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 Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2012 2:07 pm
The Quiet Village
A roleplay involving Lettie Arelgren, Wickwright Finch, and his Plague, Hopkin. The setting is the small village of Lindenwood, Imisus, and the time is late evening. The weather is hot and humid, but there is a breeze coming on and the setting of the sun is bringing relief.
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Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2012 6:18 pm
The journey from Gadu had been quite cheerful with the addition of Lettie Arelgren. If there was one Plague that both Wickwright and Hopkin could stand, it was Lettie, who was by all accounts pleasant company, even for a Plague as muddled in the head as Hopkin. He enjoyed having her around because she was familiar and believed what he said, which was something that everyone ought to do, but so few people did now that he was Plagued. Plus, she was beautiful and delicate, and with Hopkin, that went a long way towards gaining his favour. Wickwright enjoyed her company because she was cheeky, and a damn sight better at conversation than his book, who tended to think in circles. But the task at hand was still a difficult one, and so more than once, Lettie had been obliged to be shunted to the side for things such as lessons spoken in Ardenian and chores and planning, Wickwright musing aloud to Hopkin, who merely listened admiringly and agreed with everything said, causing Wickwright no small amount of frustration.
But today there were no lessons. The chores had been finished when they had packed up their camp for the night, and plans to get them as far as Yates's house in Lindenwood had been made already, much as Wickwright might fiddle with them in private. It had been a day in which Hopkin and Lettie had been left to their own devices, which was the same as being left to Lettie's devices, for without guidance, Hopkin had very little idea of what to do with himself besides study or sit and watch the scenery roll by. He had, in an effort to please her, recited several stories from Jawbone lore and shown her his collection of colourful feathers, but now as the sun set, he merely allowed himself to enjoy the company of a friend, something so little afforded to him with Wickwright's lifestyle of constant travel. It felt good, he thought, to have Lettie Arelgren here. She was very pretty, perhaps even prettier than everything in this wagon. That was quite difficult to accomplish, as he had amassed many feathers and flowers since last they met.
"I am glad that you are traveling with us," he announced for maybe the fifth time that day. "Coyotl Coyotl also traveled with us once, as you know, but he was not a very aesthetically pleasing man, and so I had to give him some of my feathers so that he might improve his appearance. I am sorry to say that by the next time we met, he had quite forgotten to wear them." He frowned at this small betrayal, and there was something about the way that he crossed his arms that suggested that though that meeting had been long ago, he would always hold it against him. Hopkin was not vindictive about many things, but having his advice flouted so blatantly was one of them. "However, you do not need any improvement! Except, you always wear that bit of leather I gave you." He looked down at his hands, wringing them somewhat sheepishly. "I am sorry, Lettie Arelgren, that I gave you something that was not very lovely at all." It had been in a moment of panic, trying to make her like him more with anything, even the only gift he had on hand. At the time it had seemed more meaningful since it was his from when he was a Plague, and he was not sure if he'd ever go back to that from being a human boy again. Now he was once more a Plague, and the gesture seemed foolish in retrospect. Plagues who were so aesthetically pleasing as Lettie Arelgren deserved gifts as pleasing as they were! He fidgeted nervously some more, and then rushed over to his collection of feathers, pulling out a cardinal feather, one of his favourites, and thrusting it at her. "Here! This is a far better gift for you to have," he announced, looking at her apprehensively to see how she would react.
Outside, their progress, and Hopkin glanced up to the front of the wagon, somewhat eager for a distraction. He was completely out of interesting things to do. How long was Lettie Arelgren traveling with them? He feared he would end up boring her. "Wickwright," he called, scrambling to see why Tristram was slowing, "What is the matter?"
"We've arrived at Lindenwood," Wickwright replied, and Hopkin frowned.
"But I thought we were going to Alderbrook?"
"We need to stop here first. There's something I need to see for myself, and it's on the way."
Hopkin turned back to Lettie. "If Wickwright must see something, so must I. Would it please you to accompany us?"
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 10:10 pm
Gadu was a lovely journey despite the occasional smell of rotting flesh on the road, and the cheeriness was much attributed to the two Finches that made the trip both a gift and a relief to Lettie Arelgren. She had a feeling that neither of them had traveling company much, and she giggled at the theory that it could be that Hopkin was far too picky to find someone he, well, wasn't and wouldn't be picky about, or that Wickwright had decided that accompaniments were unnecessary and would only mean more baggage. Often Lettie would begin talking, and once she started, she found it hard to stop. Wickwright didn't seem to mind her conversation, as stark as it could be at times, and Lettie wondered if she was too sour or cheeky sometimes, but no-one made a mention of it so she just felt embarrassed in her own place, but never sorry. She had been introduced to the world of Ardenian, chores and planning, but it was all good experience to Lettie. Experience was usually something earned when one did not get what they wanted, but this was not the case for the Hot Cocoa girl, for she had most things she wanted plus some more.
Lettie was pleased when everything was good and done and that she and Hopkin were allowed to be given time to do what they pleased, which usually meant doing what Lettie pleased, for Hopkin had no objection or preferences. He was an amicable Plague, but he wasn't a pushover Plague. This was the reason that Lettie really liked him, but Hopkin probably wouldn't understand that if she explained it to him. Lettie tickled a feather by her side, admiring the feathers, flowers, and half-dead flowers that were placed in places Hopkin could reach. He was obviously one for aesthetics, something the two of them shared in traits. While the Finch wagon was more plain than the scenery outside, Lettie preferred being inside because it felt livelier and familiar. She'd been traveling by foot too much to feel as if nature was a welcoming friend. If she had a tongue, she'd stick it out at the trees and grass outside.
