq, I am interested yet. I hope you'll come to see this meeting as a gratuity for your father's works and the growth of miss Hayat, which would be my greatest interest in examining. Consider my services as well my apprentices, Adal and Georgie, as an exchange for your diligence."
Adal bowed his head to the young Servos with a small smile-- an earnest one, rare for the boy-- and watched with yellow eyes the monochromatic visage of her ghastly self. Faint traces of what she once were remained, though the ferocity of her predator actions had died down a significant amount, in place of the regal Plague before him. When the young lady inquired on his case, he glanced down at it and back at her, then bowed his head. Had he not practiced, Adal would have reprimanded her command, but he was feeling confident enough about his memory and tuning.
"It would be an honor, Miss Hayat."
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:04 pm
"I think, Doctor, it is a quality not found in Lords of this land. Where I am from, such a loyalty is a fact of life, something within the blood, I suppose." A white flash of teeth in a smile, and a wave of the hand. "But perhaps that discussion is best left to another time. It is an honor to have you here, and both myself and Hayat are happy to oblige any request you may have of us."
At that, the pale Servos' eyes shifted from the beautiful, golden boy with the case to that of the doctor, acknowledging Yizhaq's words with a simple nod. Stepping forward, she made herself more plainly seen. How this doctor's examination would help her, she was unsure, but she had never had cause to doubt her Lord, and would not think to argue.
Hayat did, however, continue to contemplate Adal's words, and the agreement to play for her. She heard music often, but rarely knew the players. This would be much more intimate, and the thought pleased her. Yizhaq told her that she, too, could learn something, when she took a larger form. As of yet, she hadn't been able to choose an instrument.
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2011 4:21 pm
"A bold statement, Lord. The honor is your's and mine equally," the Doctor noted plainly, beaked mask pointed toward the gloved gentleman. The cloaked man then glanced at the cup of tea just beneath his nose, head tilted to the side as musky steam from the hot water rolled onto his mask and into one of his eye holes, which seemed as empty as if no man wore the mask at all. Despite his silent refusal to take off the porcelain visage, neutrality kept in his reigns without the slightest bit of effort, the Plague Doctor carefully took the cup of tea to his mask and stared blankly at it.
Like the steam rolling into his mask, the lightly tinted tea rose from the cup and the liquid was whisked along softly with the steam and into the shadows where the Doctor's presumably was. No sound was made, and the man set down the tea and its plate, then took the small spoon off to its side. A stick-like gloved hand reached for a cube of sugar from its basin, and he plopped it into the liquid.
"A mild tea, Lord Yizhaq," he noted, a pinch of amusement in his voice, "Is it a blended kind?"
The Locos beside him, meanwhile, bent down to get his case and put it gently on his lap. He felt around the unevenly rustled buckle and it clicked open, the residual sound of aged wood creaking as he did. Ragged cloth, which covered the violin, was quickly undone and Adal was staring at a dusty violin and, though it was clearly aged, was a pristine scarlet which shone against the light like any other instrument. The blond fished into his pocket for a piece of cloth and, when he found it, took out the violin and started to gently clean the sides of it, looking warily at the Doctor while he stopped mixing the tea and picked it up again to take another 'sip.'
"Doctor," Adal started, glancing at Hayat, "The Lord and his Lady Hayat obliges. Shall the examinations start promptly?"
"Ah, yes," the Doctor whispered, then quickly set down his tea cup. He leaned forward, offering a palm to Hayat, "If you please, Gyrfalcon."
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2012 3:09 am
It was a testament to his upbringing that Yizhaq managed to keep his expression relatively pleasant, arched brows only raising slightly as steam, then tea, streamed its way through the air and into his mask.
For the best, then, that Bhakti slept on, and was not present at this meeting. Such oddities did not sit well with her judgmental nature.
Instead, the lord took the time to collect his wits as he took a sip from his own cup, clearing his throat as he set it down and nodded. "Yes, a light combination of teas from both my homeland and Panymium."
Both cups were soon upon the table, and Hayat offered a second curtsey, this one deeper, and directed toward the masked man [who knew, really?] as he addressed her. "Of course, Doctor." Placing a delicate hand on his thumb, she stepped gracefully into his palm, tilting her head to regard him with her empty stare.
