Bullet
Eye for an eye
Work in progress, IC coming soon.
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London Bridge is falling down...
- Thread starter Bullet
- Start date
Atsuko
Breathe
1666 London England
Mr. W
"He's awake."
"The past Queen was right wasn't she?"
"He needs to start his mission soon...."
"He was just another one of her dogs...why didn't she kill him off like the rest..."
"Shut up. He's a monster. We aren't safe either."
The room was frigid, as he his crystal blue eyes shot open to stare at the flickering figures of humans clothed in white from head to toe. A pale light shone down onto him from the ceiling, reflecting against the shiny pale walls of the laboratory like room. He was lying on something that seemed like metal...cold...slippery...it was quite an unpleasant feeling.
Slowly, he lifted his arm, revealing a black and blue limb that he could barely recognize.
"Aftereffects of the freezing treatment, W. The Queen warned the previous White Soldiers that this may happen. It is to fade away soon," one of the men spoke up, as his fishy pinkish eyes pierced into him.
W chuckled, as he checked out his other arm. The Queen certainly had taken desperate measures...hadn't she.
"Where is the Queen. I must greet her, and apologize for waking up late," he spoke, halting as he could barely recognize the croaky voice that escape his throat.
A wave of gasps and snickers weaved around the room, as one of the white clothed men stepped forward and bowed.
"We are Generation 6 of the White Soldiers, Sir W. Our great sovereign has long been deceased. She unfortunately...fell into an eternal sleep the same night you entered your "Winter Sleep". She took great measures to protect her project...and we are sure that you remember her last orders."
He lay frozen, as his eyes grew fixated on the swinging lamp on the ceiling. "The Queen...ah yes...the final orders," he murmured.
Mr. W
"He's awake."
"The past Queen was right wasn't she?"
"He needs to start his mission soon...."
"He was just another one of her dogs...why didn't she kill him off like the rest..."
"Shut up. He's a monster. We aren't safe either."
The room was frigid, as he his crystal blue eyes shot open to stare at the flickering figures of humans clothed in white from head to toe. A pale light shone down onto him from the ceiling, reflecting against the shiny pale walls of the laboratory like room. He was lying on something that seemed like metal...cold...slippery...it was quite an unpleasant feeling.
Slowly, he lifted his arm, revealing a black and blue limb that he could barely recognize.
"Aftereffects of the freezing treatment, W. The Queen warned the previous White Soldiers that this may happen. It is to fade away soon," one of the men spoke up, as his fishy pinkish eyes pierced into him.
W chuckled, as he checked out his other arm. The Queen certainly had taken desperate measures...hadn't she.
"Where is the Queen. I must greet her, and apologize for waking up late," he spoke, halting as he could barely recognize the croaky voice that escape his throat.
A wave of gasps and snickers weaved around the room, as one of the white clothed men stepped forward and bowed.
"We are Generation 6 of the White Soldiers, Sir W. Our great sovereign has long been deceased. She unfortunately...fell into an eternal sleep the same night you entered your "Winter Sleep". She took great measures to protect her project...and we are sure that you remember her last orders."
He lay frozen, as his eyes grew fixated on the swinging lamp on the ceiling. "The Queen...ah yes...the final orders," he murmured.
Bullet
Eye for an eye
(Profuse apologies, I didn't want to post something that was written for the sake of having something ready, and it likely will be the case here anyways because I don't want to delay a reply any further. 
Thank you for your patience thus far, especially since I was travelling out of town today, and will be out of town for the remainder of the week, but I will do my best to get some replies to you, hopefully daily.)
1824, London England
Thomas Clarke
"Thomas! Are you sleeping in again?"
Rays of sunlight peered over the windowsill, slowly bathing the room in its light in motion with the gently rising sun. From the bed in the corner of the small room, muffled snoring fought its way through the blanket, young Thomas Clarke dreaming the morning away. The clock maker's voice elicited a snort from Thomas, but little else. The sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden steps reverberated through the walls, until finally the door swung open in a fury.
"Thomas! For the love of..." Harry approached the bed, slipping the covers off. The young boy curled into a ball in protest, still half asleep. "Thomas, you know the bakery's first rack goes quick from the market. You don't want to be eatin' porridge again, do ya?" Thomas curled his lips upward in stubborn defeat, his eyebrows furrowed to show his displeasure. "Okay, okay, I'll be on my way." Overcome, he hopped from the bed and slipped on some trousers and a ruffled, loose fitting blouse. He hopped on a foot towards the door as he slipped on a pair of well-worn shoes before running off down the stairs. "I left enough to purchase it on the counter." The clock maker's voice rang from the shop below. "And I best not see a crumb missing, young lad!"
Nimbly, Thomas dived between the carts and the crowds of the early morning market, deftly navigating the cobblestone streets towards the local baker's shop. He ducked into the shop swiftly, surprisingly heading straight to the counter; the typical morning lines had not yet formed. A hefty man behind the counter gave the lad a nod. "The usual for Harry, I reckon." Thomas nodded, placing the coins on the counter for the bread. He nodded his thanks and found himself once more maneuvering through the hustle and bustle of London as it awoke for the day.
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1176, London England
Evelyn Moore
The ceiling never changed, and yet Evelyn continued to stare at it, lying on her cot in the middle of the night, once again unable to sleep. The nightmare's had been worse that night. She couldn't block them out, so there she lied, seeking out the nooks and crannies of the ceiling like many nights before, perhaps finding a new one this time around. She tilted her head to her right, hoping against hope that Henry was awake. He could always manage to get her back to sleep. She saw his cot, his back to her, sleeping peacefully. She sighed, her forefinger twirling one of her longs black locks. On other occasions she had given up and tried to sleep again with little luck. She decided against trying the same strategy again.
She lifted her head slightly, eyes darting to and fro, searching for signs of the headmistress. Silently, Eve slid off her cot and scuffled over to where Henry lied. Her left forefinger still preoccupied twirling a strand of hair, she poked him in the back slightly her other hand. "Henry, wake up." A small whisper escaped her lips. "I'm having nightmares again..."
Thank you for your patience thus far, especially since I was travelling out of town today, and will be out of town for the remainder of the week, but I will do my best to get some replies to you, hopefully daily.)1824, London England
Thomas Clarke
"Thomas! Are you sleeping in again?"
Rays of sunlight peered over the windowsill, slowly bathing the room in its light in motion with the gently rising sun. From the bed in the corner of the small room, muffled snoring fought its way through the blanket, young Thomas Clarke dreaming the morning away. The clock maker's voice elicited a snort from Thomas, but little else. The sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden steps reverberated through the walls, until finally the door swung open in a fury.
"Thomas! For the love of..." Harry approached the bed, slipping the covers off. The young boy curled into a ball in protest, still half asleep. "Thomas, you know the bakery's first rack goes quick from the market. You don't want to be eatin' porridge again, do ya?" Thomas curled his lips upward in stubborn defeat, his eyebrows furrowed to show his displeasure. "Okay, okay, I'll be on my way." Overcome, he hopped from the bed and slipped on some trousers and a ruffled, loose fitting blouse. He hopped on a foot towards the door as he slipped on a pair of well-worn shoes before running off down the stairs. "I left enough to purchase it on the counter." The clock maker's voice rang from the shop below. "And I best not see a crumb missing, young lad!"
Nimbly, Thomas dived between the carts and the crowds of the early morning market, deftly navigating the cobblestone streets towards the local baker's shop. He ducked into the shop swiftly, surprisingly heading straight to the counter; the typical morning lines had not yet formed. A hefty man behind the counter gave the lad a nod. "The usual for Harry, I reckon." Thomas nodded, placing the coins on the counter for the bread. He nodded his thanks and found himself once more maneuvering through the hustle and bustle of London as it awoke for the day.
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1176, London England
Evelyn Moore
The ceiling never changed, and yet Evelyn continued to stare at it, lying on her cot in the middle of the night, once again unable to sleep. The nightmare's had been worse that night. She couldn't block them out, so there she lied, seeking out the nooks and crannies of the ceiling like many nights before, perhaps finding a new one this time around. She tilted her head to her right, hoping against hope that Henry was awake. He could always manage to get her back to sleep. She saw his cot, his back to her, sleeping peacefully. She sighed, her forefinger twirling one of her longs black locks. On other occasions she had given up and tried to sleep again with little luck. She decided against trying the same strategy again.
She lifted her head slightly, eyes darting to and fro, searching for signs of the headmistress. Silently, Eve slid off her cot and scuffled over to where Henry lied. Her left forefinger still preoccupied twirling a strand of hair, she poked him in the back slightly her other hand. "Henry, wake up." A small whisper escaped her lips. "I'm having nightmares again..."
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Atsuko
Breathe
1824 London, England
Eryla Manchester
Eryla stood at the top of the stairway, breathing slowly in and out. The sun had risen once again, and she had been pulled up along with it. Her golden hair was brushed neatly and rippled down her back, and her silver eyes stared piercingly at the bustling morning routine of the maids. She could hear his grotesque heavy breathing, demolishing footsteps, and the clap of his obese stomach from rooms away. The maids lifted their heads in alarm at the sound of the beast awakening, as they accelerated their speed to clean and prepare the dining room in order to escape his sight.
"My belle, have you awoken already?"
The sound of his mere voice sent shivers down her spine, yet she ordered the puppeteers in her mind to begin the daily show.
"Yes, m'lord. I have to go and fetch some bread for today's breakfast. Is there anything else you wish for me to bring from the market?" She asked, softly smiling.
The beast stepped forward, and gently touched her hips. She held in her urge to push him down stairs, as he touched her ears with his wet fat lips.
"Your dress is quite worn out, my belle. Are you certain that you wouldn't want me to take some measurements for your new dress?" He whispered into her ear, with his pinkish fish like eyes searching her face.
"My lord. I have no need for such luxuries. A simple roof over my head is already a fine enough gift for me. I must hurry. The bread will run out soon around this time," she murmured, as she nimbly escaped his obese arms and hands.
She felt as if she was still suffocating under his lusty stare, as she ran out with the basket and money that the head maid had left for her on the kitchen counter. Almost as if someone had cut a puppet's strings, the corners of her lips dropped faster than a guillotine blade. The bustling streets sucked her in, as she walked through the streets markets fixated on the gorgeous handiwork of the craftsmen. The morning market was the only time she ever had to herself and away from those two morbid eyes and plump fingers.
Her walking speed decreased, as she stood and marveled at the world outside of her dungeon. The sun did not seem to mock her as much outside, as when she was inside. She soon arrived at the baker's shop, only to find one whole bread remaining in the basket. A boy was running towards the same piece of bread that she was staring at. Finally realizing the situation she was in, she grabbed it right before the boy's fingers grazed against it.
She swung her head to look over her opponent. His ambitious eyes met hers, as he reached for the bread that currently resided in her hand.
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
The air was hot and stuffy. When he tried to move his arms, he realized that he couldn't move at all. From somewhere in the room, smoke was floating up and stinging his eyes that were barely opened. The sound of children's cries echoed throughout the small...chamber that he was in. A small metal chamber...his eyes snapped open as he gasped at the sight before him. Every single inch of the chamber they were in was filled with children piled on top of each other. Something wet dropped onto his face. When he looked up, he came face to face with a child whose eyes were missing. "The Watchman is here...," the child hoarsely whispered. Soon the children were all chanting, "The Watchman is here, the Watchman is here, the Watchman is here..." The echoing words pounded into his head, as he gasped for air. From the corner of his ears, he heard his name called among the harmonious chanting from the chanting. "Henry...the Watchman is here...Henry...the Watchman is here...Henry....Henry...HENRY!!!"
"I'm having nightmares again..."
Henry awoke at the sound of her voice, and jumped up in his cot, hitting his head on the low ceiling of their room.
"Evelyn...," he whispered shakily. "W-wait just a second."
He quickly got out of his cot, and stumbled across the room. The room spun around him, and he could still feel the heat from his nightmare. The man from the other day was probably there....no definitely there. Carefully, he pulled away one of the curtains from the window, and wiped away the fog.
Sure enough...the mysterious man in the black coat was standing below the window sill, tapping his golden cane against the lamp post.
From the corner of his mind, he could hear the sound of a watch ticking loudly. He stared at the man with shaking silver eyes. He didn't know if he imagined it or not, but he was sure that he had just seen the man sneer in his direction before once again disappearing into the night like last time. The burning sensation disappeared, leaving him exhausted and in shock. After a couple minutes of standing at the window, he turned back to Evelyn smiling.
"I'm sorry. I felt a little warm. What's wrong?" He chuckled, as he walked towards her and ruffled her hair.