"I am glad that you are traveling with us," Hopkin repeated, again, causing Lettie to smile for the fifth time that day, or more. "Coyotl Coyotl also traveled with us once, as you know, but he was not a very aesthetically pleasing man, and so I had to give him some of my feathers so that he might improve his appearance. I am sorry to say that by the next time we met, he had quite forgotten to wear them."
At this, Lettie clasped her hands over her mouth but to no avail. She fell into a fit of giggles, drawing the image of a flustered Coyotl Coyotl covered with feathers from seabirds and the ugly ones native to Shyregoed. "Very sorry indeed, Hopkin! Well, at least he's had his share of being pretty, which is better than not being pretty at all," she carefully said with a happy chime. What he said next caused Lettie Arelgren ample confusion, and she realized that Hopkin often thought differently than she did, very differently.
"I am sorry, Lettie Arelgren, that I gave you something that was not very lovely at all."
He must have been referring to the leather cloth, and Lettie immediately drew it out before her on her lap, smoothing out the material with her palms and fingers. Shaking her head, she kept her smile vivid and bright.
"What nonsense! It was my best friend during my solo travels. I think that's lovelier than flowers since flowers lose to it in durability. It's a good blanket and tent cover. I used it for many things, but mostly for remembering," Lettie admitted, blushing. [color #787848]"I like to remember the Finches too, especially Hopkin. I don't have as many friends as my esteem would like me to boast."
She reddened more when the Book Plague shoved a feather at her of obvious value to him. Being a lady meant not refusing gifts, but she didn't want to feel spoiled either, so Lettie Arelgren just sat there confused while musing on what Abigail Arelgren would do. Abigail Arelgren was a very pretty lady and most likely the best Arelgren the Arelgrens had.
"I-It's very pretty Hopkin, but I'm not sure if I quite deserve to take more of your good things," she stammered, hoping that she wasn't coming off as rude. "I haven't truly given you anything--"
And here she had an idea.
"I-I'll only take it if you take this in return!" She pulled hard at a well-tailored heart on her dress and almost fell off her seat when it came off with a hard tug. It was a beautiful creamy color, gold if you held it up to the sunlight. "It's really soft! And you can't refuse it because I ripped it off already," she offered boyishly. "But I ripped it very neatly, so it's not ruined."
Wickwright's voice interrupted the exchange.
"We need to stop here first. There's something I need to see for myself, and it's on the way."
Hopkin turned back to Lettie. "If Wickwright must see something, so must I. Would it please you to accompany us?"
"It would be my pleasure," Lettie replied quite honestly, heart still in hand.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 6:36 pm
Hopkin's bronze face glowed bright, but he accepted Lettie's gift sincerely, scurrying over to his collection to tuck it safely away. "I will need to make a new category," he informed her gravely, "I have never received a gift from anybody before." He hesitated over his treasures before placing it carefully next to another red feather and smoothing it out neatly. Hesitating to turn back and look at it, he scurried back to her and clambered up to the front of the wagon to join his Grimm.
Wickwright was surveying a quiet village with neat houses on the edge of a forest. It seemed nearly overgrown, and Hopkin frowned at the general untidiness which the greenery in the place that dominated the architecture lent. He could see nothing of great worth here.
"Wickwright, why do we stop here?" he enquired, reaching out to be placed on his shoulder, as no one was about and the bag was hardly necessary.
"Amongst other things, to pay respects," remarked Wickwright, and set off, but paused. "Of course, the grave will not be marked." His eyes scanned the buildings once more, and he asked, "But who buried the bodies?" before striding towards the house nearest to them. He reached for it and tugged on it, but the door would not budge, and so he knocked, several solid thumps. When no one answered, he moved on to the next one, and the next.
"Where is everyone?" Hopkin asked hesitantly after the fifth door.
"Lindenwood is the former home of Whitney Yawley, Hopkin," Wickwright remarked as he rapped on the sixth door. By this time, a strange pattern had begun to appear on the doors in black paint, or even just singed wood in some cases, and Hopkin's mouth glow dimmed as he tried to figure it out, then came back brighter than ever in his alarm.
"Wickwright, that is the mark of the plague! Lindenwood is a plagued village, and you promised Coyotl Coyotl that you would keep your nose clean and out of danger."
Gesturing grandly to their company, his Grimm merely replied, "And how could I be in danger in the presence of not one, but two Plagues? I've already survived the two of you, I'm sure I can handle a leisurely stroll through Lindenwood."
"Wickwright-" hissed Hopkin, who remembered his illness all too vividly, but it was all in vain, for Wickwright was a Finch man who had decided what he wanted to do. There was no changing his mind until something went wrong enough to convince him otherwise.
"Now answer me this, the pair of you," he pressed on, steepling his fingers as he spoke. "Everyone who had not contracted the Plague as it hit fled this village months ago, and the remainder, judging from how I can open none of these doors, opted to board themselves into their own homes and die." As he spoke, his eyebrows knitted at the miserable scene that he was pulling from the dust of this community, but he pressed on, having unfortunately seen worse in the years since Hopkin had become corrupted. "But some of these doors have the Plague mark on them, yet are open." He gestured ahead of them to several empty buildings. "This question remains: Where have the bodies gone? Hopkin?"