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Posted: Fri Feb 10, 2012 4:22 am
The Doctor pulled Hayat close and examined her in silence, at first, his free hand pressed to his chin. Adal watched to the side while he cleaned his violi near mechanically, polishing dust away from its fingerboards and brushing his fingertips against the string of his bow to inspect its strength.
"Ah, yes. Misrian detailing on Lady Hayat, and I realize by your name her influences are rather appropriate. And a Gyrfalcon, too, remains in this Servos-- she smells of harsh wind and crisp fire. A strong, diligent Locos, shall her life not stray for the worst." He rested his palm on the table, inviting Hayat to stand on its surface, and from his robe he pulled out a small book casing, made from tough black leather and brittle paper. He glanced to Lord Yizhaq, then, his journal laid out on a set of empty pages flat on his lap.
"Might you have some ink, Lord Yizhaq? I must ask a few things of you, Lady Hayat-- do you see? Do you smell Death around you-- how strongly? And on the Lord-- do you smell on him, as I do, all Plagues his presence has greeted. Might you know other Plagues-- met others, before and after your transformation into an Excito?"
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2012 3:55 am
"Ah, of course, Doctor." The young man's pale gaze shifted then, scanning the garden for the nearby attendant, who seemed to be waiting for just such a sign. "Ink, and a pen, for our guest, please." A quick bow, and the servant excused himself, returning shortly with the requested items and offering them to the doctor before stepping away a respectful, unobtrusive distance.
"I am very pleased with the Lady Hayat," Yizhaq acknowledged, both on her alignment and her appearance. The gryfalcon herself moved from palm to table, her gaze trailing from the doctor to her lord, and back.
"I smell it, yes, but I see its mark quite clearly, like tracks upon the trail. It lingers." She paused then, thoughtfully. "We have met several, but I have seen many more. The nobles that mingle amongst us smell of death, strongly, but we do not spend time enough with them for my Lord to like to introduce me plainly." Cultists, he called them. "We have under our care the boy, Chauhn, and his excito of ash, Clurie. The brothers Malt," She inclined her head briefly toward the anhelo, "Our Lady Estratus and her sword, Sloane, plus her new assistant and his Blaithe. At the... event, in Shyregoed, we made the acquaintance of a Theodore and his ring, I do not know her name, Miss Felicity Wilkes and her dreadful flower, and a sick woman with the scent of death about her, whom my lord gave up his carriage seat for."
Yizhaq nodded, as if to confirm each of the names.
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Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2012 8:25 pm
The Doctor nodded his masked head at the servant and took the ink and pen into his hands. Ink sluggishly moved from bottle to quill without so much as a simple wave of his fingers, and the Locos next to him watched with strained impatience until the minor display of magic was over before continuing to polish his violin. Adal's eyes were clearly narrowed when the Doctor began to write in his leather bound journal, slowly if not for his thickly gloved hands, and nodded.
There was a definite quirk of the brows from Adal at the mention of his name, however, but he did recall chancing upon Lord Yizhaq and a more robust version of the Lady Hayat here during his cold times in Shyregoed. The Doctor was one to react more to the mention of Adviser Estratus and her peculiar Infitialis, Sir Sloane, and he paused his fervent writing to nod in indication of the name. "I would like to inquire to Lord Yizhaq," he raised his head toward the lord, "To why you might be affiliated with Adviser Estratus. I have met her scarcely in the past few years-- but she is a close ally to the Plagues, as is Sir Sloane. It seems to me that much tragedy has struck since my meeting with her, alongside the tragedy of the Sword's transformation into a Infitialis, which my apprentice here has... informed me of."
"Stress is an evident factor of life in Shyregoed," Adal noted, "And the Troupe's pitiful performance at Colwe reflects as much, but we would like to inquire on the details. Why they would have reason to make such accusations in the first place."
