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 Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2011 1:12 pm
✁ ▬▬▬▬ LADY AND THE TRAMPS ▬▬▬▬
with Basil Darling and his icicle putestco, Ellison D. West and his nutcracker putesco and Lulu Rogers and her cloak putesco.
The trio cross paths during the utmost worst of times. map | main threadMarch 15th, 1411 - March 22nd, 1411
"Seek"
As a part of the lower class, you have been the most effected by the haphazard and extreme violence going around in nearly every populous region of Panymium. In part of this, the lower class has chosen one of two things-- fight or flight. So, to you, the question is basic-- what do you do? Do you protect your own assets and move away from the troubles of your location, or do you stay and revolt with the rest of the people to try and find some answers?
"Honor"
The upper class flourish with the vitality of the Royal Families and the Emperor. As of now the Royal Families and Emperor are just what the riots are after-- they are fighting and destroying every single foundation that has represented the upper class's wealth. They're demanding answers that none can possibly provide at the moment, but you soon come to realize that there must be a way to stop these riots. With the political power you have with your status and/ or wealth, find a way to quell some of the violence happening across Panymium. Do you use your influence in a peaceful way, or do you aim to resolve things violently?
UPDATE 2: "The Kick," Grimms, week 1
Unfortunately for you, the threat seems more than viable by now. That crow that sent you that letter is seemingly coming at you in multitudes, dropping you pieces of parchment with absolutely nothing inside, though it seems to 'melt away' in the same fashion as the one that you first got, as if it's reminding you of something.
There are also stalkers within your vicinity, where ever you are-- just how they got there you don't know, unless you pry it out of them. Beware of those keeping track of where you're going when you do. They are not attacking, but they are watching, so think before you act and act intelligently.
UPDATE 3: "The Start," those who are traveling, week 1 to ?
Well! Decided to react to that letter, have you? I see that you're making quick steps towards another destination, but alas, that isn't... good news, per se, though we're very glad you're trying.
Imperial Guard officials are going to stop you at every border you go. They will check not only your belongings but they will check for two very specific things-- if you have the Black Death or if you own a Plague. If you do have a Plague, Guards will most likely try to take you into custody, which in more earnest terms means prison while they try to figure out what to do with you. They can't let a Cultist snuff right under their wing, right?
So, what do you do to avoid guard suspicion if you do own a Plague?
UPDATE 5: "Razing," Imisus (Commonwealth), week 1
Beware of those in Imisus, beware! Honestly, what are you still doing there? Waiting to be killed?
To you in the upper class I'd suggest hiding yourselves or escaping immediately because there will be an attempt on your life, if there hasn't been already. To you in the lower class, I say, all the more carpe diem to you, sirs and ladies, as the Guard has been riding up your necks with constant checks, and have probably ravaged your house to see if you're hosting any suspicious revolutionaries under your wing.
If you've experienced either of these within the week, please, enlighten us if you have and, honestly, are you going to stay or leave the ravaged east?
March 22nd, 1411 - March 29th, 1411
UPDATE 4: "Routine," The Imperial Guard, week 2
The Imperial Guard has gotten word from a rather reliable source that the appearance of crows have been disrupting the usual activity of towns, as they have been ravaging what they have of Panymium's already sparse crops, and have made cities smell even more like corpse than they did already. They have also heard word that these crows have been particularly populous around where Grimms are and, due to this, the Imperial Guard will check on you at some point in time during this week to see if you're doing okay, if you need any assistance, and probably urge you to try and get you to let them take your Plague so they can deport them to Imisus, where they'll be safe with the Council.
How do you react to all of this?
UPDATE 5: "Tricks," Capital cities, port cities, outskirts around Helios, week 2
There's a chance that Update 4 for you is bad news. Roll a 6-sided die to see if the Imperial Guard that checked on you was a Cultist or a Plague thief-- 1 and 2 means it was an actual Imperial Guard, 3 and 4 means it was a Cultist, and 5 and 6 mean it was a Plague thief.
For an Imperial guard, continue with Update 4 as follows. For a Cultist, they will kidnap to you Auvinus at any means possible and, for a Plague thief, they will kidnap your Plague at any costs, despite what stage it's in.
Week 3 Update: March 29th, 1411 - April 5th, 1411
UPDATE 1: "Hesitate," Grimms, week 3
Those crows and letters have suddenly begun to drop like flies from the sky, leaving nothing but crow corpses. On the flip-side, there's no more parchment whatsoever that's being delivered to you. What's strange, though, is that when you try to pick up any of those crows that are laying dead in thousands of masses across the street, they're extremely heavy-- heavier than a horse, you reckon, and you have no idea why. When you do, though, it stings your hand, and even if they've only recently died, they smell a hell of a lot like months-old corpse.
If you even try to touch any of these crows, you're going to feel heavily incapacitated for the next couple of days-- the more crows you're around the more sick you'll be. It'll look like you have the Black Death, in fact, each and every one of you, with black-tipped fingers and swollen buboes around your body but completely hidden from sight. How do you feel, now that you know what true sickness is?