Eryla Manchester
Eryla stood at the top of the stairway, breathing slowly in and out. The sun had risen once again, and she had been pulled up along with it. Her golden hair was brushed neatly and rippled down her back, and her silver eyes stared piercingly at the bustling morning routine of the maids. She could hear his grotesque heavy breathing, demolishing footsteps, and the clap of his obese stomach from rooms away. The maids lifted their heads in alarm at the sound of the beast awakening, as they accelerated their speed to clean and prepare the dining room in order to escape his sight.
"My belle, have you awoken already?"
The sound of his mere voice sent shivers down her spine, yet she ordered the puppeteers in her mind to begin the daily show.
"Yes, m'lord. I have to go and fetch some bread for today's breakfast. Is there anything else you wish for me to bring from the market?" She asked, softly smiling.
The beast stepped forward, and gently touched her hips. She held in her urge to push him down stairs, as he touched her ears with his wet fat lips.
"Your dress is quite worn out, my belle. Are you certain that you wouldn't want me to take some measurements for your new dress?" He whispered into her ear, with his pinkish fish like eyes searching her face.
"My lord. I have no need for such luxuries. A simple roof over my head is already a fine enough gift for me. I must hurry. The bread will run out soon around this time," she murmured, as she nimbly escaped his obese arms and hands.
She felt as if she was still suffocating under his lusty stare, as she ran out with the basket and money that the head maid had left for her on the kitchen counter. Almost as if someone had cut a puppet's strings, the corners of her lips dropped faster than a guillotine blade. The bustling streets sucked her in, as she walked through the streets markets fixated on the gorgeous handiwork of the craftsmen. The morning market was the only time she ever had to herself and away from those two morbid eyes and plump fingers.
Her walking speed decreased, as she stood and marveled at the world outside of her dungeon. The sun did not seem to mock her as much outside, as when she was inside. She soon arrived at the baker's shop, only to find one whole bread remaining in the basket. A boy was running towards the same piece of bread that she was staring at. Finally realizing the situation she was in, she grabbed it right before the boy's fingers grazed against it.
She swung her head to look over her opponent. His ambitious eyes met hers, as he reached for the bread that currently resided in her hand.
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
The air was hot and stuffy. When he tried to move his arms, he realized that he couldn't move at all. From somewhere in the room, smoke was floating up and stinging his eyes that were barely opened. The sound of children's cries echoed throughout the small...chamber that he was in. A small metal chamber...his eyes snapped open as he gasped at the sight before him. Every single inch of the chamber they were in was filled with children piled on top of each other. Something wet dropped onto his face. When he looked up, he came face to face with a child whose eyes were missing. "The Watchman is here...," the child hoarsely whispered. Soon the children were all chanting, "The Watchman is here, the Watchman is here, the Watchman is here..." The echoing words pounded into his head, as he gasped for air. From the corner of his ears, he heard his name called among the harmonious chanting from the chanting. "Henry...the Watchman is here...Henry...the Watchman is here...Henry....Henry...HENRY!!!"
"I'm having nightmares again..."
Henry awoke at the sound of her voice, and jumped up in his cot, hitting his head on the low ceiling of their room.
"Evelyn...," he whispered shakily. "W-wait just a second."
He quickly got out of his cot, and stumbled across the room. The room spun around him, and he could still feel the heat from his nightmare. The man from the other day was probably there....no definitely there. Carefully, he pulled away one of the curtains from the window, and wiped away the fog.
Sure enough...the mysterious man in the black coat was standing below the window sill, tapping his golden cane against the lamp post.
From the corner of his mind, he could hear the sound of a watch ticking loudly. He stared at the man with shaking silver eyes. He didn't know if he imagined it or not, but he was sure that he had just seen the man sneer in his direction before once again disappearing into the night like last time. The burning sensation disappeared, leaving him exhausted and in shock. After a couple minutes of standing at the window, he turned back to Evelyn smiling.
"I'm sorry. I felt a little warm. What's wrong?" He chuckled, as he walked towards her and ruffled her hair.
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Bullet
Eye for an eye
1824 London, England
Thomas Clarke
"H-hey!" Thomas complained, a stranger claiming the bread for their own. Spinning around, he came face to face with the bandit, a young girl about his age. Her silver orbs eyed him in defiance, challenging his claim of the bread. "I got here first, you can't be grabbing that loaf! You expect me to wait for the next batch?" He put on a strong face, though he did not feel confident in the least. Situations like this arose often in the bustling market, everyone rushing to and fro, grabbing a loaf of bread here, a cut of meat from the butcher there; the streets were nigh impossible to navigate in a carriage at this time of day, at least around the city center. The crowds lacked any sympathy for fellow man, such was the attitude of the populace in the morning rush. If they had to swipe the last apple before the elderly woman reaching for it could, they would, with no remorse. A fog of apathy had shrouded the city, the news of murder and disappearances hardening the hearts of many, trust of strangers becoming a scarcity.
Thomas, unfortunately, tended to avoid conflicts with the rough London citizens. A shame that even the young girl before him was seemingly swallowed up by the indifferent attitude as well. Though he could not truly blame her; the children received the short end of the stick in the social mess. Her stoic, argent eyes holding something behind them, a sadness, he felt. A sadness he could see in the mirror at times, those difficult mornings when the memory of his parents haunted his nightmares the previous night, waking with a shout, covered in sweat. He sighed, lowering his eyes in defeat. Harry would not be delighted in the least.
"You know what? You can take it. It's fine." He turned to the counter and crossed his arms over the wood, his chin resting upon them as he planned his wait for the next loaf. 'I hope Harry is not in one of his moods when I return.' Thomas hoped against hope, his memories unearthing the unpleasant thoughts of past nights, his caretaker beating him in drunken rages. Thomas winced, but accepted his fate. He could be in a worse situation, as was the case of many children in London. He swallowed, suddenly aware that the girl was still there.
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
She quietly watched as Henry stumbled out of his bed, making his way to one of the gated windows and peeking out. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as he peered out. She rubbed her arms, hoping to warm up after the chill that washed over her. After a moment, Henry returned, making a passing remark and rubbing her head as he often did. 'Warm? Liar...' She thought to herself, the weather being anything but recently, but she did not want to antagonize him. Henry was perhaps her only friend there at the orphanage, a rock to turn to for protection when things didn't seem like they could get worse. She didn't know what she would do without him.
Evelyn's eyes looked to the floor, her small arms hugging herself. "I had that nightmare again." Vividly the thoughts invaded her mind: the fire, the cries of children, the bodies, the blood, the stone. She shuddered in response, unsure of what to make of it. The dream had been occurring more frequently recently; she used to suffer from it perhaps once a month, if that, but it's frequency had increased. Awakening several times a week become suddenly commonplace for Eve. "Can I sleep in your bed with you? I promise I won't bother you for anything else." The small fingers of her hand had wrapped themselves in the locks of her hair, twirling through them, without a thought from Eve. It was perhaps the only thing that helped to calm her down, before Henry came along.
"I promise I'll wake up before the headmistress comes in the morning and go back to my bed. But I won't be able to go back to sleep the rest of the night if it isn't with you, Henry. Pleeease?" She whispered, her soft, big eyes pleading for sympathy.
Thomas Clarke
"H-hey!" Thomas complained, a stranger claiming the bread for their own. Spinning around, he came face to face with the bandit, a young girl about his age. Her silver orbs eyed him in defiance, challenging his claim of the bread. "I got here first, you can't be grabbing that loaf! You expect me to wait for the next batch?" He put on a strong face, though he did not feel confident in the least. Situations like this arose often in the bustling market, everyone rushing to and fro, grabbing a loaf of bread here, a cut of meat from the butcher there; the streets were nigh impossible to navigate in a carriage at this time of day, at least around the city center. The crowds lacked any sympathy for fellow man, such was the attitude of the populace in the morning rush. If they had to swipe the last apple before the elderly woman reaching for it could, they would, with no remorse. A fog of apathy had shrouded the city, the news of murder and disappearances hardening the hearts of many, trust of strangers becoming a scarcity.
Thomas, unfortunately, tended to avoid conflicts with the rough London citizens. A shame that even the young girl before him was seemingly swallowed up by the indifferent attitude as well. Though he could not truly blame her; the children received the short end of the stick in the social mess. Her stoic, argent eyes holding something behind them, a sadness, he felt. A sadness he could see in the mirror at times, those difficult mornings when the memory of his parents haunted his nightmares the previous night, waking with a shout, covered in sweat. He sighed, lowering his eyes in defeat. Harry would not be delighted in the least.
"You know what? You can take it. It's fine." He turned to the counter and crossed his arms over the wood, his chin resting upon them as he planned his wait for the next loaf. 'I hope Harry is not in one of his moods when I return.' Thomas hoped against hope, his memories unearthing the unpleasant thoughts of past nights, his caretaker beating him in drunken rages. Thomas winced, but accepted his fate. He could be in a worse situation, as was the case of many children in London. He swallowed, suddenly aware that the girl was still there.
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
She quietly watched as Henry stumbled out of his bed, making his way to one of the gated windows and peeking out. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as he peered out. She rubbed her arms, hoping to warm up after the chill that washed over her. After a moment, Henry returned, making a passing remark and rubbing her head as he often did. 'Warm? Liar...' She thought to herself, the weather being anything but recently, but she did not want to antagonize him. Henry was perhaps her only friend there at the orphanage, a rock to turn to for protection when things didn't seem like they could get worse. She didn't know what she would do without him.
Evelyn's eyes looked to the floor, her small arms hugging herself. "I had that nightmare again." Vividly the thoughts invaded her mind: the fire, the cries of children, the bodies, the blood, the stone. She shuddered in response, unsure of what to make of it. The dream had been occurring more frequently recently; she used to suffer from it perhaps once a month, if that, but it's frequency had increased. Awakening several times a week become suddenly commonplace for Eve. "Can I sleep in your bed with you? I promise I won't bother you for anything else." The small fingers of her hand had wrapped themselves in the locks of her hair, twirling through them, without a thought from Eve. It was perhaps the only thing that helped to calm her down, before Henry came along.
"I promise I'll wake up before the headmistress comes in the morning and go back to my bed. But I won't be able to go back to sleep the rest of the night if it isn't with you, Henry. Pleeease?" She whispered, her soft, big eyes pleading for sympathy.
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Atsuko
Breathe
1824 London, England
Eryla Manchester
Eryla stared at the boy who had surrendered the bread a little quicker than she had wished that he had. She sighed and handed him the object that both of them had desired. "Boy. Here. You can take this one. It seems as if you're in more of a rush than I am," she said, as she handed the baker some extra coins. "I need some fresh bread for Lord Bryan's breakfast table. Quickly, if you have the time sir."
The baker glanced over her, as he quickly nodded and snatched the gold coins from her fingertips. The glance was filled with morbid disgust and mockery. She despairingly stared at the counter fidgeting with her dress hoping that time would go by faster. It was obvious that she would receive such glances. The "rumors" were sure to have been spread far and wide already by the maids with bored tongues. A "whore that slept with the beastly lord in order to gain a pence to survive" and "kissing up her way to a level she doesn't belong to just like her mother"...was probably the mildest of the rumors that she had accidentally eavesdropped on. She couldn't care less about what the foolish peasants spoke of her and her blood, however...she had to admit...that at certain moments she wished that she could burn away the toxic world that selfishly judged humans without even wondering if there was anything behind their horrid acts.
She turned to the boy who was staring at her in complete surprise, and carrying the bread like a baby. "You should run back home soon. Isn't someone waiting for the bread?" Each time he annoyingly twirled that strand of hair, her head ached as if someone stabbing a dagger into her skull. She grabbed his arm, as her vision slightly blurred for a second. "Stop doing that...please."
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
He lifted the blanket, and allowed her to once again crawl into his bed. The blanket barely covered the two of them, and left their feet freezing in the night.
"Why are your hands so cold," he whispered, as he pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "They feel like a dead man's flesh."
Slowly he closed his eyes, while holding her hands tightly under the blanket. "Evelyn...I don't think we are safe here anymore. He's coming closer and closer with each passing night."
Her rhythmic breathing calmed him, as he tried to think through the events that had been happening for the past couple weeks. All of a sudden, noblemen's children were suddenly disappearing without leaving even a trace of blood or screams. The "Pied Piper Slasher" was what the kidnapper was called, and he had more money on his head than the amount of money it was taking for the Queen's new project. Evelyn and he were both in danger as well...for they had been once noblemen's children as well. But how the "Pied Piper" had found out...he didn't know.
