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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 15, 2018 20:09:30 GMT -8
"I... do not know much of galas." Florence admitted freely, wheeling around readily to fetch the wine from the armoire... before she fully realized what indeed she was fetching.
She did not approve.
"Do you wish to drink this?" She held the bottle up and inspected it as though it were poison.
"...strange wine. I do not know where it came from."
Matter-of-factly, she placed it down in the armoire and stared at it.
"Let us refrain from the wine."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Nov 15, 2018 20:18:54 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
"Oh, aye..." He nodded amicably, comfortably, as he stroked the subtle hairs of his mustache to quietly wipe away an amused smirk as he shrugged his brows and let his eyes flick from the candle, with its wax slowly sliding down to its base so it might solidify, then to Florence; posed just so beside the armoire and wine.
All the same, he beckoned her over,
"... Bring it though; we might be able to discern if it's voltaile, give us an understanding of whoever lingered here." He pointed out, in part just to get the wine over, but doubly so in genuine curiosity.
"Being able to read wine is important to knowing much about galas.", he posed with a clever flare of teeth as he flared his hands out in presentation; letting go of the candle as the candle seemed independent enough now.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 15, 2018 20:47:15 GMT -8
"Hmmm..." Florence hummed disappointingly, eyeing the wine now with the look of a child staring at an unwanted vegetable.
She retrieved it, again, for Lekalis, but she did not like it.
"I have no interest in reading wine." She sat it down next to Lekalis, before following suit in sitting down, herself, beside the wine.
"Let us read those notes instead." She insisted, already making to paw through her satchel instead.
She seemed to approve of this much more.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Nov 15, 2018 20:57:53 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
The Ex-Lord nodded approvingly, giving a quick "My thanks" to Florence as she approached with the wine. There were quite a few notes to go over but he didn't doubt they'd make quick work of them. There wasn't much two fair scholars couldn't worm out of a library, he knew.
Granted, he supposed he wasn't too much of a scholar as one might presume but... as he shifted in his seat to look a bit more dignified beside Florence, he fancied himself versed in literature at the least.
Lekalis leant forward slightly to peer into Florence's satchel, before he clucked his tongue and lightly poked at Florence's cheek;
"You'll be able to read better without the mask." He pointed out with a victorious smile, though he furrowed his brow as he noted the soft glint of a crack in the lens.
"You still haven't fixed it..?" He asked with a touch of sadness and worry; he'd always been in a bit of a bustle when Florence was about, he'd hardly noticed.
"... Even you 'ought to recognize the danger of nigh-broken glass being so close to the eye." He sighed, leaning his back against the wall as he saw to unbinding his cloak from his shoulders...
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 15, 2018 21:07:48 GMT -8
"It... is a surface crack." Florence reasoned impatiently, settling with her legs folded under her.
The longer she kept her eyes off those notes, the more her hands yearned for them and the secrets they might hold in Cross's... rather shameful script. "It is not broken. And we are busy."
With a suitable haste she unfastened her mask and placed it squarely beside her, only making a brief pause from the retrieval of her notes.
Her thick brows raised and her mouth curled into a ghost of a smile as she unearthed a stack of papers and plopped it down on the floor.
Eagerly, she rubbed her gloved hands together and then reached for the topmost page.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 15, 2018 21:16:56 GMT -8
A dilapidated building in the outskirts of the Hamlet:
This bone sheath was suffocating, thought Audrey from the basement floor of this apparent Witch's lair with no Witch.
Sat on the stairs, she struggled to reach behind at the lace hoisting up this... harness, of sorts. It fit snug around her midriff and, while not inherently unpleasant itself, it did in fact restrict her spine's ability to bend.
Her fingers nipped at the lace like one would pinch worms from soil: quick swipes until the lace slackened, and she was able to slip free from her stay.
A deep breath in through her... mouth. It was her mouth.
An instinct told her to stand. She slapped one bare, stump of a foot on the ground. It sent a shock of pain up the limb that more than encouraged her to withdraw from the task.
It was healing.
Instead she resorted to her knees, still bruised in their own right, but... tolerable. Balance was easy.
Her fingers splayed over the stone-tile ground, flinching at the sensation at their pads. The stone was rough.
There were the stairs by which she had been brought down. On her hands and knees, she crawled to them.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Nov 15, 2018 21:26:36 GMT -8
/Lekalis/ "Mhmm, so we are..." He hummed absently as he plucked up Florence's mask and idly held it up against the candle-light, though he made sure not to obstruct illumination to Florence's notes, he began as thorough of an investigation as he could. Of course, it would be better to replace the lens entirely, but he reasoned he could apply a balm of some sort... to at least make sure the glass wouldn't shatter if it broke. Though, he was quite far away from his crate of reagents... \\ The first page, of what looked to be about thirty, was one of curious note; the calligraphy was rather ostentatious and unlike any of the other pieces of papers. It seemed to be a received letter, though it was unnamed... It rather seemed to be gibberish, but it read as the following;
"I appreciate thine desire to assist me, but I insist thou art evermore diligent in writing letters. Remember; the apples delivered must not be seen by anyone.