This effect will only last for a few days, maybe just a day for you, three or four at most, but that's all it takes it kill a regular person, anyway. Do you trust your instincts and rumors that your Plague will protect you from the Black Death and move on, or are you starting to have your doubts?
UPDATE 4: "Only You Know," Council of Sciences vs. Commonwealth, week 3
The Council of Sciences happens to be more dastardly than you might initially think. Not only are they controversially going against traditional medical practices, defying the will of God by splitting open both open and dead human bodies alike, the Panymese Press and its revolutionary announcers are openly decreeing that they're hiding secrets. Secrets about the Black Death and the Plague that no one else knows, in fact, secrets that might aid them against curing the Black Death. Regular commonwealth has every right to be angry at you, and they will attack you at the slightest notion that you even look like a scientist. So, doctor, lady or gentleman, what happens and what do you do to try and ease their suspicions?
To commonwealth of any class, you've probably been given out a pamphlet of the Panymese Press and, if you can't read, you've heard people blaring at you about the scandalous nature of the Council of Sciences. Are you angry at the news, and how do you handle it?
UPDATE 5: "Receive Silence," Shyregoed-Imisus border, week 3
Many people are desperate for peace, and not even the church can deliver at this point. Panymium's main religion or, at least, what's left of it, is taking its daily rounds across the continent and are receiving donations and prayers in return for their services. Many people are confessing their sins before their eventual death, and many are giving their duties and possessions away to the holy church, many completely lost of potential heirs.
One specific instance of this has been a giant ceremony near the border of Imisus and Shyregoed, near one of the port cities. People are holding prayers in days-long prayer and are making their route through Shyregoed, robed in a stark red with a cloak that hides their face. A hymnal is to their back and they are going around each and every city looking for more and more followers, confessors, and donators, and are marking their trail across the border at an oddly quick pace. Do you confess, donate, or react at all to this?
Week 4 Update: April 5th - 12th, 1411
UPDATE 4: "Leaking Sun," during daylight, for those who lack sleep, Panymium, week 4
There's been a mark of hallucinations across Panymium, and many have sent certain people into a certain daze. The earth is being marked by copious amounts of sand, a kind of thing that Panymium rarely sees outside of the scattered beach shores, and the people and objects around them seem to be melting and molting feathers. Not only this, but you see a bird's visage at the corner of your eye, a bird-headed man covered in feathers with a bare and tanned body standing aimlessly amidst the crowds, when you are alone, at any time-- but he does not speak to you. At some point in time this bird-headed man will tempt you to do something, a question that has lurked at the back of your mind, and that question will be the only thing he will say to you before he disappears, molting away until he's nothing but a scattered collection of dust.
What does he say, and what do you do in response?
Week 5 Update: April 12th - 19th, 1411
UPDATE 3: "Not a Penny More," Commonwealth, week 5
Tax collectors and beggars, the lot of them, but due to the current state of disrepair many people are requesting for a general "forcible aid" and charity to every citizen they can to account for the amount of effort and resources it will take to rebuild the provinces again after the hectic dealings around Shyregoed and Imisus, especially. Not only are they requesting an insane amount of money from you, these supposed government officials are literally threatening you with arrest if you don't comply. On the other hand, however, you might encounter a fellow propagandist from the Panymese Press, who says that they're willing to help you out and give you information in the future if you give them your supposed donation to the government official to them instead. Which one do you give aid to, if either, and if you don't give the officiate your share, how do they react?
UPDATE 4: "A Job Well Done," Imisus, week 5
As a people, the Imisese are trying their best to recuperate after their massive riots across the towns, though how well they're faring is up to you to decide. Due to King Fang's relatively famous method for keeping record of his citizens, he has requested that his personal officiates hire officers to go around Panymium to request the aid of their native residents in their time of great need. Despite where you might be, King Fang himself will have sent you someone to tell you both the status of where your family is, if they're alive, and how your last area of residence in Imisus is. It's highly likely that your home was destroyed but, in light of this message, do you plan on going back to Imisus and fix things up in your home province, or must you stay put and deal with the things you've already been handed to you these past few hectic weeks?
Week 6 Update: April 19th - 26th, 1411
UPDATE 1: Grimms and Plagues, week 6
All that's left of the cultists now are quiet and disappointment. Even those who are of Obsucvan faith feel an eerie level of silence, as if they're being shunned, and it seems like the cultists are nowhere near in sight. It seems as if they've never been there at all, as if the House of Obscuvos was never there to begin with. What's worse, though, is the dissonance between your senses and everything around you. After this series of events and the troubles with Obscuvos himself, you end your week with a final visitation by a single man, who is bespectacled and ghastly, impossible to touch but entirely there.
If you try to interact with him, he simply smiles, autonomously greeting you. He says, "It was a pleasure to get to know you these past six weeks, but I'm afraid it's my time to go. The Plague Doctor has a new competitor-- I am him, and it looks like you and your Plague might have to get used to more visits with your new ally."
