|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Oct 21, 2018 20:38:43 GMT -8
Florence shook her head, twice and twice only so as to not waste valuable time that she could be spending on speed-reading notes.
"No. I have my notes. I am looking for Cross's notes on your amulet."
She set aside some notes, stowed away some others, and continued on.
"He knows a lot about it."
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Oct 21, 2018 20:52:16 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
"Truly..? What makes you think that?" Lekalis remarked with some due surprise; the man hardly seemed the sort to be intrigued by gemstones, given his yearsworth of focus on mushrooms and the like. Though, he supposed, the measure of a Soul was mentioned on occasion...
"... He was more focused on the arcane." He elaborated as he slowed his skimming to give the notes some thought.
"It... may be worthwhile to construct a letter to the 'Azule Bastille'." He offered with a shrug, "A mention of Cross' demise, perhaps impress our hand on the matter to garner some good will; Cross may have been a bit daft as a researcher and doctor, but he had his connections." He admitted as he looked over the paper in his hands one last time and sighed, setting it alongside Florence's.
While the one Lekalis had gone over looked to be merely an inconsequential report on the acquisition of some gemstones of green color and rectangular cut, Florence's own skimmed note mentioned progress on a particular pattern in the cuts of gemstones. There was mention of 'capturing ones essence', but the garbled writing would need more than just a glanceover to read and comprehend.
Otherwise, it looked like mineralogical gibberish to the untrained eye. This singular note seemed to be part of a greater series of notes, judging by the labeling in the upper left corner being written in French. Classically, cramped in nature, the clearest thing, at a glance, was the base numerals of [II:X]
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Oct 21, 2018 21:06:08 GMT -8
"Cross told me what I knew initially about your curse: that it would be spread via intimate contact, for example, and other information. I believe he was there for its inception. I am confident that he has notes hoarded on the matter."
'Capturing one's essence' was all that Florence needed. She squinted at the page, momentarily, before filing it into her bag.
"I would prefer not to contact the Azule Bastille, given their threats to Cross. They seem dangerous."
She rose.
"We should go."
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Oct 21, 2018 21:11:15 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
He rose with her and nodded, stowing what other notes remained or were set aside, in his own satchel before crossing over to the table to fetch the notes bound by a Rat's tail.
"If they are enemies of Cross, then they might be our friends--" He looked over to her with some playful incredulity,
"-- Surely, you know the saying; the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Lekalis shrugged,
"I think it was even spoken by the kin of your name."
All the same, he was eager to leave the confined room; he'd had enough bad experiences, in the Hamlet alone, of being stuck in a room with but one entrance and exit. Granted, the worst they'd be met with was a scolding and temporary imprisonment, but all the same... a fate he'd rather avoid with so little time.
"After you, then?" He posed at the door, opening it up a sliver to spy down the hallway leading to it for any signs of trouble, before pushing it open with the toe of his boot. His hands went to rest easily at his hip and an easy smile came to his lips as he bowed his head to t he door.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Oct 21, 2018 21:18:03 GMT -8
"Cross it not our current enemy. If I wished to destroy him, then I would consult his enemies. But I do not wish to destroy him. And I also do not wish to draw the attention of dangerous people." Florence argued as she shuffled out of the room, hastily...
...while it wasn't impossible for her to have been anxious to leave, so as to avoid getting caught, but she was simply excited to sit down and read more of this information Cross withheld from her.
It seemed there was a hidden world of research unlike anything she had studied when she was young.
Despite all her haste, she still waited for Lekalis to close the door and join her as she departed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Oct 21, 2018 21:23:14 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
He offered an indifferent shrug and brightened a tad as Florence passed; it was as literal a spring in her step as any measure of Florence's capacities to emote, but it was a spring all the same. And, despite the rather dire future ahead of them... he was certain it would at least be curious to behold.
"Fair enough." He offered blandly as he followed after her and shut the door, keen to give it one last look over; memorizing the familiar nameplate before sighing and rolling his shoulders as he continued on to follow after the paused Florence.
