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Fantasy Delicious Friend... | Fallen London Roleplay

„Who is coming to the ball?“ The Bandaged Governor murmured, looking over his glass of pale, gray liquid with a soft layer of dust floating an inch above the surface.
The Affable Spy returned the Governor's look with a friendly smile of her own. „The Ambassador is inviting a fresh batch of writers and poets from Veilgarden, hoping to raise them up in the world – the usual.“ She shrugged, looking down on the sheet of paper which seemed to have been folded several times before coming to her hands. A report from Sister Lydia on the ball. „A lot of important title holders confirmed their arrival.
Taking a sip of his dustwine, coughing once, the Governor cocked an eyebrow. „How so?“ He asked, getting a satisfied smirk from the Spy. „The Ambassador claimed you are arriving as well.“

The Bandaged Governor placed his glass on the carved, wood table in front of him and looked over his shoulder past the black curtains of his yacht. At London. The newest home of the Bazaar. There had to be at least two dozen eyes looking back at him at any moment. The yacht was never ignored. „Using my name to help the little ones.“ He commented dismissively. „We are invited, of course.“
„Of course.“ The Spy confirmed, placing the paper aside. Even if they weren't invited, the Governor could appear in any event and he would suddenly become the reason why everyone was there. It wasn't just because he was feared. Saying that the Governor had a way with people was an understatement. „Should I get ready for the ball?“ She offered, a hand on her hip and a dangerously seductive look on her face

„Send Lydia to Deluder.“ The Governor ordered, looking back at the Spy, and paused. „No. You go to him.“ He corrected the order. Sending Lydia to Deluder meant he wouldn't see either of them until it was too late. „Make him presentable. I need to push him up the ladder even more.“ Noticing the disappointed, almost resentful look on the Spy's face, the Governor flashed a confident smile. „Nothing personal, dear. You are simply capable enough to reach unimaginable heights from just observing me. Deluder needs more help.“ He flattered.
It was lies, of course. The Spy was by the Governor's side because she wanted to learn. She could be replaced within a day. The Deluder, on the other hand... It was the Governor's initiative to take the man under his wing. A promise from all those years ago.

„A DELIVERY FROM YOUR TAILOR.“ Boomed a voice from the doorway. His pirate-poet stood, holding the pile of dark fabric in her powerful clay hands. „MR WINES' LADIES ARRIVED.“ She added.
„Ah.“ The Governor smiled like it was a pleasant surprise he wasn't expecting. „Why don't you open up a few bottles to warm them up.“ He waved off the Spy. „The '79.“ He added with a serious tone. He wasn't worried the girls would drink a lot – as many of them as he ordered – but why would he waste good vintage on the likes of them?
When the Affable Spy exited the room, the Governor stood up and walked over to the pirate-poet, his movements that of a lurking cat. „Why don't you...“ The Governor passed his bandaged finger over the carved skin of the pirate-poet. „Get me warmed up.“ He grinned, the uneasy look on her clay face only encouraging him. „Come along.“ He almost sang, turning away and heading towards his bedroom.

There were so many reasons he preferred having fun with the pirate-poet than someone else. The simple fact that he could get an unfinished woman to do exactly what he wants like she was finished proved his power. If he could get her to be obedient – someone who didn't care for punishment if she disobeyed or had any long-term goals – meant that he was truly unstoppable.
But it wasn't just that. That was just the smaller part of the whole thing. What he truly enjoyed was the forbidden aspect of it. The scandal which would come down on him if the affair came out. It was so significant that he'd have to sail from London for at least a month if someone had proof. But no one had proof. No one would dare claim that the Bandaged Governor himself was taking pleasure in something so exotic. Not when he ordered batches of Wines' girls every other day.
 
ThaDruid ThaDruid DoughGuy DoughGuy
The Intriguer's eyes narrowed for but a moment as the man mentioned her alleged debt to him. A debt she was meant to pay? Hardly. A debt she was going to pay? Hardly. There was a lesson to be taught. A dangerous one. "If you want to claim that favor, visit the Great Downward Engineering Company in the Bazaar sidestreets." She instructed. "Mention that you're picking up a watch you ordered a week ago."

It was a deal she had with them for a long while now. If anyone were to show up at the company, they would simply direct the person to the Watchmaker's Hill while sending a bat to warn the Intriguer first. Whoever was that wanted to see her would be jumped by the handful of agents she had under her boot. "I'll pay you back." And either end the man's life by throwing him to the marsh-wolves or get him to do her bidding through threats or blackmail, like she did with all of her agents. It was the terror that kept them obedient.

"Thanks for escorting us to safety." Fleur said with a grateful bow and cast a cautious look at the woman behind her. "But I really should be going. I came to London for a reason." She said, remembering her friend. The Writer. "Maybe, after I find him, I'll stick around. Do some good. Help out." Fleur smiled. "Until then." She nodded, turned around, and headed back the way they came.

With a grunt at the paint in her leg, the Intriguer headed back out as well. She wasn't going to get medical help from the good doctor, it seemed. She wasn't going to let her just slip out of her grasp either. "If you need help finding someone, doctor, mention the same thing at the same place." That would certainly thin out the group she would be using to ambush them. Still, a pair of newcomers couldn't be a problem for the thugs she commanded. "I'll see you around." She said to no one in particular.
 
A matter of business, in Spite...

Cromwell felt... It was hard to describe what he felt. Excitement, certainly, at seeing Bennett again after so many years. But then, some small amount of dread. A pit at the end of his stomach, twisting and turning as his thoughts got darker and darker. Firstly, what had Bennett got herself into? Was it dangerous for her? Would it be dangerous for him? The fact that they were getting closer and closer to Spite did not do well for his preoccupied state. The haunt of silk-weavers and pickpockets was known for housing some of London's less than honest folk. At least it wasn't Watchmaker Hill. That could have been much more problematic.

As they made their way through the roads of Spite, it was as if something in the air had changed. The atmosphere got colder, and definitely gloomier than the Docks. He was quite sure that a fair amount of eyes, hidden behind every window and corner, were trained on them. He saw them. They stared back. A man with a blue scarf around his neck put a hand in his pocket. He had a weapon. Cromwell's own hand shot into his cloak, grasping the fine handle of his six-shooter.
He let out a long breath as the man with the blue scarf pulled a simple pocket watch out of his suit and looked at the time.

Get a bl__dy grip, you fool. Someone could have got hurt.

Yes, he had to stop. To clear his head of everything. This was not the time for paranoia. With no small amount of annoyance he noticed that, in the meantime, his pipe had gone out. Pocketing the curved wood, he spared a glance at Bennett.
She had not noticed anything.

Soon, they had arrived at the three-story abode of the guilty man. Third floor. Cromwell sized the building from all angles, noting along with Bennett any possible entrances or exits. Some rusty walkways... The windows...the main door was their best bet. And what they needed was a locksmith.
Finding one wouldn't be difficult in Spite. It was a market where everyone sold what they had. In this case, a stout fellow sold his skill with a lockpick. The price was reasonable. Jade for the performance, glim for the silence. Bennett added some of her own charm to ensure his loyalty.

And soon, the moment came. The lock clicked open, and the locksmith was sent away. The lady went in first, immediately concentrating her anger at the masked fellow facing the door. Surprisingly, it did not come down to violence immediately. Both her and the masked man, apparently, wanted a proper conversation. Certainly the better alternative. The man seemed to be wounded. Or at least sore and bruised.
However, Cromwell did not have business with this one. He had to keep another man from interfering. In he walked, with calm steps, taking in the sights. A nice and respectable household, but nothing fancy. Whoever owned this did not have much wealth to speak of. What caught his eye was the shine of a thrusting blade, leaning on the masked man's chair. With that position, it was dangerous.
Oh, here came the other man. Pale fellow with black hair, wreathed in dark clothes, and... Was that a bat by his side? Interesting person. He did not seem that much of a danger. But you can't count on suppositions in this line of work.
In a quick motion, Father Cromwell pulled his firearm free from the buckle that held it into his cloak. It was a compact thing, wide with a short barrel and a firing mechanism of Rattus Faber make. Worth quite a sum. Deadly at close range. Useless at long distances. It was designed for being used when boarding ships after all.
The gun's tip peeked out of his cloak, pointed at the one with the black clothes.

"Now, my friend, stay still and don't say a thing. There's a discussion in order."

He announced, quite rudely. After all, this man hadn't really done anything bad.
Turning his head slightly to the masked one's direction, he continued.

"And would you kindly kick that blade of yours away, son? Nobody has to get hurt here."

It was just business.


Osthavula Osthavula 0stinato 0stinato NorseChaos NorseChaos
 
Spite

The throbbing pain in his back was being echoed in his temples, and the Deluder saw his opponent as if she was millimetres in front of him, as she cursed him down in her first moments in the room. Every inconsistency in her face was apparent, as he stared at her for... seconds? minutes? hours? -- but he was broken out of her questions, her voice, that breath he could almost feel on his reeling skin by a man he hadn't noticed striding in.

She sat, and her questions lined up in his head like planets, each one with her voice attached, and the man's question was suddenly a different timbre in his mind.

He turned his eyes to the man, who was standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the newest player in the room. Keeping Stryx at bay with the phrase "stay still", and was most likely armed. One could hardly tell someone to "stay still" without a threat. Whether that threat stank of gunpowder, scandal or blood, one was usually needed.