He salutes you by taking off his hat and bowing and, whisking himself away in the wind, disintegrating like dust, the only thing that's left of him is one thing--
A dead crow, like the ones you've seen these past six weeks...
UPDATE 2: Panymium, week 6
...And even those are starting to fade away from existence, or, shall we say, be returning to normal.
As the week passes by each and every one of these crows, once heavy as lead when they were deceased, are becoming lighter and lighter by the hour. By the end of it streets are being flooded with floating crows, which are seemingly impossible to throw away, even if you try-- if you do, don't worry, they'll come alive and fly away the very instant you lay your finger on it. The strange thing, though, is that these armies of dead and now-floating crows are taking a strange leap into transformation as the days go by. These birds are now turning into robed husks, like the cultists that were following you only a few weeks ago, and threatened to attack you. While those cultists from earlier might have seemed completely sentient and human in thought process, these ones are shades of human beings, as black in aura as they were when they were crows.
If you are around these dead crows, they'll make on last chase after you, armies of them near you transforming instant by instant, one by one. They will chase you until they can't chase you anymore, until they've transformed back into a seeping black goop-- the familiar scent of Putescos and the Furvus Elixir-- but how well do you fare and how many chase you?
Most importantly, take care of not being harmed by the remaining goop...
UPDATE 3: those of wavering faith, week 6
...Or it will do a great many things to your health.
If Obscuvos was chasing you at any point in time the previous week, and has faded in and out of his appearance as of late, this is the time he'll become the most sentient. The black goop that's been appearing in masses across the streets have recollected and are seemingly immediately attracting to this god image that is following you around, real in mass or not. He is becoming a bulky and unavoidable thing, and what was once a stalker has now become murderous. He snares open his crow's beak and elongates his feathered neck, arched in an eerie fashion. Obscuvos can devour you.
This thing will murder you at any cost, and perhaps it will, but this instance of killing seems to be nothing but a delusion. Once he gets his final and imminent grip on you, you'll recognize your mode of death and you'll feel pain in the process, but after a strange dream you wake. When you wake, you're covered in a seeping black and you have complete memory of what just happened to you.
How do you get killed?
Did you really get killed at all?
UPDATE 5: Commonwealth, week 6
...And those reasons are about to be proved once again.
You find a bottle of Furvus Elixir somewhere around you. A note is attached to it, but it's blank, and it whispers one thing--
"Keep this safe."
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Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 2:14 pm
March 16th, 1411 Yesterday evening, Lulu Rogers was able to hoard off a first wave of mobs at the Rogers estate by enthralling them with the idea of her handing out a portion of the Rogers fortune. This meant, of course, the men would have to fight for the materialistic objects, as Lulu threw them high in the air for them to be distracted by. And she had to deal the mobs for the entire day. She held with her her most beloved belongings, and even brought along Alfred's beloved cloak. At first, she contemplated on leaving it behind, but when she realized that it was still bleeding, she realized she had to take it with her. Obviously, if anyone was to scour through the house while it was unattended, she didn't want them to find this. After all, it could lead to bad things. As if, bad things weren't happening already. She was still under the notion that Alfred must have had something to do with this. Was he suspicious of her?
She was going paranoid, and this was most definitely not the right time to be paranoid of such things. She needed to focus--and for once in their entire tutorship, Lulu was grateful for Miss Potts. Truthfully, she didn't even know the woman's first name--and it was only last night when she realized that Miss Potts was actually a missus. It didn't stop her from calling her Miss Potts, though. Lulu and Miss Potts spent the 15th of March running around Gadu, trying to find a safe spot. When they tried before, Mr. Darling's bookstore was closed for the day--and Lulu full-heartedly understood why. At least, she could make an assertive assumption as to why.
And so, Lulu Rogers and Miss Potts had to find safety elsewhere for the night of the Ides of March. The town was in chaos, with crows cawing everywhere and endless seas of men marching and running through the streets--drunk, or at least, appearing to be so. Lulu wondered about those bears at the bear-garden--and, for a slight moment, imagined all the men here to be animals of sorts. Roaring, wailing, screaming boys in animal suits. Finally, they found refuge in Miss Potts' church, ironically. Miss Potts was profoundly loyal, and it made Lulu wonder what the older woman would have thought of her if she was to find out Lulu didn't attend church.
That night, sleeping on that hard bed (if one could even call it a bed), was the first time Lulu was reminded of her old room in Yirui, in years. A restless night, Lulu spent the entire time thinking back of home, and the rough times there. She thought of Alfred and his attempts to woo her--and all the countless men who would give her thingamabobs and trinkets as a token of their feelings towards her. And she wondered, for a moment, why she was here laying on this piece of wood. Why couldn't life just stay simple? All these stupid stupid men had to get in the way of everything. All she wanted was to live peacefully in a house that was eventually hers and have everyone do all the dirty work. She's obviously done enough. If only things always went according to plan.