Eryla Manchester
Eryla stared at the boy who had surrendered the bread a little quicker than she had wished that he had. She sighed and handed him the object that both of them had desired. "Boy. Here. You can take this one. It seems as if you're in more of a rush than I am," she said, as she handed the baker some extra coins. "I need some fresh bread for Lord Bryan's breakfast table. Quickly, if you have the time sir."
The baker glanced over her, as he quickly nodded and snatched the gold coins from her fingertips. The glance was filled with morbid disgust and mockery. She despairingly stared at the counter fidgeting with her dress hoping that time would go by faster. It was obvious that she would receive such glances. The "rumors" were sure to have been spread far and wide already by the maids with bored tongues. A "whore that slept with the beastly lord in order to gain a pence to survive" and "kissing up her way to a level she doesn't belong to just like her mother"...was probably the mildest of the rumors that she had accidentally eavesdropped on. She couldn't care less about what the foolish peasants spoke of her and her blood, however...she had to admit...that at certain moments she wished that she could burn away the toxic world that selfishly judged humans without even wondering if there was anything behind their horrid acts.
She turned to the boy who was staring at her in complete surprise, and carrying the bread like a baby. "You should run back home soon. Isn't someone waiting for the bread?" Each time he annoyingly twirled that strand of hair, her head ached as if someone stabbing a dagger into her skull. She grabbed his arm, as her vision slightly blurred for a second. "Stop doing that...please."
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
He lifted the blanket, and allowed her to once again crawl into his bed. The blanket barely covered the two of them, and left their feet freezing in the night.
"Why are your hands so cold," he whispered, as he pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "They feel like a dead man's flesh."
Slowly he closed his eyes, while holding her hands tightly under the blanket. "Evelyn...I don't think we are safe here anymore. He's coming closer and closer with each passing night."
Her rhythmic breathing calmed him, as he tried to think through the events that had been happening for the past couple weeks. All of a sudden, noblemen's children were suddenly disappearing without leaving even a trace of blood or screams. The "Pied Piper Slasher" was what the kidnapper was called, and he had more money on his head than the amount of money it was taking for the Queen's new project. Evelyn and he were both in danger as well...for they had been once noblemen's children as well. But how the "Pied Piper" had found out...he didn't know.
Bullet
Eye for an eye
1824 London, England
Thomas Clarke
The sudden, unexpected generosity of the girl surprised Thomas. His mind wondered if perhaps she felt sorry for taking it earlier. However, her brusque, inconsiderate manners had him second guessing her altruism. His eyebrow arched slightly at her clamorous demands of the baker. The baker, in turn, offered a silent sneer in return. Thomas eyed the girl as she fidgeted with her dress, taking a second to truly study her; he couldn't help but observe people rather than speak with them. The girl came from affluent means, that much was fairly obvious to him. Most people's close were worn, ratty, and faded. On the other hand, though her dress wasn't in the greatest of condition, there existed little doubt that she she was not in tremendous need, unlike a larger portion of the London population. The simple fact of having color in your wardrobe denoted some measure of fortune, Thomas knew.
And yet, the baker had near scoffed at her demand for bread. Sure, she could have spoken with a bit more poise, but to react in such a manner.. Thomas felt like he was missing something in the exchange. To his surprise, she diverted her attention to him once more.
"You should run back home soon. Isn't someone waiting for the bread?" She spoke in an annoyed tone, which only irked him. 'Who does she think she is? He was ripped from his own thoughts as she grabbed his arm, startling Thomas. "Stop what? I've just been standing here." He replied angrily, yanking his arm from her grip. "I don't know what your problem is, but everyone's got it tough around here We don't need you upper-class citizens making our lives harder than they already are! You should think about how you treat others a little more." He didn't care that he would be a little late in returning, his blood was boiling now, and he felt a sense of pride in that moment, denouncing the deplorable girl's attitude. He assumed much of her situation, though, a deadly mistake when dealing with any sort of woman.
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
She crawled with slight difficulty into the bed, cuddling close to Henry's body. She felt safer the closer she was to him, like a blanket she could hide under when the monsters of her dreams emerged from the dark recesses. She scrunched her little face as he tucked the stray locks of hair behind her ear. "I don't know why they're cold, Henry. They always feel like this after my bad dreams." She articulated in her small voice. She placed her frigid extremities in Henry's care, his hands enveloping hers to bring them warmth.
The next words Henry spoke sent shivers down her spine.
A soft whimper escaped her lips in reply. She didn't have to ask who he was referring to. She had seen him often in her dreams; he was always there during the bad ones. She could feel his presence during the nightmares, always nearby, always watching. When she feigned to look upon his face, she could see only darkness, save for the crooked twist of his vile grin. She shuddered once more at the mere thought. She pulled closer to Henry, his only comfort in the world, the warmth of his presence soothing her, allaying her fears until they were mere whispers in the back of her mind.
In the darkness and calm of the night, she closed her eyes, sleep finally overtaking her. A crooked twist of a smile lingered on.
Thomas Clarke
The sudden, unexpected generosity of the girl surprised Thomas. His mind wondered if perhaps she felt sorry for taking it earlier. However, her brusque, inconsiderate manners had him second guessing her altruism. His eyebrow arched slightly at her clamorous demands of the baker. The baker, in turn, offered a silent sneer in return. Thomas eyed the girl as she fidgeted with her dress, taking a second to truly study her; he couldn't help but observe people rather than speak with them. The girl came from affluent means, that much was fairly obvious to him. Most people's close were worn, ratty, and faded. On the other hand, though her dress wasn't in the greatest of condition, there existed little doubt that she she was not in tremendous need, unlike a larger portion of the London population. The simple fact of having color in your wardrobe denoted some measure of fortune, Thomas knew.
And yet, the baker had near scoffed at her demand for bread. Sure, she could have spoken with a bit more poise, but to react in such a manner.. Thomas felt like he was missing something in the exchange. To his surprise, she diverted her attention to him once more.
"You should run back home soon. Isn't someone waiting for the bread?" She spoke in an annoyed tone, which only irked him. 'Who does she think she is? He was ripped from his own thoughts as she grabbed his arm, startling Thomas. "Stop what? I've just been standing here." He replied angrily, yanking his arm from her grip. "I don't know what your problem is, but everyone's got it tough around here We don't need you upper-class citizens making our lives harder than they already are! You should think about how you treat others a little more." He didn't care that he would be a little late in returning, his blood was boiling now, and he felt a sense of pride in that moment, denouncing the deplorable girl's attitude. He assumed much of her situation, though, a deadly mistake when dealing with any sort of woman.
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
She crawled with slight difficulty into the bed, cuddling close to Henry's body. She felt safer the closer she was to him, like a blanket she could hide under when the monsters of her dreams emerged from the dark recesses. She scrunched her little face as he tucked the stray locks of hair behind her ear. "I don't know why they're cold, Henry. They always feel like this after my bad dreams." She articulated in her small voice. She placed her frigid extremities in Henry's care, his hands enveloping hers to bring them warmth.
The next words Henry spoke sent shivers down her spine.
A soft whimper escaped her lips in reply. She didn't have to ask who he was referring to. She had seen him often in her dreams; he was always there during the bad ones. She could feel his presence during the nightmares, always nearby, always watching. When she feigned to look upon his face, she could see only darkness, save for the crooked twist of his vile grin. She shuddered once more at the mere thought. She pulled closer to Henry, his only comfort in the world, the warmth of his presence soothing her, allaying her fears until they were mere whispers in the back of her mind.
In the darkness and calm of the night, she closed her eyes, sleep finally overtaking her. A crooked twist of a smile lingered on.
Atsuko
Breathe
1824 London, England
Eryla Manchester
At that moment, it felt as if some sort of prickly vine was slowly twisting around her heart, pushing her to the end of any bit of patience she had left. She was just about to shoot something back, right when she noticed the baker smirking and handing her the bread. As she reached over for it, he placed his lips onto her ear and whispered crude words. "Little bird, why don't you crawl into my bed for some free bread, eh? Will the lord mind sharing his pet?" The horrid man sniggered. At this point, she was ready to grab a knife from the nearby butcher stall and slice the baker up and hang his intestines up like sausages on his stall. But all she did...like always...was smile. "Thank you, sir. The bread looks fresh," she spoke, nonchalantly.
She turned back to the boy with a sympathetic expression. "I apologize for my rude outburst. I was getting a little nauseated by the sudden heat wave, and blamed it on your...little habit. I hope you will forgive my inconsiderate behavior," she sighed, as she bowed. "I shall take my leave now."
Eryla walked away, groaning to herself. Why out of all days did she have to get into some sort of idiotic fight with some peasant boy. The sunshine looked more like a veil of dread, as she walked back towards the lord's manor, wishing that she could just board one of the peasant's wagons back home. Home...she scoffed at the thought of it. Home did not exist anymore did it. It was ran over by foolish birds that were pecking away at a corpse looking for golden coins under the layers of rotten flesh. Soon, the dark castle loomed over like a ferocious monster, as she stepped into it's mouth...to face another monster.
"Why are you so late," the monster roared, as he grabbed her hair. "Does it take one hour to grab a simple piece of bread?! I was waiting at my dining table, famished! How dare you make your generous benefactor wilt away at the table, starving like a beggar!"
"I apologize, m'lord. Some obstacles interrupted my journey," she sighed, as she walked past him and handed the basket to a maid. Her eyebrows twitched with annoyance, as his outrage reminded her about her stupid choice of handing that loaf to the peasant. If she had simply taken that and ran, the stupid argument wouldn't have happened, and she wouldn't have had to been harassed by that pig of baker.
"I shall not drag along my expression of my rage towards you, for some guests are coming soon," he roared, as he glared down at her with his narrow eyes. The flesh below his chin jiggled, and his saliva sprayed everywhere as he bellowed curses. This man...was seriously bipolar. "A clock maker and his apprentice will be coming by in about an hour to deliver my wristwatch and fix the clocks in the main hallway. Take off those god awful clothing and wear something that a lady of the house would actually wear. I do not want peasants to think that a noble lady has no better of a fashion sense than a simple laundress. I do not understand why you wear that dreadful placid dress everywhere you go."
Eryla grimaced as she fidgeted with her dress. She knew that it was worn out....but she also knew that it was no "laundresses's" dress. Her father had given it to her. Her only gift from him. And the only object that symbolized the fact that he had accepted her as a member of his bloodline.
But all she could do was smile back at the beast, and comply to his wishes.
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
He awoke the next morning, staring eye to eye with the head orphanage lady who was carrying a crying Evelyn by the collar of her nightgown.
"Mr. Abel. Will you explain why this young lady was sleeping beside you? I do not need babies breeding more babies!" The pigeon-like woman roared, as she waved Evelyn around like a dirty stray kitten.
"Miss, she was simply having nightmares. Every heard of those? I simply allowed her to sleep next to me. And if you haven't noticed yet...I'm more like an older brother to everyone in this orphanage. Not some sort of pig-like male teenager who can't seem to control his hormones...like your son. Please do tell him to lay off on touching the laundresses next door. He might seriously be caught red-handed by a police officer at this rate," he scoffed back.
The woman's head began to turn red as beet, and that was never a good sign. Within seconds, Evelyn came plummeting down from the pigeon's hold and he barely managed to catch her before she hit the floor directly. "GO AND WASH THE DISHES AND CLEAN THE OTHER CHILDREN'S WET BEDS. AND THEN SWEEP THE ENTIRE ORPHANAGE YOU UNGRATEFUL BRATS. THERE WILL BE NO OATMEAL LEFT FOR YOU ONCE THAT'S DONE!!!"
"Aye, Miss. I will do as told," he chuckled, as he lifted up Evelyn back to her feet. He already knew that the other children would sneak away food for him and Evelyn. That was just simply how things were done in this orphanage. They were all together one small unorthodox family unit, and everyone knew when it was their turn to take of another.
Hours later, as he swept away the dusty hallways of the main corridor while Evelyn wiped the windows, the Pigeon walked over to both of them with a flushed face. "A man...a very handsome one...is here to see the two of you," she stammered, as she scrutinized the two of them. "He has the badge...the badge."