The Deluder blinked at the man, "I will do no such thing. And if that's a problem for you, I advise you shoot me. But you won't do that. Not when your partner wants answers. My rapier stays where it is. That's all there is to it."

From his position in the armchair, he could easily keep his golden eyes on both his opponent and her partner in crime. He looked back to her, and was back to dreaming again, seeing her eyelashes and counting them in the moment it took to blink. The number was forgotten as soon as his eyes opened again.

"Mistress, don't misunderstand me," the Deluder leaned forward a little, forcing the pulsing blood in his temples to keep hurting him. The hair wound between his fingers was now equally painful, because, clearly, Viola was free. The sharp-eyed lady in front of him must have... but that was how it was now. The Lady was free, and her lackey was before him. All he could do now was tell... the truth.

"I trust you, and I trust your lady. I trust her game went well, and went beautifully, and I trust her winnings were won fairly. I've heard what she won. I was impressed. As for the one who you believe "commanded" me?"

He laughed.

It hurt. But he laughed.

"I am not a man who goes around on strings. I make my own decisions. You called the right person a bastard when you came in - my canon never commanded me in this instance. You must understand, yes? Viola can't command your every move. No "kind" Lady such as her would command you to... threaten someone. You're here of your own accord. I acted of my own accord.

"As for what I achieved? Well... look at my hands."

He held them out for her, both of them, palm upwards. His Prize dropped from his fingers as he extended them; even that action hurt his left hand as the muscles in the arm tensed against their wounds, but the pain steadied his fingers.

"I've not smoked in almost twelve hours - probably - and usually that fact would ensure my hands are trembling like a ship on the zee. But look at them. They're still. I wasn't bored. And my canon surely... will understand why I selected Viola... to hurt.

"I was starting to tremble earlier, mistress," the Deluder's voice had fallen a little, and he shifted towards the edge of his chair, towards the lady whose skin was so detailed, "but you came and stopped it... take that to your Lady Viola. Tell her she's opened a man's eyes, tell her she's the ultimate snuff substitute."

He was focused on the woman in front of him, but all he saw in her was Viola. The same tone she'd used with him when she was beneath the bridge was present in his company's voice. somewhere. But with Viola it was a kindly bout of persuasion. With his company the danger was more obvious. But the words were the same. The questions were the same. The tone was the same. He almost forgot about Stryx. He almost forgot about the stranger cornering Stryx. He almost forgot Carrellés. He almost forgot his rapier. He almost forgot about his Prize. Just to stay in the conversation a little longer. Hands open to her. He'd accept her words, just to hear the tone again.

His gaze was only rivalled by that of Carrellés - the Deluder's eyes were passionately fixed on the startling woman, and Carrellés' were determined as they stared at Stryx from his position beside the Deluder's rapier.

Osthavula Osthavula NorseChaos NorseChaos ThaDruid ThaDruid

The Maest of London says...
Chan De Lier​
 
Fabulous Accomplice
Location: Spite
ThaDruid ThaDruid 0stinato 0stinato NorseChaos NorseChaos


Bennett repositioned on her chair, feeling very uncomfortable. She knew he wouldn't unarm himself that easily. But no way did she imagined him with the dreaming gaze, intoxicated, very much like someone leaving the honeyden exhausted of their honey. And all the more alarming when she realized his gaze focused on her was directed not to her, but to Lady Viola. Shocked, unsettled, but more than anything she felt that this man would become a trouble to her lady. And there was nothing in her power to change it. Viola wouldn't wish the man harmed, and the man now was in near obsession with her. Bennett had no power to change either of their minds. Suddenly, it was like the air was pressuring her, and she felt very exhausted. If it was lady Viola, she would have just smiled and let everything pass; but it was Bennett, she had way less tolerance with the abnormal. Her lady wasn't here to help sooth her mind this time.

"Father, check if that man was armed, disarm him and join me." She said, in the most calmed way possible. The man from his past was the only one she could rely on at the moment, and despite how beneficial he remain where he stood, she wanted him closer. "We are in the middle of a peaceful conversation. Would be quite unfortunate if that changed. "

The last sentence was directed at the stranger, and she said nothing about letting Father Cromwell put down the gun. In that brief moment, she allowed her gaze to stray and side glanced at Stryx first, then glared at the little rat beside Deluder's feet before returning the attention to the masked man. It was clear in her tone that if the situation turned violence she clearly would not mind, and had less intention of keeping it peaceful like how Deluder would think. The person wanting the answer was her lady. The one who'd rather slit his throat and run out was her.

"So, let me rephrase what you just said. To hurt my lady was your own doing, which was not included in whatever you had received from above. " The red head continued her talking, watching the man's vein and muscle pulsed, either out of strength or pain. "You now perceive my lady somehow as your entertainment and expect me to relay your message. You, the man who tied her beside the rising tide. "

Her brown iris met his golden ones, piercing into it, wanting to understand how his mind behind his skin and flesh.

If what he said was true, then Viola would be at least a little relieved to hear the governor wasn't after her life, and Bennett would be relieved to know it was just this man alone she had to deal with. But again, Bennett did not have the mind to predict what the man in front of her would do. How would she know if this man wasn't a bigger trouble? He was one of them. One of the Bandaged Governor's agent.

The image of one of the agents kicking her in the dark was to jump out. She suppressed it.

"Why would you think I should give your message to her willingly? And what is the point? You have proven yourself a poor courier, delivering not the business of the yacht, nor expressed your message clear. You've only piqued her interest which was already planted before you. "

"And like you said. I acted on my own accord, despite it was against my lady's will to go against your master and his people. Why should I sit back and allow you to come close to her like a man in passion? Listen to you. "

She lifted her chin in disapproval.

"I've heard a better speech in the depth of honey den, Deluder. Organize yourself and give me a reason I should just sit and let this happen. "

She sat, back straight like her lady would do, and observed him. Couldn't tell if she was anticipating or dreading what would come out of him. It appeared to her that she should figure out this man as soon as possible. And it just became apparent to her the painful truth: He wouldn't need her. He was perfectly capable of seeking them out. A strand of the golden hair didn't fall but remained between his fingers, the light blonde popped clearly against his skin and the darker colour of the floor. She blinked as if the light and the colour was needling her.
 
Spite

The strange woman didn't seem concerned with him, though Stryx was still very concerned with her. He watched her carefully for a moment. Judging by the way she was conversing with the he was she was now conversing with the Deluder that her business was with him. Somehow, he wasn't entirely surprised at this; of course getting entangled in another man's business would have consequences. And then there was her friend. Stryx hadn't been paying him as much attention, until he saw the small hand gun drawn and pointed in his direction. Stryx could feel his heart skip a beat or two behind his ribs at the sight of it. He stared at it, ignoring the man that held it as he spoke to him. As instructed, he kept his mouth shut.

He listened intently to their conversation, ignoring Fleck as the bat fidgeted uneasily on his shoulder. From what he was hearing between the two, it sounded like they clearly had history, but as far as he was concerned, they were talking in riddles. Perhaps it was just the nerves of having a firearm anywhere near him, but he couldn't focus on what they were saying enough to make sense of any of it. Although ultimately he knew it was none of his business, he felt like he was owed some kind of explanation after they had picked his lock and invited themselves in to his home. Instead of the answers he had been hoping for, now he was left with even more questions, and it was looking more and more like they would never be answered.

Against his better judgement, as he stood and watched, Stryx felt down the sides of his coat. He knew that getting out of this surreal confrontation would be best done by cooperating, of course, but subconsciously, his hand drifted towards a pocket around the back of his coat. A small thing, where he kept a knife concealed away. He only used it when backed in to a corner, and living in Spite, there are plenty of corners one could find themselves in. Although his home being broken in to felt like it crossed some sort of line, he knew he shouldn't use it. He should just let these two have their conversation, and move on with his life. Hopefully they wouldn't come knocking again after whatever this business was got resolved. Still, he let his hand linger over the pocket, just in case. His fingers absently traced the outline of the small blade, carefully eyeing the gentleman up and down. He wasn't overly keen on how that gun was pointing at him.

ThaDruid ThaDruid 0stinato 0stinato Osthavula Osthavula
 
A Victorian standoff, in Spite...

The steady, practiced grip he held on his weapon tightened. His brow furrowed. His eyes narrowed.
The way the atmosphere had shifted, it could almost be felt in the air. A sudden tension, similar to an old rope being pulled and threatening to rip any second.
Firstly, the masked man's unwillingness to part with his rapier. He was not scared, because Bennett had made him feel safe. That had to change, but not immediately. The wounded man was not the greatest danger in the room.

Then, Bennett asking so kindly for him to disarm the other man and join by her side. A position that the priest would rather not take. He had no part in that discussion, and he did not want to. Furthermore, holding a quiet man at gunpoint required much less effort than holding a peaceful conversation with another man, much more despicable

Finally, the masked one's friend. It wasn't difficult to spot the slight movement of the man's arm. Subtle, but not enough for his Watchful gaze. A weapon. Though his movement was not quick enough to indicate that he would use whatever he was taking. It seemed more of a threatening motion.

This turn of events had him focus solely on the man dressed in black. He heard a beating heart, thumping within his chest. Everything else became an echo, swirling in a maelstrom of noise that fell on deaf ears.

Click

A foreign sound resonated within the dark living room. Cocking his weapon became more and more natural every time he did it. Cromwell held the other man's gaze, searching for a flinch in his eyes. Finger on the trigger, he slightly raised the pistol's barrel.