It was the sixteenth now, and Miss Potts made the decision for them that they should try out Mr. Darling's bookstore once more. After all, no harm done, right? They thanked the priest who let them stay there--and Lulu wondered, as he prayed and prayed for a safe day and night and journey--there, as she watched the priest pray, she wondered if his god were to fail him, how he would take it. If his superior didn't grant that wish, or answer to that prayer, what he would do then. Would he just pray more?
Lulu was tugged along as Miss Potts lead the way to the bookstore once more. She wondered about Miss Potts, and the woman's past. But she didn't wonder for long, for somehow, they reached their destination. She looked at the sign of the bookstore warily. It looked beat up--and Lulu wondered if there was anyone actually in there. Miss Potts prodded her to knock on the door. A few seconds later, no one came to answer. Lulu had been here once before--and she didn't bother knocking then. She wasn't going to bother knocking again. "It's unlocked, Miss Potts. Can't we just...walk in?" Without waiting for a reply, she stepped inside to find....emptiness.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" Lulu called out. Miss Potts finally walked in behind her. "Mr. West? Mr. Darling?"
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Posted: Wed Apr 06, 2011 1:11 pm
The aforementioned Mr. West turned to the voice at the door, as if snapped suddenly to attention by an icy whip composed of both reality and consequence. His fists felt sore. He flexed them and noted, picking himself up and examining his hands more closely, that not only were they were sore, they were also slick with a distinct crimson colour.
"You had a wife?" Mr. Darling had asked, after of course Elly explained his tardiness and then the murder of crows and then the letter from last night.
"No," he had answered, "But, I did love her..."
Mr. Darling's face grew quite serious at that, and Elly half-wondered what sorts of consoling words his employer would give. He didn't seem like the type, but there was a marked tone of flat concern that was... curious.
"...Hmm. And was she a sinner, Mr. West--."
The smile that accompanied immediately dashed the thought. But instead of asking for clarification, Elly recalled, or demanding he take that back, it had been at that mere implication, that awful suggestion and grin that he had thrown his bone-white knuckles into Mr. Darling's jaw, grabbed at his shirt collar and then violently pulled him downwards with all the force of man driven not by reason and intellect but by instinct and will. As Mr. Darling recoiled from shock and made to cry out, he took a heavy, leatherbound book from the nearby oak desk and flung it into Mr. Darling's torso. He did it again with a dictionary, and again with an almanac and though the blond made to get up and dodge this perverse book-stoning, his employee was fast and he was strong.
Upon finding no more texts within immediate reach, and that Mr. Darling's chest still moved (spasmed a little, but he was still breathing) Elly kicked the fallen paper aside, found his delicately sculpted face again and replaced those books with his fists-- pounded into the stone. He crouched over like a some kind of god, and pushed one into his nose, right into those miniature spectacles, then hook from under his chin.
It was as if in that single moment in time, he had made up for those weeks of responsibility, quiet, and restraint.
Elly turned his hands over. Nothing was broken and, it obviously wasn't his own blood, so, nonchalantly and in almost good-humour, Elly swiped his knuckles into the inside of his coat, stepped over Mr. Darling's body and called out, "Coming!"
---
There were two women standing in front, and both he noted were familiar faces. The shorter of the two had lines in place of eyes. Lulu Rogers of Shrove Tuesday. He smiled and nodded at her. The other-- the older woman with weasel-nose and a pair of lips simply made to emit all sorts of shrill sounds and noises. To this person, he frowned. ...Missus Potts? His old tutor seemed considerably older, and a touch heavier, but that eternal expression of disdain was unmistakeable.
"....Ellison.. Is that you?" She asked, as if on cue.
"...No..." A quick, change in topic "Mr. Darling is busy tending to the stock. But, I'm here if you... Ladies... Are in need of any assistance."
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Posted: Fri Apr 08, 2011 6:08 pm
It had been an innocent enough question; or at least Mr. Darling had thought.
“You had a wife?”
By now he had forgotten as to how the question came to surface, but poor and socially naïve Mr. Darling found himself making small talk out of others misfortune. Boredom, he would blame, would be the cause of his broken nose later.
“No," Mr. West replied. "But, I did love her..."
Oh? This was a curious development. The brutish Mr. West had once been in love—no, was still in love, with a woman rotting buried in the Earth. No doubt she must have been quite a beastly thing to fall in love with this man, no decent woman could possibly stand to be by the side of Mr. West. His mind began to wander, contemplating what this woman must have been like. Was she ugly? Perhaps. She probably had a sharp and wicked tongue just like her beloved too. Did the two kiss? Embrace, sinful and carnal desires? Ah, did she even love Mr. West? The thought almost made Mr. Darling smile. Women, after all, were fickle and manipulative creatures.
For a moment he almost pitied his employee.
How terrible it must be, to be left behind on this rotting planet, cursed by a witch who had enslaved his heart. It was almost poetic, and sounded like the garbage one would find in a cheap romance novel.