He was still displeased, but nothing distracted Hopkin more than a logic question, and Wickwright surely knew it, because he smiled as his Plague repositioned himself on his shoulder, face fixated frustratedly at the houses in a desperate attempt to please him. At last, Hopkin hazarded, "Perhaps they have decayed?" Human bodies were, after all, frustratingly fragile and flawed.
Wickwright tapped his chin. "Perhaps, perhaps. Lettie?"
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 6:16 am
Lettie beamed at the Book Plague as he scurried off to add her heart to his collection, the addition (to her, at least) being metaphorical as well. She was surprised to know that Hopkin had never received gifts before and cocked her head in confusion at Wickwright who was quickly preoccupied by the scenery outside. Lettie was about to question why the Finch company should stop amidst the village, but Hopkin was quicker and Wickwright quickest. The Grimm began to survey and investigate the small community, rapping and tugging on doors. None of the nearby graves were marked as Wickwright said, yet no call came from behind the wooden doors when the Grimm made his presence known with several knock knock's. Lettie and Hopkin watched from their perch on Wickwright's shoulder, both Plagues perplexed in thought.
"Curious," Lettie commented and shuddered, clasping her arms.
"Where is everyone?" asked Hopkin, and Lettie looked at him with the same question in mind. As curious as Lettie was, the Hot Cocoa girl could not help but to feel the same prudence towards the area. Lettie's large eyes thinned into slits in scrutiny. She, too, began noticing the pattern that appeared on the doors in black paint (and the singed wood too). Hopkin's cry of alarm spooked her, but Lettie remained focused. She found the village rather puzzling, but Wickwright seemed to have a better idea of what the puzzle was.
"Now answer me this, the pair of you," Wickwright suddenly said, steepling his fingers, and Lettie followed suit, steepling her own. "Everyone who had not contracted the Plague as it hit fled this village months ago, and the remainder, judging from how I can open none of these doors, opted to board themselves into their own homes and die. But some of these doors have the Plague mark on them, yet are open." He gestured ahead of them to several empty buildings. "This question remains: Where have the bodies gone? Hopkin?"
Hopkin, eager to impress his Grimm, answered:"Perhaps they have decayed?"
Lettie wondered about that. It was possible, but the smell would be different. After living in Arelgren House for several long months, Lettie had quickly developed a keen sense of smell (much to her Locos advantage) and found that Hopkin's theory was surprisingly not very probable. No, the answer was much easier, and better too, if she was correct. She didn't aim to please Wickwright but to arrive at a good answer.
Wickwright appeared to agree. "Perhaps, perhaps. Lettie?"
Lettie nodded and tipped the front of her cap with a thumb in an detective-esque manner and struck an index finger in the direction of the door. Man did she look cool.
"I do believe that there are humans still alive, dying, but alive!" Lettie grimly chimed, her dotted mouth falling into a concerned frown. "This is undoubtedly the work of the Plague, Mr.Finch, but someone is doting on them still, ensuring that the plagued members are able to live a little longer." She was hopeful now, but unsure if her hunch was a good one. "T-The Plague marked doors are open because the Samaritan has been treating the people inside! They do not answer...because...because they are quiet and very sick!"
Lettie paled a bit here, and truly hoped that her answer was the correct one.
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 7:24 am
"Look at how these doors have been forced open. The wood all around them has been damaged and torn. Lettie, I believe you've hit on the truth of the matter, and judging by the state of the village," He scanned the doors that he had already tried to open himself, "They are either still alive and at their task, or we'll find their corpse on the ground before our business here is concluded."
Hopkin looked rather put out to have not found the correct response, but seemed to hold it against himself more than he held it against Lettie. Puffing out his chest, he was determined to redeem himself, and so he glanced around the village so as to find this mystery man first. The houses sat still, their open doors like yawning mouths, and silent, except for the moans they made when the wind blew through. The effect was not pleasant, but the smell of death in the air was sweet and pleasant to the nose of a Plague. He remembered his time as a human and shuddered. To Wickwright it must be a powerful reek.
Whether the smell bothered Wickwright, however, he made no movement to show it, but rather he entered the first of the open houses, clattering over a pile of odds and ends that had been hidden on the other side as he pushed the door open wider. "Ah," he remarked, "Now we will find out for sure." When Hopkin looked perplexed, he gestured at the mess with his boot. "Who keeps the firewood and the poker and the milking tin against the door? This is an alarm system, make no mistake."
"Get out," said a voice behind them huskily. "I have a crossbow!"
"We should leave," urged Hopkin, but instead, his Grimm merely turned on his heel, his hands in the air.
"I am a man of bone and come in peace. Like Richard Yawley, if you knew him. My name is Finch, and I- Wait!" The crossbow clicked, and he continued, "I have with me two Plagues. Not people. Just Plagues."
There was a long silence and a stifled sob, then the hushed conference of voices, and from behind a door, a terrified girl with wild hair edged out, brandishing her crossbow like it was a lifeline. "Richard Yawley was one of the last men to die, and he died trying to save us," she spat. "If you have used his name in vain to try to rob these houses, I will kill you without a second thought!" Her voice was high pitched and wailing, and Wickwright and Hopkin both hesitated. His Plague said what he was thinking before he could, leaning forward to examine the girl.