"You heard the lady. Whatever it is, drop it."

Osthavula Osthavula 0stinato 0stinato NorseChaos NorseChaos
 
Osthavula Osthavula
Fleur stepped out of the Clay quarter onto the clay streets of Ladybones Road with an amazed expression on her face and an inescapable feeling of smallness in her chest. A small group of burly men rode past her on velocipedes, barely giving her a second glance. A man wearing a stylish suit and an odd hat with eyes of amber gave her a wink and mesmerizing smile as he passed by, leading along a woman who seemed to be just as mesmerized by him.

Fleur couldn't help but stop in her track and gawk at what she saw next. Something just as confusing as clay men, perhaps. Something just as interesting but even more so because she wouldn't have to hire a sculptor for assistance in researching them. A creature wearing a well-tailored, green suit and a matching top hat. A creature resembling a massive squid. The squid man tilted its top hat at Fleur as it passed by, blurbling something. Fleur simply stared, her hands clasped together on her chest. The man clearly noticed her behavior as it threw a cautious look over its shoulder to check if Fleur was still looking, before breaking into a run, flailing its tentacles.

Fleur blinked. She understood why the Charismatic Writer visited London in the first place. It had so much potential for someone like him. Unleashing him into that world... It must have been like he visited his home for the first time. A place where he belonged. A place where she had no business visiting. She wouldn't mind never going to London if he simply gave her a reason for stopping his regular messages.

A smile snuck up on her and Fleur chuckled. When he first arrived, he was staying at the same type of a home as Fleur's new "guide". A bookshop. Perhaps it was the same one. Perhaps Viola knew more about her friend. No. She definitely knew more. And there it was. The bookstore. A person standing in front of the door, shrouded in the candle light of the street light with a mask on her face. Fleur knew who it was. The only friendly, non-threatening figure she met thus far burned itself into Fleur's mind.

"Hey." She walked up with a whisper and paused. "Viola?" Fleur asked. There was something about her posture. Something somber.
 
Lady Viola
Location: Ladybones Road
Mr_DC Mr_DC


Viola smirked, as she decided to take a breath of London's air again, that she should see another lady clinging onto Valentino's arm, and he whispered affectionately into her ears, causing her to giggle. Those damn devils and their charm. She politely turned her cheek away, at first rather amused by the scene. In the corner of her eyes, before she completely turned, she saw Valentino noticing her with the burning eyes too. He made that devilish grin at an angle his sweet companion wouldn't have noticed.

It was the unworded agreement between them, initiated by Lady Viola herself. She still remembered that the devil seemed rather surprised by it and afterwards praised her understanding. If ever he was with someone he charmed, she wouldn't interfere or make the lady suspicious and will look away.

She knew he was the devil, after all. It's his job and his nature. To charm someone and made them offer their soul willingly. Was her his target too? Very probable. She'd like to think he was somewhat charmed that she understood that as well.

It wasn't any hint of jealousy that appeared, but the amusement was short-lived. Perhaps of her tiredness, and perhaps it was the sudden air of London given lucidity, that it woke her own senses to reminded her this relationship was no way near normal. What had led her down such a path? Her own fault undoubtedly. She allowed her curiosity to grew, and then her tolerance, and the strange chase... A dangerous chase. Far too dangerous and against her logic. She blinked as the cobbles reflected the lamplight, and also her dress's silver. She pulled the silky fabric, watched as the lamp light seemingly flew down of it.

Bennett was right to angry, she thought with senses of guilt. Her loyal companion had been far too stressed with her relationship with the devil already. The red-haired lady may not be as observant as her, but her caution and her logic and fear served her well. Don't think to lead the devil on, she said. She was right. Don't get too close with Governor and his men, she said. She was probably right.

Yet the bigger part of her, her inquisitiveness, urged her and pulled her forward.

And so she hardened her determination, for no doubt was needed as long as she pressed on. Her rare moment of reflection ended, quite timely with the unexpected arrival. In front of her, was the woman she met once on the dark and silent river. She was in a more battered clothing, but no doubt in a healthier condition. The blonde took her hand, examined her thoroughly as to check if she needed any treatment, but nothing seemed to be in need.

"Fleur, you are well! I can't tell you enough how glad I am to see you here. Please follow me." She said as she held the handle of the wooden stairs. "My place is right on top. Let's talk somewhere more comfortable. "


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Oddly, Bennett wasn't home. Usually, the fabulous companion would be home on time, so Viola thought she must have done some investigations. How sweet, the lady thought of the anger her companion expressed in the morning, all the more adorable was her loyalty and practicalness.

"Would you like tea or coffee? " She asked Fleur whom she seated on the sofa facing the fire. Preparing the beverage she wanted, she also put down a glass container full of bonbons on the short table. For set appointments she would prepare some baked goods too, but this visit was sudden. "How do you feel, Fleur? Do you need everything else?"

"And what happened after you woke up? Were you still in the middle of the Saloon? "

Viola thought of the army of rats and Deluder, and the odd scent of smoke in the air in Veilgarden. Her skin weaken by the ropes were covered by her silk gloves itched below the fabric. She sat across the good doctor, smiled warmly at her, before pouring herself some tea in her porcelain cup. A hint of floral scent mixed in the tea aroma.
 
Spite

His state of fun ended after his sudden high, and as his foe talked, he became more aware of the stranger behind her, and Stryx. Stryx, the man being threatened. And the Deluder wondered whether he should step in and put himself in place of Stryx, protect him somehow. It'd be a suitable payment, certainly. Only he didn't want to - Stryx was a grown-up, and, given the stranger's words, there was a Right and a Wrong way to act.

The Deluder eyed him for a few seconds, until the sweet words of his companion graced his ears again. Stryx's problem was his own problem. Probably. The Deluder could probably not stand up fast enough to protect the man either, if he wanted to. State of his mind and state of his back wouldn't allow it, he theorised.

"Of course you'd tell your lady what I said," he felt more sober now, able to pull himself out of that deep sinking he had been doing when he'd been staring into her eyes. They were deep, those eyes. Dark.

"You'll tell her what I said because you'd want to warn her. Look at you; here on her behalf, without her consent. Protecting her with barely a blink. Why would you let a man like me near to her? I fully expect you to protect her again, so you'll tell her what I said."

His eyes flicked to Stryx and the stranger again, as the confrontation heated up, the words from the stranger's mouth harsher. However, the Deluder's hands folded themselves neatly on his knee. Neither of them went for the rapier. Not his fight. Not his fight.

"You'll not sit back and watch this, you're entirely correct. But that's the problem, isn't it? You're so easy to read. You might think you're able to escape miss Viola, but her name is your strings," he smiled. "If I threaten Viola, I control you.

"Deliver her my warning, little puppet," his head tilted forwards, and he stared at her deep, pool-like eyes from beneath the mask. "Let her know I'll be thinking of her."

A few silent steps took a terrified body to the safety of a table-leg. Closer to the large man, closer to the slimmer man. His bat was nowhere to be seen to the little yellow eyes, and the creature's mind was frustratingly blank. He paused, fur electric on his back, then shot for cover of the next leg. He hoped he'd not been noticed.

Osthavula Osthavula NorseChaos NorseChaos ThaDruid ThaDruid

The Maest of London says...
A glow-worm can hide in a light, but not in a dark. I must acquire that power.​
 
Spite

The somber tone of the stranger's voice was threatening enough to Stryx, but the distinct mechanical click suddenly mad him flick open the small pouch and grab the knife tightly out of instinct. Only when his heart beat began to steady did he realise he had done so. He had to take a second to calm himself. He would not have bloodshed in his own front room.

He kept steady, deliberate eye contact with the stranger, only glancing down occasionally to be sure that the gun was still there. He wasn't sure what he expected; he was certain that the stranger wouldn't just lower his weapon now there was a perceived threat, although he was always hopeful. He took measured breaths, and as slowly as he could manage, he pulled the small blade from it's hiding place just beneath his belt and brought it out in front of himself. He bowed his head a small way, while keeping eye contact, hoping the other man would see it as non-threatening. He held the knife there for a moment.

For a brief second, he seriously considered going for the man in front of him. It would be a quick motion, a lunge forwards and a blade to the gut. He felt like at least one of the two strangers deserved something unpleasant in return for breaking in to his house. But, he shook his head and let out a deep sigh, knowing better. He shouldn't let personal feelings get in the middle of what was clearly someone else's business. He would do as he was told, if only to get these two out of his house quickly. He offered a smile and a raised brow.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He reluctantly straightened his arm out fully, loosened his grip, and let the blade clatter to the floor. The sound was deafening in the quite of the room. He kept his gaze level with the other man's, not daring to look away as he pulled his arm back to his side. Now, he had done as he was asked. If the man pulled the trigger on him now, whatever happened after would be his own fault.

Osthavula Osthavula ThaDruid ThaDruid 0stinato 0stinato
 
Fabulous Accomplice
Location: Spite
ThaDruid ThaDruid 0stinato 0stinato NorseChaos NorseChaos


The falling of the knife rippled a new silence in the room. The maiden softened, and after the dust rose and fell, she smiled at him and nodded. "Thank you, stranger. I shall not intrude for too long. " She spoke to him gently. He could have made the situation escalated, and could have made the situation less than ideal for her. Once again she turned back to Masked Deluder whose golden eyes looked back at her through where it was allowed from his facemask, and she noticed the intensity of his gaze. He tried to observe her, which unfortunately his words proved that he wasn't as observant as he'd like.