“Hmm,” Mr. Darling quietly hummed to himself. He absent-mindedly traced the golden lettering on the book he held. Oh so delicately, his bony fingers would trace the gorgeous calligraphy, before he realized he had been silent for far too long.
“…And was she a sinner, Mr. West?” He asked, turning his head to flash Mr. West an awkward and forced smile.
For a moment Mr. Darling could not figure out what had just happened. Why was there suddenly pain in his jaw and teeth? He could taste blood—had he lost a tooth? As Mr. Darling’s mind scrambled to figure out what exactly had just occurred, the next thing he knew Mr. West had grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him downwards.
He let out a strange sound, almost a scared little yelp (though Mr. Darling would later say he was not frightened at all), as he landed on his posterior. Next, came the barrage of books, to which Mr. Darling tried to shield himself and dodge. Though as Mr. Darling tried to scramble away, he suddenly felt a heavy weight upon him, and after a few moments of staring up at Mr. West, realized that his employee was now gripping his collar and straddling him.
“Mr. Wes—” Was all the startled shopkeeper could choke out before his employee’s fist brutally collided with his nose.
He could have sworn he felt his brain rattle around from that one.
He was not sure if Mr. West pummeled him any further, because by this point he was so disoriented he could hardly feel the weight of his employee on top of him. But once Mr. Darling was 99.9% sure that Mr. West’s brutal assault had ceased, he slowly blinked his eyes and looked up the man. His face was blurred, and Mr. Darling wondered what sort of expression he wore.
Ding-a-ling.
Ah, the shopkeeper bell? He was not expecting anyone to come in—actually was the sign in the windowsill even flipped to declare they were open today? That was Mr. West’s job wasn’t it? He could hear a muffled sound—voices? Hardly anybody visited this place, and yet of all days they get a customer when the city is in riots. Mr. Darling almost snorted.
The weight on top of him shifted, and Mr. Darling fell completely still (lord forbid he agitate the man again) as Mr. West neatly picked himself up. He waited until Mr. West left his sight, that Mr. Darling shut his eyes, exhaled, and counted to 60.
…58…59…60.
He blinked open his eyes and, at the pace of a tortoise with a broken leg, sat up and looked around for his glasses which had flown off during the savage beating. “Disgusting excuse of a man,” He spat as his fingers glided over the wooden flooring, growing increasingly frustrated as each second passed. There was a sharp pain above his lip, and he could taste the familiar metallic flavor of blood. It felt as though his nose was running and he had a nasty case of the sniffles. He wondered, just how much blood covered his face at that moment.
Finally, his fingers bumped into a small and familiar object. With slightly trembling fingers he reached up and fixed his spectacles properly on the bridge of his nose. Luckily, they did not seem broken, though now he had a large blotch of red in his vision.
He had to clean this blood off.
Ignoring the shaking in his legs, Mr. Darling awkwardly rose to his feet. He adjusted his vest, tugged on the cuffs of his shirt, slicked back his hair, and weaved between the narrow aisles of bookcases towards the front of the store to greet his customers.
"Mr. Darling is busy tending to the stock. But, I'm here if you... Ladies... Are in need of any assistance."
“Ah, that won’t be necessary. I just finished ‘tending to the stock’.” Mr. Darling flashed his employee a disturbingly cheery and bloody grin, before walking past him and towards the two women. “Good day ladies…” Mr. Darling greeted, only just now noticing the familiar Yiruian woman. “Ah! Miss…”
Rockwell…Robins..Ro—Rogers!
“…Miss Rogers! Interesting day to be out shopping isn’t it?” Mr. Darling forced an uncomfortable chuckle. “Another book already? Already done with that toxicology book? An avid reader, aren’t you? Ah, well if you enjoyed that book, I have just the thing for you.”
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Posted: Sun Apr 10, 2011 1:04 pm
Lulu almost wanted to walk away as soon as she saw who Mr. West was. Granted, she had heard this name before--it just...slipped her mind. How was it such a small world that out of all the men to meet during such a crisis, Lulu would have to meet him again. She looked down to his arm, and noticed his knuckles were...bruised. Lulu chose to make no comment, however, but thought it was a shame that his arm wasn't constantly used for throwing rocks at cocks. Shrove Tuesday only comes once a year after all. The only reason she wouldn't have wanted to be there was just in case he recognized her--and while they didn't exactly share a pleasant experience together, there was that incredible arm of his, something Lulu wanted to master one day. To be able to kill so many cocks in such a short period of time, with such precise aim. Lulu almost lost her balance just thinking of it. She hadn't the slightest who Mr. West really was, but she almost didn't want to. That, and now that it was noted that Miss Potts and Mr. West knew each other...she almost began to despise him. After all, Miss Potts had been with her for quite some time now--so who was he to have known her as well?
"Well, you see--"
“Ah, that won’t be necessary. I just finished ‘tending to the stock’.”