In other news; Voracious appetites do delineate our xenophobic isolationists so watch any thralls crossing here.
I digress, the first letters are always hard to write, but reading them is important if thou truly wishes to prove thyself worthy of my time."
The paper seems relatively fresh, and of rather high stock... it is white, and rather reminiscent of the more modern books Florence may know. It does not seem to have a seal, but it does look to have been folded into a letter, instead of a scroll as most other notes had been. |
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 17, 2018 20:05:34 GMT -8
This one was useless.
Florence set aside the letter with some disappointment; she hadn't intended to bring with her Cross's most latest letters. It pained her to think of the letters she could have brought with her-- something incriminating, something more interesting in the least...
She glanced to Lekalis with a fleeting curiosity before returning to the pile, and splaying out several more papers so that she might examine several at once, tentatively hopeful that she might find something of note.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Nov 17, 2018 21:23:50 GMT -8
/Lekalis/ "...You wouldn't happen to have that... tin I gave you? Before I left?" He asked with idle humdrum as he let the crow's mask rest in his lap, his fingers boredly drumming against the nose of his make. "Oh? What's this then..." He mused to himself as he picked up the discarded note, more intrigued by Florence's lack of interest and callous dismissal. He flicked the paper stiff between his thumb and forefinger as he saw to reading the note himself, rather immediately intrigued. "... This is my Sister's writing." Lekalis offered with much less gusto than he felt in his quickening heart. \\ Amongst the six letters produced by Florence, most looked almost immediately worthy of dismissal. However, three stood out with their familiar refined wood-pressed paper, similar to the first letter Florence had scrounged here in the basement. Alas, working methodically left to right; The First paper was made of yellowing paper, 20 years perhaps weighed on its cup-stained grain and ink. The handwriting was unmistakably Cross', with its scrunched quick-strokes, but it seemed a bit more spaced out; seemingly made for others to read coherently... Though it had no signature.
"Amidst the dreary autumnal dew of Cullen's courtyard, did sit the disparaged lord of this verdant grove of jubilant splendor. Yet... Cullen stared not at plush trees turning red like blood on the battlefield, nor did his gaze linger upon the few flowers of summer's past. No, Cullen's steely eyes stared quietly into the azule waters of the centerly fountain, whose waters were still as the duskling sun swept o'er head and sent shadows like prison bars over this humbled grove. His eyes lingered upon the mushroom Agaricus bisporus, an edible basidiomycete fungal growth common in the fields; its humbled hues of tawny faded away to a milky white upon its edges and 'neath its shroud. Reminding Cullen of his love so forlorn and misbegotten in a faraway land, at the behest of the Crowns which swayed the realm. In the porous veil of the Agaricus bisporus, Cullen could see the moist brow of his love so gone; see the way his sunkiss'd skin caught the light, just as the mushroom did now. He reached out and touched the soft crown, he shut his eyes and did see the face of his love Antonio, as he'd last seen it... Wreathed with white linens neath a cap of beige in the colors of the Desert Brigade of Cullen's liege..."
[/center] There are a few splotches of wine that send the ink into an unreadable mess, though there isn't much left to read of the prose. The Second paper seemed to be a curious sort; another page of a ledger... Torn, this time. The paper seemed to be in fair health, only just starting to yellow and grow stiff at the edges.
The Document seems to report the sales of "Apples" in quantities of ten or twenty, with payments being in absurd numbers; Cross was paying for simple bushells of apples what one might pay for a castle. The dating would suggest these deals were made 8-10 years ago, given estimations for adjusting to more relevant timeframes.
[/center] The Third was one of exquisite quality, yet again. But the handwriting was like none of the others; it was close to Cross' style in the way the letters were seemingly impossibly close together... But each letter was legible, and written perfectly in a line. In all measures, the writing was impossibly pristine and precise.
"50 6f 77 65 72 20 3a 20 4e 6f 6d 69 6e 61 6c 0a 43 61 6c 69 62 72 61 74 69 6f 6e 20 3a 20 43 6f 6d 70 6c 65 74 65 0a 49 6e 74 65 72 6a 65 63 74 69 6f 6e 20 3a 20 43 6f 6d 70 6c 65 74 65 0a 43 6f 6f 72 64 69 6e 61 74 65 73 20 3a 20 31 37 37 30 2c 20 31 38 38 30 2c 20 38 30 2c 20 38 0a 53 75 62 6a 65 63 74 20 3a 20 54 2d 30 30 30 30"
[/center] Cross seems to have spilled plenty of ink trying to decipher the numbers; Subject, T-, Coordinates, and 177 have been written out, circling certain numbers. base..? is scrawled out, along with several numbers that are much too scrunched to be deciphered. There seems to have been a cypher of sorts in the works. The Fourth showed promise, as the pristine paper hosted the handwriting of Lekalis' late sister, Victoria; the exquisite calligraphy made itself known again;
"Good tides, Herr Cross
Apples are Bringing Over Remarkable Throngs of people. Dost thou Ever desire Local Inquisitions of Venerable Establishments to Roam the Yards?