Something she was very glad.

But was is all an act, a disguise?

But for now, the room was more peaceful than before. Bennett's folded hands were placed sturdily as Deluder's, making the two of them seated like a set of dolls placed across each other. Contemplating her words, the maiden didn't quite realize how she was staring far too intensely back at him as well.

"There are a lot of ways of protecting a person, Deluder. I can simply not tell m'lady and protect her from the side. To her ignorance would be a blessing, truly. "

If only Viola herself would stop her from seeking answers and curios, it would be great for her own safety. But then she wouldn't be half as Brilliant as she was.

"Also, I just wanted to see who is the pathetic man that thought he could even threaten my lady. "

Only in the tone was teasing, her expression was serious, like a painted sculpture. It could be hard to tell whether or not she meant what she said. She definitely was observing how he would react to it before she allowed herself to be distracted by the one who attempted to move underneath them. The Rattus, yes. She asked what he was attempting, and that nothing he tried would matter much now, for only one thing was remained to discuss.

"I shall see you again, Deluder. Should my lady wish to see you, I will come personally to notify you at your lodging. Should she not wished so, I would inform you too." Knowing he never once mentioned his lodging, she hoped he was at least a little moved. "I shall see you again, and until then. "

She rose, jade earring swang lightly between the red hair loosen from her bun. But she didn't move to the door, nor did she avert her gaze from the man, in wait of his final reaction before she departs. Comparing to the Bennett storming in the room some time ago, she was different. More composed, more confident, and surely warmer in general. One could see why she didn't just stay like an ordinary Bohemians now.
 
Osthavula Osthavula
"Sure, tea would be lovely." Fleur smiled as she entered the woman's apartment. It was unexpectedly normal. A place where someone lived. Could just as well be on the surface. Fleur wasn't sure what she expected but it certainly wasn't that. Her visit to the Neath was short and yet she already learned things were far from normal Seeing a place so normal was... Abnormal.

"I'm fine." Fleur waved away the question, following up with one of her own. "What about you? I hope everything was well." She smiled, sitting down and placing her hands on her knees. The fire by the sofa filled Fleur with a sort of comfort. It was almost like a hug from a loved one whose words could cast away all anxiety and doubt she felt. Even though she wouldn't even admit it to herself, Fleur felt a certain hope that it was exactly that which she would find in the Neath. All those rumors of love and romance gave her a different idea of London than the one she's seen thus far.

"Yeah, woke up in the Mandrake." She passed her fingers through her hair, thinking of the corpse filled bar. How many of those corpses would rise by the end of the evening to go back home, grumbling about their ruined evening outfits? "There was a group of people kind enough to help me up and take me to a place called the Clay Quarter..." She paused as she said that, waiting to see if she will be corrected. Perhaps she misremembered the name. Perhaps it had a more popular name. "And I found your place from there."

Fleur shifted closer to the edge of her seat, locking her gaze onto the woman's eyes. "You said you knew something more about my friend." She nodded. "Offered some help." She gave Viola a nervous, half-smile. "I'd really appreciate it. Don't want to bleed out in another bar again." She chuckled, still keeping a nervous gaze on Viola.
 
Lady Viola
Location: Ladybones Road
Mr_DC Mr_DC


It was evident from Fleur's posture and smile that she was feeling much better already. Comforted by the sight, Viola too grinned warmly, blue eyes examined her rather curiously. Not only that, she was assessing her, before making her proposal that was slightly impulsive and took very short time to formulate.

But she could see the worth in her. Fleur has her own purpose, yes, her own investigation. But she had to remain here in London now, and have enough time for her own investigation and everything else. She has warmth, honesty and even naivety that you don't see in London's settlers. No evidence cunning, nor glimpses of thirst for power. A gem, truly, one that Viola would think too good to let tarnished and rot in the city.

"First of all, Fleur, I have a proposal. " Viola said, after sipping from her cup gracefully. "You can think about this carefully, of course. But I'm thinking, perhaps I can become your patron. "

Observing the doctor's reaction, she continued her explanation.

"A patron implies that I will offer help and advice should you need to, even fundings. How to start when you just begin, where do you find professions and resources, what do you need to look out for and the such. You will find advice handy trying to live in London. I personally learned through trial and error, and have wandered the streets for a long time before I could settle down..."

Viola did, for more than a month in surface's time. With her light clothing and scarcely enough money, she struggled hard to earned her living. There was no guide, or she couldn't find one. One of the many reasons why she was so grateful for the detective. His work offers were how she and a few others had started out.

"There is a return, of course. You will help me if I ever need you. I'm not the kind that is forceful, of course, you may refuse with reasons. But think of it as an opportunity to learn. We both will benefit from this. "

"I also can provide a place to stay, until you find your own. This is offered even if you don't want me as patron. Can't have you wandering the streets alone, Fleur. I'm sure you knew by now not everyone is friendly. "

The bombing of Mandrakes, the surrounding of velocipede squad, she had seen the bad of London. Those were not even the worse, Viola knew, but no need to list it to Fleur. Not for now.

"Don't answer me right away, of course. Think cautiously. It's the first thing you need to learn."

She smiled, confident of her offer.

"But for now, we have something more urgent for you yes? I normally would ask you to be patient, but there really is no better time than this moment. Please follow me, I have something to show you."


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She grabbed a bottle of Willow Absinthe from her pitiful wine storage, mostly emptied by the yacht bet, and with the bottle in hand she waved for Fleur to follow, and climbed the squeaky stairs to the door on the third floor. Knocking, and someone inside whimpered.

She knocked again.

"Who's that? Go away! Can't you see I am busy drinking here? "

A man, whose talking was quite symbolic, talked in an unclear manner as if he didn't bother for pronunciation. That was his voice, and then when he opened the door, it was even more obvious why he talked like that. His cheeks were reddened on his paste pale skin; his hair messy and long and curly, not even remotely groomed; his shirt turned and twisted like he was sleeping very unproperly on his sofa. He probably did. And he glared at Viola, eyes above the two dark pocket almost popping out.

"You! You ... Monster!" He growled, "I told you! I don't want to see them coming around! They think they are so charming just waltz in smiling like the idiot they are, telling you 'oh I'm so perfect you should just give it to me'... Oh, what's that?"

He was quick, but quicker was Viola dodging his hand that was reaching for the bottle. On her face was a smirk, contrasting to his sudden sheepish smile.

"I mean, welcome! Come in! You and your lovely little friend, come sit! I have uh.... biscuits! "

"I'd rather not, Bernard. How long has that tin box been sitting there? " Viola chuckled, assuring Fleur it was okay to go in and ushered her in. "I'm sorry I didn't check on you sooner."

"I... Don't need checking!"

But he needed the checking, really. When the two ladies were presented in the living room, the environment was ghastly. Plates piled up beside the sofa; pills scattered on the short table that had no labels; some unsightly mark was upon the ceiling; most importantly, wine bottles, scattered around like the aftermath of a party. But there were no other people, of course. Just Bernard. Viola sighed kicking the bag on the floor, she knew better to ask the identity of it.

"Bernard..."

"It's not that bad!"

"Bernard."

"Oh, come on."

He shoved in her hands a broom and a cloth, in turn, she threw the dusted cloth back to him and started brooming and wiping the sofa with her own handkerchief. She raised her brows too, showing him the dead bee in his plate, to which he grunted and shrugged. Finally, the place was cleaned enough to stay, and Viola told Fleur which spot was the cleanest before she walked over in one of his room. Bernard grinned, opening the absinthe, pouring some into a glass, pushed it towards Fleur before chucking the bottle.

"So who are you? You are not that..." He drew circles near his hair. "You. You're not that... red..."

He was probably half drunk before greeting them, and he tumbled on his chair a few more mouthful of absinthe down. Viola came back, a book in hand. Through the door, if Fleur looked carefully, A wooden board was laid on the side. No wonder she took so long, the book must be lodged somewhere.

She handed the book to her, another hand holding a package or wrappings. It was a green hard cover book, leathered and well decorated, likely to be a book well funded and well perceived. It was not too heavy a book, but substantial. The words in it were printed small, and very stingy of empty spaces.

"I believe this is his. " Viola said, still curiously observing her. " Read it here just to be safe, Bernard passed out and couldn't care less, but this book... You shouldn't be seen anywhere with it. "
 
Osthavula Osthavula
"A patron." Fleur asked, her shoulders relaxing and eyebrows curling upwards. A patron. Fleur looked at her feet as Viola spoke. She wasn't expecting such an offer. That was how things worked in London then. Nothing was free. She was going to be used. She was going to have someone looking over her shoulder, slapping her wrist when she didn't do as requested.

As Viola told her to think cautiously, Fleur felt a distinct bitterness boiling in her. She had to learn to think cautiously? So that was what Viola thought of her. Just an innocent, little, French bunny. Straight off the boat, stumbling around without a thought in her head. Just because she was from the surface didn't mean she didn't know how to take care of herself. Just because she was a doctor. Just because she was born to a good family...

Fleur blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes, thankful she was walking up the stairs behind Viola. She allowed herself to sigh while Fleur conversed with the intoxicated man. She was clueless. An innocent, little, French bunny. She didn't know London and a woman was kind enough to offer her help and guidance and she... She resented it.