"Oh! Mr. Darling!" Miss Potts exclaimed in surprise. Lulu wasn't sure why she would act so surprised, when she was the one that called out to him in the first place. Lulu didn't exactly look at who walked in, as she was still flustered about thinking of Mr. West's arm.
“…Miss Rogers! Interesting day to be out shopping isn’t it?” A chuckle followed. “Another book already? Already done with that toxicology book? An avid reader, aren’t you? Ah, well if you enjoyed that book, I have just the thing for you.”
She thought she felt her ears almost perk up when she saw who Basil Darling was. Yes, yes, he was the one who gave her that most wonderful toxicology book. A book she wished she had back in October, where things would have been...much cleaner. Indeed, how did she forget who Mr. Basil Darling was? Well, that was easy. It doesn't matter who gives her the resource, or how she found it...All that matters is that she has it in her hands. So yes, it wasn't a hard task to forget who Basil Darling was--seemingly humble owner of a discreet book store off a random street corner in Gadu. She almost wondered how he kept his business open, this shaggy old place. She almost felt pity for him and then wondered if she didn't remember him nor this place due to the current state--perhaps it was simply too horrible for her to keep such a place of disgust in her memory.
But Lulu needed to play nice. After all, Miss Potts was here--and neither man has done anything to her yet. She slowly smiled and nodded.
"Oh, yes, Mr Darling. It makes an incredible asset towards my collection. I could not thank you enough." Lulu thought she saw a gleam in his eyes--and wondered if she had that as well. Perhaps there was something in Mr. Basil Darling that Lulu didn't know about. She didn't think of it again though.
Lulu turned to look outside again, as there were men running around the streets. "It might have to wait until next time, Mr. Darling. You see, we've...come here for help. Missus Rogers and I are on our way to Oakbourough and..." Lulu almost wanted to gag at the word. Help. Lulu didn't need it...it was just smarter to have a couple of bodyguards while she and Miss Potts were on their way over to Oakbourough, as the plan went. After all, what would two defenseless women do if they were to encounter trouble? Lulu needed scapegoats. She briefly thought back to Alfred and his maggots and wondered if this is how he felt about his workers as well. Miss Potts was explaining their situation to the men, but Lulu wasn't paying one bit of attention to her. She was lucky to have Miss Potts do all the talking for the two. Imagining herself asking for help was foreign and barbaric--and completely unrefined.
"Right, Mrs. Rogers?" Lulu cleared her throat and blinked a couple of times. "...Ah, yes." What were you babbling on about this time, Miss Potts? "See? So...do the two of you intend to stay here in Gadu?" Miss Potts curiously asked the men, waiting for the men to reply.► OOC: FEEL FREE TO USE MISS POTTS TO FURTHER THE CONVERSATION FOR YOUR RESPONSE LOL. I THINK WE'RE GOOD AT MANIPULATING OTHER PPL'S CHARACTERS, SO LOL. UHH I'M JUMPING TO THE 22ND--WHEN ELLIES GETS KIDNAPPED BY THE IMPERIAL GUARD. IF YOU'D LIKE TO INCLUDE ANYTHING FROM THE 17TH-21ST, FEEL FREE TO INCLUDE SO IN YOUR CHARACTER'S FLASHBACKS/REMINISCING/ETC.March 22nd, 1411 Clearly, the answer was no. They wouldn't be here, now, six days later, in Easton. Four days had passed since they left, and they were only in Easton. Granted, things did happen during the previous days..and they did leave a bit late, but Lulu didn't want to think about it. She could only think back to those lot of swine from a while ago, and it bothered her that such dirty beings would be on her thoughts. She didn't particularly recall why the men had agreed to go--but whatever their reasons were, it didn't matter to her. Lulu Rogers still felt that she was in control of the situation, and nothing was going to change her mind.
She could see why Alfred didn't want her to leave the house. She wasn't saying that Easton was beautiful or anything. She wasn't even saying that Gadu was a pleasure for the eyes. But, for a moment, as she sat in the carriage of sorts, she could imagine what Alfred was thinking--what kinds of thoughts or plans he'd imagine her to be formulating--to leave him.
Lulu hoped that the trip to Oakbourough would have been a lot...hastier, but she underestimated those small pit stops where guards would ravage through their belongings and random men would bother them. But every time, somehow, they were able to deceive the men--and no one thought to check in the hidden area of where Mr. Darling's item was held. She wondered what he was doing with such a bizarre item...an icicle, in the dead of Spring! It amused her to no end, and while she wanted to ask him about its...unique quality (she thought to her own cloak, which was also bleeding), she couldn't bring up the courage to.
Then, she stared to Mr. West's beloved possession, which she found to be rather childish--and it made her wonder why he continued to carry it with him. She didn't know much about Mr. West, but as she saw him, staring at that little nutcracker with a soft...yet bitter smile, she almost...felt something--but as quickly as the almost-feeling came, it disappeared. Whoever he was thinking about, it wasn't worth if it they weren't here anymore. Lingering on memories of the past were useless.