Reply as soon as possible, it is rather urgent. Otherwise... I'll come to you."
[/center] The message was short, though there was a seal attatched to it; Gunsche green with a raven splaying its wings out across a circular wax stamp, a singular 'G' was embossed in Gothic design at its center. The Fifth was one of remarkable note, printed upon the same exuberant paper; written by Victoria, but the grace of her calligraphy was absent and the text was printed in utter clarity. Though there were small stains of reddish make upon the corners; this paper seemed to have been folded, instead of rolled.
"Your tonic failed. I should never have trusted you.
Everything you own shall be burned, by me, or my Love.
If I am alive when you are inevitably caught, know that I will show you the terrors, the pain, I've come to know."
[/center] There are two more lines that have been blurred, seemingly in an effort to wipe away some of the maroon stains that Florence may well recognize to be blood. The Sixth was, again, written upon some yellowed papyrus; aged like a fine wine. Fine wine that seemed to have stained much of the papyrus on this last-most paper,
"Come with me, please..." Antonio begged, holding Cullen's hand in his strong yet warm hands of chocolate hue, "... Join the Brigade; as a doctor or perhaps an artilleryman!" "I can't... My Father--"
"--Would not approve? He does not approve of you already, please, please, please my dear Ray of Sun. Run away with me, into the army; I have heard tales of soldiers falling in love, it is not so strange there."
Cullen's lip curled, he bit it and his tears back as he shook his head; Antonio swore in his mother's tongue and suddenly stole a kiss from Cullen, the Spaniard's hands pulling the scholar into a heated embrace with the passion of a dead man. Cullen knew he should resist, to try to end this love once and for all but... The warm lips of Antonio were but a slice of heaven that damned Cullen to hell.
In the abandoned parlor of his estate, Cullen and Antonio danced a scandallous ballet across the dusty floors and curtained windows of the once gawdy, now dreary floors of the manor. Their lithe chests tensed with every pull of cloth and touch of skin, a button was lost as their blouse was removed in lustful haste; sweat beaded from their brow and slicked their chests. Cullen felt the coarse hairs of Antonio's breast upon his own pallid collar and sighed in relief... smiling, he felt alive and happy for once in his miserable Life; happy to express himself, happy to love as he so desired to love... Happy, as his fingers curled into the slackened military trousers of Antonio...
[/center] The rest of the document seems to be continued on a paper unseen here. |
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 17, 2018 22:13:59 GMT -8
Florence lifted the first page delicately, but with intent. At first it seemed, to her, to be a real account of some event or another, but by the time she had realized it was a fictional piece, she was already invested.
She read through with intrigue, and found herself somewhat uncomfortable with the suspense the lone page gave her. Ultimately, though, she moved on
There was the second one: immediately, it didn't seem to be fiction, although it still read as nonsensically to her as the very first letter she'd found had. She had never paid such grand prices for anything as simple as an apple. Even most reagents she needed cost a pittance in comparison.
It would make sense that such expensive apples must not be seen by anyone. They must have been highly desirable.
She set it aside and moved onto the third page. After a regretful moment of struggle, in which she seemed more intrigued by the unusual paper and foreign lettering, she admitted defeat and set it back down, with the intent to return to it later, if time permitted.
Now for the fourth.
There were apples again.
The capitalization was odd, too; perhaps to make Cross more at ease via a Germanic style of writing... poorly, as the verbs and adjectives were capitalized with the nouns. But not all of them, she noted.
She mulled over this as she lowered the paper to exchange for the fifth note.
When she saw the rust-colored splotches, she was glad to have been wearing gloves. The thought of coming into contact with anything bodily of Cross's was, saying the absolute least, unsavory.
She read on, though, and it dawned on her that this was not Cross's blood. Florence had not forgotten Victoria's fatal condition-- and Cross was meant to aid her with a failed tonic.
"Hm." She said simply. Her eyes were no longer on the note.
She, in some silent, internal dilemma, was watching Lekalis. Finally she came to a decision of sorts and stiffly extended the fifth note to the ex-lord.
"You may wish to read this."
She presumed that he would take it without question as she turned her attention to the sixth note, both disappointed and relieved to read its contents.