"Hi." Fleur nodded at the man as she took a seat. "Thank you but no." She waved off the offer of alcohol. She wanted a clear head as much as she needed a stiff drink. "Red?" Fleur smiled, giving him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
Before she could get a reply, though, Viola was back, offering a book.

"He wrote it." Fleur looked down at the thick book. "Thank you." She smiled. Fleur might have just arrived but she wasn't blind. The woman was kind and willing to help. It would be simply rude to not help back. "And..." Fleur paused, giving Viola a nod. "I'd like you to be my patron." She said, nodding again. "Yes." She whispered the last word as if confirming it to herself.
 
Lady Viola
Location: Ladybones Road
Mr_DC Mr_DC


Fleur's negativity didn't escape Viola's eyes. Faintly smiling, she nodded to her and carefully sat next to her, avoiding that brown spot on the chair. "Thank you. " She said, not pointing out what she had observed. In time, Fleur could decide whether her advice was overdone. "I will do the best I can on your matter too. Although all I have now is this book... I was only rising in the palace when his books were popular, so I didn't get to meet him personally."

"You should check whether this was indeed his writing. His signature should be in it too. There was nothing in it against the Masters, but perhaps it was his stronger opinions? Perhaps they wanted to appear humble sometimes. Who knows? " The lady chuckled lightly, "Strange thing was he stopped writing and publishing. I don't quite know the reason...."

She searched hard in her head already, but nothing of relevance popped out.

"But this time we will really try to find out, of course. I never used to pay too much attention to him, sadly. He was a noted author, and his books really were everywhere... Until the Ministry of Public Decency ruled his work out of the law. You will see many other cases like this, Ministry of Public Decency is in charge of checking the content of the books, and if it was not legal they would col...confiscate the material. "

From the naughty grin Viola made to Fleur, it seemed that the slip of tongue was intentional.

"I should go and clean out the room for you. My assistant is not home tonight, it seems. Meanwhile, you can read and just relax. I should come back... Ah." The blonde smiled, "Did you know that the clocks are different here? So I can't tell you the exact time. Roughly half an hour for you, I'd say. "

The time should be late enough, and any questions and teaching should be saved for tomorrow, really. After cleaning out Bennett's room so Fleur could sleep there for the night, Viola showed her where the book was (in one of the walls behind bookshelves), put it back in its place and covered carefully, and then showed Fleur the way. Bennett's room was clean and tidy, perhaps too clean and tidy, everything in its suitable place and arranged like pieces of puzzles. The bed was very soft, and a clean room was always a good place to rest. Making sure she had everything she needed, Viola excused herself, and then...

She boiled the water, mix it with enough water in the bath tub, and after taking off her heavy dress, submerged herself into it. It was awfully late in the night, but she desperately needed a hot bath. It was only then she realized how tense she really was, running around nonstop. Sighing, she brushed her long hair and let it hung on the rim of the bathtub (long enough to fall on the floor) and finger drawing in the steam. A line here, a circle there... She seemed to be plotting a chart. She was organizing her thoughts, thinking on the past few days...

Fleur, Writer, Valentino, Bennett, Deluder, Governor... Counting, circling, dragging them along the imaginary board she had, at last she let out a long sigh again, and laid back until only half her head was above water. The warmth soothed her, but her head was spinning.

Will she sort it out soon?

The lady asked herself, without hoping for an answer.
 
Osthavula Osthavula
Fleur followed her new patron to the room, most of her attention focused on the hardcover book in her hand. It was all in her mind but Fleur could swear she felt the power emanating from it. She knew with all her heart that the Writer wrote that book. She was determined to find something useful in it. Some clue, some hint of what he was doing. Of what happened to him.

"Thank you." Fleur bowed her head. "For everything." She said as her patron left her alone. With a long sigh after the door closed, Fleur thumped over to the bed and let fatigue take over. It was as if an anchor dragged her down to the bed and kept her pinned there. None of her muscles cooperated now that she finally laid down. It was only then that she realized how overwhelmingly fatigued she had gotten.

Fleur's rest only lasted for half an hour at most. Her mind wouldn't sleep. Getting what little rest it needed, her mind was on the book and sleep was over. Flipping over on her back, Fleur planted the book on her chest and started flipping through pages. The book would serve as a good guide to someone who could understand the thoughts behind the Writer's words. Fleur could read out who he wanted to woo, who he wanted burried and... Where he wanted to go. That was exactly it. Fleur's tired mind made a connection she would have to ponder upon when she woke up.

With a smile on her face and the book still on her chest, Fleur relaxed again.
 
The curtains fall, in Spite...

The stranger's dagger clattered down onto the floor, much to Cromwell's satisfaction. For once, perhaps, it wouldn't come to bloodshed. But there was still a voice at the back of his head. Nagging. Evil. End him to save yourself! It whispered. That was the rule of survival. Everything to see another day. Was it a matter of survival, facing off against an unarmed man?
It could be.
His trigger finger itched, but was not the Sunless Sea. London was nothing compared to it. He could control himself.

A blink, and the man's cloudy eyes cleared of all uncertainties.
Two quick steps forward, and the stranger's knife was under his boot.
Sliding his foot backwards sent the blade behind him, where it hit a wall.
Unreachable by anyone in the room.

"Hope you don't mind." He adressed the knife's owner.

He shuffled backwards, just enough to stand by the lady's side, turning slightly to have a better view of both men. His grip on the weapon had lightened considerably, and it swayed from one stranger to the other, keeping them in check.
Cromwell whispered over Bennett's shoulder.

"Have you finished here?"

He hoped that she had. This whole situation was starting to sicken him.

Osthavula Osthavula NorseChaos NorseChaos 0stinato 0stinato
 
The Mandrake looked just like they’d left it. Which was to say, like shit, but at least it hadn’t burned down yet. Blue was honestly a little surprised with everything that had happened. It was good news for him though, as it made his job easier. As long as the rats hadn’t upped and left. Well the rats could. As long as they left the gold behind. That was the only part that mattered to him.

He pushed open the door to go inside and joyfully released his baggage to the floor. The addition of the wine bottle to Yellow’s bag had only made things worse. Where were the bastards anyway? Surely they were in need of their equipment by now? And he disliked carrying this much cash on hand for so long, the risks were too great.

Looking around he saw to his dismay that the rats remained along with the gold. “Good day rodents. The job the Deluder tasked me with has been completed, and I am here for the payment.”

“Hold it!”

A rat dropped and, accompanied by another skulking up behind it, advanced closer to Blue. Its twitching whiskers and narrow-eyed stare confirmed it did in fact recognise Blue. Both the rats who approached were laden with rostygold.

“Don’t walk closer to tha Queen, I’m Parakeet. Talk ta me, she’s busy.”

Parakeet’s voice was pretty sharp, especially in contrast to the other rat’s. That one introduced itself a Clyde, and was much bulkier than Parakeet. Its voice was a little smoother, but a little more clumsy. It also requested Blue wouldn’t move too close to the Queen yet.

“The Liah sent for this rostygold for yah, this’s true. And he - wot - told ya to look after the kid right, yah. Akay.”

Clyde walked a little way away, speaking to the large Queen in toned squeaks. It wasn’t long before the rat delivered the news that Blue would probably be allowed “his sum, and also some more, since ya looked after that kid better than its parent did. And the Queen said yer not allowed the other other lady’s though ‘cause she died. She might need it. Dat’s the decision.”

The only issue with what Clyde said was that the poor rat pronounced ‘decision’ wrong. But other than that, the two sat near each other, eyes on Blue.

“How much d’ya think’s fair, blue guy?” said Parakeet.

Well now the rats were being fair and honourable, that was an unpleasant surprise. He lowered himself to the ground and sat before them cross legged. Better to bring himself to their level if he was going to manipulate them. It created a friendlier environment. “It would be unfair to negotiate without one of the people involved here now wouldn’t it?” he paused as if an idea had just occurred to him. “Tell you what. I know where the others are and you brave souls have already spent too long waiting around. Leave the gold with me and I’ll return to the others where we can decide how to split it up. With them. And you can return to your homes on a job well done.” Of course knowing where the others were just made it easier to avoid them. And if he ever encountered the Deluder again this could count as them going even.

“They said they went to Ladybones right,” Clyde sniffed. “Shoulda taken the funds den, ‘steada comin’ all this way back. Gotta save yer energy, newblood. Awright yeh.”

“We’s giving this shit over?”

“Yeh, not much point keepin’ it, pretty sure Trick-A-Me has other stuffs to do than chase pansy newcomers around.”

Parakeet snorted, but set to work chewing through a few strings until all his rostygold was littered in orange-gold snakes across the splintery flooring. When he and Clyde were done, they stretched their bodies, and swapped places with Dolly and Tress, who repeated the thing. Capo came forward to do it, but Withburg hung back.

“Oi, over there,” Parakeet ordered sharply.

“Yea yeah. Yuh coming, queenie.”

But Trick-A-Me wasn’t coming. She had turned, and part of the still-wet blood caught a glint of light. The rostygold glowed faintly. She merely watched as Capo and Withburg shed their gold in front of the Blue man, and when her eyes met his, she gave a curt explanation as to why she wasn’t willing to shed hers.

“Takin’ this lot as payment,” she said huffily, shrugging and making the rostygold jingle. “I got my reasons why, of course, but they ain’t reasons some no-one like you should know. You got the most of it, blue man, but y’ain’t gettin’ this. This is mine, this lot. This is ours, this lot.”