The Plague paused in the midst of his violin cleaning and placed it onto his lap and surveyed the Doctor's gangly form in silence as his master, too, seemed to have no word in light of the Troupe incident. A cough from the good doctor was followed along with rapping the tip of the quill against a fresh paper surface, where irritable splotches of ink fluttered onto the pages with every tap. "Yes, all of that is important information. But before we go onto such matters, I would like to comment on Lady Hayat's physiology. It seems that her senses as a falcon have remained, for the most part, and for that we must be thankful. Many Servos and their senses rarely match with their Phasmas and Caedos kin, and even Locos have a difficulty discerning their skills from humans. Seeing the smell of Death is a rare quality, but not unheard of-- do not let your senses dull, Lady Hayat, and continue to be aware of your surroundings.
"As for your keenness of Death, that is something I cannot test. As a studier of Plagues, however, such information is still of interest to me. If you will, Lord Yizhaq, I would like you to take this journal and keep it closely. Record what you can, and perhaps give me a chance to read it again upon my return to this estate, how long after this meeting it might be." The Doctor closed the journal and handed it to Lord Yizhaq, alongside the pen. "What I have learned of Lady Hayat has been enclosed within the first few pages, but the rest remain blank. Are you willing to fulfill this task, Lord Yizhaq?"
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Posted: Fri Mar 02, 2012 2:12 am
"My late father was a mage of some esteem within the Fellowship, and I as well joined their ranks somewhere near the age of 12." Yizhaq provided the information freely, gesturing lightly with an aristocratic, gloved hand. "I currently serve as a Seer. It is true that, during the time I first met her, she was but a girl, newly taken in by the Grand Magnus after the attempted usurpation of her lands and title."
He shook his head, genuine concern briefly flashing across his features in the knit of his brow, as he continued. "Even those that use magic do not fully understand it, and that, combined with our willing association with and defense of the plagues, breeds an environment ripe for sowing the suspicion and anger. I do not blame the people of Panymium for their distrust, though it wounds me as a Lord, for they are whom I am to serve to hold my title."
The journal was offered, then, and Yizhaq accepted it, nodding once in confirmation. "This I will do for you, Doctor."
The falcon then, acknowledged his words as well, before offering a last question. "My senses... Do you think they may be connected to my previous existence as a living putesco?"
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Posted: Thu Mar 15, 2012 10:32 pm
"It wounds you, and rightly so," the Doctor assured, sitting rigidly straight upon Sir Yizhaq taking the journal and pen. "Shyregoed has been under many pressures as of late, and the seasons have yet to be kind. But do not fret, the Fellowship is a strong one under Lady Waldgrave's hand, and the Troupe's incident will be met with just punishments within the month."
"A hope moreso than a prediction," Adal murmured, sourly, though the Doctor paid little attention to the apprentice's idle mumblings. Both of the Plagueologists instead turned to Lady Hayat, to whom the Plague Doctor gave a humbled nod.
"Yes. Though the Phasmas and Quietus are more keenly assigned to their previous lives as a Putesco, a few Servos and Caedos align quite well to their previous lives. But your existence as an Anhelo is hard to predict, Lady Hayat, but I trust your sureness will lead you to the path you most wish to choose. If Lord Yizhaq shall continue to serve my cause," he tilted his head toward the Lord again, "I've little worries."
Silence. There was a small nick of sound that came from the Locos' violin, its idle noises coming every time it was moved. The Plague Doctor bowed his head and rested against the backing of his chair. "Now, if we must make polite inquiries, I believe it is best done over Lady Hayat's order, if Lord Yizhaq does not disagree."
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2012 7:36 pm
"I should hope so, Doctor." The youthful lord's voice was strained, though he did not continue on the topic, keeping his thoughts to himself as the Doctor addressed his servos.
Your sureness will lead you to the path you most wish to choose.
It was curious phrasing, and though Yizhaq seemed not to think twice on it, instead pouring another cup of brew for himself and settling into his chair to turn his attention to the young violinist.
Hayat, however, turned the Doctor's choice of words over in her sharp mind. Her will was strong, steel, and it seemed to her that her path was not fixed. Why, indeed, she would choose to stray from Order, she did not know, but it was an option.
Making a soft noise, that would qualify as a clearing of the throat, should an excito be equipped with such a thing (Yizhaq imagined so, but was disinclined to examine Hayat's anatomy), the gryfalcon gave her dark stare to Adal, inclining her head.
"There is beauty, still, in this world, and I would like to hear it."
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