"Yours was not the voice we heard that threatened us." he pointed out, displeased by this fallacy. "Who was the deep voice who told us to leave?"
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 7:40 am
"I-I guess I did!" Lettie chirped awkwardly, happy that she accomplished something that Hopkin usually did but felt odd about it because the subject was very morbid. The Hot Cocoa girl avoided death as much as she could, for Dorian was adept at hiding it from her when it was close. He was no longer here, and Lettie had decided long ago that she didn't need his assistance anymore in facing the world at large. She sniffed the air for death again, unsure of why the wind couldn't conveniently carry it elsewhere. Wickwright didn't appear to be affected by the stench much and moved to push open a nearby door, triggering a crude alarm system and causing Lettie and Hopkin to gain keen interest once again. Wickwright decided to relent this time and fill in the Plagues on the strange ways of humans.
"Now we will find out for sure. Who keeps the firewood and the poker and the milking tin against the door? This is an alarm system, make no mistake."
Lettie jumped when a voice warily replied. It was deep and husky and made her feel a small chill.
"Get out, I have a crossbow!"
Hopkin suggested that the Finch company should leave, but Wickwright insisted otherwise and gave away the position of the Plagues in his party. Lettie sucked in a breath, hoping that Wickwright wouldn't get shot for what he admitted to and that the three of them would not be threatened somehow. Lettie didn't know who the Yawley man was, but she assumed (intelligently) that he was a Finch man and that the village liked him a lot just as Dorian Arelgren loved Nancy and therefore pined horribly after she passed. The girl who wailed was not the origin of the husky voice, but before Lettie could make a proclamation, Hopkin spoke in her stead, and probably in Wickwright's, too.
"We mean no harm," Lettie cried, standing up from her Wickwright perch. She gestured to Hopkin and Wickwright with a small, gloved hand. "These are Hopkin and Wickwright Finch. I am Lettie Arelgren, a good Ladyplague." She removed her hat, held it to her chest, and curtsied to show that she was a Ladyplague of mannerisms and doctrine. "We came to visit Yawley and we are very sorry about him. He was a good Finch as all Finches are good."
She tried to look sorry, but she figured that she looked hopeless (which was close enough).
"I...I may be small and of no relation to Yawley but I am a friend of the Finches," she offered, pinking as she became bolder. Lettie balled her hands into fists. "I...if I can help in any way, I will gladly offer it! You must understand that not all Plagues are as hostile as the means from which we were born! So please! Trust us!"
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 8:35 am
The girl's gaze drifted to Lettie, whose presence seemed to go some way towards calming her mind, if only because something as innocuous and frilly as Lettie was hard to see as a threat by any standards. Seizing upon opportunity, Wickwright withdrew a symbol from his bag and held it up, demanding, "Yawley had one of these too, did he not? Look, mine is almost the twin of his. I am the fourth man of the Jawbone Society. He is the sixth." She lowered the crossbow, and at that moment, it triggered itself, firing a bolt into the ground, which made her scream, upsetting some crows on the roof which made Hopkin scream, a shrill whistle. "Careful!" warned Wickwright, who had all this while been skeptical of a young girl's ability with the weapon. He marched over to her, but could not relieve her of it, and they tugged somewhat fruitlessly until he gave up the endeavour. When he let go, she glared at him, but allowed his transgression, sitting herself on the entryway of the house and taking a deep breath.
"Okay, I believe you, Finch, Lettie Arelgren."
"And Hopkin!" interjected the book boy, "Book, boy, and Plague."
"And Hopkin. I'm Marian."
"You aimed at me, not the Plagues, Marian. Who else is here?" Wickwright noted.
"Stunteds. One of them was the other voice. It sounds more frightening."
"Marian, why are you here? You don't have the plague."
Her voice trembled as she answered, but she replied, taking her time over the narrative. "When people began to die, all the houses were shut up one by one. Richard Yawley oversaw it as the medical man in town. My Da is in the military and I don't know where he is, but my Ma was one of the first to fall ill, so my house was to be boarded up also. It was thought that I would soon be sick too, so I was told not to leave. She died, but I never got sick, so I started to knock on the door since it was closed up, and finally I was able to pry it open. Mr. Yawley stopped 'em from forcing me back in, so I helped him try to work on cures when he got sick, and tried to take over when he died, but-" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "They all died. And I didn't." Looking at her three visitors, she finished, "I've been scaring off bandits and travelers and such so they don't catch plague and spread it or rob the houses. Grimms have been giving me trouble because sometimes they try to rob Plague villages." She shot Wickwright a rather accusatory glare. "But the stunteds started appearing when everyone got sick, and since then they've been helping me survive, so I don't aim at the Plagues because they don't hurt anybody much, I reckon."
Wickwright stroked his chin. "An awfully hard task for Richard Yawley to give a little girl," he mused.
"He didn't tell me to!" she snapped. "He told me to leave, but I just never caught plague, and I don't know where my Da is or how to tell him I'm alive, so I wanted to help."
"We can get help," remarked Hopkin, "I am skilled at writing letters, and Lettie is skilled at making people feel better, so there is nothing to worry about anymore."
Wickwright shook his head. "Even if we buried all the bodies, I don't fancy that anyone will wish to live in Lindenwood for a very long time, Hopkin. Yawley and his mother moved to other communities, the other survivors will have done the same. We can help this girl finish the work and get her to Yates's house, and that is the most we can accomplish here."