Henry stared at her with utmost confusion, as he grabbed Evelyn's hand and walked to the visitor's lounge. The visitor's lounge was possibly the nicest room in the entire orphanage, right after the Pigeon's master bedroom. It had two silk couches, and a beautifully carved coffee table, along with vases filled with carefully trimmed flowers. It stuck out too much in the raggedy building. Just like the sophisticated looking man who was delicately sitting on the old sofa. The mysterious man sat on the couch, leaneing, and his long legs crossed over. He tapped his wiry fingers on the top of the cane, as he looked distractedly back and forth at the clock and the entrance of the room, until he caught sight of them. The man turned his head towards them and smiled pleasantly. "Please sit," the man politely said. Henry was taken aback for a second by the silky voice of the man. When he turned over to see how Evelyn was doing, she was flushed from head to toe. That irked him a little, as he scanned the man from head to toe, catching sight of the "badge" that the Pigeon was so shocked about. The Royal Knight badge...everyone had heard about this mysterious rank. The shining badge was black and had the Royal family's lion symbol engraved into it with gold. He was the Queen's "underground dog"...the one that everyone was told to fear.
The man's narrow black eyes stared back at Henry, and for a second Henry felt as if the sly smile on the man's face was familiar. A little too familiar.
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1824 London, England
Mr. W
He stood in the alleyway, smiling as he stared at the two children bicker away in front of the baker's stall. Out of all of the ingredients he had gather for the Queen's project...these two had the most interesting story. Maybe that was why he was giving them more time than others. Watching the golden dolls at play was possibly the largest amount of amusement he could ever receive. It was quite tiring...tracing down the stolen materials. But the queen was quite adamant about using the original material from the first project which was stolen after the Great Fire. If it wasn't for that damn mark on all of their wrists, it would have been nearly impossible to track down all of those spoiled brats.
The children were still the same old pompous brats that he had kidnapped hundreds of years ago from their silk laden homes. They had threatened him to call their father and mothers and kill him on the spot. Ransom or some other nonsense was often spewed out as well. But once they had seen that little badge of his...oh the horror on their faces. It was absolutely fantastic to see the children lose all hope as they realized that their sovereign had turned her back on them. But the two before him...yes...they were a bit more of a complicated case. It seemed as if the two of them were still living away their unfortunate lifestyles even in their second life. They were tarnished little gold pieces, but according to the queen "once they have been melted, it won't matter anyhow".
He had put them off for a little too long. He could sense the impatience of the Queen, as the wind screamed through the ruins of her corpse. The rotting structure was ready to be brought back to life, and he did not have that much time left. He turned his back on the last remaining gold pieces, and walked back into the dark alley dragging a lumpy sack that something alive in it.
The time was ticking, and the melting pot was brewing. It was time to cast the gold and bring back his Queen to her rightful place.
That was the job...of the Underground Dog.
Eryla Manchester
At that moment, it felt as if some sort of prickly vine was slowly twisting around her heart, pushing her to the end of any bit of patience she had left. She was just about to shoot something back, right when she noticed the baker smirking and handing her the bread. As she reached over for it, he placed his lips onto her ear and whispered crude words. "Little bird, why don't you crawl into my bed for some free bread, eh? Will the lord mind sharing his pet?" The horrid man sniggered. At this point, she was ready to grab a knife from the nearby butcher stall and slice the baker up and hang his intestines up like sausages on his stall. But all she did...like always...was smile. "Thank you, sir. The bread looks fresh," she spoke, nonchalantly.
She turned back to the boy with a sympathetic expression. "I apologize for my rude outburst. I was getting a little nauseated by the sudden heat wave, and blamed it on your...little habit. I hope you will forgive my inconsiderate behavior," she sighed, as she bowed. "I shall take my leave now."
Eryla walked away, groaning to herself. Why out of all days did she have to get into some sort of idiotic fight with some peasant boy. The sunshine looked more like a veil of dread, as she walked back towards the lord's manor, wishing that she could just board one of the peasant's wagons back home. Home...she scoffed at the thought of it. Home did not exist anymore did it. It was ran over by foolish birds that were pecking away at a corpse looking for golden coins under the layers of rotten flesh. Soon, the dark castle loomed over like a ferocious monster, as she stepped into it's mouth...to face another monster.
"Why are you so late," the monster roared, as he grabbed her hair. "Does it take one hour to grab a simple piece of bread?! I was waiting at my dining table, famished! How dare you make your generous benefactor wilt away at the table, starving like a beggar!"
"I apologize, m'lord. Some obstacles interrupted my journey," she sighed, as she walked past him and handed the basket to a maid. Her eyebrows twitched with annoyance, as his outrage reminded her about her stupid choice of handing that loaf to the peasant. If she had simply taken that and ran, the stupid argument wouldn't have happened, and she wouldn't have had to been harassed by that pig of baker.
"I shall not drag along my expression of my rage towards you, for some guests are coming soon," he roared, as he glared down at her with his narrow eyes. The flesh below his chin jiggled, and his saliva sprayed everywhere as he bellowed curses. This man...was seriously bipolar. "A clock maker and his apprentice will be coming by in about an hour to deliver my wristwatch and fix the clocks in the main hallway. Take off those god awful clothing and wear something that a lady of the house would actually wear. I do not want peasants to think that a noble lady has no better of a fashion sense than a simple laundress. I do not understand why you wear that dreadful placid dress everywhere you go."
Eryla grimaced as she fidgeted with her dress. She knew that it was worn out....but she also knew that it was no "laundresses's" dress. Her father had given it to her. Her only gift from him. And the only object that symbolized the fact that he had accepted her as a member of his bloodline.
But all she could do was smile back at the beast, and comply to his wishes.
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
He awoke the next morning, staring eye to eye with the head orphanage lady who was carrying a crying Evelyn by the collar of her nightgown.
"Mr. Abel. Will you explain why this young lady was sleeping beside you? I do not need babies breeding more babies!" The pigeon-like woman roared, as she waved Evelyn around like a dirty stray kitten.
"Miss, she was simply having nightmares. Every heard of those? I simply allowed her to sleep next to me. And if you haven't noticed yet...I'm more like an older brother to everyone in this orphanage. Not some sort of pig-like male teenager who can't seem to control his hormones...like your son. Please do tell him to lay off on touching the laundresses next door. He might seriously be caught red-handed by a police officer at this rate," he scoffed back.
The woman's head began to turn red as beet, and that was never a good sign. Within seconds, Evelyn came plummeting down from the pigeon's hold and he barely managed to catch her before she hit the floor directly. "GO AND WASH THE DISHES AND CLEAN THE OTHER CHILDREN'S WET BEDS. AND THEN SWEEP THE ENTIRE ORPHANAGE YOU UNGRATEFUL BRATS. THERE WILL BE NO OATMEAL LEFT FOR YOU ONCE THAT'S DONE!!!"
"Aye, Miss. I will do as told," he chuckled, as he lifted up Evelyn back to her feet. He already knew that the other children would sneak away food for him and Evelyn. That was just simply how things were done in this orphanage. They were all together one small unorthodox family unit, and everyone knew when it was their turn to take of another.
Hours later, as he swept away the dusty hallways of the main corridor while Evelyn wiped the windows, the Pigeon walked over to both of them with a flushed face. "A man...a very handsome one...is here to see the two of you," she stammered, as she scrutinized the two of them. "He has the badge...the badge."
Henry stared at her with utmost confusion, as he grabbed Evelyn's hand and walked to the visitor's lounge. The visitor's lounge was possibly the nicest room in the entire orphanage, right after the Pigeon's master bedroom. It had two silk couches, and a beautifully carved coffee table, along with vases filled with carefully trimmed flowers. It stuck out too much in the raggedy building. Just like the sophisticated looking man who was delicately sitting on the old sofa. The mysterious man sat on the couch, leaneing, and his long legs crossed over. He tapped his wiry fingers on the top of the cane, as he looked distractedly back and forth at the clock and the entrance of the room, until he caught sight of them. The man turned his head towards them and smiled pleasantly. "Please sit," the man politely said. Henry was taken aback for a second by the silky voice of the man. When he turned over to see how Evelyn was doing, she was flushed from head to toe. That irked him a little, as he scanned the man from head to toe, catching sight of the "badge" that the Pigeon was so shocked about. The Royal Knight badge...everyone had heard about this mysterious rank. The shining badge was black and had the Royal family's lion symbol engraved into it with gold. He was the Queen's "underground dog"...the one that everyone was told to fear.
The man's narrow black eyes stared back at Henry, and for a second Henry felt as if the sly smile on the man's face was familiar. A little too familiar.
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1824 London, England
Mr. W
He stood in the alleyway, smiling as he stared at the two children bicker away in front of the baker's stall. Out of all of the ingredients he had gather for the Queen's project...these two had the most interesting story. Maybe that was why he was giving them more time than others. Watching the golden dolls at play was possibly the largest amount of amusement he could ever receive. It was quite tiring...tracing down the stolen materials. But the queen was quite adamant about using the original material from the first project which was stolen after the Great Fire. If it wasn't for that damn mark on all of their wrists, it would have been nearly impossible to track down all of those spoiled brats.
The children were still the same old pompous brats that he had kidnapped hundreds of years ago from their silk laden homes. They had threatened him to call their father and mothers and kill him on the spot. Ransom or some other nonsense was often spewed out as well. But once they had seen that little badge of his...oh the horror on their faces. It was absolutely fantastic to see the children lose all hope as they realized that their sovereign had turned her back on them. But the two before him...yes...they were a bit more of a complicated case. It seemed as if the two of them were still living away their unfortunate lifestyles even in their second life. They were tarnished little gold pieces, but according to the queen "once they have been melted, it won't matter anyhow".
He had put them off for a little too long. He could sense the impatience of the Queen, as the wind screamed through the ruins of her corpse. The rotting structure was ready to be brought back to life, and he did not have that much time left. He turned his back on the last remaining gold pieces, and walked back into the dark alley dragging a lumpy sack that something alive in it.
The time was ticking, and the melting pot was brewing. It was time to cast the gold and bring back his Queen to her rightful place.
That was the job...of the Underground Dog.
Last edited by a moderator:
Bullet
Eye for an eye
1824 London, England
Thomas Clarke
The baker interrupted their discourse for the time being, surprisingly offering a fresh loaf of bread to the impolite girl. Her countenance, however, shifted as the hefty man leaned over and whispered in her ear. Thomas knew not what was said, but her pale, emotionless response did not bode well. She offered an insincere smile; Thomas had a knack for identifying such. He oftentimes wore one himself, especially on particularly difficult days. London tore at one's soul at times. It was easy to identify yourself in the mirror of others.
Surprisingly, the girl offered an apology to the boy. He hadn't expected such, with her attitude earlier, and had not time to give thanks as she escaped the establishment. No longer a reason for him to stay, he rushed out into the streets, once again navigating through the heavy crowds, a tight grip on the item he carried. Thieves and less favorable folk looked for young ladies or lads as himself, prime targets to poach a loaf of bread or a basket of market goods from. The city was eating itself inside out. Thomas did not occupy himself with the social and political affairs of the government to understand the reasons. He always lived a life of suffering and want, of not always having a meal, or a warm bed to sleep on. He worried only of his own situation, for the most part, though even in the darkness that surrounded him, a glimmer of light remained in his heart. Not of hope, specifically, but of a small empathy that had been forgotten by society for the most part. An urge to give a piece of bread to a destitute child lying on the side of the road, of sneaking his rare apple received and offering half to the bone-thin beggar that made his home in the alley across the street. A minuscule kindness, yet one he chose to continue cultivating, as the suffocating city attempted to stamp it out.
He tumbled through the front door of the shop, breathless, closing the door behind him. He winced as the clock maker's voice bellowed from the rear of the shop. "Bloody hell, Thomas. Took you damn long enough, ya sniveling, useless piece of garbage! Git ova' here with that damned bread!" Thomas dragged his frame unwillingly to the counter where the irate man waited. Roughly, he snatched the bread out of his arms. "Fool of a boy, can't even send you to do simple tasks." His calloused hand gripped a handful of the child's hair and roughly shook the boy's head. Thomas whimpered slightly at the assault, but said nothing. "Go upstairs and get dressed, we 'ave an appointment with some Lord in the West end of the district, and I don't expect to be late! We can't be 'aving our more wealthy clients be rid of us, boy. And forget about lunch for taking so damn long!" The clock maker roared after Thomas, already making his way somberly up the stairs.
He rested his hand on his stomach, a small growl coming forth from it. He sighed in defeat and hurried to the room, quickly finding an acceptable wardrobe to quickly throw on; he preferred to not agitate Harry if he could avoid it. Besides, if this job went well, perhaps dinner would not be skipped as well. Tucking in his shirt into the pinstripe breeches, he threw on a plain brown vest, rarely used. Harry had bought it for him for these specific occasions, and forbade him from wearing it otherwise. He moved to the washroom and looked in the mirror, a shell of a juvenile staring back at him. His eyes sunk deep from lack of sleep and food, his hair a disheveled mess. He turned on the water and moistened his hair, patting it down to a more acceptable state before splashing his face and shutting the flow off. He dried himself off and quickly bounded downstairs, his master greedily chewing on a piece of the bread loaf.