In regards to the reason why they were here in Easton...it slipped her mind. Perhaps Miss Potts wanted to purchase some souvenirs or commodities for the trip--but it didn't matter. All Lulu wanted to do was get out of there. "Are we really going to be staying here another night? We've already spent four days traveling--and now we're going to spend another? Haven't you three noticed the stares we get?" It made her feel uneasy--and the first time in a long time, she felt hesitant. She hadn't felt this way since seeing the crow. "One night shouldn't be the end of us, Mrs. Rogers. Besides, we're all tired, are we not?" The sun was still up, and Lulu wondered if this was the average time Miss Potts slept. Then again, perhaps this was why she was always up so early--and why Lulu was the last to wake up.
Regardless, Miss Potts would soon regret to say such words, for the events that were to come up next.
"Well. I refuse to stay in such a hideous location." Miss Potts almost gasped in horror--and she hoped that no one heard her pupil's offensive words. "Mrs Rogers, you must understand that this isn't Gadu--and we must take refuge somewhere" Lulu almost thought Miss Potts hissed. Lulu almost forgot Basil Darling and Ellison West were even here with them. "Then let's stay over there." She pointed to a nicer looking inn of sorts. Lulu thought she saw Miss Potts turn red in anger, but she chose to ignore it. After all, she was going to spend her money however she liked it.
If the men had any sort of objections, Lulu didn't hear them. She already walked forward.
"I'm so sorry about her, Mr. Darling and Mr. West..." And so, the group made their way towards the inn--where Lulu already rushed inside. When Miss Potts and the other two stepped in, they would see Lulu...sitting on the counter, somehow, showing her ankles. The man was mesmerized as she gave him a nice peek at her little feetsies, and Miss Potts was almost disgusted at the sight.
"You will make accommodations..." Here, Lulu bent a little closer to him and placed a finger on his nose. "...for me." The man nodded as he turned bright red--it wasn't even a question, but regardless--and pleased with his response, she simply hopped off the counter and turned to greet the group. "Glad to see you three saw my way. I've got three rooms. One for me, of course. Miss Potts gets her own room because who knows what will happen if she shares a room with you two." Miss Potts opened her mouth to refute. "I trust you two, of course, but nonetheless. Oh, right. You two will share a room. It's settled then." Without waiting for a response, she walked past the three and followed the innkeeper to where he would lead her to their biggest...or at least, their most refined room. A door closing was heard, and the innkeeper walked back downstairs, still dazed at the sight of a woman's ankles.
Miss Potts stood there, agape. "I'm...not entirely sure what just happened." Miss Potts looked back to the innkeeper--then she noticed, a woman glaring at them. When Miss Potts met her eyes, the woman simply disappeared into the back, and she was worried for a moment. However, not thinking much of it, she shook it off. "Well...good evening, gentlemen. I hope you get a good night's rest."
Oh, how ironic Miss Potts words would be--and how she would regret not mentioning anything about that woman's glare.
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Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 4:55 pm
“Ah, that won’t be necessary. I just finished ‘tending to the stock’.”
Regretably, he had not succeeded in ending Mr. Darling-- though, in the company of customers/witnesses (one of which was an old tutor dressed in all sorts of disciplinary memories; he winced by reflex), Elly tried not to betray his disappointment. As cooly as he could possibly suffice (and it was a difficult matter, for Elly was as cool as an erupting sun), he mimicked that shaking and tenuous smile at his employer before turning back to the new company and forcing that expression at them too. 'I'll just kill him later,' Elly thought breathing heavily through gritted and ground teeth. 'I'll kill him later, Avery; I promise.'
He nodded politely and kept quiet for now.
As Mr. Darling walked by him with all the speed of a....tortoise with broken legs...., Elly imagined a dagger through his back that went out through his chest, exiting from his heart.
““Good day ladies… Ah! Miss…Miss Rogers! Interesting day to be out shopping isn’t it?" There was a distant crash from outside, followed by a long, strangled yelp, though the air in the shop had become so thinkly dense with strings composed of tension and focus, Elly did not move from position, not even to pay any notice or care. He probably still wouldn't have even if he wasn't so heavyset on holding that aforementioned dagger, and also Basil's scalp. "Another book already?. An awkward chuckle from his awkward employer. "Already done with that toxicology book? An avid reader, aren’t you? Ah, well if you enjoyed that book, I have just the thing for you.”
Maybe he'd keep that voice box as well.
"Oh, yes, Mr Darling. It makes an incredible asset towards my collection. I could not thank you enough." She turned towards the window, for several men had begun to beat by the bookstore. He turned a little leftward out of courtesy, before refocusing and locking back center on the back of Mr. Darling's neck. Elly wondered how quickly he could snap it more quickly than a stab in the back and then if the speed were worth it, for he did not want Basil to die so quickly and painlessly. In actuality, had he the ability to, Elly would have wished something like the plague on Mr. Darling so that he too could feel what Avery did not deserve. How dare he. How dare he.