Lekalis compromised and gave her shoulder an affirming squeeze as he walked on, making to remove the gloves with deliberate slowness; it was a curious texture, her gloves. A bit tight about his own digits, but they had a plasticity that was particularly alluring.
"You look happy..." he observed with an idle nature, though his smile betrayed a delight in her smallest of excitements.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Oct 21, 2018 21:28:23 GMT -8
"I am very pleased." Florence answered as she walked along, making no moves to reclaim her gloves.
It was likely more sanitary to keep them off, save for the key moments in which she'd bulwark her vulnerable skin from contagious viscera, or any otherwise unsavory materials...
She did silently admit that it felt strange to feel the air on her fingers in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable.
"Are you?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Oct 21, 2018 21:34:42 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
"It has been awhile since I'd pilfered an old man's quarters for wizardly designs but... It is all the fun I remembered it to be." He mused cheekily with a smirk to match as he noticed Florence's ever focused nature,
"I've also missed our ventures... Me worrying about you touching gross things, You... Touching them, and more. Me getting shot, you patching me up..." He shrugged and busied his hands with tossing the now removed pair of gloves from one hand to the other in an easy demeanour.
"... I'll admit this was a bit lackluster comparatively, but it had its merits." He assured her with a small hum of laughter as the hall seemed shorter with the lack of tension and influx of idle conversation; his chuckle echoed in the rather vacant Sanitarium lounge which they broke upon.
Lekalis' cast a cautious, fleeting look towards the Sanitarium's book-keeper behind her desk; though the portly woman seemed rather at harbor there. The Ex-Lord kept a steady sail towards the exit of the Sanitarium, which he once again held open for Florence.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Oct 21, 2018 21:40:16 GMT -8
Florence hmm'd and contemplated Lekalis's reminiscence.
"I do not enjoy you being shot. And I do not miss you being shot." She nodded decisively, strolling on out of the lounge in the same manner she'd left Cross's office: hastily on ahead, and then stopping to wait for the red-cloaked ex-lord.
"...I would be very pleased if you were never shot again."
She turned her beaked head to spy the night-cast square.
"I disagree that this excursion was lackluster. I found it informative, and safer than our older ventures."
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Oct 21, 2018 21:48:03 GMT -8
/Lekalis/ "Safer, sure; but there was a particular... exhilaration in having your hands lain on me." He teased with a shameless side-glance to Florence as she passed through the bland portal to the Sanitarium. His steps were right behind hers as he noted the mundane passage of time; its sway on his Life both ever-present yet nonexistent, it seemed, as he kept an eye on Florence's step as her beak pointed to the sky. Wary she might trip and fall. "Informative, Safer, sure... but we hardly practiced our expertise; not to insult, but neither of us aspired to be a scribe of any sort." He pointed out with a bit of pomp as his boots met the soil of the Courtyard. "Come then; we'll look over these informative and safe notes in our newfound basement..." He declared proudly, as he set off towards his property. Hoping both Germans and rubble were absent, for now. \Lekalis and Florence depart to Miscellaneous Buildings\ |
|
|
|
Post by black379 on Dec 17, 2018 15:58:45 GMT -8
The others were well and truly gone. The Knights dismantled, dead or departed, and Gillian was the last in their fruitless pact. She was free from the faction and its politics, but now she was in hiding. The people of the Darkest Estate, looters and scoundrels they were, but proved formidable.
Taking up an old disguise was risky, but posing as a nurse was one of the more inconspicuous roles wherein she could still draw blood from unsuspecting patients. And she could keep an eye on her last vassal, who was detained as psychotic. She should be safe, so long as she avoided drawing suspicion. But Gillian needed more than a frail harlot to carry her blood if she hoped to regain her place.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Dec 17, 2018 16:46:57 GMT -8
/Gillian/
/Sanguines/
[bloodspeech]
A warm, recognizable thrum slowly flooded Gillian's ears; a sensation she hadn't felt in a long... long while. Or so it felt, at least. An almost ambrosia like glow bathed the Knight's brain in what felt like warm blood, that vibrated with a soothing symphony of sensations that made words to her mind.