"Disgusting. That damned baker is a bloody thief if he thinks this passes for bread..." He said as much to Thomas as to no one. "Boy, grab the toolbox, and be quick about it." The clock maker retrieved an ornately carved wooden box from the counter, likely a special timepiece, Thomas recognized. He lugged the heavy box from behind the counter and followed his master out the door.
An uneventful carriage ride later, they arrived in front of a grand mansion, the black metal gates creaking open as the carriage was directed into the courtyard. "Alright boy, not a word from ye, ya hear? Lest you want a good beating when we get back." Thomas nodded without a word. They stepped onto the stone pavement and headed towards the entrance, a servant holding the door open for them.
The attendant courteously addressed the pair. "Lord Bryan is expecting you. Please, sir, follow me."
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
Evelynn's eyes fluttered open, her tiny hands reaching up to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Without warning, her small frame was jolted out of the bed, her own gown nearly choking her as the headmistress gripped her sleeping cloth and lifted her like some unruly feline. The shock itself scared her fiercely, immediately beginning to cry in response. She helplessly struggled to tuck her fingers underneath the choking neck of the constricting pullover. The shrill voice of the headmistress awoke Henry, Eve's small eyes pleading for his aid. She always felt so helpless without him...
His sardonic retort came as no surprise; Henry always took the punishments upon himself to spare the other children. Eve helped him in the ensuing labor, as thanks, and just to be near him. She only felt safe around him.
She felt the headmistress release her grasp, Henry quickly reacting to catch Evelynn as she fell. "GO AND WASH THE DISHES AND CLEAN THE OTHER CHILDREN'S WET BEDS. AND THEN SWEEP THE ENTIRE ORPHANAGE YOU UNGRATEFUL BRATS. THERE WILL BE NO OATMEAL LEFT FOR YOU ONCE THAT'S DONE!!!" Her shrieking howl grated against her ears. After she stormed away, Evelynn sighed, but smiled at Henry, protecting her once more as he often did.
Hours later, she found herself in the main corridor of the orphanage, her arms tiring from the work, but daring not to complain to Henry. Her glance looked longingly out the windows of their prison, the brick and wood structures of London stretching out as far as the eyes could see. Turmoil and strife plagued the city, but in it's quiet splendor, it offered one thing the orphanage did not: freedom. She held hope in her heart that one day, Henry and she would escape that dreadful place together, find a wonderful family out in the country and have a family of their own. The thought alone was painful and beautiful at the same time to Eve.
The headmistress appeared and Evelynn held her breath, her innocent eyes awaiting a scolding for some reason or another. However, her appearance differed greatly, not displaying her normal boorish temperament. She informed they had a visitor. A pit formed in Evelynn's stomach, with no explainable reason as to why. She took Henry's hand as they were guided to the visitor's lounge, an area rarely seen by their own eyes, much less entered.
Inside, a man awaited them, though she could not bring her eyes off the ground to see him. The moment she walked through the doorway, her skin had crawled, a deep-seated fear taking hold of her. She gripped Henry's hand more tightly as they sat down, her eyes still focused on the floor. She leaned into Henry's protective figure, but the fear remained, the same fear that invaded her nightmares.
Thomas Clarke
The baker interrupted their discourse for the time being, surprisingly offering a fresh loaf of bread to the impolite girl. Her countenance, however, shifted as the hefty man leaned over and whispered in her ear. Thomas knew not what was said, but her pale, emotionless response did not bode well. She offered an insincere smile; Thomas had a knack for identifying such. He oftentimes wore one himself, especially on particularly difficult days. London tore at one's soul at times. It was easy to identify yourself in the mirror of others.
Surprisingly, the girl offered an apology to the boy. He hadn't expected such, with her attitude earlier, and had not time to give thanks as she escaped the establishment. No longer a reason for him to stay, he rushed out into the streets, once again navigating through the heavy crowds, a tight grip on the item he carried. Thieves and less favorable folk looked for young ladies or lads as himself, prime targets to poach a loaf of bread or a basket of market goods from. The city was eating itself inside out. Thomas did not occupy himself with the social and political affairs of the government to understand the reasons. He always lived a life of suffering and want, of not always having a meal, or a warm bed to sleep on. He worried only of his own situation, for the most part, though even in the darkness that surrounded him, a glimmer of light remained in his heart. Not of hope, specifically, but of a small empathy that had been forgotten by society for the most part. An urge to give a piece of bread to a destitute child lying on the side of the road, of sneaking his rare apple received and offering half to the bone-thin beggar that made his home in the alley across the street. A minuscule kindness, yet one he chose to continue cultivating, as the suffocating city attempted to stamp it out.
He tumbled through the front door of the shop, breathless, closing the door behind him. He winced as the clock maker's voice bellowed from the rear of the shop. "Bloody hell, Thomas. Took you damn long enough, ya sniveling, useless piece of garbage! Git ova' here with that damned bread!" Thomas dragged his frame unwillingly to the counter where the irate man waited. Roughly, he snatched the bread out of his arms. "Fool of a boy, can't even send you to do simple tasks." His calloused hand gripped a handful of the child's hair and roughly shook the boy's head. Thomas whimpered slightly at the assault, but said nothing. "Go upstairs and get dressed, we 'ave an appointment with some Lord in the West end of the district, and I don't expect to be late! We can't be 'aving our more wealthy clients be rid of us, boy. And forget about lunch for taking so damn long!" The clock maker roared after Thomas, already making his way somberly up the stairs.
He rested his hand on his stomach, a small growl coming forth from it. He sighed in defeat and hurried to the room, quickly finding an acceptable wardrobe to quickly throw on; he preferred to not agitate Harry if he could avoid it. Besides, if this job went well, perhaps dinner would not be skipped as well. Tucking in his shirt into the pinstripe breeches, he threw on a plain brown vest, rarely used. Harry had bought it for him for these specific occasions, and forbade him from wearing it otherwise. He moved to the washroom and looked in the mirror, a shell of a juvenile staring back at him. His eyes sunk deep from lack of sleep and food, his hair a disheveled mess. He turned on the water and moistened his hair, patting it down to a more acceptable state before splashing his face and shutting the flow off. He dried himself off and quickly bounded downstairs, his master greedily chewing on a piece of the bread loaf.
"Disgusting. That damned baker is a bloody thief if he thinks this passes for bread..." He said as much to Thomas as to no one. "Boy, grab the toolbox, and be quick about it." The clock maker retrieved an ornately carved wooden box from the counter, likely a special timepiece, Thomas recognized. He lugged the heavy box from behind the counter and followed his master out the door.
An uneventful carriage ride later, they arrived in front of a grand mansion, the black metal gates creaking open as the carriage was directed into the courtyard. "Alright boy, not a word from ye, ya hear? Lest you want a good beating when we get back." Thomas nodded without a word. They stepped onto the stone pavement and headed towards the entrance, a servant holding the door open for them.
The attendant courteously addressed the pair. "Lord Bryan is expecting you. Please, sir, follow me."
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
Evelynn's eyes fluttered open, her tiny hands reaching up to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Without warning, her small frame was jolted out of the bed, her own gown nearly choking her as the headmistress gripped her sleeping cloth and lifted her like some unruly feline. The shock itself scared her fiercely, immediately beginning to cry in response. She helplessly struggled to tuck her fingers underneath the choking neck of the constricting pullover. The shrill voice of the headmistress awoke Henry, Eve's small eyes pleading for his aid. She always felt so helpless without him...
His sardonic retort came as no surprise; Henry always took the punishments upon himself to spare the other children. Eve helped him in the ensuing labor, as thanks, and just to be near him. She only felt safe around him.
She felt the headmistress release her grasp, Henry quickly reacting to catch Evelynn as she fell. "GO AND WASH THE DISHES AND CLEAN THE OTHER CHILDREN'S WET BEDS. AND THEN SWEEP THE ENTIRE ORPHANAGE YOU UNGRATEFUL BRATS. THERE WILL BE NO OATMEAL LEFT FOR YOU ONCE THAT'S DONE!!!" Her shrieking howl grated against her ears. After she stormed away, Evelynn sighed, but smiled at Henry, protecting her once more as he often did.
Hours later, she found herself in the main corridor of the orphanage, her arms tiring from the work, but daring not to complain to Henry. Her glance looked longingly out the windows of their prison, the brick and wood structures of London stretching out as far as the eyes could see. Turmoil and strife plagued the city, but in it's quiet splendor, it offered one thing the orphanage did not: freedom. She held hope in her heart that one day, Henry and she would escape that dreadful place together, find a wonderful family out in the country and have a family of their own. The thought alone was painful and beautiful at the same time to Eve.
The headmistress appeared and Evelynn held her breath, her innocent eyes awaiting a scolding for some reason or another. However, her appearance differed greatly, not displaying her normal boorish temperament. She informed they had a visitor. A pit formed in Evelynn's stomach, with no explainable reason as to why. She took Henry's hand as they were guided to the visitor's lounge, an area rarely seen by their own eyes, much less entered.
Inside, a man awaited them, though she could not bring her eyes off the ground to see him. The moment she walked through the doorway, her skin had crawled, a deep-seated fear taking hold of her. She gripped Henry's hand more tightly as they sat down, her eyes still focused on the floor. She leaned into Henry's protective figure, but the fear remained, the same fear that invaded her nightmares.
Atsuko
Breathe
1824 London, England
Eryla Manchester
The maids lay the silk dress out on the bed, and continued on to strip her of her "laundress's gown" and pulled a corset onto her. Her breathing became ragged, as the strings were pulled tighter and tighter. She wouldn't have been surprised if at a certain point of today, her chest would explode. They pulled the ornamented silk gown over her head, and fasted the buttons on the back.She had no understanding of the reason why she even had to go through such procedure just for a simple visit from a clock maker. The head maid caught her fidgeting with the corset, and glared at her.
"Lord Bryan does not enjoy having loose women in his household. He would be shamed to the point of burying himself underground if his lady did not follow the common rules of a noble lady's style," the maid spoke, with a demanding tone.
"Even though he is nothing but a voluptuous ((Dracula though)) pig himself," she muttered under her breath, as she walked over to the window to breathe in some fresh air. Her eyes scanned the vast forest land that her Lord owned. It was a beautiful plantation...the envy of many in England, but in her eyes. It was nothing but the long thorny path that kept her from escaping the ogre's castle. As she thought about all of the disdainful parts about Lord Bryan, some form of a shadow flitted before her eyes. A figure of a man was standing in the shadows of the trees staring right back at her. Something that looked like a mask hid his face away from her, and his top hat shed a shadow across his mask...concealing him completely. Frightened, she turned her head and screamed for a guard. There was absolutely no possible way that a normal civilian could pass through the high walls of Lord Bryan's castle without being slain by his highly trained guards. A guard ran into the room wielding a dagger as she desperately pointed out the window. But by the time she turned around, the shadowy figure had disappeared.
A maid came knocking on the door, asking for her presence in the main entrance for the guests had arrived. Using her fingers, she once again pulled up her puppet mouth into a pursed smile, and walked out the door. As she descended the grand staircase, her eyes caught sight of a familiar face. She inwardly groaned as she recognized the boy from earlier. His eyes reflected the same amount of horror in her eyes as he caught sight of her. Lord Bryan smiled grossly at her, and motioned for her stand by his side.
"My beautiful mistress, Eryla Manchester," he chuckled, as his fishy-like eyes scanned over her with a pleased expression. She felt her face go scarlet from pure embarrassment. Even though she barely knew the boy in front of her, she hadn't wished for anyone outside who knew of the rumors to see her in her current position.
She didn't want anyone to see...how truly ugly she was in the inside.
--------------------
1176 London, England
Henry Abel
"How may I help you," he asked coldly, keeping an artificial smile plastered across his face. The tension in the room was growing by the second, but the man in front of him didn't even flinch to his icy glare and voice.
"No need to be so suspicious, Henry," the man smiled, as he glanced over at Evelyn who was cowering next to him. "You may have heard of rumors...about me. However, please put aside any of your fe-"
"Whoever said that we were scared. Please just go on with your business," Henry icily interrupted, as he tapped his fingers against the side table impatiently.