Finding the end of the page quicker than she'd expected, she sat the page down next to the others and made to flip them over to analyze the backs of the papers with growing anticipation.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Nov 17, 2018 23:08:57 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
A frown grew on his features as he read the first notes, rather quickly putting together the first pieces of the cypher from recognition, if anything.
"Florence, these..." He began quietly, his mind scant able to move over the possibility that Victoria may have been conniving with Cross and... all that may imply. He only knew Cross as a mad old man, obsessed with the success of his youth.
"... Why? What's this?" The Ex-Lord asked with idle scrutiny as he took the blood stained piece of paper. His features rather quickly darkened as he read and reread the piece, before turning it over and back again.
\\
The paper that most immediately stood out from the rest was the Sixth piece of paper, wherein the escapades of Cullen and Antonio in the dusty attic were described in great length with allusions to "Mushroom heads pressed against rosen buttons", and other rather lewd implications.
The writing seemed to grow more erratic and ecstatic t'ill it scrunched every last juicy detail into the corners of the worn paper.
Besides that singular piece of scandallous literature, no other set of paper boasted any writing on the back,
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 18, 2018 13:48:35 GMT -8
The meaning of the writing was lost on Florence as she read on. There was a deep contemplation as to what a 'rosen button' was meant to mean, or what relevance mushrooms had...
This singular piece of writing was enough for her to be thankful that her family chose to study medicine over literature.
She set it aside and turned the rest of the papers over to their fronts.
"The letters... Victoria wrote some of these... Cross had given her a tonic. From her condition, hence the blood." Florence mumbled, brows furrowed in concentration as she read over the notes again.
Odd that she communicated with Cross in such a blatant way with that un-coded note. With Lekalis, she recalled, she would capitalize certain letters and refer to her dinner.
Florence stopped. And then she read again, following along the letters with her finger,
"Voracious... appetites..." She began, and trailed off, and started again,
"V-A-D-D-O-X... I-S.... W-A-T-C-H-I-N-G." She spelled aloud. "'Vaddox is watching'... hence the code."
She moved on to find the next seeming nonsensical sentence.
"A-B-O-R-T... D-E-L-I-V-E-R-Y."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Nov 18, 2018 21:15:04 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
"Victoria was never one for such blatant threats as this..." Lekalis mused quietly, sadly, as he brushed his thumb over the smeared ink of the last two sentences; he wondered what secrets they had held.
"... Though she had lost much of her wit as her ailment escalated." He continued distantly as he sighed and furrowed his brows.
"If Cross was involved with my Sister's..." Lekalis sighed and pinched his knitted brows with frustration, before he shook his head and cleared his throat, rubbing the long since faded scar from Whateley,
"... If Cross was involved with my Sister's death, so much so she'd threaten him as she had; then Cross may well know more than I'd ever thought possible." He huffed and kept his mind on the critical implications of the letter. His vengeance had long since lost his fire... He'd changed, he knew and reached out to touch Florence's shoulder holding it with due affections as she quietly put together the cypher with... remarkable ease and clarity.
"Vaddox? My sister never mentioned that name..." Lekalis offered with a frown, shaking his head, "... I've never heard of the name from anyone. But if his monitering was worthy of note, we 'aught to mind it well." he remarked as he scratched at his jawline, then set aside the blood-stained note from his sister and idly began to examine Florence's mask yet again.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Nov 19, 2018 23:20:07 GMT -8
"How had her behavior changed as her condition progressed? How long did she have the disease?" Florence asked, with some worry... there was already a rather obvious case to be made that Victoria shared the same condition as Lekalis.
If it were true, then she could be the model for the terminal stage of the curse. Which was not a welcome thought.
Though it did well to inspire a sense of urgency in her.
"...We need to find more relevant information." Florence muttered grimly, making to fan out another handful of notes to read over.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Nov 22, 2018 7:41:36 GMT -8
Nasuada stared with a slight raised curiosity upon her face as she looked upon the strip of leather Elorit had revealed, and what she saw her made her stagger backwards a step like she had been hit as her arms dropped to try and stay her balance. The vestal side of her was frozen, unable to hide the fear boiling up inside her. While the demonic side kept things in control, the hieroglyphics something so ancient the demon could only barely remember but remember nonetheless
“Aforgomon...” The word escaped her lips lightly, only barely hearable by the alchemist. He would see the shock on her face, as well as the gears of thought running behind her eyes as she forced herself back upright. Tearing her eyes away from the leather to look at his face with the most incredulous look, as if she had not looked at him as clearly and almost respectfully as before until now.
Though she did not speak again, as her other side needed to catch up and stop trying to run when something tremendous was possibly in the palm of their hands. Nasuada closed her eyes and breathed slowly to capture her calm again so that she may investigate once more.
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