At “ours” Capo, Tress, Parakeet and Withburg turned their heads. Dolly and Clyde didn’t though. Dolly’s eyes were elsewhere, her small frame huddled on the floor. Clyde’s were on Blue, as a primary defence if Blue was to move against her sister.

The shine of the gold reflected in Blue’s greedy eyes as the rats shed their riches. It was going to be difficult to carry it all now the rings had been broken. He wondered how the locals did it. And also exactly how much he now had with him. What was the conversion rate? He had no doubt the denizens of the neath would be all too willing to scam a newcomer and that would just not do. He sighed internally as he thought of Red or Green with their share. Maybe he’d give them smaller portions, to be safe.

His thoughts were interrupted by the queen rat’s refusal. Now that just wouldn’t do. The money was his to take, not hers to distribute. “I don’t believe that was the deal.” he replied. “As this one said earlier, the Liar sent the gold for myself and the others. It wouldn’t be fair to for someone to receive less than their promised share due to another recipient joining. A deal is just like a bet, both must be honoured once the money is down.” Yes indeed, honoured, right until the money had exchanged hands. Then all bets were off.

Trick-A-Me hesitated and Clyde saw it. So Clyde scurried to her sister, and doubled the steel-eyed glint Trick-A-Me was giving. Clyde herself was intimidated by the man, his tone of voice. He made perfect sense as well. Technically this rostygold on Trick-A-Me’s back wasn’t hers. It was the Liar’s and therefore it was this man’s.

Trick-A-Me understood that too. She stood for a while, trying to keep her eye contact hard, but eventually she sighed and looked defeated. To Clyde, it seemed as if her physical form deflated a little as she rustled the gold off in one perfect chain.

“Feels as though we’re doing you a favour,” she said unhappily. “I’ll be checkin’ whether the others get their golds, for honour’s sake. Guess I’m leavin’ empty-pawed. I guess.”

Clyde hissed at her, but it was directed at Blue. A hiss of defeat but solidarity. But, when Trick-A-Me waved a paw at her, she reluctantly dragged the gold over to him.

She dropped it and told the man, “Promises ain’t cheap. We’ll be checkin’,” before returning to the queen’s side. The blood on the string and rings of rostygold was dried, and bits had flaked off onto Clyde’s muzzle, as well as the floor. It was impossible to tell whether the room stunk of blood or copper.

Satisfied with his victory Blue pulled his wallet from his pocket and began collecting the rostygold, draping it into the pocket used for carrying non monies. The floor and thin size of the rings didn’t make it easy. Fortunately he had enough nail to get under each piece. The rat’s threats and stares didn’t bother him. He would be out of their each soon, and had his safety net for the Deluder.

He had left the rings the queen dropped until the very end. For now the power was in his hands rather than hers, and that made all the difference. He picked up the bundle as a whole and spun it around his fingers. Running a nail down the middle it split into two halves and he transferred on to his other hand. Then, surprisingly, dropped a bundle back at the rat’s feet.

“The Deluder’s proved himself a competent ally. And I imagine his underlyings are the same. You obviously have plans, consider this an investment on my behalf. Taken from my share of the gold.” Why have enemies when you could have friends? Or at the very least, people who didn’t hate you as much. An investment was simply a long term bet after all. Anyone who claimed they were different was fooling themselves.

Putting the last half bundle into the wallet he returned it to his pocket and stood up. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any cheap places nearby to rent would you my friends? After I deliver the gold I require a place to stay.” A question with a lie hidden within. Anywhere cheap would be dangerous. And anywhere the rats suggested they would be able to find him. Better to let them think they could locate him when they wished. And he’d specifically avoid anywhere they suggested and find himself somewhere a bit nicer.

“Nowhere ‘ere,” Parakeet scoffed as Clyde bundled the bag under her stomach. She was immediately pushed off it by Tress, who in turn had it stolen from him by Withburg. Parakeet answered Blue without getting involved though. “Veilgarden’s expensive mostly. Try tha docks, try tha Hill, Watchmaker’s Hill, they both like rostygold a lot. And yuh’ve got a ton there.”

Trick-A-Me eventually got hold of the bag and, after peeking into it, she glanced at Blue. But she didn’t say anything, and closed it again. This was exactly what Stung said A-Bounds had done, accepted currency from a stranger for the promise of labour. Only this man had said ‘investment’. She pushed the bag away, instructed Withburg harshly to “leave it ‘lone.”

“Ain’t acceptin’ this, I ain’t doin’ labour for you, Blue guy,” she said. “You can take it, or leave it ‘ere but none of us are going with it. None of us. I’m not dancin that waltz again tonight.”

Parakeet sniffed, and shrugged after his queen was done, “Try tha docks or tha Hill. should be somewhere dank yah can stay at.”

“Labour?” Blue replied, a puzzled look on his face. He had to turn this around now. Inwardly he cursed, taking the money now would only put him in a worse spot. A painful sacrifice but one he believed would be for the better. “No. A gesture of goodwill. A seed of friendship. To meet in future on better terms than this rather drab establishment.” He tipped his hat and gave a short bow. “Farewell friends. Until another day.” He turned and left the bar. The rats had said nowhere specific which gave him some information but no options. Ah well, time to begin the search.
 
Spite

She wasn't about to tell Viola his words, apparently. The Deluder's eyebrow twitched a little when he heard that, its action of irritation unseen beneath the mask. All he wanted was for Viola to know just what she was... to him. Perhaps the words 'snuff substitute' wouldn't be taken as a compliment by the fair Lady, but that was how he meant them. Better than snuff, not as good as honey. But it was a compliment in itself that he didn't say that last bit. He thought so, at least.

"Pathetic?" he said. But he didn't continue speaking, at least not for a few seconds. He merely remained looking at her. To an outsider, perhaps he was. Sat, half-disabled in a chair, with only his mind of any use. But he turned his eye on Stryx, who'd disarmed himself. In response, the man had moved away and spoken into her arrogant ear.

"It depresses me you'll leave so soon," the Deluder said to her. His eyes, though, were still on Stryx. "Even if you were to see me again, in my abode, I doubt you'll change your tone."

Stryx's neck. Stryx's shoulders.

"Ordinarily, I'd find no problem with this. A human acts and reacts as only that particular human can. I better get used to being treated like dirt, from your mouth, mistress, at least..."

Stryx's hands. Stryx's arms.

"I will not be keeping quiet about your role here tonight, minx, your tongue will get you in trouble. Or, perhaps, it'd be your lack of tongue that'd cause the issues. You need to learn when to say, and when not to. Tonight, it's been your likelihood to natter that's going to be your downfall. I forecast it."

Stryx's shins. Stryx's ankles.

"And as your abject need for backup? Well, I'm sorry, but I'm threatened by you. A man should do his own dirty work, just as I did with Viola," and he looked back into the lady's brown eyes. "Unlike what you're doing here."

He raised his hands. Palms facing outwards, "You have my surrender tonight. Although don't take a surrender to mean you win. Now: your companion is anxious to leave and I'd hate to keep you from your lady. Go. Protect her."

Whatever she tells Viola, or whatever she doesn't tell Viola, will be decided by time, the Deluder reckoned. Just like time would heal his wounds, it would tell people things, kill people, and bring them to life. But thinking of what Viola might or might not know soon would be speculating where speculation is hopeless. Just let time decide.

He thought that, and his back felt a little heavier against the chair. He took in a shallow breath, and exhaled lightly. As he lowered his hands, he didn't notice the right one begin to tremble.

Osthavula Osthavula ThaDruid ThaDruid NorseChaos NorseChaos
The Maest of London says...
Ask a drownie to politely sing into a jar.​
 
Fabulous Accomplice
Location: Spite
ThaDruid ThaDruid 0stinato 0stinato NorseChaos NorseChaos


Now, there wasn't much to be said after that. Bennett, still in her bun and complete dress, looking at the man with the "LIAR" scar on his forehead, and she was neutral in her expression, if not smirking a little. She would probably tell Viola what happened here because it was simply beneficial for Viola to know the whole picture. But she wasn't going to let him know things will go only too smoothly. No, just a little revenge on his nerves before she so nicely does his errand for him. As for him thinking she needed back up, Bennett chuckled deep in her head, like an actor just told some comedic joke. But there was no need to tell, no need to explain. Not even going to say that Viola wouldn't need protection. For now, the lady in her red hair stood straight, feeling the unnerved Father Cromwell behind her, and the stranger and the rat's presence in the room. Her eyes return to his, and though she wasn't going to let a smile appear on her lips, her eyes narrowed pleasingly. How would the man be when she visits his lodging? She felt a sense of anticipation.

"Perhaps I won't treat you like dirt if you learn how to treat people properly. "She said, taking Father Cromwell's arm and pull him slowly, allow him to walk backward with his gun still pointing at them. "See you soon, Masked Deluder. "

A friendly tone, as if they just had a pleasant afternoon tea. Right before they pass through the door, she pulled out a pouch from her bag, placing it on the nearby stand. It sounded like small marbles in a bag. "Jades." The maiden explained to the stranger. "Sorry for the intrusion. I hope next time we ever meet will be on friendlier terms, stranger. Do take care. "

Bennett closed the door for Father Cromwell, then swiftly, led him away. With enough time to put away his pistol and a quick walk for him to calm down, she looked back to check if anything or anyone is following them.