"Ah, we sure do have a blunt child here don't we. Very well then. I shall continue with no further small-talk. You two have been chosen for a very special project administered by the queen," the man said, as he placed an expensive-looking piece of white parchment in front of Henry. Elegant writing filled the paper, and a recognizable signature ornamented the bottom of the paper. "You both are literate, correct?"
Henry had to use all of his will power to not snap off his artificial smile in front of the man at this point. "Yes...my mother taught me to read. I taught Evelyn as well." He scanned the title nervously.
Dear Mr. Abel and Ms. Moore,
This is an invitation for all of the talented and intelligent children , from the Queen of England herself. The Queen wishes for assistance for her life long dream to come true. Strong young men and intelligent quick young women are wanted to help build the London Bridge. The cooperative workers will be payed 5 pounds per night they come to work on the bridge. At the end, they shall also be rewarded with an additional 10 pounds and one wish of the worker shall be granted if possible by the Queen for gratitude.
If you wish to be part of the Queen's mission to help advance England's transportation system, please sign below.
x________________________ Henry Abel
x________________________ Evelynn Moore
Sincerely,
the Queen's Royal White Guard Leader
Henry nervously swallowed, and glanced over to look at Evelynn's reaction. Her eyes had lit up at the reward part, but he questioned if she had realized how dangerous it would be for young girl like her to be at a construction site in the middle of the night. He pushed back the paper towards the man, catching both Evelynn and the man by surprise. "We are not interested in risking our lives for such a sketchy business," he murmured. "One wish shall be granted? Doesn't that sound too good to be true for two poor orphan children? It seems almost as if someone is targeting us. And also...what sort of sensible person constructs at night?"
The man chuckled. "It is a surprise gift from the Queen to her loyal people. Her final gift. And the wish...Henry."
Henry froze as the man said his name with a strange tone. "Don't you want to know who killed your mother? You're only blood relative? And don't you want to know who the bastard that left you and your mother behind was? Don't those questions just kill you with curiosity?"
Henry stood up all of a sudden, barely restraining himself from lifting the man up by the collar and throwing him up into the streets.
"How do you know that...that is something I never...," he choked out.
"The Queen knows everything Henry. And Miss Moore. What do you believe that you can gain from this? The lad next to you seems to have made a decision for you without even asking for your opinion. This is your last chance, Miss Moore. Do you wish to help your Queen?"
Eryla Manchester
The maids lay the silk dress out on the bed, and continued on to strip her of her "laundress's gown" and pulled a corset onto her. Her breathing became ragged, as the strings were pulled tighter and tighter. She wouldn't have been surprised if at a certain point of today, her chest would explode. They pulled the ornamented silk gown over her head, and fasted the buttons on the back.She had no understanding of the reason why she even had to go through such procedure just for a simple visit from a clock maker. The head maid caught her fidgeting with the corset, and glared at her.
"Lord Bryan does not enjoy having loose women in his household. He would be shamed to the point of burying himself underground if his lady did not follow the common rules of a noble lady's style," the maid spoke, with a demanding tone.
"Even though he is nothing but a voluptuous ((Dracula though)) pig himself," she muttered under her breath, as she walked over to the window to breathe in some fresh air. Her eyes scanned the vast forest land that her Lord owned. It was a beautiful plantation...the envy of many in England, but in her eyes. It was nothing but the long thorny path that kept her from escaping the ogre's castle. As she thought about all of the disdainful parts about Lord Bryan, some form of a shadow flitted before her eyes. A figure of a man was standing in the shadows of the trees staring right back at her. Something that looked like a mask hid his face away from her, and his top hat shed a shadow across his mask...concealing him completely. Frightened, she turned her head and screamed for a guard. There was absolutely no possible way that a normal civilian could pass through the high walls of Lord Bryan's castle without being slain by his highly trained guards. A guard ran into the room wielding a dagger as she desperately pointed out the window. But by the time she turned around, the shadowy figure had disappeared.
A maid came knocking on the door, asking for her presence in the main entrance for the guests had arrived. Using her fingers, she once again pulled up her puppet mouth into a pursed smile, and walked out the door. As she descended the grand staircase, her eyes caught sight of a familiar face. She inwardly groaned as she recognized the boy from earlier. His eyes reflected the same amount of horror in her eyes as he caught sight of her. Lord Bryan smiled grossly at her, and motioned for her stand by his side.
"My beautiful mistress, Eryla Manchester," he chuckled, as his fishy-like eyes scanned over her with a pleased expression. She felt her face go scarlet from pure embarrassment. Even though she barely knew the boy in front of her, she hadn't wished for anyone outside who knew of the rumors to see her in her current position.
She didn't want anyone to see...how truly ugly she was in the inside.
--------------------
1176 London, England
Henry Abel
"How may I help you," he asked coldly, keeping an artificial smile plastered across his face. The tension in the room was growing by the second, but the man in front of him didn't even flinch to his icy glare and voice.
"No need to be so suspicious, Henry," the man smiled, as he glanced over at Evelyn who was cowering next to him. "You may have heard of rumors...about me. However, please put aside any of your fe-"
"Whoever said that we were scared. Please just go on with your business," Henry icily interrupted, as he tapped his fingers against the side table impatiently.
"Ah, we sure do have a blunt child here don't we. Very well then. I shall continue with no further small-talk. You two have been chosen for a very special project administered by the queen," the man said, as he placed an expensive-looking piece of white parchment in front of Henry. Elegant writing filled the paper, and a recognizable signature ornamented the bottom of the paper. "You both are literate, correct?"
Henry had to use all of his will power to not snap off his artificial smile in front of the man at this point. "Yes...my mother taught me to read. I taught Evelyn as well." He scanned the title nervously.
London Bridge Project
Dear Mr. Abel and Ms. Moore,
This is an invitation for all of the talented and intelligent children , from the Queen of England herself. The Queen wishes for assistance for her life long dream to come true. Strong young men and intelligent quick young women are wanted to help build the London Bridge. The cooperative workers will be payed 5 pounds per night they come to work on the bridge. At the end, they shall also be rewarded with an additional 10 pounds and one wish of the worker shall be granted if possible by the Queen for gratitude.
If you wish to be part of the Queen's mission to help advance England's transportation system, please sign below.
x________________________ Henry Abel
x________________________ Evelynn Moore
Sincerely,
the Queen's Royal White Guard Leader
Henry nervously swallowed, and glanced over to look at Evelynn's reaction. Her eyes had lit up at the reward part, but he questioned if she had realized how dangerous it would be for young girl like her to be at a construction site in the middle of the night. He pushed back the paper towards the man, catching both Evelynn and the man by surprise. "We are not interested in risking our lives for such a sketchy business," he murmured. "One wish shall be granted? Doesn't that sound too good to be true for two poor orphan children? It seems almost as if someone is targeting us. And also...what sort of sensible person constructs at night?"
The man chuckled. "It is a surprise gift from the Queen to her loyal people. Her final gift. And the wish...Henry."
Henry froze as the man said his name with a strange tone. "Don't you want to know who killed your mother? You're only blood relative? And don't you want to know who the bastard that left you and your mother behind was? Don't those questions just kill you with curiosity?"
Henry stood up all of a sudden, barely restraining himself from lifting the man up by the collar and throwing him up into the streets.
"How do you know that...that is something I never...," he choked out.
"The Queen knows everything Henry. And Miss Moore. What do you believe that you can gain from this? The lad next to you seems to have made a decision for you without even asking for your opinion. This is your last chance, Miss Moore. Do you wish to help your Queen?"
Last edited by a moderator:
Bullet
Eye for an eye
1824 London, England
Thomas Clarke
Thomas awed as he entered the estate. The manor extended in all directions that he could manage to see, a staircase leading above, a grand hall leading further into the structure, rooms and alcoves branching off of it. Thomas marveled, the mere area they stood in capable of housing the clock maker's shop and the residence above easily. He imagined what it would be like to live in such a place. Surely if the lord had any children, they want for nothing. 'It must be wonderful living in a place where there is always food, and warmth..." He sighed at the thought. The sound of heavy footsteps approaching distracted him from his thoughts. Harry hit his arm in a bothered manner, making a motion for the boy to stand straight and appear civil.
"Lord Bryan, I am honored-"
"Yes, yes." The stocky man replied with a disdainful wave of his hand. "Common courtesies accepted, Mr. Newtown. I take you have my package?"
Harry fumbled nervously over his words. "W-why yes, yes I have it." Suddenly, from the staircase descended one of the maids alongside one of the lord's personal possessions. Only Thomas's irises moved to view the new arrivals. A young girl accompanied the servant, well dressed and groomed. 'So he has a daught-...' His face dropped and his heart sank as he beheld the girl descend the steps, the same girl that had attempted to take the loaf of bread from him earlier that day. The heavyset man approached motioned her to his side with a lascivious look in his eyes.
'Mistress?' He mulled over the words, everything seeming to fall into place in his mind. Guilt washed over him as he realized what it all meant, and shame for the admonishment he'd given her earlier that day. The suffering in London extended far beyond just the crowded city center, where the homeless and decrepit gathered. Even out here, in the glorious mansions of the wealthy and powerful, the corrupt and cruel made its bed. He couldn't look towards her, embarrassed to be standing there.
"A lovely, young lady, my Lord. Oh, and h-here is the timepiece you requested, carefully crafted to your specifications." He handed the box over to Lord Bryan anxiously. "I, ah, will have my assistant here immediately begin work on the clocks you wished repaired, sir, and we can review the timepiece to ensure it meets your standards, which I assure you, there is no flaw in this one." The clock maker had gained courage as he spoke of his work; a drunken fool at times, but the art in timepiece creation had not yet abandoned his fingers.
"Yes, yes, my servant will guide your apprentice to the damaged pieces." A servant bowed slightly, towards which Harry pushed roughly. He unintentionally glanced in a sad stare towards the girl beside Lord Bryan, an apologetic curve to his brow. "This way, Sir", the servant offered, Thomas following meekly behind.
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
Evelynn's thoughts whirled around her mind. She didn't speak. She remained by Henry's side, grasping his arm, trying to hard to listen while the thoughts of the Royal Knight pervaded her thoughts. She'd heard ghost stories of the Royal Knight, the sort of things that you would expect from little children: tales of children kidnapped by his hand, of beheaded corpses, of transforming into a bat and sucking one's blood. It was all just stories told in the dark of night to instill fear into the kids as a form of entertainment for the narrators.
And yet, she still held a dread within her of this man.
She lived the nightmares in her own bed each night, the flames engulfing, the cries of children a ghastly echo. The inability to move, to see, or do anything. And then the pervasive image of the smiling demon. It wasn't the same appearance as the man sitting across from them, at least from what she dared to see, but the same haunting presence lingered in the air.
She was pulled from her thoughts as a paper was handed to Henry for his inspection. She risked a glance at the paper, the words small but legible. It was from the Queen directly, and it promised a reward for their cooperation. She lit up at the thought. 'The Queen is not a bad person. She can free us from here, me and Henry, and we can live away from the mean old headmistress, and have warm meals everyday...' Her mind danced at the thought. She would perhaps even protect her from this man, she imagined. The Queen was magical, in her mind, above the regular people she encountered on a day to day basis. Surely she could do anything.
The man addressed her suddenly, her mind scattered at the possible wish fulfillment that she'd remained oblivious to the conversation around her. She did not look at the man, but turned her head upwards to see Henry's face. His face turned towards hers, fear and apprehension in his eyes.
"Henry, the Queen will help us. She can make our wishes come true..." She hated not agreeing with Henry, since he always put her well-being first, but she was afraid of missing out on this opportunity. The walls of the orphanage kept closing in on her, and she was tired of the nightmares, of the punishments, of the lack of food and the mean children. "I want us to be happy..."
Thomas Clarke
Thomas awed as he entered the estate. The manor extended in all directions that he could manage to see, a staircase leading above, a grand hall leading further into the structure, rooms and alcoves branching off of it. Thomas marveled, the mere area they stood in capable of housing the clock maker's shop and the residence above easily. He imagined what it would be like to live in such a place. Surely if the lord had any children, they want for nothing. 'It must be wonderful living in a place where there is always food, and warmth..." He sighed at the thought. The sound of heavy footsteps approaching distracted him from his thoughts. Harry hit his arm in a bothered manner, making a motion for the boy to stand straight and appear civil.
"Lord Bryan, I am honored-"
"Yes, yes." The stocky man replied with a disdainful wave of his hand. "Common courtesies accepted, Mr. Newtown. I take you have my package?"