"Seek blood. Seek a Spider, caught in this maze." There was a pause, and a flicker of a red ribbon traced the walls, then to the floor.
A blood trail.
"Sicherlein. Seek that blood which intrigues me. It will be good to see. Good to have." The voice drew on, distantly, and the haze faded but the presence of Sanguines seemed to linger still. Distantly.
|
|
|
|
Post by black379 on Dec 22, 2018 14:28:00 GMT -8
A warmth, like an embrace, overcame Gillian. A soft exhale fled her lips while her eyes fluttered. An old and familiar droning thrummed in her head. She understood it like the voice of a friend. Her teeth closed around the end of her tongue as the stream of red appeared, running past the room's threshold.
"Yes. I hear you, lord. I will do as you ask." Gillian rose to her feet to follow the trail. The Knights had been a distraction. She thought the Red One had grown tired of her, but now he called on her again. She crossed her arms in a hug to contain her eagerness.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 14, 2019 14:31:20 GMT -8
Nasuada rushed into the Sanitarium, tears welling in her eyes as her memory played scene by scene in her head. Hurrying herself to the room where Jack would lay, a bit healed but still very much wounded, turning in his sleep and moaning as a small fever tore at his body and brain, trying to sleep and get rid of it. He would stir when people entered and left, but the entire time he was wanting his mom, and knowing she was gone hurt his head and made him not want to believe it.
//Flashback//
Tris stared at the man, already having cried tears fell down her face once more. Though now she was filled with more than sorrow, but anger. That head Nun was the entire reason her entire existence here was a living hell. Do this you wretch, don’t do that you miserable cur, come on bitch of a bastard I expect more from you! She cares not for Tris, and she very well knew she hated Timothy and his kind attitude towards her. But even his care could not stop an order, else he be subject to death of ridicule and treachery of the heretic degree.
“Fine. Then I never want to see you again, leave my sight, and tell that Nun she can bath in hell for all I care!” Tris yelled, slamming the door in his face and burying her head back into her bed, sobbing as she had another wedding end with her in tears and sadness. While Timothy only stood shocked, and left without a word knowing this was all too well a goodbye forever.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 14, 2019 14:47:36 GMT -8
She shook her head as she entered Jacks room, she hated every second of the wedding taking place so she would spend the most time she could in this room so that her mind would no longer be tortured by memories. Though, seeing Jack, sick, wounded, it reminded her of one last thing, and even that made her silent. Walking slowly forward, she gently sat next to Jack, stroking his hair lovingly like a mother, and so began to sing.
///Small different Flashback///
Tris sat next to Timothy, the young boy of 13 years while her 11, was sick with fever and had hopes of living but he just needed to rest. The boy turning and shaking in the bed as he slept. She would be in trouble if she was caught, but she did not care, and so as she did in the future, she sang the only tune she knew how.
—————Both Flashback and Current Time—————
🎶 Come little children
I'll take thee away, into a land
Of enchantment
Come little children
The time's come to play
Here in my garden
Of shadows
Follow sweet children
I'll show thee the way
Through all the pain and
The sorrow
Weep not poor children
For life is this way
Murdering beauty and
Passions
Hush now dear children
It must be this way
Too weary of life and
Deceptions
Rest now my children
For soon we'll away
Into the calm and
The quiet
Come little children
I'll take thee away, into a land
Of enchantment
Come little children
The time's come to play
Here in my garden
Of shadows.🎵
——Current Time——
The boy named Jack now slept peacefully, hearing an angelic voice that sang like his mother used to, while Nasuada left the bed and sat in a chair next to it. Staring at the boy, looking for any movement as she continued to stroke his hair. She would fall asleep herself sooner her later, head feasting on the bed as she laid her arms gently on Jack as she cradled him like the mother she wasn’t.
|
|