"It might have to wait until next time, Mr. Darling. You see, we've...come here for help. Missus Rogers and I are on our way to Oakbourough and we'd like to request your help, gentlemen."
He thought of similar means of death that he could actually bring about as Missus Potts spoke more of irrelevant things.
"Mmm hmm..." He mumbled to himself, feigning a vague sort of interest.
....
....Whether or not he would be caught after the act was not an issue, he reasoned once he had fully avenged his love's honour. But, being caught in the act would certainly pose a problem (as it was currently). Elly wouldn't want to be stuck in a spot of unfinished business again, for that would mean Basil would be let off to freely breathe the same air as himself for another day, as these thoughts or murder and anger festered like maggots in they grey matter of his mind.
"Right, Mrs. Rogers?" Missus Rogers nodded in agreement. "See? So...do the two of you intend to stay here in Gadu?"
Elly heard himself reply, "No..." his voice like frozen acid. He hadn't been listening to anything, save for the sound of his own mental speaking and breathing but, he gathered that if they were out of the city, there would be less people to disturb them, which would greatly increase the success rate of him ending Basil.
This was good. "As gentlemen, we cannot refuse the request of a lady, much less two." There was something, something threatening now in his tone, though it was so overwhelming, he couldn't disguise it. "We would love to go. "
---------
March 22nd, 1411
AFTER WORK and packing all the necessary things (a bag of spare clothes because for all his brazen masculinity, Elly was of good-breeding and very clean, a dagger from Helios meant for Basil, and Edwin the nutcracker, to remind him of who he was doing this for), they had boarded a carriage to Oakbourough. For most of the trip, Elly sat glowering at Basil (perhaps 85% of it), telling off, or picking fights with the men that bothered them (perhaps 10% of it; his hands and head were starting to hurt) and holding Edwin and smiling bitterly at him (the remaining 5%). It wasn't until they came upon a familiar path with fields and fields of wheat, and swaying grey lavender flowers, that he paused all this to look outside.
They had ended up somehow in Easton.
We used to come here all the time Elly would've said to them, had he been in a brighter mood, or the type of person, We bought all these potpourri bags here, and sleep in these fields. They don't make some of the bags we have, and it's a crying shame. I think they put all this fencework up because of us.
But, he wasn't the type of person, so, he settled on revitalizing these memories for himself and himself alone, staring out into the area as they parked the carriage, then walked. It was a small town composed of small brown buildings right off a winding beaten dirt path. To its left and right there were more of those lavenders and wheat, interspersed here and there with a barn or so. He remembered how he and Avery had sprawled themselves among these surrounding flowers in the summer months, and weaved them in each other's hair. There was a bakery at the center of town, and there they snuck loaves of bread from there because the baker was old and blind and couldn't run fast enough to beat them, or find them when they ducked back into the grasslands. They were 16, he believed. This was 4 years ago.
Everything, especially Easton's distinct smell of sharp lavender, and earthy wheat and dirt made him feel nostalgic. He noticed that the old baker had been replaced by his son, and that they probably would've needed to find a new place to eat if Avery were...
Lulu lead them to an inn, as she and that other woman spoke of more irrelevant things.
"Then let's stay over there." the Yiruin said pointedly; a demand, not a question.
"That s**t inn is expensive--" Elly began to say, after realizing that these memories hurt more than they should've and turned away from them.
"I'm so sorry about her, Mr. Darling and Mr. West..."
"Her kind doesn't know any better, I suppose it can't be helped," he responded as they followed her in.
---
Inside, Missus Rogers had propped herself on the counter, revealing her small white ankles and feet to the innkeeper. Avery sometimes did this to other innkeepers, but she was far more charming Elly decided; she had the prettiest words, and she never had to use her legs, just those words and her smile. Nevertheless, it seemed to be working, and Elly couldn't protest if Missus Rogers was paying for the night.
"You will make accommodations..." She placed her finger on his nose, and the effect would've been perfect if he honked instead of stammered." "...for me."
The innkeeper nodded as if his life depended on it, and she moved back over next to himself and Missus Potts.
""Glad to see you three saw my way. I've got three rooms. One for me, of course. Miss Potts gets her own room because who knows what will happen if she shares a room with you two." Elly made a face at the thought and subconsciously moved from her. ""I trust you two, of course, but nonetheless. Oh, right. You two will share a room. It's settled then."
"How convenient," Elly said, remembering that dagger and Mr. Darling's blood. Paying no mind to Missus Potts, or the woman that was the woman in the corner he took his stuff up with his right hand, and turned towards Basil. His face was still bruised by the book stoning and his fists. He tried to seem dismissive at the purple, though he was quite glad he had left his mark.
He took the keys from the innkeeper, and followed his finger and arm motions down the stairs. Before descending, he turned towards Basil with a mild look of expectation.
"We will have a good night's rest won't we?"
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