Harry fumbled nervously over his words. "W-why yes, yes I have it." Suddenly, from the staircase descended one of the maids alongside one of the lord's personal possessions. Only Thomas's irises moved to view the new arrivals. A young girl accompanied the servant, well dressed and groomed. 'So he has a daught-...' His face dropped and his heart sank as he beheld the girl descend the steps, the same girl that had attempted to take the loaf of bread from him earlier that day. The heavyset man approached motioned her to his side with a lascivious look in his eyes.
'Mistress?' He mulled over the words, everything seeming to fall into place in his mind. Guilt washed over him as he realized what it all meant, and shame for the admonishment he'd given her earlier that day. The suffering in London extended far beyond just the crowded city center, where the homeless and decrepit gathered. Even out here, in the glorious mansions of the wealthy and powerful, the corrupt and cruel made its bed. He couldn't look towards her, embarrassed to be standing there.
"A lovely, young lady, my Lord. Oh, and h-here is the timepiece you requested, carefully crafted to your specifications." He handed the box over to Lord Bryan anxiously. "I, ah, will have my assistant here immediately begin work on the clocks you wished repaired, sir, and we can review the timepiece to ensure it meets your standards, which I assure you, there is no flaw in this one." The clock maker had gained courage as he spoke of his work; a drunken fool at times, but the art in timepiece creation had not yet abandoned his fingers.
"Yes, yes, my servant will guide your apprentice to the damaged pieces." A servant bowed slightly, towards which Harry pushed roughly. He unintentionally glanced in a sad stare towards the girl beside Lord Bryan, an apologetic curve to his brow. "This way, Sir", the servant offered, Thomas following meekly behind.
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1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
Evelynn's thoughts whirled around her mind. She didn't speak. She remained by Henry's side, grasping his arm, trying to hard to listen while the thoughts of the Royal Knight pervaded her thoughts. She'd heard ghost stories of the Royal Knight, the sort of things that you would expect from little children: tales of children kidnapped by his hand, of beheaded corpses, of transforming into a bat and sucking one's blood. It was all just stories told in the dark of night to instill fear into the kids as a form of entertainment for the narrators.
And yet, she still held a dread within her of this man.
She lived the nightmares in her own bed each night, the flames engulfing, the cries of children a ghastly echo. The inability to move, to see, or do anything. And then the pervasive image of the smiling demon. It wasn't the same appearance as the man sitting across from them, at least from what she dared to see, but the same haunting presence lingered in the air.
She was pulled from her thoughts as a paper was handed to Henry for his inspection. She risked a glance at the paper, the words small but legible. It was from the Queen directly, and it promised a reward for their cooperation. She lit up at the thought. 'The Queen is not a bad person. She can free us from here, me and Henry, and we can live away from the mean old headmistress, and have warm meals everyday...' Her mind danced at the thought. She would perhaps even protect her from this man, she imagined. The Queen was magical, in her mind, above the regular people she encountered on a day to day basis. Surely she could do anything.
The man addressed her suddenly, her mind scattered at the possible wish fulfillment that she'd remained oblivious to the conversation around her. She did not look at the man, but turned her head upwards to see Henry's face. His face turned towards hers, fear and apprehension in his eyes.
"Henry, the Queen will help us. She can make our wishes come true..." She hated not agreeing with Henry, since he always put her well-being first, but she was afraid of missing out on this opportunity. The walls of the orphanage kept closing in on her, and she was tired of the nightmares, of the punishments, of the lack of food and the mean children. "I want us to be happy..."
Atsuko
Breathe
1824 London, England
Eryla Manchester
She glimpsed slowly at the boy's back, as she trembled with shame. 'It doesn't matter. He doesn't know you,' she thought to herself, as she turned back to Lord Bryan with a small smile. "Thank you for the beautiful dress," she said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.
The man brushed his plump sweaty fingers along her chin, as he smiled at her gloatingly. "It is the master's responsibility to make his pet look as fine as possible, my little chat." She could feel the shivers run down her spine, as she pursed her lips. "I shall go up to my room now, for the workers have gone to do their duties." She turned to escape the scene, but her arm was cranked back by the beast. He held onto it tightly like a master holding a dog's leash.
"Do you think I don't know what is going on between you and that boy," he hissed into her ear. "I saw those lascivious eyes of yours stare at the boy. I will be watching you."
What sort of substance had he been smoking? She stared at him speechless, as she burst out laughing in shock. It wasn't a laughter of humor or of warmth and she could see that the lord was set back by her sudden display...of "amusement". "M'lord. I do believe that you think that I am like a female dog on heat, but I must assure you...I have enough sense to make my position higher than of a prostitute," she said, coldly. He had pushed her on the wrong day, and she would have to choke him back with her puppet strings...just today. "If you believe that my wondering eyes were on him, may I ask where those two eyes embedded in that inflated head of yours were as I walked down the stairs in this hideous dress you bought for me? My eyes are lascivious?! Sir, do you happen to mistake me as your mirror?"
He stared at her with utter disbelief, almost as if he was now the one questioning if she had snorted up some sort of drug. Before she could even think back on all of the words she had spat out just a second ago, his large hand rose and slapped her across the face. "If...we did not have guests over, my dear. Your little posh bottom would have been kicked right out the door. Now, go and cover that mark with some of your powder and go serve the workers water," he snarled, as he wiped his hand on silk pants. He stalked off, puffing with anger.
Half of her face was numb, as she staggered up the stairs. She bit her lips, as the pain began to slowly take over. She could feel the blood trickle from the cut that the lord's sharp ring had made. As she turned around the corner, she saw the boy walk out of the washroom wiping his hands on his trousers.
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1176 London, England
Henry Abel
He stared into her pleading eyes, as he soft hand held his. The man was staring at him with same amount of expectancy as Evelyn was.
"So...now what shall you choose Mr. Abel," the man murmured. Henry could see mocking laughter flicker through the man's eyes, as Henry's heart slowly became controlled by Evelyn's sincere expression and words.
"We will accept the Queen's proposal. However, Evelyn will have to work by my side," he demanded, as he slowly signed the paper. Each curve of his signature was filled with dread. During his time living with in the red light district, he had learned how dangerous it was to sign something without reading carefully. He had seen hundreds of desperate prostitutes who had signed contracts with suspicious men to get money, but were instead shipped off to some form of slavery. He passed the clean white paper over to Evelyn whose eyes were lit up with delight.
The man smirked as he leaned up. "Just a simple signature, boy. Wasn't that easy? Well, the first work meeting shall be on Friday, November 24. Don't be late, or else the Watchman will be slightly irked," he chuckled. The man stood up, and put on his top hat. The badge on his chest gleamed as he turned to face them once again, bowing with almost a sort of mocking tone. "I shall take my leave now, Mr. Abel and Ms. Moore. It was my pleasure seeking business with you."
Henry stared at the man's back as the suited figure walked away briskly, each step resounding with power...and fear. Just like the steps he had heard in his countless nightmares.
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1176 London, England
Mr. W
He held the queen's frail hand tightly, as she murmured words in her sleep. Her age was still young, yet her pale face looked so weary and aged.
"How long does she have," he asked the physician, who was writing something in his clipboard. The doctor stared at the queen wearily, as he silently wrote one more sentence before snapping the folder shut. "She is ill, Mr. W. Very ill. You should be expecting her to soon pass away. Please prepare your heart...and complete the task before she fades away."
The doctor walked out of the room quietly shutting the door. He turned back towards the Queen, and his usual cold eyes had a hint of dread and sadness. "Your highness...you said that you would make me a god the day you chose me to be your dog. But please...save that power for yourself. A dog can not live without his master," he whispered as he lightly kissed her hand. He smoothed out her ruffled white hair, reminiscing the days where her long beautiful hair was usually playfully curled into golden locks that reflected the sunshine. Her illness was slowly eating her away, and he could already imagine her lifeless body being carried away by the doctors to be burned into ashes.
He stood to leave the room, but all of a sudden her hand grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Have you found all of them," the feeble figure murmured, as her eyes slowly opened.
He kneeled before her, pressing her hand to his lips. "Yes, your highness. The golden pieces have all been collected. We shall melt them and put them into the foundation on Friday night...November 24."
"And the special pieces?"
"One was rather hard to convince...but like your highness had predicted, it had a weak heart and was easily influenced by the other."
The Queen faintly smiled, as she ruffled his hair.
Eryla Manchester
She glimpsed slowly at the boy's back, as she trembled with shame. 'It doesn't matter. He doesn't know you,' she thought to herself, as she turned back to Lord Bryan with a small smile. "Thank you for the beautiful dress," she said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.
The man brushed his plump sweaty fingers along her chin, as he smiled at her gloatingly. "It is the master's responsibility to make his pet look as fine as possible, my little chat." She could feel the shivers run down her spine, as she pursed her lips. "I shall go up to my room now, for the workers have gone to do their duties." She turned to escape the scene, but her arm was cranked back by the beast. He held onto it tightly like a master holding a dog's leash.
"Do you think I don't know what is going on between you and that boy," he hissed into her ear. "I saw those lascivious eyes of yours stare at the boy. I will be watching you."
What sort of substance had he been smoking? She stared at him speechless, as she burst out laughing in shock. It wasn't a laughter of humor or of warmth and she could see that the lord was set back by her sudden display...of "amusement". "M'lord. I do believe that you think that I am like a female dog on heat, but I must assure you...I have enough sense to make my position higher than of a prostitute," she said, coldly. He had pushed her on the wrong day, and she would have to choke him back with her puppet strings...just today. "If you believe that my wondering eyes were on him, may I ask where those two eyes embedded in that inflated head of yours were as I walked down the stairs in this hideous dress you bought for me? My eyes are lascivious?! Sir, do you happen to mistake me as your mirror?"
He stared at her with utter disbelief, almost as if he was now the one questioning if she had snorted up some sort of drug. Before she could even think back on all of the words she had spat out just a second ago, his large hand rose and slapped her across the face. "If...we did not have guests over, my dear. Your little posh bottom would have been kicked right out the door. Now, go and cover that mark with some of your powder and go serve the workers water," he snarled, as he wiped his hand on silk pants. He stalked off, puffing with anger.
Half of her face was numb, as she staggered up the stairs. She bit her lips, as the pain began to slowly take over. She could feel the blood trickle from the cut that the lord's sharp ring had made. As she turned around the corner, she saw the boy walk out of the washroom wiping his hands on his trousers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1176 London, England
Henry Abel
He stared into her pleading eyes, as he soft hand held his. The man was staring at him with same amount of expectancy as Evelyn was.
"So...now what shall you choose Mr. Abel," the man murmured. Henry could see mocking laughter flicker through the man's eyes, as Henry's heart slowly became controlled by Evelyn's sincere expression and words.
"We will accept the Queen's proposal. However, Evelyn will have to work by my side," he demanded, as he slowly signed the paper. Each curve of his signature was filled with dread. During his time living with in the red light district, he had learned how dangerous it was to sign something without reading carefully. He had seen hundreds of desperate prostitutes who had signed contracts with suspicious men to get money, but were instead shipped off to some form of slavery. He passed the clean white paper over to Evelyn whose eyes were lit up with delight.
The man smirked as he leaned up. "Just a simple signature, boy. Wasn't that easy? Well, the first work meeting shall be on Friday, November 24. Don't be late, or else the Watchman will be slightly irked," he chuckled. The man stood up, and put on his top hat. The badge on his chest gleamed as he turned to face them once again, bowing with almost a sort of mocking tone. "I shall take my leave now, Mr. Abel and Ms. Moore. It was my pleasure seeking business with you."
Henry stared at the man's back as the suited figure walked away briskly, each step resounding with power...and fear. Just like the steps he had heard in his countless nightmares.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1176 London, England
Mr. W
He held the queen's frail hand tightly, as she murmured words in her sleep. Her age was still young, yet her pale face looked so weary and aged.
"How long does she have," he asked the physician, who was writing something in his clipboard. The doctor stared at the queen wearily, as he silently wrote one more sentence before snapping the folder shut. "She is ill, Mr. W. Very ill. You should be expecting her to soon pass away. Please prepare your heart...and complete the task before she fades away."
The doctor walked out of the room quietly shutting the door. He turned back towards the Queen, and his usual cold eyes had a hint of dread and sadness. "Your highness...you said that you would make me a god the day you chose me to be your dog. But please...save that power for yourself. A dog can not live without his master," he whispered as he lightly kissed her hand. He smoothed out her ruffled white hair, reminiscing the days where her long beautiful hair was usually playfully curled into golden locks that reflected the sunshine. Her illness was slowly eating her away, and he could already imagine her lifeless body being carried away by the doctors to be burned into ashes.