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 9:01 am
Marian was extremely impressive to Lettie. Not only was she competent, she was good at surviving and strong-willed as well. No doubt the girl was clever, for she'd set up an alarm system while keeping fort on her own. Frankly, the little ghost wouldn't have been surprised if Yawley had intended to have Marian become a caretaker. Lettie giggled when Hopkin screamed at the mark of an arrow, sampling the rare sound before smiling at Marian who had become some sort of quick, iconic hero to her. While Lettie was less enthused by the knowledge that there were stunteds living with Marian, she was touched to know that they were helping her instead of acting as hindrances (for Lettie really only had experience with the latter). The Hot Cocoa girl's face darkened a hue when she heard that Grimms were known to cause Marian trouble, but that seemed to be the only thing Grimms were really prolific at at all. She tried to imagine the ordeal that Marian went through being her age (for she looked quite young, younger than Dorian) and laughed inwardly at her own sorry life.
Lettie couldn't imagine herself being responsible for caring for that many victims, but she would like to be if she could be Marian. What Hopkin said was partially true in regards to Lettie's potential role in the Lindenwood community. She was good at making people feel better, but only to fulfill an image and standard that she set for herself. Sincerity makes a note to take a long journey, and it really depended on who she was making feel better to decide if she would exert maximum effort. But Lettie wanted to be a strong Ladyplague that didn't need a Grimm's worry and wart, especially not Dorian Arelgren's. Yet, Lettie felt responsible for the results of the Plague, for it was her cradle and the taint from which she was born.
"Hopkin is absolutely right," Lettie agreed, feeling suddenly shy. She made a "yesssss" sound when Wickwright offered the company's help also and added a small fist pump of her own. "And so is Mr.Finch! We will do whatever we can Ms.Marian--I...I'm very new to this but I am a fast learner! I can write too, so Hopkin won't have to exhaust himself doing all of the work."
(( honestly lettie sounds kind of stupid here my bad she's all i'm new to saving lives but eh i'm enthusiastic!! ))
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 12:37 pm
"No, I will do the writing if there is writing to be done!" Hopkin established hastily, "But thank you for offering, Lettie Arelgren, you are most talented at being kind." Hopkin hated watching other people write, as their handwriting was invariably sloppy in comparison to his own neat gothic text. The only handwriting he could stand was Wickwright's and only because he would not criticize the hand that wrote him, in truth Wickwright's freehand was also quite intolerably messy.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were being watched, and a few stunteds now made themselves known, one of them presumably the one who had first threatened them upon tipping the alarm. They were wilted leaf stunteds, dressed like somber Panymisian monks, censers swinging as they walked. There were only about seven of them altogether, and accompanying them was a lone green leaf swordsman. "Marian," addressed the largest. "Is this safe?"
"Primus, I think that these people can help us. The human is a man of Bone, like Yawley."
Primus turned to examine Wickwright, frowning as if he was not expecting to be pleased with what he saw, or perhaps as if he had not been pleased with anything at all in a very long while. Hopkin puffed out his chest a bit, daring Primus to find fault, but was quite ignored. Primus was obviously used to being in charge, and the fact he asked Marian anything at all was testament to his respect for her. "Richard Yawley was a great friend of mine, and reconciled me to your race, human. Our meetings in the forest went a long way to illuminate my understanding of the world. Are you a man of his faith, and true?"
"I am a true man, by book and bone, the fourth man, Finch," replied Wickwright in turn, showing Primus the same sign he had shown Marian. "I would like to pay my respect to Richard Yawley and dispose of his body in a manner suited to Jawbone tradition, if it has not been done already by yourself and Marian."
Marian looked concerned. "I didn't know how Jawbone Men were supposed to be buried, so I buried him the way our priest did." She gained a little courage and added, "In his own grave, not in the ditch I had to stick the rest of them in. He deserved it."
"You did well for the time," Wickwright reassured. "Jawbone Men are supposed to be burned, but only after their successor takes up their mantle. You had no way of knowing whether that was accomplished, which is why, I think, Primus allowed you to do so." Primus nodded, and Wickwright continued, "Allow me to inform you, then, that Whitney Yawley has assumed his father's mantle early and the body is now fit to be burned." He looked towards the houses, and asked, "How have you been prying open these doors?"
Primus interjected. "We have been pulling the nails from the boards one by one. They're nailed from the inside, so only we excitos can slip through and reach. Whenever Marian is fit to handle them, she digs a ditch, and we open the doors. We are down to the last five, and the corpses within are quite rotted."
"Quite rotted," repeated Hopkin, pleased that in one respect at least, he was right: somewhere in this village were rotting corpses.
Wickwright winced in distaste, but rolled up his sleeves. "Lettie, Hopkin, please assist Primus and his brothers in loosening those boards. I will help Marian, and by tonight we will have buried all Lindenwood's dead and sent Richard Yawley to his proper grave. Marian will come with us to Yates, where arrangements will be made so she no longer has to live amongst the dead." He had not asked, but assumed this was suitable for Marian, who all this while had sat there, quite overwhelmed by the proceedings. She stroked her finger along her crossbow distractedly, and when Wickwright finished, she stood up.