"Father, thank you for helping me. It might not have gone so smoothly without you. " To the old friend whom she walked with she smiled warmly, "Say, I want to catch up with you dearly. How about we get some drinks and I come over to your place? It would be nice to have a long talk with you. "

Then it occurred late to her that the request might not be appropriate.

"Of course, if it is inconvenient then we'd just go for a drink. But yes, what do you think? Or do you have some errands tonight?"
 
Veilgarden

"Step away from it," said a harsh voice, one that made the interested rats eyeing the bag wince, as if they'd been struck. They'd heard that tone from their queen before, but it was rare. It was a tone that demanded they keep in line. And perhaps some of the greedier ones - Withburg, Capo - might have carried on their probing at the bag of the Blue man's offered rostygold if they hadn't seen one of their own be executed before their eyes.

Trick-A-Me lowered herself onto all fours and, shadowed by Clyde, she made her slow way to the hole in the wall, the way in which they'd came in. She spoke as she walked.

"It ain't ours. It ain't. Leave it, all 'o yuh," she leaped into the crack, balancing, and turned her head round. "Tress, escort Stung back. Capo, and Dolly, you go back too. Withburg and Parakeet, you're on watch duty. Go watchin'. Got it?"

"Where you goin?" said Capo.

"'Ome. But I don't wanna be near you all."

She jumped through. Clyde jumped after her. Across the floor, Tress cornered Stung, whose passive and terrified body was then forced to walk ahead of Tress. As he passed the others, they noticed Tress had Stung's tail between his jaws. Chuckling, and making a cacophony of mocking noises, Capo and Dolly fell in line behind the big rat.

Withburg and Parakeet, on the other hand, took one last pitying glance at each other, and at the bag of rostygold, and drated out the door together. Go watchin'. They weren't intelligent rodents, but both of them understood the unspoken order - watch him.

• • •​

And outside, before the rats disappeared into the darkness, heading for the bridge that lead to Watchmaker's Hill and, ultimately, Home, another figure stood. He was quite still. Quite wide-eyed. And he was staring at the remains of the Singing Mandrake. This was a man who liked to talk so, upon seeing a perfect stranger emerge from the burned-out husk, couldn't help but to approach him excitedly.

"I thought heard an explosion, when I was in my studio, but it's not like explosions are rare around here, you know... oh, good god, you smell of blood, did you get caught in it? Oh my god, you poor fellow! Here, is there anything i can do to help? Oh my lord, the whole pub is gone... it was really a communal place, you know? Full of memories. I sold my first work in there, it means a lot, you know? But - lord - never mind! Look at you, you're a mess, are you alright?"

This was Severin Carrellés, and a being familiar with London's corner of art might just recognise the fellow. Perhaps they'd maybe seen him at an exhibition, or perhaps it was one of his series of pieces he'd entitled "C", pictures that were all dedicated to his own profile, but it wouldn't be a shock for someone to recognise the blue eyes, the beauty spot, or the fringe. However, a new face to London might only see a gregarious man with too many words to hand.

DoughGuy DoughGuy
 
Ezio & Nyx
Location: Ladybones Road & Veilgarden



(After Ezio left Viola in the Honey-Addled Detective's lodging)


Cats in London were always fascinating. Not like the ones on surface, no, though those were very agile and intelligent themselves. The ones here in the sunless world would sit at rooftops, curl up in the corners the same, but they are always listening. They collected people's secrets, no matter if they would be willing or not, and once they collected it they almost never forget. Their regular gatherings in the alleyways were information trading, and together they speak. Oh they speak. Though can't be said for all, people in Ladybones road do treat the felines with a certain respect. Afterall, who knows whose secrets they would spill?


This cat, in particular, was even more special. The beautiful black cat elegantly walked through the crowd as if a path was paved specifically for it. A few people had noticed and made way for it too. She turned around the corner, only pausing to glare at a man who had his hand in close range. The man was intimidated, and needless to say, noticed when he tugged the box he had back in his coat in panic. He was not to escape the Moloch Street today.


Just in time, when a tall dark rat too came around the corner, his paw pressing his signature hat down firmly before he halted his steps. The two looked at each other, both stood as if in greetings.


Ezio, Viola's Rattus Faber, was confused but calmly walked towards his mistress's cat. He knew the cat must have a purpose if she was found on the street waiting for him. Indeed, she turned around and nudged him where her shoulder was. Ezio knew what it meant, swiftly hopped on her back, claws buried in her dark fur. Nyx was definitely well-maintained, her fur was dark but with sheen, making it like a fabled creature of shadow. If the night covered, surely no one would notice the two of them.


Making sure Ezio couldn't be shake down (by test shaking her back) Nyx started running. From her back, thanks to cat's incredible balance, it would feel more like the two of them glided through the streets, stairs and rooftops. Air pressed against Ezio's nose and whiskers, but he was very focused. Didn't take long for him to realize where they were heading.


Veilgarden.


Somewhere Ezio didn't feel good about. He just rescued his mistress from there last night after all. He knew that Viola was still in the detective's place researching, so he couldn't figure out why Nyx would take him there. Cats always know; Nyx must have learned something only cats would. Perhaps if he had Viola's mind, he would have understood what happened.


But he didn't, thus he wasn't prepared. Nyx let herself freefall from one of the roofs, and lightly landed in front of a broken wall providing opening in. The ex rat-chief remembered he fell from that his first cat ride, but not anymore. Now he simply mounted off casually. Something, perhaps the wall so thoroughly destroyed or how still the area was, set off an alarm in him. An intuition about what he was about to discover but had not enough intelligent to predict. He tossed the few dangerous sharp rocks aside, before stepping through the opening hole.


The place was left in complete ruin, broken pieces of tables and chairs scattered everywhere, not to mention bits of what would belong to human like the neck tie beside him; ashes layered thickly on everything on sight, making everything a cold pale mess. Save for one thing. Ezio recognized it, pulled down his hat from his ears and pressed it on his chest, having to process the situation in his mind before slowly walking towards it. The body of a Rattus faber lied motionlessly and rather pitifully in the corner, mouth opened and blood drenched. The very same rat who was talking to him last night; the one who knew not to be hostile when he demanded answers; the one got so excited inspecting Viola's jewellery, who sparked intelligence rivaled a human merchant; the one who Ezio's mistress saluted solemnly as he vanished into the shadows of darkness; the one who now left in the rubbles like useless object, few would defend its value. Dead offers no value, at least not anything as big as them.


Taking the piece of silk cloth Nyx found in the rubbles, the living rat patted the ashes off it, and wiped the blood off A-Bound's face. It must have been a while since his last breath; it took a bit of strength and care for Ezio to close his jaw properly. Then he tried to clean what he noticed was a rat's teeth mark, in the end, wrapped the silk cloth around the area. The still body was mounted on Nyx's back with the same care, and secured with bits of strings and ropes found lying on the floor. The black hat of Ezio's was tied to the body's face. If anyone saw them, at least A-Bounds wouldn't be disgraced by being exposed.


The ex rat-chief offered the last bow before he and the cat dived back into London's complicated network of alleys.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Minutes later, another Rattus faber made her way through the Ladybones Road. This was a very pretty rat. Was. If the honey-fur Rattus didn't have that big cut on her back where her fur did not grow, or her tail carved thin like ringed here and there. She may look a normal rat, but her stances gave her away --- a straight back, human-like walk revealed her city upbringing. She walked like a zee captain on the deck of her boat inspecting, proud but alert and ready for any fight.


Her name was Staccato, a name now only mentioned in hush sounds in Ladybones road and Spites. In fact, she was on her way to be a fearsome chief, but always had too much independence that hindered her development. She was quite alone in this moment itself, when she steadily advanced towards the shop with the shut doors. She knew it was a book shop, but she couldn't read. Someone she knew can read though, and she was on her way to meet him.


That someone she found stood in the dark to her surprise, beside a (relatively) giant shape of darkness. It was hard to recognize him at first without his hat sticking out of his silhouette, but it was Ezio alright, the tall dark rat with his sword on his belt. Staccato didn't notice what he and the cat Nyx were both facing, so she first thought they were looking at the entrance of the rat cave. Upon closer inspection, she found that two bricks in the outer wall were pulled out, making a concaved space there, the original brown soil of the ground exposed. The honey rat then moved behind her rat-associate, imitating their quietness, and what she saw in front of them was a tiny hill of dirt on the ground with a stone cross buried facing towards them. Something that was usually not rat-sized, but quite recognizable.


"Ezio." She spoke, patted the tail of Nyx brushing her back. "Why a grave? Whose is this?"


At first, her previous chief would not speak a word, only pressing his hat tightly on his chest. His head bowed in a way that even Staccato would feel the sadness. She knew her old chief would never bow his head lightly.


After some more time, then he spoke, quietly. "A brave one laid here. An honourable one. We met last night. "


"Last night? What happened?"


"... He traded Viola's freedom for some of her jewellery. He was told to guard her. "


The she rat looked at the dark one, quite bewildered. "Doesn't sound honourable to me. "


"He reported to his queen truthfully. "


"...Ah."


The action Ezio described was not praised among rat-kinds that desire for complete loyalty. But Staccato understood why such action amount so much for Ezio; she too lived long enough to understood the rarity of one who wouldn't escape, one that would shoulder his responsibility instead of running away. The upheld of honour instead of saving his own skin. It must have reminded Ezio about the group he used to have, and Staccato felt if only his group remained, he would try to recruit whoever laid here. In a way he did keep the rat close; this grave was placed where their old squad were supposed to make base after all.