He stood to leave the room, but all of a sudden her hand grabbed his wrist tightly.
"Have you found all of them," the feeble figure murmured, as her eyes slowly opened.
He kneeled before her, pressing her hand to his lips. "Yes, your highness. The golden pieces have all been collected. We shall melt them and put them into the foundation on Friday night...November 24."
"And the special pieces?"
"One was rather hard to convince...but like your highness had predicted, it had a weak heart and was easily influenced by the other."
The Queen faintly smiled, as she ruffled his hair.
"Thank you, my dear Watchman."
Bullet
Eye for an eye
1824 London, England
Thomas Clarke
The servant guided Thomas to a large, arched hallway, doors dotting the wall to the right while large windows dominated the opposite side, flooding the area in natural light. Thomas gaped at the grandeur of the space, surprising detail lent to the architecture and the forming of the molds and columns. His apprenticeship taught him to catch fine details, though unfortunately that skill had not carried over in his observation of other people; they tended to be a bit more intricate than even the watches he worked on. The servant ahead of him stopped short before the first doorway, a tall grandfather clock standing against the wall as a silent sentinel of the corridor.
"This is the first timepiece Lord Bryan wishes repaired. It is an antique clock complete with its original stain..." Thomas nodded, catching her meaning in the tone of her voice. Such timepieces needed to be treated with care, and any sort of damage to the casing could not easily be fixed, in contrast with the gears and inner workings. With a man as powerful as Lord Bryan being the owner of such an exquisite timepiece, it was doubtful he would overlook it if any damage befell the piece. 'The servant's petrified. If anything happens to the piece, will she be the one to pay for it?' It disturbed him to assume such things, but he'd learned being too careful was not a fault in this city.
"I'll go clean my hands before I start. Is there a place I can wash up?"
"Yes, sir. Back whence we came, just around the corner, second door to your left there is a washroom. If there is nothing else, I will leave you to your work." She bowed before departing, off to fulfill what other tasks she had for the day.
Thomas found the washroom easily, a luxury to own one. The introduction of steam powered water mains four years earlier had brought about the modern miracle of indoor plumbing, though only available to those few who could afford it. He fumbled about as he tried to decipher the mechanics of the contraption before him. Turning a knob, water began to flow from the metal protrusion. He ran his hands under the cold stream, his thoughts preoccupied with the Lord and his mistress.
'I was so naive, thinking she was his daughter. Even with all this luxury... she must be a strong person to endure it. I don't know if I could in her situation.' He thought, admiring this girl he had, earlier that day, argued with. He shook his head and sighed. He turned the knob back to shut off the flow of water, his eyes searching about for something to dry himself with, finding nothing. "Bloody..." He stepped out of the washroom, patting his hands against his pant legs to dry them off.
The sound of footsteps made him look up, his eyes meeting the glance of the girl from earlier.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
Evelyn's eyes lit up upon hearing Henry's words, accepting the proposal. Her heart filled with glee, a hesitant smile forming on her face, only held back by the presence of the dark man across from them. 'Perhaps we may get to meet the Queen, oh it's wonderful!' Her mind reasoned, excited for their future. 'And our wish, we get to make a wish! Me and Henry can have a real family, away from all this...' Tears almost formed in her eyes of happiness; harsh described her life thus far better than any other adjective. All she wanted was a good future for her and Henry, and this opportunity was their ticket.
She watched eagerly as the pen swirled about in Henry's fingers, writing out his name in ink upon the sheet. He slid the paper closer to her once finished. She took the pen in her small hands, attempting her best to keep it neat and legible. Henry had taught her how to write, and read for that matter. She wanted to make him proud each time she had to write or read anything, so she took her time, carefully, painstakingly writing out each letter until her name, Evelyn Moore, graced the paper above the black line.
She rested the pen on top of the paper and leaned into Henry once more. She wanted to avoid even looking at the man, desiring her happiness with Henry, with the Queen's offer, to remain firmly in her heart. She hadn't felt such joy in such a long time...
The mention of her name on the man's lips caused her to shudder, but the moment the man left, the room seemed brighter, safer. She looked up at Henry, a wide smile forming on her lips. "Henry... thank you..." Just then, the headmistress barged in, herding them out of the room. "Okay, out of here, you mongrels, before you dirty the furniture anymore with your filthy bottoms. You still have work to finish, don't think you'll get out of it just because someone came to visit you!"
-------------------
Later that night, Evelyn found herself once more sneaking towards Henry's cot, though not because of her nightmares. She'd been so excited from the events earlier, and what it meant for their future, she couldn't stand to sleep a wink. "Henry..." She whispered to his lying figure, his face turned away from her. "Can I join you?"
Thomas Clarke
The servant guided Thomas to a large, arched hallway, doors dotting the wall to the right while large windows dominated the opposite side, flooding the area in natural light. Thomas gaped at the grandeur of the space, surprising detail lent to the architecture and the forming of the molds and columns. His apprenticeship taught him to catch fine details, though unfortunately that skill had not carried over in his observation of other people; they tended to be a bit more intricate than even the watches he worked on. The servant ahead of him stopped short before the first doorway, a tall grandfather clock standing against the wall as a silent sentinel of the corridor.
"This is the first timepiece Lord Bryan wishes repaired. It is an antique clock complete with its original stain..." Thomas nodded, catching her meaning in the tone of her voice. Such timepieces needed to be treated with care, and any sort of damage to the casing could not easily be fixed, in contrast with the gears and inner workings. With a man as powerful as Lord Bryan being the owner of such an exquisite timepiece, it was doubtful he would overlook it if any damage befell the piece. 'The servant's petrified. If anything happens to the piece, will she be the one to pay for it?' It disturbed him to assume such things, but he'd learned being too careful was not a fault in this city.
"I'll go clean my hands before I start. Is there a place I can wash up?"
"Yes, sir. Back whence we came, just around the corner, second door to your left there is a washroom. If there is nothing else, I will leave you to your work." She bowed before departing, off to fulfill what other tasks she had for the day.
Thomas found the washroom easily, a luxury to own one. The introduction of steam powered water mains four years earlier had brought about the modern miracle of indoor plumbing, though only available to those few who could afford it. He fumbled about as he tried to decipher the mechanics of the contraption before him. Turning a knob, water began to flow from the metal protrusion. He ran his hands under the cold stream, his thoughts preoccupied with the Lord and his mistress.
'I was so naive, thinking she was his daughter. Even with all this luxury... she must be a strong person to endure it. I don't know if I could in her situation.' He thought, admiring this girl he had, earlier that day, argued with. He shook his head and sighed. He turned the knob back to shut off the flow of water, his eyes searching about for something to dry himself with, finding nothing. "Bloody..." He stepped out of the washroom, patting his hands against his pant legs to dry them off.
The sound of footsteps made him look up, his eyes meeting the glance of the girl from earlier.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1176 London, England
Evelyn Moore
Evelyn's eyes lit up upon hearing Henry's words, accepting the proposal. Her heart filled with glee, a hesitant smile forming on her face, only held back by the presence of the dark man across from them. 'Perhaps we may get to meet the Queen, oh it's wonderful!' Her mind reasoned, excited for their future. 'And our wish, we get to make a wish! Me and Henry can have a real family, away from all this...' Tears almost formed in her eyes of happiness; harsh described her life thus far better than any other adjective. All she wanted was a good future for her and Henry, and this opportunity was their ticket.
She watched eagerly as the pen swirled about in Henry's fingers, writing out his name in ink upon the sheet. He slid the paper closer to her once finished. She took the pen in her small hands, attempting her best to keep it neat and legible. Henry had taught her how to write, and read for that matter. She wanted to make him proud each time she had to write or read anything, so she took her time, carefully, painstakingly writing out each letter until her name, Evelyn Moore, graced the paper above the black line.
She rested the pen on top of the paper and leaned into Henry once more. She wanted to avoid even looking at the man, desiring her happiness with Henry, with the Queen's offer, to remain firmly in her heart. She hadn't felt such joy in such a long time...
The mention of her name on the man's lips caused her to shudder, but the moment the man left, the room seemed brighter, safer. She looked up at Henry, a wide smile forming on her lips. "Henry... thank you..." Just then, the headmistress barged in, herding them out of the room. "Okay, out of here, you mongrels, before you dirty the furniture anymore with your filthy bottoms. You still have work to finish, don't think you'll get out of it just because someone came to visit you!"
-------------------
Later that night, Evelyn found herself once more sneaking towards Henry's cot, though not because of her nightmares. She'd been so excited from the events earlier, and what it meant for their future, she couldn't stand to sleep a wink. "Henry..." She whispered to his lying figure, his face turned away from her. "Can I join you?"
Atsuko
Breathe
1824 London, England
Eryla Manchester
She fidgeted with her dress, as she traced a few steps back. Her eyes followed his awkward glances towards her warily. She didn't know if she was supposed to whisper a greeting, fade back into her corner, or briskly walk past him.
"So...you were a clock boy?"
Inwardly, she cursed at herself for behind so awkward with strangers.
"The word is quite small isn't it...for us to meet again. Since I have the chance now, I must apologize for my rude behavior this morning." Her hand tightened around the watch locket hung around her neck as she nervously glanced up at him.
(sorry for my short response, I didn't want to continue with some sort of bsed paragraph filled with an one-sided conversation. Also I sort of had a head cannon just now)
-------------------------------------------------
1176 London, England
Henry Abel
Henry silently continued to scrub the leftover dishes in the kitchen, as he went through the events that had just occured.
A strange man...with a suspicious aura...from the queen...with a contract....the night after tomorrow...at the fisherman's warf...
The puzzle pieces were too complicated to fit together. If it was a bridge building project, why would he ask them to meet at a fisherman's warf. And usually, when they hired workers for building projects it would be young men around their 20's...and they would put up flyers on walls instead of sending the Queen's special guard to scout employees. It was a god damn building project, not some sort of secret science experiment.
He felt a slight tugging on the back of shirt. He turned to see a sniffling boy, who handed him a broken toy.
"Tommy broku my buridgu....it-i-it....can you fi-xu itu...," the boy sobbed, as he miserably stared at the two wooden pieces. "Me...me...need bridge...to g-get f-friends...s-ship p-play....w-we...."
Henry smiled down at the boy, ruffling his hair. "I got you. I can fix the bridge for you if you get me some of the right materials. Can you find me some glue or honey?"
"R-right m-materials?" The boy's eyes lightened up with delight, as he jumped about the kitchen. "Y-yes. I-I go." The boy ran off laughing gleefully.
Bridge. Right materials.
A slight chill ran through Henry, as he stared down at the two broke pieces. Something...seriously didn't feel right.
Eryla Manchester
She fidgeted with her dress, as she traced a few steps back. Her eyes followed his awkward glances towards her warily. She didn't know if she was supposed to whisper a greeting, fade back into her corner, or briskly walk past him.
"So...you were a clock boy?"
Inwardly, she cursed at herself for behind so awkward with strangers.
"The word is quite small isn't it...for us to meet again. Since I have the chance now, I must apologize for my rude behavior this morning." Her hand tightened around the watch locket hung around her neck as she nervously glanced up at him.
(sorry for my short response, I didn't want to continue with some sort of bsed paragraph filled with an one-sided conversation. Also I sort of had a head cannon just now)
-------------------------------------------------
1176 London, England
Henry Abel
Henry silently continued to scrub the leftover dishes in the kitchen, as he went through the events that had just occured.
A strange man...with a suspicious aura...from the queen...with a contract....the night after tomorrow...at the fisherman's warf...
The puzzle pieces were too complicated to fit together. If it was a bridge building project, why would he ask them to meet at a fisherman's warf. And usually, when they hired workers for building projects it would be young men around their 20's...and they would put up flyers on walls instead of sending the Queen's special guard to scout employees. It was a god damn building project, not some sort of secret science experiment.
He felt a slight tugging on the back of shirt. He turned to see a sniffling boy, who handed him a broken toy.
"Tommy broku my buridgu....it-i-it....can you fi-xu itu...," the boy sobbed, as he miserably stared at the two wooden pieces. "Me...me...need bridge...to g-get f-friends...s-ship p-play....w-we...."
Henry smiled down at the boy, ruffling his hair. "I got you. I can fix the bridge for you if you get me some of the right materials. Can you find me some glue or honey?"
"R-right m-materials?" The boy's eyes lightened up with delight, as he jumped about the kitchen. "Y-yes. I-I go." The boy ran off laughing gleefully.
Bridge. Right materials.
A slight chill ran through Henry, as he stared down at the two broke pieces. Something...seriously didn't feel right.
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