"Thank you, Lettie and Hopkin and Wickwright," she said, "But I need to do this alone. Wickwright, you can help me with Yawley, as you're his brother in faith, but the other people in Lindenwood are my burden. I don't want strange hands burying them." She shot them a look that was not to be argued with, and said, "If you want to help, please prepare food. I'll call you when I'm ready for you."
Hopkin, not about to be deterred by the stares of girls, declared, "This is foolishness, Marian! Many gravediggers have died from touching rotten corpses since the Plague has come to Imisus. We saw a great deal of them dead at their jobs, and still more will go before we have even left Lindenwood. What is the good of helping you if you catch it from these bodies and die anyway?" He turned to Lettie and Wickwright for confirmation. "There are, don't you think, quite enough corpses in Imisus right not to be getting on with!"
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2012 7:42 pm
"It's okay Hopkin, I understand!" Lettie said, nodding and beaming at her best friend. Normally she was prideful but when someone else was legitimately better than her at something the Hot Cocoa girl knew better than to feign otherwise. Besides, it was Hopkin. His script was as elegant as Gothic text could appear to be and was different in form than Dorian's etchings. Lettie giggled. "You are more talented at writing too, hehe."
Stunteds began to appear. They were dressed in robes and carried swinging lackluster censors as they walked outside. Lettie counted seven of them in the company of a leafy swordsman. Her mouth shrunk when Marian began debriefing the stunted crew, afraid that the stunteds would be unwelcoming towards them but was proven differently. Primus, the larger one, was a natural leader who had a rare portion of respect reserved for Marian. She was mildly concerned that Marian had been burying the dead on her own (even if the stunteds assisted). During the time Lettie spent in the House, Dorian and his Brothers and Sisters told her not to worry too much, for there were special cultists that dealt with burying and burning the bodies of the Plagued. While Dorian never expanded much on the topic, Lettie assumed that the special cultists were most likely Grimms, for she could make out small silhouettes of Plagues in their possession as they handled sleeping corpses.
"Quite rotted," repeated Hopkin in a happy-but-morbid-sort-of-way. Lettie's mouth expanded into a wide smile at that, for she was happy that Hopkin had been right in some way. It pleased Lettie whenever Hopkin was right about something; in her head, Hopkin was a dependable and sagacious plague, after all. Wickwright showed some displeasure at his Plague's comment, however, and reminded the two to stay focused. "Lettie, Hopkin, please assist Primus and his brothers in loosening those boards. I will help Marian, and by tonight we will have buried all Lindenwood's dead and sent Richard Yawley to his proper grave. Marian will come with us to Yates, where arrangements will be made so she no longer has to live amongst the dead."
This was a good plan to Lettie and she had no qualms with it. Before she could answer, Marian cut in, solemn.
"Thank you, Lettie and Hopkin and Wickwright," she said, "But I need to do this alone. Wickwright, you can help me with Yawley, as you're his brother in faith, but the other people in Lindenwood are my burden. I don't want strange hands burying them. If you want to help, please prepare food. I'll call you when I'm ready for you."
"Th-That's madness, Ms.Marian! Hopkin is right--" cried Lettie, for she didn't know what else it could be, really. It was true that Marian had been free from the Plague's taint thus far (which was an intriguing point) but could be just sheer luck. Lettie didn't think it would be wise to be latent and find out. "--you...you shouldn't expose yourself so foolishly to death. It's good to help, but a good lady must survive first herself so that she may help others survive. So please, Mr.Arelg--Ms.Marian, please let us help." Her dotted mouth wobbled here, for she had almost let her subconscious slip in. Dorian had never let her aid him when he dealt with death and it led to his ruin. Marian was far younger than him with a much purer heart. It wouldn't be fair for her. "I...I want to be like you too. I'm small but I have a very big heart. It's because my Grimm didn't let me help that he...he...!"
I can't...tell her...
"He's not here anymore...!"
From the way Lettie said it, it sounded more like Dorian Arelgren had passed away, but to Lettie, it was a metaphorical fact.
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Posted: Fri Jul 13, 2012 4:08 pm
"We'll do it together or not at all," Wickwright decided. "I'm a Grimm and the rest of us are Plagues. You're the most vulnerable to the Plague amongst us, and you can't just go around touching plagued corpses like you're immortal." He gave her a very old look. "Trust me, I know from experience."
Hopkin, who remembered far more of Wickwright's experience with the Plague than he did himself, nodded furiously on his shoulder. "You are healthy, but the bodies of humans are frustratingly flawed vessels. Strive to stay as unblemished as you are now, for soon you will blink again or get cut or catch cold, and you will still be lucky that your suffering was not yet worse than that."
Marian did not relent for Hopkin or Wickwright, but clearly Lettie had affected her, and she paused, clenching and unclenching her fists before she gave in reluctantly. "All right," she muttered, "But I'm digging the grave!" She looked terrified that they might talk her down from this, too, and staunchly said, "It has to be me."
Primus nodded and the seven wilted leaf brothers began to head for the first door, the last one tripping along behind them and lingering, before turning around to return to Marian. He patted her boot in a reassuring way and looked up at her shyly, offering, "It must be nice to have people around again, right, Miss Marian?" His leafy face flushed red and he ran back to his brothers, tripping over his own robes as he went. The swordsman marched after them, and Hopkin looked up at Wickwright, who nodded, so he followed.