The rat chief who insisted to lose his complete squad had his first rat companion back inch deep in the ground.


Just for the respect Ezio gave Staccato felt she should pay her respect as well, even though she didn't need to shoulder the favour of the rat saving Viola. Without a fancy hat of her own, nor a weapon of any kind, the she rat placed her one arm in front of her chest, and flatten her ears. Two rats and a cat stayed soundless for a long while, to a stone cross without a name and with one lone indentation.


It was Staccato who spoke again. "So, the gem in your other hand is for the hole on that cross?"


The dark rat nodded, handed his hat which she held on firmly. After that, he stepped forward and placed the gem in the centre of the cross where it shone marvellously even in dark. The cross must be custom-made, for the gem fit too perfectly. Quite possibly carved by Ezio himself. A unique beautiful memorial.


The choice of the burial was again, too rare among rat-kind. Staccato knew Ezio for too long, and for him to place someone this close to his cave, it was the utmost regards he could give. The atmosphere they created made her feel sentimental. Staccato's brown eyes gazed at the cross. The diamond somehow made the grey stone marble-like.


"If I die... Will I get a grave here as well?" She asked, already regretting the question. It wasn't very thoughtful given the circumstances.


"Dig your own. "


She winced at his harsh tone. But knowing Ezio, that meant roughly 'don't die'. How comforting.


She bowed, her rat spine stretching low, for the stranger who she had never met. She wondered how the rat was, when he encountered her ex-chief last night. What had happened that made Ezio paid such respect, and how sensible he must be, for Ezio to have accepted him easily. She may know the answer soon, she may not. The jewellery that must be from Viola's collection glimmered like a crystal teardrop.


This time, the silence didn't fall long. As if knowing where her attention is, a voice rang from the great shadow with her tail. Nyx had a very smooth and almost phantom-like voice that lingered in the air when she spoke. "He is the only one among us who truly knows the value of that jewel. " The cat said, her tail brushing the cobbles.


And that, was the final eulogy for A-Bounds.
 
Cold winds and shaky hands, in Spite...

Standing over Bennett's shoulder had given him a better view of the whole room. Any movement, he could catch. Including the minute, twitching figure darting between the table's legs. But more importantly, this position gave him a better view of the masked man, and a better hearing of his words. He eyed him with suspicion, listening intently to the haunting voice that came of the stranger's mouth. Too many words. Too confident. Too complex. It was almost as if the man hid behind the sheer lenght of his phrases. Was he afraid...?

Just then, Cromwell noticed a detail. A similarity. The hair... Those eyes! Without the mask, that face would've been identical to the face of Joseph. Young zailor. Smart, quick on his feet, too talkative for his own good. He had those same maniacal eyes, and that same confidence when he was annoyed. Joseph was still in Gaider's Mourn. Still hung by his neck to one of the highest spires. Still with that lifeless gaze in his eyes. All his fault. He was the cause of it.
In the low light, he almost saw the scar of a rope around the stranger's neck.

The priest's shoulders slumped. He surrendered. Admitted defeat to his own mind. Lost.
"You..." The sound came out choked, along with a wave of spit. Almost as if it refused exiting his throat.
"You are going to die." This was much clearer. It was not a threat. It did not sound like one. But a statement. A matter of fact. Just like saying the sun would not rise tomorrow.

He was then pulled backwards, away from Joseph. The masked man. Stumbling to the door, he offered an apologetic smile to the other stranger. The same one he had held at gunpoint and disarmed just moments earlier. He felt sorry, altough it had been for a good cause. Had it?

It was a haze. In a moment, he found himself outside the door. Twitchy. A chilling frost set in his bones, altough Spite had no reason to be as cold as the Avid Horizon. North.

Rather unkindly, he requested a quick walk around the streets of Spite to calm his nerves. It was useless. He lit his pipe, but ended up burning the tobacco inside. Graced with foul-tasting smoke, he was left to think bitterly. A silent stroll that was not short enough for him to exorcize his thoughts and not long enough for him to find any sense to them. So d___ably cold...

Then, she spoke. Cromwell pulled on the cross that hung by his neck. Closer to himself, as if it could radiate great warmth. Not anymore.
But he smiled. He could not show himself unhappy. Not to Bennett.
"I am certain you would have had no problems with them."
At her question, something important came up in his mind.
"There was the Admiral..."
But then, he looked down at her expectant gaze.
"... Yes. Of course we can catch up. You must know the local bars better than I do, yes?"
He asked sarcastically, with a raised brow.
"Lead the way, Bennett. It's been years. You must have many stories to tell, little urchin."
His hands weren't shaking from eagerness.

Osthavula Osthavula 0stinato 0stinato NorseChaos NorseChaos
 
Last edited:
Fabulous Accomplice
Location: Wolfstack Docks
ThaDruid ThaDruid


"Little Urchin." This put a wide grin on Bennett's troubled face. She heard him mentioning the admiral, and it weighed on her at first --- yes, the admiral, she thought she knew who that was. The familiar old man now smelled of zee captain and was weary like one, was no doubt more than just a preacher now. As a zee captain, it wasn't uncommon to be tied to the Admiral. Was he still on her side then, after all these years of going places? Or would he be somewhere among the enemies ... But the familiar calling of his "little urchin" only pulled her guard down again. The matter of the admiral can wait, yes... And so far she didn't know the dark-spectacled admiral had anything against Viola and her. Nothing yet.

She would have a lot of question for him too, and when Father Cromwell wasn't looking --- which was difficult, he was quite attentive --- she observed him with deep concern. Something she didn't know happened to him, something horrible. The word towards Deluder, the stumble... He tried not to worry her. She knew the old man had a history even back when they met, and she wished she knew more. As a consult and a child they were friendly, but not nearly close enough for her to learn of his secrets. Bennett wished she had the mind to ask more about him.

No point in thinking what could have happened. Her lady's voice sounded in her head. Think of the solution from now.

Right. Bennett blinked, thanked the zailor who opened the door for her with his toothy smile. Politely rejecting his further advance, she asked the merchant for a selection of spirits and beer, also consulting Cromwell for his preference. The zailor's bitter chastise silenced when she carried the crates of bottles with ease back to the entrance. The red head, however, paid the zailor no heed. She only planned for a good talk with Father Cromwell, a roudy bar wouldn't do. Keeping up the friendly small talks, she asked him to lead the way to his new address.

Father Cromwell had long moved, she knew. When she became long shank, her life was so troubled after leaving the urchins, and she was occupied to make a living, that when she returned to his old address someone else already moved in. If only she had stayed there for him...

No point in.... Yes, right. The former urchin girl looked at the nice two-storage house, exclaimed in happiness for her old acquaintance. The old address was cramped and small and felt like an awkward space squeezed into a building above where the zailor drinks. Now, it was a well-kept town house away from the noises, spacious, with enough windows. Although a later thought struck her that his well-doing perhaps came with too much of a price. But at that moment, the maiden was genuinely happy to see the improvement happened in his life.

The inside was even more impressive for her. She didn't have to force herself through the door with the crate, and on the walls immediately the artefacts caught her attention. Things that Viola would be so delighted to see, and Bennett knew their values. Those were not things you willingly give to a merchant. In the living room where she placed the crate down, more collection was shown, artefacts and heirlooms... Now Bennett just imagined Viola gleefully dancing around the room with numerous questions thrown at the man. Her own attention was quickly return back on the old man, though. To Bennett, those things can wait, for now a more important problem beckons.

Assuming, the old man wasn't against her... How much could she reveal? Bennett was no longer that urchin girl he knew... Not as innocent. Lies had been passed on her lips and blood had been shed by her hands. Surely he wasn't as innocent as back then either. But she didn't wish to treat him with the fear of being betrayed, tonight less so. There wasn't a lot of people she would place her trust on beside Viola. In fact, you didn't even need two hands to count the numbers. She would hate to lower another finger for the count.

She had to believe then, that her friend's care was true. And she had to place her trust in him as well. Trust that he wouldn't think too less of her, and he wouldn't jeopardize what she and Viola had. She won't reveal everything yet, of course. But she had to believe him, even for her own comfort. Even if it was unwise to listen to her own weary soul in need of a friend.

"Father, I believe this house is secure enough for me to be comfortable? Can I take down my weapons?" After his permission, she took off her weapons one by one, placing them on a cabinet --- She pulled the sharp hair pins from her hair, releasing her wavy auburn hair to her shoulder; she untied her waist corset, it thud loudly with the paper thin daggers sheathed inside the leather; hoping it wouldn't be too awkward, she pull up her skirt, untying the belts on her leg where again short swords and smaller spikes and various devices were hidden and strapped; she lastly took off her ring with care, and smiled if Father Cromwell threw a strange look. She'd rather not explain that it had poison within the hollowed gem.

Perhaps he would be relieved that she didn't take down her jade earrings. But the fabulous accomplice tried to appear as nonchalant as possible and helped laid down the glasses and the spirits. Sometime after the two sat with their drinks ready, and they need only toast.

"I'm so glad we met again, father..." She raised her glass towards his, "A toast! For reuniting. And friendship, if you weren't too taken back by..." She nudged her head towards the little hill of dangerous items on his cabinet, her smile slightly nervous.

"It's been far too long, father. How have you been? "
 
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