"Lettie," Wickwright remarked before she could follow Hopkin, "Why don't you accompany us while we dig? Those nine will get along fine pulling out the boards themselves, and I promised Arelgren I'd keep you safe." The seventh stunted had a point: Marian had barely been around people for at least a month, and no one resembling a girl at all. Having Lettie around might be comforting, he supposed, and it wasn't as if he was exactly in touch with young girls these days. Strewth and corpus bones! He half wished it really had been a craggy old hunter waiting to shoot them with a crossbow from the shadows.
Starting to dig was hot work, and Wickwright soon had to break from it, his creaky limbs unable to keep up in the humidity, even now with the sun setting. Marian kept at the task like a possessed woman though, staring at the ground and silent. Wickwright couldn't be sure if she preferred to work without speaking or if it had merely been so long that she no longer knew what to say, but he was a Finch Man, and if Finch did anything, it was talk.
"Did you know Yawley well?" he enquired as he rested.
She shook her head. "Not until the plague came. After that I spent most of my time helping him."
"His son still lives, you know. He's in Gadu now. About your age, too."
Wickwright let that hang between them, but if he had expected a dramatic reply, the only response he got was an "Oh."
"Do you know anyone else who survived?"
She shook her head. "I don't know where they went."
"Maybe-"
"I want to join the military," she affirmed. "To look for my Da."
"That's something, then." Wickwright replied as sincerely as possible for someone who had just seen her accidentally fire a crossbow into the ground hours ago.
"Do you have anybody?"
Wickwright opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he saw Marian's face. It wasn't turned to him, but rather to Lettie.
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2012 3:53 am
Marian, whom was previously unrelenting, now gave the trio permission to aid her. Lettie wondered if it was what she said to Marian, for her own cheeks were still crimson from blushing. She didn't expect such an outburst to slip so easily, but she did struggle in forming the right words to express her feelings. Yes, that must have been it. She wanted to believe that Hopkin and Wickwright played a large role in the persuasion too, so she got down to her hands and knees on Wickwright's command, marveling for a moment at the small size of herself in comparison to Wickwright and Marian's large boots.
Lettie looked hesitantly up at Marian, a human female who was as sullen as she was before encountering Wickwright and Hopkin again. She quickly began to dig, preoccupying herself with the dirt that surrounded her, separating earthworms from the brown earth. The deed began to affect Wickwright, but Lettie remained vigilant for she was "young" in Plague years and younger in human's. Marian remained quiet for the most part, giving occasional answers to Wickwright who tried to remedy the atmosphere while learning a few more chapters on the young girl's life.
"Did you know Yawley well?"
"Not until the plague came. After that I spent most of my time helping him."
"His son still lives, you know. He's in Gadu now. About your age, too."
"Oh."
"Do you know anyone else who survived?"
"I don't know where they went."
"Maybe-"
"I want to join the military," Marian affirmed, causing Lettie to pause in her digging and look at her. "To look for my Da."
"That's something, then." Wickwright replied to which Lettie secretly agreed. She never thought that girls could join the military, but that was because Dorian never told her that it was possible. Dorian spoke of knights and fancy, but never of ladyknights. Lettie had always wanted to meet one and fantasized about being one often. Back then, she thought that if she could protect a kingdom, she could definitely suffice as Dorian's guardian and not the other way around. When Marian's question came, Lettie didn't notice it until she saw that the human girl was--in fact--looking at her.
"Do you have anybody?" Marian asked.
The question hung there, prodding Lettie with the way she said it.
Lettie put the dirt back from where it came from. She looked at Marian through large, brown eyes, and hoped that the words she found wound be as sincere as her worldly wants.
"No," Lettie whispered, stealing a quick glance at Wickwright. Hopkin and Wickwright were gifts to her in company, but they were not the same as "family", if that was what Marian meant. "I'm a Plague, so I don't have a mother or father." Her voice grew smaller despite that she tried to make it big. "Mr.Arelgren was the closest I had to a brother, but he's not here anymore. He went away."
She wiped her eyes. They were wet.
"I don't think he's coming back. They don't come back in the books I read."
Lettie realized that she needed to wipe her eyes more, for they continued to flow. She didn't like it when they did that and she didn't know what caused them to do that. It frustrated her. She was feeling as fit as a fiddle earlier despite the death lingering in the village.
"Th..that's why you can't put yourself in danger and die," Lettie managed through angry tears. She began to wipe her eyes furiously before settling on just covering her face with her hat altogether. "B-because you're a good lady who tries very hard to be strong. L-like a knight," she gulped, her voice slightly muffled by her hat.
Wickwright towered above her so there was no hiding from him.
"Knights shouldn't be defeated."
Not like Arelgrens.
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Posted: Sat Jul 14, 2012 9:27 am
"No, Lettie," replied Marian, who suddenly sounded exhausted, "When they go, they don't come back."
There was a shout from the houses, and Primus was signaling them over to inform them that the boards had been removed. "That's my cue, then," remarked Wickwright, getting up to move the bodies. He stretched, and his limbs creaked before he ambled off, Primus waiting impatiently for him on the other side.
Marian watched him go and amended her statement. "I found new people," she told Lettie hoarsely. "But I think this time I'm the one leaving. And I won't come back." She stared down at the hole which had grown to a decent size in the hours that she had been digging. "I can't stay here, because this is a tomb, and I'm not dead yet." It was unclear whether she was talking to Lettie or herself by now, but she continued. "I'm not a knight or a good lady, Lettie, I just want to find my Da and feel normal again. I don't remember what that feels like anymore, and I don't really remember him well, but he's family, so I want to be with him, even if that means leaving everyone else I know."
Meanwhile, everyone else she knew was coming to the pit now, Hopkin asking "Please do not look, Lettie Arelgren, these are not aesthetically pleasing bodies at all!" Wickwright and Primus both looked to Marian for permission, and she pulled herself out of the pit she had dug so they could deposit the bodies.
"Finch, could you send them off, please? We have no priest."
"Well, I'm just a layman myself, but I can say a few words." He scratched his chin and composed his thoughts for a moment, then asked, "Any kind god who is willing to take the task upon themselves, please guide these people to their rest and soothe the grief of those who lay behind. Requiem æternam dona eis, et lux perpetua luceat eis."
Filling the hole was much simpler than making it, especially now that it had become quite dark and cool. Marian lit torches so they could see, and then the torches were made into a great pyre, for there was one last job left to do, which was to burn the remains of the brave Jawbone Man who had worked himself to a painful death.
"That was your job," Wickwright said, nodding at the mass grave. "This is mine."
When Marian unburied Richard Yawley's body, it was shrouded and small, and when Wickwright pulled it to the pyre, it burned in a dry and crackling way. Marian sat and watched it burn quietly, Wickwright and Hopkin joining her.
"My name's not Marian," she told them finally.
"That's Richard's father's name, isn't it. Marion. I thought it was quite a coincidence."
"He started calling me that when he was delirious," Marian murmured. "It was easier than being myself when everyone I knew was dying, so I became Marian."
"Do you remember yourself?"
"Yes, but I don't want to be her. Not yet."
Hopkin frowned. "Yourself is the best kind of person you can be," he insisted. "Anything else is a lie."
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2012 5:25 am
Lettie nodded solemnly at Marian's statement. So they don't come back when they go. She sniffed up the remaining tears she had, and stared pathetically at the portion of the hole she'd dug. She didn't know how to respond to Marian at the moment, but she didn't need to, for Primus signaled for the group outside to rejoin his own. Lettie momentarily forgot about Marian, preoccupied about how Dorian would be buried were he dead, and she felt immensely depressed again, more so than she was before. Marian spoke again.
"I found new people," she hoarsely said. "But I think this time I'm the one leaving. And I won't come back." She stared down at the hole which had grown to a decent size in the hours that she had been digging. "I can't stay here, because this is a tomb, and I'm not dead yet. I'm not a knight or a good lady, Lettie, I just want to find my Da and feel normal again. I don't remember what that feels like anymore, and I don't really remember him well, but he's family, so I want to be with him, even if that means leaving everyone else I know."
Lettie nodded to show that she understood.
"Feel normal again," echoed the Locos, finding it hard to imagine what "normal" would be like for Marian and even harder, for herself. She didn't remember what "normal" was, were it roleplaying with Dorian or making chocolates in the kitchen. Perhaps "normal" was dancing by herself in Lucien Arelgren's study while a millions of other Letties danced with her, they, the reflections in the shiny treasures that the late Arelgren collected. She looked down at her hole again. She'd never dug a hole before and she hadn't seen anything shiny for the past six months.
"I want to be with family again too," Lettie stupidly mumbled. Her voice lowered, but it didn't matter to her if Marian had heard. "Perhaps that would make things 'normal' again, being with family."
She patted the girl's foot. What she said next was meant to be audible.
"Don't worry, Ms.Marian. All of us are seeking something. You will surely find your Da along the journey," Lettie said with affirmation, hoping that the newfound chime in her voice was enough to raise the girl's spirit. She looked up at Marian in a new light. "And...and I hope that everything will return to normal for you, then."
Despite Hopkin's warning, Lettie made herself audience. Death was something Dorian described as "disgusting", "vile", and "something that only exists in really terrible stories, nothing you have to worry about, Little Ghost". At this point, Lettie knew better than to take anything the Arelgren had taught her as the truth, and after her solo travels, corpses were as common to her as falling leaves. They were essentially the same thing, leafy compost and rotting bodies, so Lettie watched on as Marian climbed out of the hole and bodies were appropriately deposited. Wickwright composed good words to accompany the departed, and Richard Yawley disappeared in flames, crackling. Lettie watched the licking of the flames, the red plumes that had always been associated with colorful candles and a good bonfire. Dorian had introduced fire to her with such things, but she felt that the association of Yawley's corpse to the burning flame was a more educational experience in what fire could do.
"My name's not Marian," said the human girl finally.
"That's Richard's father's name, isn't it. Marion. I thought it was quite a coincidence," eased Wickwright thoughtfully.
"He started calling me that when he was delirious," Marian murmured. "It was easier than being myself when everyone I knew was dying, so I became Marian."
"Do you remember yourself?"
"Yes, but I don't want to be her. Not yet."
Hopkin disagreed.
"Yourself is the best kind of person you can be," he insisted. "Anything else is a lie."
Lettie thought about that.
It couldn't actually be true. Dorian Arelgren didn't like being himself or an Obscuvian back then either. It confined him and defined him.
"It's better that she isn't, Hopkin." Lettie related, crumbling some remaining dirt in her hands. "It's hard to be yourself when your identity is bound to suffering. It certainly changed Mr. Arelgren."
She looked glumly at the pyre again.
"He used to be so fun."
She looked down at her bow.
"And I used to be such a blind fool."
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